LOTR: The Mincraft Player Chapter 62: 62 - Anyone Can Talk Big

Nesis.

It ant a grudge that could only end with total annihilation, one side must perish before the other would cease their hatred.

Although Garrett didn't consider the orcs particularly formidable foes, that's certainly how they viewed him.

"It was you, and those accursed dwarves, who slew the Great Goblin..."

Azog hefted a massive war-mace and stord toward Garrett, his presence nacing. Behind him, a pack of orcs cheered and howled, making a spectacle for their master.

"All this 'Orc-slayer' and 'Bane of the Orcs' nonsense, it sickens . You think all orcs cower before you? You're wrong."

Thud!

He casually swung his war-mace, shattering a relatively thin nearby tree, which crashed to the ground with a thunderous rustle.

"I'll kill you first, show everyone what kind of fraud you truly are, and then I'll butcher those dwarf scum!"

[30/30]

Garrett ignored Azog's taunts and imdiately assessed his opponent.

This creature was physically imposing and certainly tall, easily over two ters, and he was solid muscle. That was extrely rare among orcs. Even Saruman's future breed of Uruk-hai might not prove more formidable than this pale orc.

"Anyone can talk big. Careful you don't hurt yourself with all that ego."

Garrett unsheathed his longsword.

"The sa to you, man-flesh!"

Azog roared and swung his war-mace.

Clang!

As sword t mace, Garrett instantly felt massive force press down on him. It was so powerful that it knocked his blade aside on first contact, leaving him exposed.

For the first ti, he experienced having his weapon deflected by a heavy strike.

Naturally, Azog didn't waste the opening. Grinning savagely, he used his massive fra to swing the mace again with frightening speed.

Thud!

A direct blow to the chest.

Garrett felt a dull pressure against his ribs, the force of the impact even made him stagger back half a step.

[-1]

Interesting... even a regular attack managed to breach his defenses.

For anyone else, even those so-called "walking fortresses" among the dwarves, taking that hit directly would have put them flat on the ground. But against his full set of enhanced netherite armor, it still fell just short of serious harm...

Swoosh.

Almost as soon as the damage registered, his health was instantly restored. He seized the mont to lunge forward and slash with his sword.

His extensive experience fighting orcs had honed a rapid combat style. His swordplay might not follow any classical form, but his draw-cut-sheathe technique was masterful, far beyond what any normal warrior could achieve.

This skill was forged in the blood of thousands of orcs and wargs.

Yet even so, the strike failed to land.

In a split second, Azog raised his modified left arm and used the tal claw grafted to it to catch Garrett's blade, then followed up with another crushing mace swing.

Thud!

Garrett pulled out a shield with his left hand to block the strike, but the shield entered a damaged state and went into a brief cooldown.

"ROAR!"

Feeling he held the advantage, Azog spread his arms and strutted within the arena ford by the surrounding orcs and wargs, displaying his strength. Even though the fight wasn't over, he was already celebrating as if victory were assured.

Seeing their dreaded human opponent seemingly losing ground, the orcs burst into cheers. The wargs howled in response, baring mocking, almost human-like expressions. The area buzzed with bloodthirsty excitent.

The sheer pressure of the hostile crowd bore down on Garrett. But he rely swept his gaze across the mob, and every orc that made eye contact with him instantly fell silent and pulled back in terror.

In truth, if Azog weren't present, the mont these orcs spotted Garrett, they'd scatter like frightened rats. There was no chance they'd dare surround him like this. Such was the morale boost a powerful leader could provide.

As the duel continued, the sun gradually set and a pale moon rose.

When starlight replaced sunlight, all the orcs visibly straightened and grew more spirited. Their aura surged, at that mont, the debuffs caused by daylight vanished completely.

Sunlight weakened orcs, but night was their domain.

With both moonlight and Azog bolstering their courage, so of the orcs even dared to et Garrett's eyes now.

"You're dead, man-flesh! Hahaha!"

Azog again caught Garrett's blade with his clawed arm and raised his war-mace.

Thud!

The shield entered cooldown once more.

This ti, Garrett clearly felt Azog's strength had increased, but no matter how powerful the blow, it still couldn't shatter his defenses.

The nature of his protection was that no matter how devastating an attack, his shield could always absorb at least one strike, even if it ant entering a brief cooldown period.

"What a pain..."

Garrett felt a bit of a headache.

Many ga bosses relied on overwhelming health and inflated attack stats to make fights harder, using brute force to demonstrate their "toughness." But reality was different. This creature could actually fight. It didn't matter that he didn't have much health, only hits that connected counted. And Azog was no re orc grunt.

