Ember Dragon Chapter 580: Brutal War

Chapter 580: Brutal War

In Blackstone Valley, the open lands before Avenderdan were littered with the charred corpses of orcs. Embers still burned, crackling, flas flickering with the wind.

Dwarves and elves stood vigil on the walls, gripping longbows and warhamrs, silently awaiting the enemy.

"Comrades, allies—

At this mont, the fate of Avenderdan lies in our hands. This great war may even reshape the balance of the entire Faenso continent.

If we succeed, your deeds will go down in history!"

Edd’s voice was steady and powerful, ringing through the banner-filled battlents.

The dwarf king raised his warhamr, exuding a mighty aura: "For order and justice! Avenderdan shall never fall!"

"For order and justice!"

Dwarves and elves alike raised their weapons, shouting with thunderous force. Even the gold dragon atop the wall lifted its head and let out a light roar.

Just then, Rhea gripped her silver sword, gaze tense as she looked toward the distance, brow furrowing.

"That is..."

With her legendary paladin senses, she detected a faint tremor in the ground and the sound of chaos approaching.

She raised the crystal pendant at her neck—ripples stirred in the sacred water within.

"Seems the orcs are coming. I hope I can fulfill Queen Catherine’s mission this ti."

The tremors intensified. All Blackstone Mountains seed to shake. A deep rumble echoed from the ground.

Stones tumbled from cliffs, even dwarven soldiers could feel it.

"By Moradin—"

"What is that sound?"

"Did... did you feel that? That wasn’t an illusion. The earth is trembling!"

Dwarf King Edd felt the stench of blood in the wind and shouted, "It’s the orcs! The orc horde is coming! All forces prepare! Ready defenses at once!"

A sentry atop the wall gazed into the distance, jaw dropping in shock. "By Dumathoin..."

Dust and blood mist surged across the horizon, filling the sky.

Orcs poured out like a mottled flood, occupying the valley. Ferocious beasts ran rampant. The flow never ceased.

A horde of hundreds of thousands surged forth.

Compared to the earlier vanguard led by Monk, this army was far greater, its montum overwhelming.

"Awooo—"

Orcs raised horns made from enemy thighbones. A long, deep blare like a beast’s growl sounded.

Orc light cavalry galloped across the battlefield, wielding spears, drawing shortbows, shouting.

Their direwolves snarled, eyes bloodshot with gleaming malice.

These were the vanguard wolf-rider light cavalry—swift, nimble, drawing fire and wearing down defenders.

But atop Avenderdan’s walls, elves in silver armor drew their longbows, aiming skyward.

"Whoosh—"

Arrows shot forth like cots, silver arcs streaking through the air.

These weren’t ordinary arrows—they shimred with magical silver light.

Nearing the orcs, the arrows burst, scattering into showers of silver bolts.

They rained down like a storm, dense and deadly.

"Aah!"

"Elf magic arrows!"

"Damn long-ears! I’ll scalp you and offer your heads—"

The arrows tracked their targets. Even swift wolf riders couldn’t dodge them.

Almost every bolt pierced orc chests, impaling hearts.

Screams, curses, and agony filled the battlefield. Hundreds of orc riders died where they stood.

Edd saw the fallen corpses and laughed heartily: "Well done! Serenia’s elite never disappoint!"

The elves drew again, charging silver light until the wall shimred.

Orc officers waved scimitars and shouted: "Where are our shamans?! Block the long-ears’ arrows!"

"O Great Father—

You are the invincible conqueror! Grant us protection from their blades and arrows!"

Shamans bearing blood runes floated into the air, raising bone staves and chanting ancient incantations.

"Whoosh—"

Blood mist surged and ford a wide crimson curtain before the horde.

Elf arrows ca again, but were halted by the screen, falling harmlessly to the ground.

anwhile, the orcs retaliated.

"Fragile long-ears!"

A lofty "Eye of Gruumsh" drew a runed longbow, his single eye brimming with bloodlust.

"Whoosh—"

A black arrow, swirling with bloody wind, ripped the sky from over a kiloter away.

"No!"

The elf archer’s expression changed. He tried to dodge but couldn’t.

The force struck him, piercing his abdon and shredding his organs.

"Bang!"

His tall body flew back, slamd into the wall, blood splattering.

A noble pure-blood elf was killed from a kiloter away, without a chance to resist.

Rhea’s face darkened. Every mber of her unit was elite and loyal to Queen Catherine.

If the Silvermoon Followers fell here, it could doom the queen’s hopes to retake Serenia.

She could not allow it!

