The Dead Orcs

"Swish, swish, swish—"

With a crisp sound of air being fanned, the Red Dragon flapped its wings and slowly descended from the sky, looking down at all the creatures on this battlefield.

Long Live the Empire!

"Long live His Your Majesty Keosius!"

The cheers of the imperial officers and soldiers were like continuous waves, growing louder and louder with each descent of the Red Dragon.

Meanwhile, in the distant Dragon City, countless soldiers fired their guns in salute, Wyvern spread their wings, stretched their necks, and roared with pride.

The Red Dragon cast a ferocious, enormous shadow across the land. As it approached the ground, the shadow grew larger and larger, eventually engulfing hundreds of orcs, including Soro.

The overwhelming dragon's might descended, pressing down on the hearts of every beastman present like a heavy mountain, making their hearts pound and leaving them breathless.

Soro knelt on the ground, head bowed, feeling the overwhelming pressure. He felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave, his whole body trembling violently, cold sweat pouring down his face.

That's impossible!

That Red Dragon actually won!

How could this be? The powerful, invincible Father God whom Soro worshipped—had actually lost to the Emperor of the Embers of the Burned Empire! "Father God!"

"Father God, please grant us protection!"

"The Red Dragon is back! Father God, kill him quickly!"

He prayed and roared frantically in his heart, but no matter what, that familiar voice did not ring out again; only silence answered him.

At this moment, Soro was finally certain that the Father God had completely abandoned them and the orcs of the Ugo Great Prairie, leaving them to their fate.

Thinking of this, the Orc Chieftain's eyes went blank, staring blankly into space. He remained motionless as if struck by lightning, kneeling on the scorched earth.

The roar of cannons and the cheers of imperial soldiers enveloped him like a tidal wave, causing a piercing buzzing in his ears.

Scenes from the past flashed through his mind: the death of the former chieftain Batu, the collapse of the Red Blood Tribe, receiving the Father God's blessing, and the newborn orc Soro murmuring, "I am the Great Chieftain of the Red Blood Tribe, I am the warrior chosen by the Father God, I am the hero who will lead the orcs to rise again."

He should have had a glorious future; he should have unleashed a massive beast tide and conquered the north of Fei An Suo; but all of this was destroyed by that Red Dragon!

After a moment of silence, he suddenly raised his head, looked at the Red Dragon flapping its wings in the sky, his eyes wide, his teeth clenched, burning with endless rage.

It was this Red Dragon that destroyed everything he had! It burned his hopes, his future, and his ambitions to ashes!

No, he still has a last glimmer of hope, as long as he kills that damned Red Dragon!

Instantly, driven by extreme rage, the Orc Spores within Soro's body were awakened! This nearly six-meter-tall orc's muscles bulged, his face was flushed, his eyes were wide open, and the veins on his forehead bulged with each heavy breath, his eyes blazing with fury.

He picked up the spear from the ground, gripped it in his hand, then raised it high into the air, leaping into the air with his feet planted firmly on the ground. He roared furiously, somewhat delirious, "I'm going to kill you!"

Despite the orc's tall and imposing stature, he appeared as small and ridiculous as a green grasshopper leaping up in front of this colossal Red Dragon, which was nearly sixty meters long.

"Look, that green-skinned creature is actually daring to challenge His Majesty!"

"That's really overestimating yourself."

"Yes, even their god was defeated by His Your Majesty Keosius, how could he dare?"

Upon seeing this scene, the imperial soldiers watching discussed it amongst themselves, mostly with a mocking tone, while some were indignant, believing it to be an insult to His Your Majesty Keosius.

But no one—not even the orc soldiers—believed that Soro's "assassination" would succeed.

Faced with a vast and visible disparity in strength, even the most skilled fighters and the most courageous warriors would find it all futile.

"Overestimating one's abilities."

Keosius stared coldly at the orc leaping toward him.

Then, as if he had just thought of something, a slightly mocking smile suddenly appeared on his lips.

"In that case, let me try what I got from that old green-skinned guy—to see if it works!"

The Red Dragon extended its giant claws, spreading its five sharp fingers. The blood-red ball of light in its palm suddenly changed, condensing into a blood-stained spear.