Still, real combat had its own tactics.

Blocking another strike from the heavy war-mace, Garrett abandoned his casual approach and grew serious. He swiftly drew back his sword, then lashed out again, slashing and sweeping in rapid succession. His movents were so swift they nearly left afterimages. Azog couldn't match the pace and had to retreat continuously, he could still parry, but no matter how strong or fast he was, his stamina wasn't limitless.

Whereas Garrett's, as long as he had provisions, was limitless.

Swoosh.

Finally, just as Azog began to show hints of fatigue, Garrett seized the mont and slashed forward!

Boom!

Flas erupted skyward. Azog scread in agony, a massive gash torn across his chest. His health dropped rapidly, more than half gone in an instant. In desperation, the pale orc hurled his war-mace at his enemy. As Garrett dodged, a mass of orcs surged forward in a chaotic wave, throwing themselves at him without regard for their lives to cover Azog's retreat.

For a mont, Garrett felt like he was cutting through a wall of flesh, no matter how many he felled, more kept coming.

By the ti the last of the orcs blocking his path were slain, the flas consuming Azog had been extinguished. Loyal underlings had helped him onto the back of a massive white warg, one that was more than twice the size of a normal specin, and he was fleeing into the distance.

That was the chieftain of the wargs: the White Warg.

Garrett quickly drew his bow and loosed several arrows, but none found their mark. The White Warg dodged nimbly every ti.

Sotis, he really wished he had auto-aim.

The White Warg turned and let out a fierce howl at Garrett before darting away, while the gravely wounded Azog clung weakly to its back, his hand pressed over his chest, eyes locked on Garrett with burning hatred, as if trying to sear the man's image into his mory.

The orc army scattered and fled, following after Azog.

[Misty Mountains Orcs Reputation -300]

[Current Reputation: -2823 (Nesis)]

Garrett suspected that when his reputation dropped to -3000, sothing would change.

Seeing Azog about to escape, he attempted pursuit, but a sharp howl rang out, and dozens of wargs returned, charging toward him. It seed the White Warg had ordered them back. They ford a circle around Garrett, keeping him contained, though none went for the strike. They maintained a cautious distance.

He took a step forward. The wargs imdiately stepped back.

He suddenly drew his sword and lunged forward, causing the nearest warg to yelp in panic like a kicked dog and stumble backward into the others.

"To still possess the courage to stand here blocking my path, you have so nerve."

Unfortunately, these wargs were enemies and couldn't be tad. Otherwise, a pack of such swift and deadly mounts would have been quite useful.

Not wasting more ti, he raised his gleaming blade. Unlike the wargs, he showed no hesitation. In an instant, their thin loyalty to their pack shattered, and they scattered in all directions.

[Title Unlocked: Bane of the Wargs]

Garrett resud pursuit in the direction Azog had fled. But thanks to the warg delay of just a minute or two, Azog was already long gone, not even a shadow remained in sight.

"You won't escape forever..."

Garrett sheathed his sword.

Azog's head would have to remain on his shoulders for now.

The orcs and wargs had all been driven off, and with no enemies nearby, Garrett turned and headed in the direction the dwarves had taken. When he reached a cliff edge, he saw the area had beco a sea of flas. The dwarves, the orcs, Gandalf, Bilbo, all were gone.

"Huh?"

He stepped through the dying flas, scanning the surroundings.

"You all really left behind?"

Whoosh.

Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind blew, forcing him to squint against the downdraft.

"Garrett!"

A giant eagle rose from below the cliff. On its back, Gandalf waved and called out, gesturing for him to climb aboard.

"We've been waiting ages for you!"

---

A few monts later, Garrett sat cross-legged on the eagle's broad back, conversing with Gandalf.

"Really gave a scare. I thought sothing happened to you all, or that you'd ditched ."

"Not a chance. This company might cast out before abandoning you."

Gandalf lit his pipe and said with a weary sigh, "We were ambushed by a pack of wargs at the cliff's edge. We could hold them at bay initially, but the dwarves gradually wore down and were nearly forced to leap to their deaths."

"I used a bit of magic to drive off the wargs, then summoned so old friends."

He glanced at the eagle and nodded in gratitude.

These eagles weren't ordinary beasts, they were intelligent, held noble status, and were his allies.

"A bit of magic?"

But Garrett focused on sothing else entirely.

That "bit of magic" of yours, wasn't it more like a Fla Tempest?

"Yes, well... sigh, what a tiring day."