Turning, Rhea ordered a robed elf: "Seymour, protect our kin with everything you have."

"Yes, Lady Rhea."

Seymour raised a wooden staff, chanting softly. The moonstone atop glowed gently.

He levitated, white robes fluttering.

Above the wall, a shining barrier ford to shield the elves.

It was Serenia’s signature Seven-Ring Spell: [Serenia Radiant Bastion]!

"Whoosh—"

Suddenly another black arrow shrieked through the air like a teor.

Seymour’s spell wasn’t finished—and the arrow was heading for him!

"You won’t!"

Rhea slashed with her silver sword, twilight light blazing forth.

In an instant, the arrow disintegrated in a burst of scorched ash.

Seymour’s spell completed. The radiant bastion enveloped the walls.

Dwarves cranked catapults, launching barrels of gunpowder and liquor into the horde.

So exploded midair, others smashed into orcs, killing many.

Wolf-riders dodged arrows, trying to snipe defenders.

Elf mages raised their staves, casting spells drawn from millennia of Serenian magic.

Fire, ice, and light fell upon the orcs, dazzling the battlefield.

Death swept the battlefield. The orcs, still distant from the walls, suffered more than the defenders.

In monts, over three thousand orc riders were slain, their bodies littering the field.

"Death is not the end! Brave warriors live eternally in Gruumsh’s Nishak Realm!

Orcs! Continue the charge! Reclaim the world for our kind!"

The warchief’s booming voice rang across the battlefield. Despite losses, more orcs surged forth.

As orc faith held, those who brought honor would live on in Gruumsh’s Nishak Realm.

There, they would fight interplanar wars for their god, clashing with goblin deities.

But nightly in Nishak, warriors slaughtered each other in eternal bloodshed for Gruumsh’s amusent.

There was no death there—only rebirth and endless tornt for the weak.

But now, the orcs were exhilarated. They raised weapons, shouting:

"For the Great Father!"

"Glory to orcs! We shall live forever!"

Behind the wolf-riders, the main horde advanced, stepping over their fallen kin.

Beasts charged under arrowfire. Half-orc giants and ogres carried bone shields in front, with tens of thousands of infantry behind.

Above, trained giant eagles and vultures circled, along with scorpion lions and wyverns drawn by blood fog.

At the rear, Batu Skullcrusher stood on a plains drake, eyes on Avenderdan.

The gold dragon stirred atop the wall, wings spread, tail swaying, ready to strike.

Batu muttered, gnashing teeth: "That damned gold-scaled lizard... why is it here?! With it, the walls are near impossible to breach. I must deal with it now—while it’s unguarded."

His expression twisted. His one eye glead viciously.

"Nasu, bring my blood spear."

"Yes."

The old shaman pulled out dried beast hide, unwrapped a long spear, and handed it over.

"Ahh... still fits perfectly, my old friend..."

Batu caressed the spear’s rough, bloodstained surface—it had pierced many hearts, even slain a titan’s kin.

Now, he wielded it again, aiming for the dragon impeding their conquest.

Batu gripped the spear, eyes fixed on the gold dragon with a hunter’s gaze.

He pressed it to his forehead, praying: "O Great Father...

Supre One-Eyed God, watcher, sleepless—grant your servant power to slay this foe!"

"Boom!"

Thunder roared through the valley.

Batu’s eye flared crimson. Blood mist poured from the socket, engulfing the spear.

The one-eyed rune on his brow blinked, glowing with evil intent.

"Thank you, Father...

I offer you Avenderdan itself—its dwarves, elves, even the dragon’s head!"

Grinning, Batu exhaled foul smoke, veins bulging as he raised the spear.

"Gold dragon—

Blocking the orcs was your gravest mistake!" Thunder rolled, wind howled. Batu ran nearly a hundred ters, then hurled the spear with all his might.

"Boom!"

The air scread. A red gash tore the sky like a wound.

The sky... bled.

The blood spear soared thousands of ters, leaving a trail of bloodlight, forming a spear image stretching across the heavens.

Dwarves and elves looked up in horror, seeing an imnse one-eyed orc laughing as he struck with a godly spear.

This was Gruumsh’s power!

Even the thirty-ter gold dragon seed minuscule under such might.

"Lord Titus, beware!"

Rhea stood tall, sword raised, silver hair blown by the wind. She cried out.

"Roar——"

The dragon’s roar shook the heavens, overpowering the spear’s shriek.

Everyone looked up. Stones crumbled as the gold dragon spread its wings and soared, gales surging from its ascent.