An immense pressure emanated from the dragon, causing all creatures within a hundred miles to involuntarily feel fear, submission, and panic. This was not the might of a dragon—but rather the divine power of war, strength, chaos, orcs.

The moment he saw the blood-stained spear and felt that familiar aura, Soro's eyes widened and his body stiffened. A tremendous shock and fear struck his heart like a hammer blow.

"This... this is... the aura of the Father God?"

Soro's voice became hoarse and trembling, filled with disbelief.

In an instant, a jumble of thoughts surged through his mind: Had the supreme divine power of the Father God been stolen by this greedy Red Dragon? Then what should he, who considered himself Favored by the Gods, do? But Keosius did not give him much time to think. The Red Dragon still smiled mockingly, gripping the blood-stained spear and manipulating this wisp of divine power.

"Boom--"

With a roar across the sky, crimson divine light spread out.

In an instant, all the orcs felt an intense fear that their bodies, minds, and even souls were being held in someone else's hands and could be shattered at any moment—even Soro in mid-air was no exception.

Amidst the horrified and fearful gazes of the orcs, the Red Dragon brandished its blood-stained spear, pointing the tip at Soro in mid-air.

"Whoosh—"

A dazzling streak of blood-red light shot out and struck the orc's body.

In an instant, Soro felt his body being controlled by an invisible giant hand, with no room for resistance. He felt his flesh being peeled off, his bones being removed, and even his soul being pulled out.

The orc hovered in mid-air, and under the gaze of countless people, his burly body gradually shrank, his strong Limbs became thin and sunken, and even his fur became withered.

Soon, Soro discovered that the Red Dragon was doing something even more terrible than killing him—stripping him of his power!

No, no—

"Red Dragon! You cannot take away my power!"

Soro screamed silently, his heart filled with anger, fear, and panic.

But under the divine power that controlled the orcs, he was helpless and could only let them manipulate everything about him as if he were a puppet.

In the end, Soro had become an old orc who was less than 1.6 meters tall, with atrophied muscles, wrinkled skin, and almost no hair left.

Without a close look, no one would associate him with the once spirited orc Great Chieftain; they might even mistake him for an elderly Goblin.

Keosius then lowered his spear, and Soro fell from mid-air, crashing heavily to the ground, dizzy and disoriented, his body shattered.

"Uh..."

Soro opened his eyes and laboriously lowered his head, only to be met with a thin, withered, and wrinkled body—the very kind of old orc he had previously loathed and who should have been executed.

He moved his fingers and realized with horror that his strength was less than one-thousandth of what it used to be. He could barely lift his hand, let alone fight.

For orcs who revere strength, this is a torture more terrifying than death—no, more terrifying than being torn to pieces!

The surrounding orcs first whispered among themselves, then their voices gradually grew louder, and they began to discuss it nonchalantly.

"Soro Great Chieftain has become so weak."

"Yes, this aura is not even as good as that of a Deep Gnome."

Soro struggled to lift his head, his face filled with terror as he looked up at the Red Dragon in the sky, pleading tremblingly, "Red Dragon, no, Your Majesty Keosius, please return my power to me."

However, Keosius merely watched him with interest, as if observing a tiny ant.

"Does this guy even deserve to be our chief?"

"He is too weak, so weak that he is unworthy of the Father God's teachings. According to the tribe's rules, he should be expelled by us."

"Tsk tsk, he looks like a stray dog."

"If we leave this guy by the roadside, he'll probably be devoured by vultures and turned into a pile of bones."

The orcs' chatter grew increasingly unrestrained, like sharp knives stabbing into Soro's heart time and time again, filling him with immense anger, regret, and pain.

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Soro laboriously buried his head in the ground, banging his forehead against it again and again until blood began to flow.

His face was covered in blood and tears, and he cried out in a hoarse voice, "Your Majesty Keosius, please return my power to me."

I... I am willing to lead the Red Blood Tribe to submit to you, I am willing to give everything I have."

However, Keosius glanced at it, shook his head with amusement, and said, "What do you have of value to me now, besides a worthless life?"

Chief Soro, having made your choice, you must pay the price.

