Old Shaman's Revenge

"Filthy, reckless orcs!"

Who gave you the courage and confidence to challenge a Golden Dragon!

Under the spotlight of countless gazes, Titus spread its undulating wings that extended to the tip of its tail, and an unimaginable magical power suddenly burst forth from its massive dragon body.

In an instant, a hurricane surged, and a powerful current of magic spread rapidly.

The Golden Dragon raised its giant claw, and the sky was torn apart by raging flames. Several meteors emerged, streaking across the sky and falling rapidly toward the Blood Spear.

The Elf mage Seymour raised his head, his silvery-white eyes reflecting the firelight. He murmured to himself, "By Mystra, this level of magic, this casting speed..."

Legendary Caster! This Golden Dragon is a Legendary Caster!

This is the Feanso Continent, unlike the the North. Here, no one deliberately blocks knowledge of magic. Even high-level spells are not uncommon on this land.

Many of the Elf and Dwarf spellcasters present recognized the spell the Golden Dragon was casting at a glance.

That was the renowned Ninth Circle Spell, [Meteor Swarm].

The several brilliant fireballs streaked through the air with ear-piercing roars, their speed growing increasingly terrifying, until they finally collided directly with the Blood Spear.

"Boom!"

A massive explosion occurred in the sky, with flashes of fire and billowing smoke everywhere. The Shockwave spread to a distance of over a kilometer, and everyone present felt a scorching wind blowing in their faces.

However, at that moment—

"Whoosh!"

The whistling sound of wind breaking through the air rang out again, and the sharp Blood Spear instantly pierced through the smoke, rushing in with unstoppable momentum, like a skilled assassin, catching people off guard.

But Keosius was already prepared to withstand the subsequent attacks. He knew that this Ninth Circle Spell alone could not stop the Blood Spear blessed by Gruumsh, and could only slightly reduce its power.

The Golden Dragon opened its enormous mouth and roared like thunder once more.

Mars flew everywhere, space was distorted by the extreme heat, and scorching hurricanes swept in.

Several more swirling streams of flame appeared in front of the Golden Dragon, blocking the path of the Blood Spear. They connected with each other, gradually forming a huge curtain of flames.

That's the Seventh-Circle Spell, Flame Storm.

Another series of explosions followed, Mars flew, and thick smoke billowed into the sky. Finally, the Blood Spear pierced through the surging flames.

At this moment, its momentum was no longer as unstoppable as before, and it had become quite listless.

Even so, the blood-red light representing Gruumsh's divine power still lingered around its sharp tip, piercing everything in front of it.

As the Golden Dragon stared at the oncoming Blood Spear, it grinned and raised its giant claw, from which an inconspicuous green light shot out.

Eighth Circle Spell: Magical Atrophy

The green light touched the spear and instantly disintegrated the blood-red aura attached to its surface. Then, cracks appeared on the ebony spear shaft.

"Click".

With a crisp sound, the Blood Spear, already overburdened, suddenly dimmed and finally shattered.

Seymour stared up at the sky filled with fragments, his Big Mouth, and exclaimed in disbelief, "Greater Disintegrate? No, this seems to be some kind of ancient and sophisticated form of magic. Is it Draconic magic? To be able to cast it so quickly and achieve such an effect as Greater Disintegrate... no wonder he's Legendary Caster!"

"Dawn Dragon!"

"These orcs cannot defeat Lord Titus!"

Seymour on the city wall was amazed, and the Dwarf and Elf cheered enthusiastically. On the other side of the battlefield, the orcs looked terrified, and Batu's face turned ashen.

He gritted his teeth, his expression growing even uglier. "This Golden Dragon actually possesses such spellcasting abilities? This is absolutely no accident! It's Bahamut, he was definitely sent by that Platinum Dragon King! The gods of Mount Paradise probably already know our plan! If the Metallic Dragon reinforcements arrive together, even my orc legion will be unable to conquer Avendell Dan."

Batu changed drastically, his face becoming extremely grave. "We can't wait any longer!"

The old shaman came to his side, coughed softly, and then said in a hoarse voice, "Batu, I can hold off that Golden Dragon."

Batu raised an eyebrow, making no attempt to hide the disdain in his eyes. "You?"

