"You are done for, you monkey-looking woman!"
The moment the distance between the Blood God and her prey opened due to another trickery, the commander, whose large nostrils were opened as if exploding, shouted with a flood of hatred coming from his lungs.
A breath later, when he threw the belt at his waist into the air, dozens of emerald green stones shattered shining. After this event lasting as long as a blink of an eye, the man's surroundings were encircled by cannons the size of an adult orc.
"You are finished! It will cost me a fortune, but I won't leave even one of you alive!"
The square-jawed man started laughing hysterical laughs. He was proud and arrogant as if he wasn't the one running away like a rabbit just a moment ago. Taking most of his soldiers to his side, only orcs dying to clash with each other from two tribes were in the target of the cannons.
"When everything is over, I will sell even the blood in your veins. Your grandchildren will be my slaves for generations!"
While the big-nosed commander shouting madly passed behind the cannons with a quick step, the battlefield would hear the command given by a shrill voice tearing the air.
"Fire!"
Two breaths later, the air filled with ice and fire pearls. Passing over the units of the First Army fighting outside the walls, these objects were targeting the Gray Hyenas and new war tools.
The sky was hosting the dance of red and dull white. The moment the warriors of the Main Orc Tribe saw the incoming attack, as a result of the horror penetrating to their marrows reviving, they started running towards Nafız's units, their enemies.
The Gray Hyenas were astonished. They had seen the cannons carrying out the attack from afar, but due to their unusual shapes, they couldn't guess what they were used for. Now looking at the scene in front of them and the reactions of orcs fighting beside them, they understood they fell into a desperate situation.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
Cannons the square-jawed man took out from inside his transportation crystals were also fired. Shells harboring shrapnel pieces inside took off to stand against ice and fire pearls.
There was no return from this road. The process where one of the two sides would be dragged to ultimate destruction was coming to an end. Maybe the attack Kitapkurdu made with the new cannons he shifted to this front by taking responsibility would say the last word, or we would witness another trump card of the man, possessing a nose looking as if planted on his face later, being put on the stage.
In another battlefield far from Nafız's units experiencing critical moments, there were two sides facing almost the same situation. They were also playing their last trump cards. Two commanders were about to crash into each other like ice and fire pearls flying against shrapnel pieces.
"Bammmm!"
Finally, the expected moment arrived. Two heavyweights were face to face to play the last scene of the war between the Second Army and the Black Lilies. The moment the collision occurred, Çekiçdöven had his axe in his hand, while the man whose coal-black hair flew nonchalantly had a pale gray scimitar appearing out of nothingness in an instant.
The exchange of blows made a big noise. While the old man went a few steps back, Çekiçdöven was hurled about ten steps along with number nine beside him. After the event experienced, the warrior of the Elite Ten understood, albeit painfully, that the place he was in exceeded his level. Before finding the opportunity to use his equipment, he had fallen victim to the wind-based attack.
"Impudent creature, get out of my sight!"
As soon as the old man stuck his scimitar into the ground, he made a move towards the swords at his waist with both hands. His aim was clear; he would make the attack he performed twice once more.
Çekiçdöven remained in a very difficult position. He wasn't at a distance where he could prevent his enemy, and number nine he brought along lay beside him unconscious. The Second Army Commander had no time to think; while activating his bloodline power, he drew his wide broadsword from his interspatial ring.
He was playing a big gamble; if he couldn't make it in time, first the ninth lying behind him, then his braves struggling selflessly would perish. Unfortunately, when his enemy grabbed the hilts of his weapons before he could even take his second step, he closed his eyes and rushed forward with a last effort.
"Do you want to use your swords this time before the energy accumulating in their sheaths is fully charged?"
In the moments the old man sensed a danger from his right side, due to the killing intent harbored in the words reaching his ear, he immediately hurled himself to his left and somersaulted on the ground a few times.
He didn't even have time to complete his attack. If he were a moment late, it was no big deal for him to fall victim to knives leaving vague red traces behind them.
No one, including himself, could solve what was going on, but a few breaths later, seeing the person appearing where the black-haired old man was just a moment ago, they would understand the truth. When Çekiçdöven descended to the battlefield, the strongest warrior of the Second Army had stopped shooting at the crowd and started advancing parallel to him.
Following his strong enemy, he was approaching silently. His aim was to sneak up without revealing himself and take the head of the Black Lilies' leader. He had solved the secret behind the old man's attack and became sure the moment he took out another weapon to fight with Çekiçdöven.
The old man's real weapons were the scabbards hanging on his two sides. The feature of this custom-made equipment was their ability to add the sound element to attacks. The man performing a quick draw along with the energy accumulating inside them was making a dual attack using the wind arts he mastered.
Sangre calculated the time between two uses; this was why he approached his prey watching for the exact time. What spoiled the plan he made was the enemy's desire to make an attack with his not fully charged equipment by not acting patiently.
This move he made, maybe with luck, maybe with instinct, resulted in saving the life of the old man with coal-black hair because this was always why Sangre spoke while using his flying daggers.
He could have waited a little longer and killed his prey, but he knew this wasn't the equivalent of the heavy price he would have to pay. They were two people right now; what would happen if the old man escaped from his hand once? He had full confidence he would kill him eventually. As the student of the strongest person of the Orc Steppes, he had already punched the old geezer's ticket.
Victory was coming shouting on two fronts. It was as if the end of the struggle where tactics and power came to the fore alternately was reached.
On the front where tens of thousands of people fought, the sky was witnessing the collision of Ice and Fire pearls with shrapnel pieces. Pearls were sensitive by nature; they exploded the moment they hit metal pieces.
Although this was seen as a disadvantage, due to the width of their areas of effect, when this event happened, they were either freezing or turning whatever shrapnel was around into liquid.
The benefits of Nafız taking priority and giving the first fire order just started to be seen. Warriors of the First Army were not where the remnants of the collision in the sky fell. No matter how fast they tried to flee, orcs sent by the Main Orc Tribe to support humans coming for help remained there.
Their states were pitiful; frozen shrapnels pierced their bodies while flying like crazy, and even a drop of molten metal entering their bodies scorched and burned their internal organs. A handful of surviving mercenaries had already taken shelter behind the cannons. As of the moment, they saw here as the safest place. They didn't move from their places until seeing the choice they made with desperation was insufficient.
Finally, when the collision resembling a fireworks show ended, there was only a single object from the open sky, Ice and Fire pearls. How could it be possible for the loot taken from two monsters in the Reward Dungeon to be defeated by man-made cannons?
Panic would suddenly break out among the mercenaries waiting trembling. They had seen the destruction created by these weapons with their own eyes. Fear was taking over their bodies; the scale of the attack was so large that although their instincts shouted at them to run, their brains knew there was no escape from this.
Only the square-jawed man had hope in the name of living. Along with his years of experience and equipment at hand, he sped up to escape. Indeed, even if by a hair's breadth, he escaped from the attack where he lost all soldiers and war vehicles under his command.
There seemed to be no limit to this man's leaps. If he were a grasshopper, he should have died long ago by now; a completely different adjective had to be found to define him.