Necromancer, What the Hell Is Summoning 055? Part 25

Perhaps the beastly genes in his bones had not completely faded away.

The fourth-tier swordsman's eyes were bloodshot as he swung his weapon in wide, sweeping arcs, abandoning defense altogether. The snarls of wargs, the roars of orcs, and the clash of blades faded into a blur of background noise in his ears.

His two-handed greatsword was a whirlwind of death, every swing carrying the resolve to take his enemies down with him. Master Locke's pearly white healing light wound around him, barely suppressing the bleeding from his ever-growing collection of wounds. Charging forward and trading injury for injury, Peiwen cut down six or seven wolf riders and their giant mounts before finally reaching the foot of the slope.

Just as Peiwen was about to set foot on the slope, a dark shape lunged at him from the side, trailing a gust of foul wind! It was an orc deputy commander!

The orc deputy commander was far taller and broader than an ordinary wolf rider, and his warg was more imposing as well. He wielded a heavy refined-steel warhammer and had chosen his moment perfectly. With the force of a mountain bearing down, the hammer smashed toward the only path Peiwen could take.

Clang!

A deafening clash of metal rang out! Peiwen's greatsword slammed into the warhammer, sending sparks flying.

Chapter 40: The Bonecrusher Tribe of the North Wind Wasteland

The enormous impact numbed Peiwen's arms. The deputy commander's warg seized the chance to rake several deep gashes in the chain mail over his lower leg, and blood instantly seeped out.

"Roar!" The orc deputy commander let out a tremendous bellow and swung his warhammer around again. Trailing a gust of foul wind, it crashed down toward Peiwen's head!

Peiwen gritted his teeth. Relying on the last of the healing glow, he neither dodged nor retreated, but swung his sword straight at his opponent. This time, he angled it past the warhammer, openly prepared to trade his life.

The orc deputy commander panicked.

He had only wanted to curry favor with his chief and show off his unwavering loyalty. He had not intended to rip out his own heart and liver to show the boss.

He hurriedly let go of his hammer, his massive body jerking backward in an awkward attempt to dodge. The uncontrolled warhammer slammed into Peiwen's shoulder armor with a grating metallic crash, denting and deforming it instantly.

But Peiwen's sword, driven by every ounce of his strength, plunged precisely and viciously into the deputy commander's abdomen, left wide open by his dodge. A long, agonized howl followed.

The orc deputy commander clutched the wound gushing steaming chunks and rolled and convulsed in the mud.

Ignoring the numbness in half his body and the opponent still rolling on the ground, Peiwen kicked off, pouring all his strength, will, and courage into the leap. With his greatsword raised in both hands, he shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, launching a desperate strike at the figure sitting immovable at the top of the slope!

Firmament standard military swordsmanship-Furious Slash!

The blade tore through the air with a piercing boom, pale golden battle qi flickering along its edge.

Then his opponent produced a black battle-ax from somewhere and knocked the battle-qi-charged strike aside.

The terrifying backlash sent Peiwen flying like a kite with a broken string. He landed hard on the slope, where blood and mud mingled, and rolled several times before coming to a stop.

He was too far away for Master Locke's healing to reach the gravely injured captain of the guard. The old man tried to charge forward, but shouting wolf riders swung their flails and drove him mercilessly back.

Peiwen struggled upright and spat out a great mouthful of blood. Facing the orc chief, who had dismounted and was striding toward him, he swung his sword once more.

Without a doubt, the orc chief was at least a Bulwark-level great knight. Even at his peak, Peiwen could only have lasted a few more exchanges against him. Now, after suffering one injury after another, he had no strength left to fight back.

"Don't hurt him!"

Seeing that her captain was in mortal danger, Commandery Princess Liushuang let out a heart-rending scream. She shoved Lady Linda aside, gripped the shimmering knight's sword that symbolized her status, and was about to charge recklessly out of the defensive position.

Lady Linda's face was deathly pale. She planted herself firmly in front of her, her voice thick with tears. "Your Highness! You can't go out there! Please! I beg you!!!"

The orc chief had clearly heard Liushuang's scream. He lowered his enormous black battle-ax and walked slowly up to Peiwen. Looking down at him, he gave a low, contemptuous snort from within his helmet, its meaning unclear.

Then he reached out with a hand covered in heavy armor and easily seized the front of Peiwen's breastplate. Carrying him like a tattered sack, he walked down the slope one step at a time, facing the human position below, surrounded by wolf riders and sunk in deathly silence.

Peiwen was still struggling with all his might.

But it was no use. Before his opponent's towering frame and overwhelming strength, he was as frail as an infant.

The orc chief paid no attention whatsoever to his futile struggles.