He held this old shaman, who was said to have lived for over two hundred years, in high esteem, partly because the shaman knew much about the history and customs of the orcs and knew how to communicate with the Father God.

Without his shamanic identity, this frail old orc would likely have been expelled from the tribe long ago and become food for vultures on the plains.

This is the law of survival for orcs: the strong gain everything, and the weak lose everything, including their lives. The crippled, the elderly, and even the cowardly are usually driven out without mercy—even their Father God, Gruumsh, supports this.

The old, frail, and unsteady Orc Shaman before him was clearly no match for the powerful Golden Dragon.

Is he getting senile?

The old shaman paid no attention to Batu's disdainful gaze, and simply smiled nonchalantly, "Lord Batu, as you know, I have lived for two hundred years."

Over the past two centuries, I have witnessed firsthand the numerous tribes on the Ugo Prairie wage war and slaughter each other for a paltry amount of resources. Hunting grounds, streams, and even a single, insignificant sheep—on this barren land, these were enough reasons for two clans to massacre each other.

Heh, my son died at the hands of a clan simply because he poached a rabbit. Years later, I personally killed that clan's chief and wiped out his entire clan, but I didn't hate him, nor did I feel any sense of revenge.

This is just a common occurrence in our orc society, as natural as an eagle hunting a rabbit or a wolf chasing a goat.

Looking at my hands stained with blood and gazing at the starry sky, I couldn't help but ask myself—why? Why do such a vast number of orcs deserve only such barren land? Hundreds of thousands of orcs are forced to kill each other for those meager resources.

He turned his head and looked at the majestic Avendell Dan in the distance, extending a trembling finger. "And yet the Dwarf, humans, Elf to the south can enjoy such fertile land with a clear conscience, why?"

Finally, the old shaman turned his head and stared at Batu Shatterskull. His usually calm and murky eyes revealed a rare glimpse of greed and rage common among orcs.

For a moment, Batu was somewhat dazed, as if he saw a young, powerful, and ambitious orc leader appear before him—just like he was now.

The old shaman continued, his voice growing increasingly excited. "So I kept searching for the ruins of the Ancient Orc Empire, and I discovered that all of this was a test given to us by the great Father God, Gruumsh."

The scarce resources, harsh environment, and ferocious beasts are all meant to make our orc race stronger and more resilient than other races, so that we can take everything that rightfully belongs to us from their hands.

But by then, I was too old, too old to lift the spear, and only the strongest could emerge from the bloody battles and lead the orcs to conquer the world—"

His still-trembling finger pointed at Batu Shatterskull in front of him.

"You."

The old shaman continued, "My old life is no longer worth much; my wish is to contribute my last bit of energy."

And you, Lord Batu, the Blood of Gruumsh still surges within you; you will bring a new future to the orcs.

Batu Shatterskull. He was surprised that this usually taciturn old shaman had such a past, and puzzled about what the other party meant by "contributing his remaining energy".

But the old shaman chuckled and reached into his chest, pulling out his own bloody heart.

"I will hold back that Golden Dragon, Lord Batu. Go, lead the orcs to conquer Avendell Dan, and conquer the land we orcs have won by following the will of our Father God. This is true revenge!"

The heart in his hand was still beating, and the blood flowing from his chest gradually surged into the sky, condensing into a one-eyed pattern high in the air.

Batu raised his blood-red battle axe, staring at the enormous one-eyed symbol in the sky, and shouted hoarsely, "Attack! Neither the lowly Dwarf, nor those fragile pointy-eared creatures, nor the golden-skinned lizards in the sky can stop the orcs' conquest! Attack! We orcs have no way out!"

"Waaah—"

The horn made of leg bone sounded again, its long, drawn-out sound echoing across the battlefield. Inspired by the one-eyed symbol, the orcs' offensive became even more ferocious.

"Our great Father God gives us strength!"

"Every orc has the right to pursue glory and blood; this is the supreme right given to us by the Father God!"

Protected by the blood curtain created by the shamans, the orc army steadily advanced despite the relentless bombardment from the Elf and Dwarf, arriving at the walls of Evander.

However, the shamans' magic is not omnipotent. If they are even slightly lax, the barriers they create will be destroyed by Light Arrow, spells, and the Dwarf ' exploding barrels, and none of the orcs that follow will escape unscathed.

