Giant Mountain

Another explosion rang out, instantly filling the Gunsmoke, flashing flames, sending shrapnel flying, and spraying blood into the sky.

More than a dozen orcs were blown to pieces, their limbs flying everywhere, and even charred heads rolled to the ground, spinning several times.

But the other orcs remained unmoved, not even bothering to turn their heads to look, instead enthusiastically picking up the scorching hot shrapnel—as this situation had been going on for several days.

This is the third day of the orcs' attack on Avendell Dan.

The Embers of the Burned Empire's artillery fire continued day and night, and Wyvern, accompanied by shrieks, constantly swept across the sky, dropping bombs like raindrops.

During this period, the orcs launched hundreds of large-scale offensives, once approaching the trenches of the Embers of the Burned Empire, but were still repelled by fierce artillery fire. Every day, tens of thousands of orcs perished in this "meat grinder" filled with the smell of Gunsmoke.

In just three short days, the ground of this wasteland was blasted down by three feet, the raised hills were leveled, and the ground was littered with the charred corpses of orcs.

However, Mok's special methods were not without effect; in this short period of time, the surviving orcs became even stronger.

"Waaaagh!"

The Giant Mountain let out an extremely angry battle roar and charged towards the Embers of the Burned Empire's defenses, braving the overwhelming barrage of cannon fire.

In its hand was a massive warhammer made of countless shrapnel fragments and firing mechanisms, with blazing flames spewing from its handle.

Meanwhile, Giant Mountain scavenged a lot of things on the battlefield, pieced them together, and gradually armed himself, creating an exceptionally rough and simple suit of armor.

"Fellow tribesmen, charge with me! Their attacks will only make us stronger!"

Giant Mountain raised his warhammer high, stood atop the pile of corpses, pulled up the shrapnel-covered mask, and let out a powerful roar.

"Waaagh!"

"Giant Mountain! A brutal Giant Mountain!"

Amid the cheers of the orcs, the force field emanating from the Giant Mountain grew stronger and stronger, to the point of being almost tangible, even capable of dismantling cannonballs falling from the sky into scrap metal.

The orcs' technology was considered extremely backward and bizarre by the Empire. Their weapons were made from natural materials such as stones and animal bones, making them seem like a primitive tribe.

However, the weapons crafted by these Green-skinned Orcs were almost entirely contrary to objective common sense in the eyes of the Imperial researchers.

According to Imperial researchers, in the heat of war and death, orcs develop an extremely idealistic power, and their beliefs are strong enough to distort objective reality—similar to Sorcerer.

As long as the orcs believe that this thing can be used in war, then it can work smoothly.

Even the most insignificant piece of scrap metal can become a weapon that other races cannot believe. And under the distortion of that power, the creations pieced together from those scrap metals can even unleash a more brutal and unrestrained power.

In a sense, every Green-skinned Orcs is a potential "war Sorcerer," capable of distorting reality with the will to wage war.

They possess their own "unique" technology, though it's mostly War Machine cobbled together from war scraps. "Is that the orc?"

"That's right, this is General Dror's order. We must kill it at all costs, even if it means wasting ammunition."

"Okay, I understand."

The artillery corps commander, the Ogre Da Tou, put down his walkie-talkie, couldn't help but spit out a curse, and said, "Damn it, these brainless greens are like cockroaches, you can't kill them all."

He arrived at the position, picked up his binoculars, squinted and observed for a while, then roared, "See that big green guy on the hill covered in shrapnel? Bomb him to death at all costs! Send him to meet Gruumsh."

"Yes, Commander!"

Soon, the imperial artillerymen calculated the angle and parameters, skillfully aimed at the location of the "Giant Mountain," and prepared to launch a precise pinpoint bombardment.

"Fire!"

"Boom--"

At the command of the Ogre commander, dozens of heavy cannons opened fire in unison amidst the roar of artillery fire, shells bursting forth from them.

The shells came flying through the air, appearing densely in the sky, and crashed down towards the orcs as if they had eyes.

"Huff, huff"

Giant Mountain raised his head, gripped the warhammer in his hand, and his breathing became more and more rapid, but the expression on his rugged face became more and more excited and excited.