"Yes, that's what I thought too! This weak old man doesn't deserve to be our chief!"

Suddenly, a powerful roar rang out, like a thunderclap from a clear sky, drawing everyone's attention, even Keosius in the sky looked over.

A burly, ugly Green-skinned Orcs leaped out, wielding sharp Steel Claw, and stomped Soro menacingly under his foot.

Unexpectedly, this orc was one of Soro's two personal guards, Garon, who had participated in the "Bloody Day".

Soro looked at his former subordinates, who were now swaggering around, and wanted to roar in anger, but could only weakly say, "Damn lowly orcs, your life... was given to you by me. Without me, you wouldn't even exist!"

Garon brandished the steel claw in his hand and said nonchalantly, "Old man, you said that defective products from the Old Era should be eliminated!"

"Sizzle—"

Before Soro could answer, the sound of a blade piercing flesh rang out. Garon had actually swung his steel claw and stabbed Soro right through the head! His aged face was filled with terror and disbelief—even in death, he couldn't believe that he would be killed by the orc he had raised himself.

Garon easily withdrew his blood-stained steel claw, blood and brain matter spurting from the head. He laughed and said, "Goodbye, old man."

Then, Garon raised his head, pointed at the dead Soro, and a fawning smile appeared on his blood-stained face, "Lord Red Dragon, this old fellow has been killed by me."

We orcs are willing to follow a strongman like you. From now on, you are our leader, and we will fight wherever you point.

"That's right, that old bastard Soro doesn't deserve to be our boss at all!"

"Boss Keosius!"

"Moreover, I also sensed a warm and familiar aura. Joining forces with this Red Dragon Boss is definitely the right choice!"

The Green-skinned Orcs, whom Soro had personally trained, instantly defected, noisily submitting to the Red Dragon, while the Pure Blood Orcs remained pale and silent.

For these simple-minded, Limbs strong Green-skinned Orcs, as long as there is a war to fight, it doesn't matter who they submit to.

Moreover, not only does Keosius possess immense strength, capable of easily dispatching the former chieftain Soro as if catching a chick, but he also exudes the aura of a "Father God."

Seeing that the emotions were right, Garon knelt down and roared, "Your Majesty Keosius, please accept our submission!"

Having said that, he imitated the Imperial People and shouted fervently, "Long live His Your Majesty Keosius!"

Keosius stared at the orc who had turned traitor and couldn't help but chuckle, thinking to himself that this guy was quite a character.

Garon —he had heard of that name before. In his previous life, Galon was one of the "Four Great Scourges" during the beast tide. He had plotted several large-scale massacres, killing hundreds of thousands of humans and becoming a nightmare for countless North of Feian Suo.

In the past, Keosius might have actually recruited him and made this orc chieftain work for him.

But now, after suffering several major losses, Keosius has become much more cautious.

The orc bears too heavy a mark of the Orc God and the Mother of Fungi, and there are countless hidden tricks within him. If he were to be rashly placed into the Empire, he would certainly pose a threat.

Even if he were to utilize the divine power of these orcish realms, Keosius preferred to create a dragon race that was unique to him and free from any hidden dangers.

With this thought in mind, Keosius coldly looked down at the tens of thousands of orcs on the battlefield, slowly raised the Blood Spear in his claws that symbolized the orcs' authority, and released a blood-red divine light.

"All orcs, heed my command—"

Keosius's thunderous voice echoed across the sky and the earth, its power overwhelming.

"Very good!"

"Does the boss agree?"

"We're now Imperial People!"

Gazing at the familiar crimson divine light in the sky, the orcs were instantly excited, waving their spears and Bone Club and cheering. Garon was also overjoyed.

However, what Keosius said next made them feel as if they had fallen into an ice cave.

"I will grant you—utter death!"

"Whoosh—"

In an instant, the crimson divine light spread rapidly, reaching more than ten miles away. All the orcs shrouded in the crimson light—whether Green-skinned Orcs or Pure Blood Orcs —fell like harvested wheat, falling in swathes.

The moment they came into contact with that divine light, their eyes dimmed, their pupils dilated, and they collapsed to the ground, dying silently.