Even if all the orcs in front die, the orcs behind will still rush to fill the gaps, stepping on the still warm, blood-sucking bodies of their comrades as they advance.

"Death is not the end!"

"The Father God is watching over us in the Nishak Kingdom!"

Orc giants and Ogre relentlessly rammed the heavy gates of Avendell Dan, while arrows, spears, and various fire spells rained down from the walls.

If they were allowed to breach the city walls and hundreds of thousands of orcs poured into Avendell Dan, the consequences would be unimaginable.

Ed looked solemnly at the orcs crowding below the city and gazed at the mysterious one-eyed pattern in the sky. "What is that? But there's no time to worry now. The half-orc giants and Ogre are constantly ramming the city gates, and the Dwarf are already struggling to keep up."

Ed took the bow and arrow from his back, raised his hand lightly, and shot it straight through the head of a half-beast giant.

The giant crashed to the ground, and the Dwarf king immediately cried out, "Titus!"

A scorching hurricane swept in, and the golden dragon reappeared high in the sky, casting a huge shadow that caused countless orcs to raise their heads in fear.

"Orcs, your insatiable greed disgusts me!"

"Avendell Dan will never be your territory. The Feanso Continent will only be ruled by a more benevolent and lawful race, and I will bestow upon you—fire and death!"

"Boom--"

The Golden Dragon flapped its wings above the city wall, spewing out endless fiery dragon breath, and the surging flames instantly engulfed hundreds of orcs.

In just a moment, the orcs below the city were burned to a charred, bloody mess, emitting thick gray smoke.

The orcs' arrows and spears were ineffective against the enormous Golden Dragon, but its scorching dragonfire was deadly.

The Golden Dragon dragon flapped its wings, stirring up a scorching gale, and continued to climb higher, preparing to swoop down.

Just then, a roar came from afar.

"Golden Dragon— "

A huge, blurry orc-like giant covered in rotting, peeling green flesh appeared in the sky.

The souls and bodies of countless fallen orcs were imprisoned within, forming that twisted and complex body.

Orc Spirit.

This is an ancient secret technique that uses the power of the orcish death god Yezros to gather fallen soldiers together and create terrifying killing monsters.

At the head of the Orc Spirit was the old shaman, now curled up in the stitched-up body, his eyes bloodshot and his gaze incredibly fanatical.

"Golden Dragon, after enduring thousands of years of barrenness and bloodshed, the orcs deserve the world! We have passed the Father God's test, and no one can stop the orcs' great conquest!"

The rotting orc, trailing billowing black smoke, slowly flew into the sky, confronting the Golden Dragon across the void.

Keosius declared righteously, "Orcs, is this your reliance—a patched-up, mangled spirit body? What filthy, ugly things!"

Flames erupted, but the enormous, rotting orc stretched out its pale hand, spewing out highly poisonous smoke that obscured the sky and temporarily blocked the terrifying breath.

Immediately afterwards, the Orc Spirit roared to the sky and charged toward the distant Golden Dragon: "I am the embodiment of the will of countless orcs over thousands of years!"

"Aww—"

A series of mournful howls and roars came from the black mist, accompanied by continuous muffled thunderous sounds.

The Dwarf, Elf, and orcs on the ground could only see the enormous figure moving through it, wrestling and fighting with each other.

In reality, the monster composed of orc souls and corpses was indeed troublesome, but Keosius was also deliberately maneuvering around him, creating the illusion that he was fighting with all his might.

After all, he didn't know what kind of backup plan Gruumsh had. If he acted rashly and attracted the attention of the True God, he would lose this dragon blood avatar for nothing, which would be quite bad.

On the ground, without the threat of the Golden Dragon, the orcs' offensive became even more ferocious, charging towards the city walls wave after wave.

Under King Ed's command, elite Fighter of Dwarf and Elf fought valiantly against the enemy, their warhammers and swords clashing, and the blood of orcs staining the city walls.

Just then, the ground trembled again, and the Wasteland Striding Dragon galloped across the land, while the chieftain of the Red Fang Tribe, Batu Shatterskull, roared angrily, wielding his battle axe.

"Crush these weak Dwarf and Elf! Conquer their cities, plunder everything they have! Take revenge on them!"