This time Nafız didn't hurry. She intended to wait to see all the enemy's cards. She had to risk losing warriors among her ranks; she only observed for what could be considered a long time.
She was looking at the whole. Her trapped braves, ruthlessly attacking enemies, and her student together with the warriors she left behind. She quickly reviewed the possibilities in her head. During this time, she neither spoke nor cared about the cloaked man she chased.
Her silence was absolute. Throats of those looking at her knotted from the gloom of the aura she emitted; they were having difficulty even swallowing. Her warriors' eyes and ears were on her; they were resisting waiting for the slightest sign.
"Vahşikalkan, how much longer will you stand!"
The shout resembling thunder was met with joy resembling lands cracked from thirst meeting a drop of rain. The wait was ending now; they could rain like rain, overflow like a flood.
In the time passed until the First Army fell into the trap and Nafız shouted with ambition, the war continuing inside the ruined walls had thoroughly gained speed. It had ceased to be a duel of two people; sides had engaged each other totally.
Of course, no one could approach the struggle of the monsters. Using the areas remaining on their right and left, orcs were slaughtering each other. There were only orcs here; they were swinging their axes at each other as if wanting to prove who was superior in savagery. Severed heads, images of limbs whose bones were shattered and held only by skin were quite normal.
Two Orc Chiefs were forcing their Bloodline powers to the limit. The pressure had increased so much that no one, including Han, could intervene. His grandson had tried to absorb Siyahayı's life force a few times to help his grandfather, but his bloodline power had dispersed by meeting a strong response before even reaching him.
Inside the ruined walls, the only element other than physical strength was the powers used by the duo carrying the blood of the same lineage in their veins. Neither the war vehicles of the Gray Hyenas nor the magical weapons of the Black Lily Clan were here. What was happening was the war of muscles and metals. Lips were silent, tongues practically sealed; the only audible sound was the ear-scratching timbre produced by metal hitting another metal hard.
Although small tides were experienced within Siyahayı and Alyon's long-continuing war, the situation was progressing stably. When looked from the outside, what was happening was the struggle of equal powers, but sweat flowing from the forehead of the hulking orc, who faced his strongest enemy since receiving his inheritance, had turned into a small-scale waterfall.
Alyon hadn't taken over all his master's power, and a person living for at least more than a hundred years stood before him. While differences formed between them regarding using Bloodline Power were revealed albeit slowly, two warriors would move ten steps away from each other as a result of a collision.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!"
While the color of the bear pelt on him turned thoroughly black, the inside of the ruined walls groaned with its owner's laughter.
"A little more, just a little more!"
After mumbling in a tone only he could hear, the Orc Lord attacked his opponent, with whom he experienced a short separation, with hopeful eyes.
The situations of the armies Alyon possessed were completely different from each other as of the moment. While they had two fronts where they were trapped and fought head-to-head, on one side they were fighting like hunters in a driven hunt putting the enemy in front of them.
The cooperation of the Elite Ten and Sangre seemed to have ceased to be a power the unit consisting of Black Lily Clan and Main Orc Tribe warriors could resist. They were repelled almost to the point where they first landed from the giant raven and came right under the nose of the man watching the war with his unpretentious robe.
"Outer court disciples, forward!"
Dozens of people rushing behind him followed the man's booming voice. A new unit was joining the war with shining weapons in their hands. There were obvious differences between these people and warriors attacking in the first wave, and these could be easily seen at first glance. There were uniform wooden masks on their faces, and most importantly, their movements were far from showy, precise, and deadly.
Speeding up gradually, the unit mowing down those appearing before them split into two and took a crescent shape. They wanted to attack the Second Army's formation from the tips. Obviously, they hadn't sat idly during the time they waited behind. Seeing the enemy's order, they were intervening in this direction during the attack.
The level of the new unit was really high. If they entered these lands five years ago, they could go from one end to the other without even stumbling, but those days were left behind. The Elite Ten, the foundation of the new generation of orcs, had appeared before them.
Forces of the Second Army, immediately adapting to changing conditions, would stop advancing. Taking a defensive stance, they allowed Elite Ten members to appear before them. After losses coming at the first moment, the speed of Black Lily Clan Outer Court disciples was decreasing; as a result of the quartet waiting in the center also approaching the flanks, the struggle turned into tooth and nail.
Faces remaining under their wooden masks weren't seen. If they didn't have these protections to hide their astonishment, they couldn't forget the shame they experienced for a lifetime. They were outer court disciples of a clan on the rise in the Hell Realm; as part of this organization looked upon as certain to become a Sect soon, how could they be stopped in wild lands like the Orc Steppes?
Actually, the definition of being stopped was a lie they made up to save the situation. Because tens of thousands of their kin fighting beside the Elite Ten defied death, they were slowly decreasing one by one.
Maybe they were taking at least hundreds of orc warriors with them, but Alyon's units weren't in a state to care about this loss. They had seen red once; this situation wouldn't change until the war ended and they shouted victory cries. If they died once, they would be reborn a thousand times. The moment they stripped themselves of small calculations they made, it wasn't possible for a being as terrifying as orcs to exist on earth.
"Enough!"
A roar was heard in the region where the Second Army's war continued. This could be defined neither as a scream nor a shout made with ambition; it could only be a fierce roar whose intensity increased in waves. A gray robe flying in the air was visible at the same time. It was simple, but it wasn't possible to see even a single stain on it.
Eyes were on him. The man whose face hadn't been revealed even once during the war lasting half a day now stood before them with all his majesty. The man with bluish glimmers inside his coal-black hair slowly reached towards two swords hanging at his waist. When his hands came onto the hilts, only a blur was seen; subsequently, the target of the ear-scratching noise was the center of the crescent formation.
Orcs couldn't see how the attack happened; they could only hear the sound of the disaster coming onto them. Number nine enlarged the size of his shield he received from the reward dungeon as much as he could, taking most of the warriors under his command under protection.
These orcs were the luckiest ones among the Second Army forces fighting in the center. Other three Elite Ten members hadn't had the chance to protect anyone other than themselves. The attack hit the battlefield as if wanting to burn and destroy everything it swept before it. Although its target was enemies, friendly units in the region would also be expended. Deep cuts formed on the bodies of those exposed first; lucky ones had already been split in two in an instant.
Thousands of orcs lost their lives within seconds. In return, the apparent effect of the attack had also been zeroed. Thinking this was a great fallacy; a few breaths later, some of the orcs fighting beside the four members of the Elite Ten would explode from inside out, and even number four would collapse on his knees and vomit a mouthful of blood.
In these moments, Çekiçdöven witnessing everything went mad with anger. Contrary to his appearance, the attack of the old man with coal-black hair didn't contain only the wind element; it also left a sound-based effect behind.
This was the reason why number four, whose technique was on attack, couldn't protect himself with the shield he formed from shock waves. Sound and shock waves collided, and the side with the higher level caused damage to the other.
When the owner of the attack turning the place into dust and smoke planted a sly smile on his face, glimmers of darkness growing inside him could be seen from places where his missing teeth were. He was in high spirits; in this place where he had the capability to change the situation with a single move, he was being intoxicated by the self-confidence given by his power.
"Boooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmm!"