Artillery Fire and Spores

"Boom!"

Earth-Shattering roar erupted as another bomb exploded in mid-air, the flames from which engulfed and burned everything around it.

The air was filled with the Gunsmoke smell of gunpowder and the stench of blood.

The land was ravaged, riddled with craters from the explosion, shrapnel, and mountains of charred orc corpses.

However, by this time, the intensity of the bombing had decreased considerably compared to before.

Wyvern do need to replenish their ammunition, and during this temporarily safe interval, the orcs trampled over the corpses of their own kind, crossed the burning sea of fire, and launched a near-mad charge.

Even when their animal hides caught fire or their feet sank into the red-hot rocks, the beastmen paid no heed and charged forward relentlessly.

Orcs often step on landmines and are killed instantly. The lucky ones survive, but their legs are blown off.

One orc, after stepping on a landmine, picked up his mangled legs, crawled on the ground, and struggled to move forward, hissing under his breath, "It's not over yet, I can still charge!"

"Waaaagh!"

A series of battle roars came from behind, and the orcs swarmed forward, trampling over the corpses of their comrades without regard for anything else. The crippled orc lying on the ground was crushed into a pulp.

The deaths of their kind did not frighten them; instead, they made them even more ferocious and excited—the spores that filled the air became the best catalyst for the orcs.

"Let's go! Those big birds have run out of eggs!"

"I'm going to tear them apart! I'll stew these guys into broth! My little brothers all died in the fire!"

"For Gruumsh!"

The frenzied battle cries echoed across the wasteland as the orcs rallied and marched in a mighty force toward Avendell Dan —or rather, the Dragon City capital.

After suffering nearly 100,000 casualties, the orcs finally approached Blackstone Mountain, arriving at a point several kilometers away from the fortress walls.

However, these poor Green-skinned Orcs did not know that these few rounds of bombing were just a small test, and the real test had just begun.

They had no idea how much preparation the Embers of the Burned Empire had made to completely exterminate these orcs, or how many military researchers had been calculating and planning day and night for this war.

In the distant imperial positions, hundreds of heavy cannons stood ready, their dark muzzles pointed at the sky.

"Hehe, this time we're going to blast them to their hearts' content." The commander of the Ogre Artillery Corps, with a cigarette dangling from his Da Tou, grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth—and a hideous, ugly smile.

"Commander, those orcs have entered our firing range!" came the scout's voice over the walkie-talkie.

The Empire's Wyvern Rider are often used as scouts, able to take advantage of their air superiority to overlook the entire battlefield and uncover a great deal of enemy secrets.

Da Tou exhaled the cigarette from his mouth, stomped it out, and then asked unhurriedly, "How many people did they send?"

The Wyvern Knight hovering in the sky held up his binoculars, squinted at the sea of orcs, and whispered, "Commander, their numbers are unbelievable!"

"How many are there? Give me a number! Damn it, why are you dawdling like that?" the Ogre legion commander cursed impatiently.

The scout quickly looked at the sea of orcs covering the mountains and answered truthfully, "Conservatively speaking, there are about 300,000 orcs just within our firing range, and the number of orcs behind them is countless."

"Three hundred thousand?"

Upon learning this information, even Da Tou couldn't help but widen his eyes in surprise. Then, he laughed wildly, "Hahahaha! Great, so many have come, just what I wanted!"

The Ogre waved his hand and roared at the artillerymen in the position, "Fire! No need for calibration, just bombard them! Bomb as many as you can, there's plenty of ammunition!"

"Long live the Legion Commander!"

"Long Live the Empire!"

"For His Your Majesty Keosius!"

Immediately, cheers erupted from the position. The artillerymen were overjoyed and immediately began loading ammunition in a flurry of activity.

Those who could become artillerymen in the Empire all had some peculiar hobbies—for example, they enjoyed watching living things being blown to pieces.

The players in the artillery legion were overjoyed, as they could always gain the most experience in such War Quest without having to risk their lives or work hard.

