"Boom... bang!"
Hit by Flame Shock at such close range, as if fired upon with the muzzle pressed right against him, Azog's physique, which was much taller than ordinary Orcs, was instantly blasted flying, landing with a heavy thud in the woods ten meters away!
Yet the Worg he rode was only affected by the aftermath, taking two steps back without sustaining much injury.
"Roar!"
The huge pale Worg let out a low roar, lunging forward to pounce on An Yang, but was evaded by him; then it immediately turned to look back at its master, its roar turning sorrowful as a result.
Azog did not get up after falling into the woods, for the berserk power of Flame Shock easily tore apart his armor, reducing his upper body to a charred and mangled mess. One could imagine that the fragments sent flying when the armor shattered had likely embedded themselves in his internal organs, and black, putrid blood flowed along the ground covered in fallen leaves.
This legendary Orc still displayed tenacious vitality—his body twitched, his eyes widened, and his hands grabbed desperately at his weapon, seemingly still wishing to crawl up and continue fighting.
"Roar!"
The Worg let out a low roar and charged forward.
Gripping his Beater Sword with both hands, An Yang followed closely behind. After engaging the Worg in a brief skirmish and hacking it until it was covered in wounds, he seized the opportunity to raise his sword high and brought it down on Azog's neck.
"Splurt!"
Black blood spurted out, Azog's wide-open eyes fixed in death, while the Worg, grief-stricken beyond measure, raised its head and emitted a long, mournful howl toward the sky.
"Awooo..."
Every Worg heard its lament, and every Orc Knight understood its meaning, stopping in their tracks one after