The orc licked its exposed fangs and suddenly burst out laughing, "They're all coming for me. They want to kill me."

Hahaha! Well done!

I'd like to see what else you're capable of besides releasing these exploding metal shells! If you can actually kill me, then you've got guts!

Facing the barrage of shells raining down from the sky, Giant Mountain showed no fear. Instead, he raised his warhammer high and leaped into the air to meet the shells, flames erupting from beneath his armor.

"Waaaagh!"

"Boom!"

"Boom! Boom!"

One explosion after another filled the air. Due to the interference of that force field, many shells were activated and exploded in mid-air, or even turned into duds.

The orc hurled the warhammer, a composite of cannonball wreckage, and from the crooked gaps behind its head, brilliant flames burst forth—neither scientific nor magical—providing it with tremendous propulsion.

"Bang!"

The warhammer flew from his hand, piercing the air and instantly shattering several cannonballs horizontally before returning to the Giant Mountain's hand like a boomerang.

Immediately afterwards, several uneven iron balls shot out from the tattered device on its shoulder, flying towards the cannonballs in the sky and causing them to explode.

Facing the last few shells, Giant Mountain roared once more, swung his warhammer, and slammed it down.

"Boom!"

Another huge fireball appeared in the sky, while the orc Fighter in rough armor crashed to the ground, almost unharmed except for charred marks.

"Giant Mountain! Giant Mountain! A brutal Giant Mountain, Giant Mountain that even the Embers of the Burned Empire fears!"

"WAAAAGH!!!"

The orcs shouted its name with fervor, becoming even more excited, and amidst this thunderous roar, the Giant Mountain's force field grew even stronger.

The mycelium released by Mok linked them together, giving these orcs a psychic power capable of distorting reality.

Even the observers from the Empire found this scene somewhat unbelievable.

Staring at the weapons and armor in the Magic Image— weapons and armor that were nothing short of childish and could barely be called "toys"—they muttered to themselves, "How is this possible? From any angle, that thing can't possibly work!! By Keosius, damn it, it's just a pile of scrap metal from disintegrated cannonballs!!"

The researchers were extremely frustrated. They grabbed their already thinning hair and cursed at the orcs dressed in simple clothes.

"WAAAGH!!!"

"Rob them all!"

Under the call of the Giant Mountain, the orcs' offensive became even more ferocious. They picked up scrap metal they had gathered and charged once again toward the empire's defenses.

Faced with the cannonballs falling from the sky, the orcs were able to use their self-made armor for protection and also use force fields to interfere with the projectiles.

Some orcs were still blown to pieces, their bodies mangled beyond recognition, but more orcs filled the gaps, roaring as they surged toward the distant fortress.

This time, braving the intense artillery fire, the orcs finally reached a point a few hundred meters from the Embers of the Burned Empire's defensive line, about to reach the fortress.

There, the Empire's engineering corps had already constructed various defensive fortifications, with deep trenches winding and twisting like giant pythons, stretching for miles.

Hundreds of bunkers of varying sizes are arranged in a defensive formation, each equipped with several light and heavy machine guns and a dozen or so soldiers, making them excellent firing positions.

From the moment the orcs stepped into the defensive zone, the furious voice of the Hobgoblin Dror echoed through the fortifications, "Fire! Fire! We cannot let them get a single step closer to the Dragon City!"

In an instant, intense flashes of fire erupted from the rows of gun barrels as thousands of machine guns drawn from various locations opened fire simultaneously, creating a truly spectacular scene.

"For the Empire!"

"For His Your Majesty Keosius!"

"By the great Keosius, the Dragon City stands with us! These green-skinned worms will not set foot on our lines!"

The Imperial soldiers inside the bunker roared with fervor; as creatures with dragon blood, their momentum was in no way inferior to that of the Green-skinned Orcs.

"Da da da da da—"

The machine gun bullets poured out from the muzzle, raining down on the orcs.

The orcs in the front row were the first to be hit and were the most unlucky. Blood blossomed on their chests, abdomens, and even heads before they fell straight to the ground.

The Embers of the Burned Empire has no concept of humanity; every bullet will shred the enemy's body to pieces, striving to inflict maximum damage. Even the Life Force orcs will find it difficult to withstand.