The general from some unknown orc tribe wore a suit of refined plate armor. Having lost his two-handed greatsword, Peiwen could do little more than scrape rust off the armor with the dagger he drew from his belt.

Heavy war boots struck the ground with dull thuds as he walked down the slope, step by step.

Each step seemed to land on the hearts of the surviving humans.

Blood dripped from the suspended captain's broken lamellar armor, leaving a broken dark-red trail behind the chief.

Inside the small human position, the surviving guards and mercenaries were pale, their weapon hands visibly trembling. Several maids had already collapsed to the ground.

Among the remaining professionals, Master Locke clutched a magic item, apparently stumbling over the words of an incantation. Lady Linda forced herself to remain standing, shielding the young commandery princess behind her.

Commandery Princess Liushuang, the young princess, gripped her shimmering knight's sword so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The sword's magnificent radiance seemed to sense its owner's despair, growing dim and lusterless.

The orc chief was very pleased with the suffocating scene of despair before him. Holding the still-struggling captain firmly in his right hand, he easily slid the enormous black battle-ax back into the weapon slot on his back with his left. Then he pushed up his faceplate with thick fingers, revealing a heavily muscled face with protruding fangs.

"Your esteemed Highness, Commandery Princess Liushuang." His voice was rough and carried a heavy orcish accent, yet he was deliberately imitating human etiquette, creating a chilling contrast.

"From the North Wind Wasteland, Bonecrusher Vanguard Moglu sends you his 'sincere' greetings. And on behalf of the great Bonecrusher chieftain, invites you to visit our North Wind Tribe as a guest!"

He bent slightly in a clumsy imitation of a knight's salute, his stiff movements full of mockery.

"North Wind? You came from the north?" Before anyone else could react, old Locke, the most knowledgeable among them, called out, "You went around most of the Starry Continent and crossed the Sea of Storms to ambush the Emerald Territory's commandery princess here. What exactly are you after?"

The orc grinned and was about to speak when a piercing scrape rang out, a noise so shrill it seemed capable of tearing eardrums!

Taking advantage of the momentary lapse in the chief's attention, Peiwen produced a small knife from somewhere, one used to trim the fletching on crossbow bolts. With the last of his strength, he scraped a long white mark across the chief's gleaming plate armor!

Even the thick-skinned orc chief could not help shaking his head at the hair-raising screech.

It sounded awful. The damage it caused was a little greater than that of the Furious Slash just now.

"Damn insect!" Moglu was thoroughly enraged. He snatched away the little knife and, without looking, drove it backward into a gap in the captain's shoulder armor, which the orc deputy had smashed, inflicting a grievous second injury.

The piercing pain made the captain's vision darken repeatedly. All he could do was fumble fruitlessly in his weapon pouch with his still-functional right hand, trying to find another weapon.

Of course, against a great knight of at least Bulwark level, any weapon would have been useless.

Moglu was clearly fed up with this ant's tenacious resistance. To keep the young princess calm, he had not brutally ended the captain's life, so he had to endure being harassed with all sorts of little objects before venting his frustration by sticking them back into the captain.

A slightly quivering sleeve dart, a silver fruit knife, a small refined-steel animal trap, a small steel fork for spearing meat during meals in the wild, and an ornament that might have been either a hairpin or a brooch...

The valiant captain of the guard, Peiwen, was soon bristling with these strange little odds and ends, full of everyday character yet utterly absurd on a battlefield. He looked like a rag doll a mischievous child had stuck full of ornaments, or a walking display rack for miscellaneous items.

There was a touch of tragic heroism to it, and comedy...

"Enough! Damn insect!" Orc chief Moglu let out an irritated growl. Once again, he roughly snatched away the comb Peiwen had just pulled out and drove it into the captain's body, right up to the handle.

"Esteemed Commandery Princess, my patience is very limited. If you don't hurry up and make the idiots around you stop their pointless resistance and come with me obediently, I'll have no choice but to feed them all to my little darlings!"

"As for you, esteemed Commandery Princess, rest assured, I'll take you unharmed to the great tent on the North Wind Wasteland. There, our chieftain will hold the grandest welcoming ceremony for you!"

"So please, stop this pointless struggle! It won't do anyone any good!"

As the orc chief rambled on, his waving arm caused Captain Peiwen's head to strike the ground. Captain of the guard Peiwen, whose consciousness had gradually begun to fade from excessive blood loss, became a little more alert. Once again, he reached into his spare belt pouch.

Then his hand closed around a cylindrical object.

Chapter 41: Divine Punishment, Divine Punishment!