"Boom--"

Amidst the howling of cannons, at the Ogre's command, hundreds of heavy cannons opened fire simultaneously, shells tracing graceful arcs through the sky before crashing down upon the distant orcish horde.

Hearing the roar and boom of the cannons, the orcs were all confused and puzzled.

What is that?

"Wait. That sound again! I know, it's those fire-breathing eggs! Ouch! Why did you hit me?"

"You're talking nonsense! I thought only those strange birds in the sky could lay those kinds of eggs! And there aren't any strange birds in the sky right now, so where would the eggs come from—"

However, at that moment, a barrage of shells rained down, exploding in mid-air and instantly killing dozens of orcs.

The flying shrapnel, like scalding blades, sliced off half of the orc's head.

The orc was still furious. His face was red, and with his last bit of strength, he retorted, "I said it was that kind of egg."

"Boom!"

The next moment, accompanied by Earth-Shattering explosion, the blast engulfed everything around it.

The Empire's artillery positions were extremely busy, with hundreds of heavy cannons firing non-stop until their barrels turned red-hot before stopping to cool down, while countless shells pierced the air and rained down on the orcs.

The Empire's artillery bombardment was, in some ways, more intense, and longer-lasting than bombing.

The shells landed among the crowd, and the shrapnel and terrifying explosions could take the lives of dozens of orcs—except that these shells did not create a sea of fire that could burn the earth like Napalm Bomb.

However, the orcs remained fearless, wielding their Bone Club and stone spears, charging forward wave after wave, braving the dense rain of cannonballs.

"Waaaagh!"

"Charge!"

"Those exploding eggs are made of steel! If we steal their strange birds, we'll have an endless supply of iron!"

The orcs' thought processes were still so peculiar; they actually mistook cannonballs and bombs for eggs laid by a "strange bird."

However, given their short lifespan of only one month, those who could think of these things were already considered "wise" among the Green-skinned Orcs.

"Waaaagh!"

"I'm going to rob them all!"

The battle cries echoed across the battlefield, but were drowned out by the roar of explosions. These Green-skinned Orcs moved through the artillery fire and actually advanced the battle line.

The orcs charging at the forefront either stepped on landmines, were blown up by falling shells, or burned to death by Napalm Bomb. Their deaths were varied and bizarre.

But no matter how terrible their companions' condition was, these Green-skinned Orcs charged forward relentlessly, stepping over the corpses of their own kind.

Their simple brains cannot comprehend words like courage and faith, nor can they process those complex magical circuits, but they clearly know one thing—we are going to war!

"I see. So the Embers of the Burned Empire's army conquered North Aisel and captured Avendell Dan with this kind of power?"

On the hills behind the orc camp, Soro gritted his teeth, his face so dark it seemed to drip ink.

Even if the inferior orcs are as numerous as weeds, they cannot withstand such attrition! According to his observation, in just half a day, the Green-skinned Orcs have already suffered losses of more than 200,000!

According to his observation, each explosion had the power of Third Circle Spell, and the Embers of the Burned Empire's army had created tens of thousands of such explosions! Did the Embers of the Burned Empire have dozens of legendary-level mages/ Cleric constantly casting low-circle spells to kill hundreds of thousands of inferior orcs? What a joke! The Red Blood Tribe had long been located in the remote Ugo Prairie, and its path to the Feanso Continent was cut off by the High Mountain Kingdom and blocked by the towering Black Rock Mountains.

Like the former Northern Kingdom, they were confined to a corner of the world, completely unaware of the changing global landscape. Their only enemy was the Dwarf Kingdom.

Several months ago, some strange humans also appeared on the Ugo Great Prairie. They called themselves "Starfallers" from outer space, who came to help them defeat the High Mountain Kingdom.

But the orcs at the time did not trust these alien races. Instead, they looked at them with greedy eyes—on the barren grasslands, all resources were extremely precious, including human corpses.

So the orcs killed these humans, cut off their heads, skinned them, and even tried to stew their flesh into soup.

But strangely, not long after, the human remains disappeared into thin air, leaving the hungry beastmen feeling extremely annoyed and disappointed.

