Translator: CinderTL
Beneath thea inky night sky, Orc Warriors gathered in a dry riverbed. Their warhorses snorted white plumes of breath, their iron hooves pawing restlessly at the soil.
The flickering light of torches danced across the Orcs' savage faces, casting their tusks into sharp, bloodthirsty blades.
Urgok, the leader—an old warrior with a black leather eye patch over his right eye—stood atop a raised rock, his battleaxe sharpened to a razor's edge held high.
"Warriors of all Tribes!" His voice rasped like stone grinding against stone, carrying far across the silent grassland. "Those humans think their fire-breathing tricks can conquer the plains? Tonight, let them learn—this land will always belong to the Orcs!"
The warriors struck their curved swords against their shields, creating a dull, rhythmic clang. Deep in their throats, they rumbled a low battle cry.
Urgok ripped off his eye patch, revealing an empty eye socket—a scar left by a human archer ten years ago before Watchers Fortress.
"They took my eye, but they can't take my thirst for vengeance! Tonight, we'll tear those blue-clad mongrels to shreds like wolves tearing apart a flock of sheep!"
Urgok snatched up a torch planted in the ground, its searing flames illuminating his twisted face. "Burn their tents to ash! Sever their heads! Water the Grassland with their blood! For the glory of the Great Grassland!"
"For the Chieftain's Tent!"
"For the Grassland!"
Over a thousand Orc cavalry ignited their torches simultaneously, instantly turning the entire river valley as bright as day.
Warhorses reared up, then surged out of the depression under their riders' urging. The torches formed a writhing dragon of fire, sweeping toward the faint lights of the human camp in the distance.
The thunder of iron hooves shook the earth. Burning torches left long trails of flame as they raced forward. Urgok led the charge, his single eye reflecting the ever-closer human camp. The night wind howled past his ears, carrying the scent of impending bloodshed.
"Kill them all!"
The Orcs' battle cry shattered the night's stillness as the dragon of fire descended upon the sleeping camp like a storm of destruction.
In Urgok's plan, they would leap over the pathetic fence ahead, charge into the human camp like a whirlwind, and hurl torches. The resulting fire would plunge the camp into chaos, allowing the Orc Warriors to slaughter the humans in the confusion, wiping out this audacious incursion into the Grassland.
But the situation had veered far from Urgok's expectations.
The orc cavalry at the front suddenly let out a piercing howl. Their warhorses' front legs buckled as if bitten by invisible fangs, sending the riders flying.
Urgok's single eye widened in the flickering firelight as he witnessed a nightmarish scene:
Stretching hundreds of paces across the grassland, countless cold, metallic snakes writhed. These fine iron wires weren't stretched straight but crisscrossed at unnatural angles, each bristling with razor-sharp barbs. Some wires even sagged close to the ground, specifically to trip the horses' legs.
"Stop! Halt!"
Urgok's roar was drowned out by the thunder of the following cavalry. The second and third ranks of orcs had no time to react. Their warhorses, at full gallop, crashed into this Iron Thorns thicket. The barbs sank deep into the horses' chests and riders' calves. The more they struggled, the deeper the rusty hooks bit.
A panicked warhorse reared, its front hooves pawing the air, only to be snared by a higher wire around its neck. The fine metal threads instantly cut into its flesh, and in its agonizing neigh, blood sprayed forth.
A young Orc tried to hack through the wire with his scimitar, but the seemingly delicate metal strands proved surprisingly tough. The blade only sparked when it struck them.
"What in the nine hells is this?!" a blood-soaked Centurion roared. His mount was writhing on the ground, its belly ripped open by three crisscrossing strands of wire, its intestines spilling out.
Urgok stumbled off his horse, holding his torch close to the gleaming traps.
Now he saw—the wires weren't randomly placed. Some were stretched taut as bowstrings, others coiled into spirals, and many had tiny barbs deliberately angled upward, waiting for flesh and blood to impale themselves.
As the Orc cavalry panicked before the wire mesh, a series of dull "boom—boom—" sounds suddenly erupted from the Imperial Army camp.
Dozens of fist-sized points of light shot into the air, trailing long, thin plumes of smoke as they streaked across the night sky like a reverse meteor shower, arcing toward the Orcs' heads.
Urgok instinctively looked up, his pupils shrinking in horror. The points of light bloomed in midair, transforming into radiant white "flame flowers." Each flower burst forth with blinding light, appearing like miniature suns against the backdrop of the dark grassland, illuminating every blade of grass.
The Orcs, their eyes accustomed to the darkness, were instantly overwhelmed by the sudden flash. Many warriors clutched their eyes and screamed in agony.
"My eyes!"
"I can't see! Nothing—"
The balls of light finally crashed to the ground, but they didn't extinguish. As if enchanted, they continued to burn, emitting blinding white light.
One of them landed right at Urgok's feet. Gritting his teeth against the searing pain, he looked down and saw a small metal canister riddled with pores. Something inside was burning furiously, its bluish-white flames so intense they melted the surrounding grass.
"This is witchcraft! The humans have cast Dark Magic!"
A young Orc Warrior recoiled in terror, but his cloak snagged on the barbed wire. He hacked furiously at the glowing metal canisters with his curved blade, only making the light more blinding. The sparks from the blade's friction against the magnesium metal ignited more chemicals.
The night raid had failed. Urgok realized he and his comrades were about to face disaster. With all his remaining strength, he roared, "Retreat! Retreat—"
Before he could finish, the Imperial Army camp erupted into chaos.
Hundreds of tents simultaneously opened, and disheveled human soldiers poured out like a tide. Their sleep rudely interrupted, they were brimming with morning grumpiness, eager to vent their frustration.
"Free fire!"
At the officer's command, the roar of muskets tore through the night sky. The orc cavalry, illuminated by magnesium flares, became the most conspicuous targets. The dull thuds of lead bullets piercing leather armor echoed in rapid succession.
Urgok watched as the Centurion beside him suddenly groaned, a burst of blood erupting from his chest. His corpse remained entangled in the barbed wire, hanging like a pathetic hunting trophy among the iron thorns.
The warhorses' cries were particularly shrill. A chestnut horse that had already turned to flee was struck by a bullet, rearing up and throwing its rider onto the barbed wire behind them. The young Orc Warrior rolled among the sharp spikes, screaming in agony until a merciful bullet ended his suffering.
"Hold your ground! Don't panic!" Urgok drew his battle axe and struggled to cut through the barbed wire entangling the warhorse. By the time he succeeded, the surviving cavalry had already scattered in disarray.
Even more terrifying were the encircling human cavalry. They raised their sabers, the blades gleaming coldly in the magnesium flares, cutting off the orc cavalry's retreat.
(End of the Chapter)
---
📖Read (FF) on Pa.treon@CinderTL - c919. [+1]
🔑Early Access at $5.
✍Translated (6) Series, (3.6K+) Chapters, (5.1M+) Words.