For Liushuang, the young commandery princess of Cloudmist Territory, her special status meant she had no shortage of money, but affection was exceedingly hard to come by.

Gifted girls born into noble families bore the inherent duty of securing outside allies for their families. Though they nominally had a place in the line of succession, over the past thousand years, only a handful of women had obtained titles or even ascended a throne.

Those women who occasionally distinguished themselves soon vanished without a trace, like snowflakes under the scorching heat of history, leaving only a few damp sighs in the mournful songs of bards.

As twenty-second in line, with a full twenty males ahead of her, her place in the succession was theoretically meaningless unless a war of extermination broke out while Liushuang was away.

Thus, ever since her mother's early death, Liushuang had never again felt the affection of her elders in the direct family. All her warmth came from the three companions at her side who had never abandoned her.

Old Locke, as kind as a grandfather; Lady Linda, as caring as an aunt; and now... Captain Peiwen, standing before her like an uncle.

They were all part of what her mother had left her daughter while she was alive, so even the first heir could not take them away.

Now, seeing Captain Peiwen stuck full of objects like an underdeveloped hedgehog, Liushuang could only cry, sobbing until she could barely catch her breath.

Her small body heaved violently with her sobs. At that moment, she hated her own meager strength more than anything.

The orc chief Moglu was deeply irritated by the little girl sobbing her heart out before him.

Crushing this tenacious human swordsman to death would be as easy as turning over his hand, but if that thoroughly enraged the little girl, who was crying so hard she could barely breathe, and drove her to risk everything in mutual destruction... he would fail the task the chieftain had given him to "invite" her, and his fate upon returning would be little better than the swordsman's.

He had to suppress his violent nature once more. Working the knotted muscles of his face into an ugly smile, he extended the frail humans a half-threatening invitation to "tour the northern lands."

Then the human swordsman, who was already at death's door, tossed a small object into his collar.

The thing was called a thermite grenade.

It was a gift of thanks to the commandery princess from a mage apprentice accompanied by a little skeleton.

The little fellow seemed to have said it was a gadget that sprayed fire, and had even explained how to use it with a perfectly straight face. Captain Peiwen had a good memory. He pulled the safety pin and threw the small cylinder at the exposed skin of the orc chief.

The orc chief had pushed up his faceplate, leaving a gap.

Though gravely wounded, the fourth-tier Golden Scale swordsman was still Golden Scale. For a task that required an ordinary person to use both hands, Peiwen flicked the safety pin free with one and accurately tossed the grenade into a joint in the plate armor.

At first, everyone thought it was just another futile struggle, Peiwen included.

Moglu even gave Peiwen a disdainful glance, paying no attention to the small, cool sensation as the object fell into his collar.

Then, a few seconds later, the delay fuse detonated.

What exactly did this little thing do?

It burned for forty seconds at a flame temperature of three thousand degrees!

If the flame was kept pointing in one direction, it could burn through the steel plating of an armored vehicle.

The initial detonation produced a shock wave and heat radiation capable of charring skin from over ten meters away, all trapped inside the great tin can of plate armor. The orc chief let out an utterly agonized howl, his exposed face twisting. The intense burning and pain caused Moglu's eye sockets to split open, blood spraying from their corners.

"Aaaaaaah-"

Before everyone's eyes, the heavy armor, at least Azure Refined grade, began to redden, warp, and melt. Moglu frantically clawed at his plate armor, trying to free himself from the shell enclosing that searing heat.

The places where the plates met had already melted. The orc chief's huge, hairy hand sank in as though into mud, easily tearing a gap in the once-smooth, tough steel breastplate. Blazing hellfire gushed out.

Charred flesh mixed with molten iron poured down the orc's enormous hand, which had been reduced to bare bone in an instant.

The orc's earth-shaking howls came one after another, until one cut off abruptly at its highest pitch.

Like a bird soaring straight into the clouds, only to plunge headfirst into an endless abyss.

The death of this berserk beast warrior of the Bonecrusher Tribe involved too many accidents. If he had swiftly crushed the captain, if he had not pushed up his faceplate for the sake of that ridiculous human etiquette, if he had not held Peiwen in his hand to show off his strength, if he had not let his guard down because of the "little toys" his opponent kept pulling out...

Even if he had not been wearing plate armor and had merely gone bare-chested, he could probably have escaped the subsequent jet of intense heat after suffering severe burns to his skin in the initial blast. With a high-tier orc's tenacious vitality, he might have clung to life.

But there were no ifs!

Moglu, the Bonecrusher Vanguard of the North Wind Wasteland and a Bulwark great knight, died here in this humiliating way.

Charred black bone and flesh fused with twisted, knotted steel armor, forging a grotesque "true body of steel"!