Of course, these orcs could not possibly know that the emergence of the Embers of the Burned Empire had brought about tremendous changes to the world, and that the way warfare was conducted had undergone a radical transformation.

Soro growled, "This can't go on any longer. We have to get involved, or these inferior orcs will be wiped out sooner or later."

"Damn the Embers of the Burned Empire! Their magic is like it's free, endless!"

"Mok!"

He called out loudly.

Mok is the current shaman of the Red Blood Tribe. He also received the blessing of the Blackwater, becoming a half-green-skinned "new orc" and mastering many powerful divine spells.

However, it's hard to say whether the power of these divine spells comes from the Orc God or some indescribable being.

"Great Chieftain, what are your orders?"

A deep, hoarse voice came, and a hunched orc appeared before them.

He was draped in a heavy black robe, and his exposed green skin was covered with large patches of moss, which looked rather eerie and gave off a foul odor.

Soro sighed and asked, "Shaman Mok, the spells of the Embers of the Burned Empire are so powerful, how are we supposed to break through?"

Mok chuckled sinisterly, "It's simple. All we need to do is have the great Father God and Mother Goddess protect us, and the orcs will be able to break through the fire's blockade and occupy the territory that rightfully belongs to us."

Soro frowned, but didn't dwell on who the "Mother Goddess" Mok was talking about was. He simply ordered, "Do as you say. Use divine magic to help those inferior orcs—no, our brave Fighter —break through the enemy's blockade."

"Very well, Great Chieftain, so be it."

Mok raised his head, and his face, covered in moss and resembling the roots of an old tree, gradually wrinkled, revealing a particularly chilling smile.

Guarded by several strong orc warriors, Mok arrived at the front line. He looked up at the sky filled with cannonballs, then at the Green-skinned Orcs charging forward.

Mok raised his slightly trembling hand, gripped the dark green scepter covered in viscous liquid, and said softly, "Ignorant people, you do not know the power you possess!"

You will be saved, you will be the beginning of chaos, you will be the destroyers of the old world!

The Orc Shaman's voice grew increasingly impassioned and excited, and by the end, a strange light even shone in his cloudy eyes.

Mok raised the scepter high, and from it ceaselessly spread an invisible mycelium of spores to the surrounding soil, trees, and rocks.

The spore hyphae spread across the battlefield like mist, linking the Green-skinned Orcs together and weaving them into a complex network with tens of thousands of nodes, making them appear as one.

Every orc is constantly "thinking" about this, craving bloody slaughter and exhilarating war; they all want to unleash their primal desires.

After being connected by the network, the Green-skinned Orcs surprisingly developed a kind of naive "collective consciousness".

These orcs, now incorporated into the spore network, had bloodshot eyes, drool dripping from their mouths, and were breathing increasingly rapidly. They all raised their heads and let out a Earth-Shattering battle roar.

"Waaaagh!"

In an instant, countless spores rose up and condensed in the air into a translucent net-like substance, while a powerful force field was activated on the beastmen.

At the center of this network, a powerful Green-skinned Orcs named "Giant Mountain" hurled a boulder, shattering a cannonball falling from the sky, and then roared, "Waaaagh! Follow me! These things are nothing to fear, kill them all!"

Giant Mountain was exceptionally burly, standing three meters tall. His muscles were as hard as rocks in the mountains, and the veins on his head were almost bulging out. His whole body exuded an incredibly strong force field.

"He's a big shot!"

"Yes, he looks very strong, so let's follow him and charge!"

"Waaaagh! For Gruumsh!"

In an instant, the Green-skinned Orcs cried out in alarm. They instinctively followed the Giant Mountain's steps, braving the fierce artillery fire, and charged towards the fortress.

Under the influence of that mysterious force field, many of the cannonballs became duds, shattering before they even hit the ground. The enraged orcs then recycled and reused these cannonballs, disassembling and combining them to create handy weapons.

Of course, some losers also Lieutenant General themselves up in the process.