"Imperial People, I'm going to smash you into mincemeat!" Giant Mountain hoisted a massive steel shield made of shrapnel and used it to shield himself as he charged forward like an armored vehicle.

"Giant Mountain! A brutal Giant Mountain!"

"I'm going to charge with him! Forget about these little iron pieces! As long as we smash those soldiers hiding in the cave to death, we'll win!"

Immediately, at the call of the Giant Mountain, thousands of orcs followed behind him and launched a fierce charge.

"Go to hell!"

"Green bedbugs! Taste our bullets!"

Under the barrage of thousands of heavy machine guns, the Green-skinned Orcs fell in droves like wheat being harvested by a scythe; even the armored orcs could hardly withstand the penetrating power of the bullets.

"Hurry up and get me! Where the hell is everyone?"

The Giant Mountain was charging forward with great enthusiasm when it realized there was no movement behind it. It turned around in confusion and found that its men had been riddled with bullets.

They lay on the ground, barely alive, their bodies riddled with bloody holes.

Meanwhile, the Empire's artillery bombardment continued unabated, and the orcs were subjected to attacks from both the sky and the ground. Despite their vast numbers, they could hardly advance an inch.

"Kill him!"

"That's the guy, he's the leader of the Greenskins!"

The Imperial soldiers inside the bunker also discovered Giant Mountain, the "leader," and turned their guns on him, unleashing a concentrated barrage of fire in an attempt to kill him.

"Bang!"

In just a few seconds, the Giant Mountain's steel shield was riddled with holes, and a burst of bullets pierced through the shield and entered the Giant Mountain's strong body.

"Ah!"

Giant Mountain cried out in pain.

The moment the bullets pierced his body and exploded, the orc felt as if a piece of his entire shoulder had been gouged out.

However, thanks to the spores' modification, the Giant Mountain's body became incredibly tough and resilient. The mycelium in the air gathered and quickly filled the bloody hole.

"You, you dare to hurt me! I am Giant Mountain!"

Soon, the anger from being injured replaced the pain, and the rage overwhelmed the orc's mind. The Giant Mountain's eyes turned bloodshot, and he completely lost his mind, becoming a beast of war.

"Waaaaagh!!"

It casually tossed aside its shield, roared, and charged towards the fortress ahead; its massive, armored body was like a mobile fortress.

"I'll kill you all!"

Bullets kept falling on the Giant Mountain, blood mist rose, and blood-stained holes appeared one after another, its body riddled with bullets.

However, under the influence of the spore network, the surrounding hyphae become part of it, constantly repairing and filling its body.

Amidst the interference of that force field, many bullets deviated from their original trajectories and bypassed the orcs.

"Keep up with the brutal Giant Mountain!"

"That's the boss! Follow him, and we can wipe out the Imperial People!"

The orcs shouted, and they gathered around the Giant Mountain once more, surging towards the fortress like a raging flood.

The person in charge of that defense zone was George, who was now the Dragonblood Earl of the Empire, a senior colonel in the army, in charge of the entire defense zone, with more than three thousand imperial soldiers under his command, barely making it into the ranks of senior officers.

Looking at the orc charging madly in the distance, George remained calm. He picked up the walkie-talkie and said, "That special orc is charging towards the Fifth Defense Zone I'm in charge of. My soldiers are fighting hard to hold it off."

But that strange force field can malfunction our weapons; we need the support of cannons and Wyvern.

After receiving confirmation of a recovery, George put down the walkie-talkie, took out the pistol from his waist, wiped it casually, and then drew his officer's longsword, gripping it tightly in his hand.

George looked again at the imposing orc legion in the distance—especially the burly orc at the head, whose golden eyes gleamed with anticipation.

He took a deep breath, savoring the smell of Gunsmoke, but didn't find it pungent; instead, he felt a sense of comfort and familiarity.

"This is what the battlefield feels like," George murmured.

War is always like this, with opportunities and challenges coexisting, and in George's eyes, this war, which was being watched by the Emperor, was clearly a great opportunity.

He then strode out of the bunker and headed to the front lines.