"No, Captain Griffin, our men really can't hold out any longer!"
A Gnome soldier ran back to their defensive position in the large dormitory area, looking disheveled and covered in dust, his armor incomplete. It was clear he had just been through a fierce battle.
The Gnome soldier somewhat dejectedly cleaned the trogg body parts off his flintlock and slumped onto the floor.
"We can't retreat any further. If the troggs break through this gate, there are defenseless civilians inside!" Captain Griffin's face was filled with worry. He had led his men in defense below for several days, but reinforcements were slow to arrive.
Now he probably understood that his men might not get reinforcements.
Perhaps more soldiers knew this, but they couldn't retreat, nor could they. They were fighting in their own city, and behind them were their loved ones or friends.
Not even a Gnome officer had ordered them not to retreat, yet these tenacious "shorties" displayed astonishing willpower at this moment, stubbornly resisting wave after wave of attacks despite the vastly unequal numbers.
It wasn't that they didn't want to escape, but when they thought that their friends and family might be the first to die tragically at the hands of the troggs if they fled, how many of them would have the "courage" to run away?
However, sometimes, will and belief alone are not enough to defeat an enemy.
Facing the almost endless numbers of troggs and their tireless, fearless charges, the Gnomes fired countless rounds of ammunition and shells. Even batches of security robots rushed into the monster horde and self-destructed, only managing to slow down Gnomeregan's fall.
Griffin gripped his flintlock tightly. He knew well that if they didn't receive support soon, this dormitory area would likely fall within two days at most.
At that point… if no one still arrived… they might have no choice but to blow up the gate!
That was a last resort, because once they destroyed the passage between the dormitory area and the outside world, their only way to leave the Gnomeregan underground would be to wait for those illusory rescue forces.
As for breaking out, Griffin didn't even dare to think about it, because even with all their might, they could only hold back the Stonejaws' offensive by relying on sturdy fortifications. Once they left the defensive works, their small group would probably be instantly submerged by the trogg tide.
Their team of only dozens of people, attempting to break out by force, would be like a small stone thrown into the ocean, perhaps not even stirring a significant wave.
"Static… static…"
Just as Griffin was extremely worried about this, the harsh but seemingly savior-like static from the walkie-talkie rang out.
Griffin stared at the device in shock, his eyes full of disbelief, while the Gnome soldier slumped on the ground instantly perked up.
"Captain, what are you waiting for? Pick it up!"
The soldier urged Griffin anxiously, wanting him to quickly answer the walkie-talkie, as it might hold their hope of escaping their predicament.
But Griffin's hand hesitated for a moment before touching the walkie-talkie, because he didn't know whether connecting would bring good news or bad news.
If it really was bad news… how was he supposed to tell his subordinates?
However, it seemed there couldn't be a worse situation than now.
Thinking of this, Griffin resolutely grabbed the walkie-talkie and connected the call.
"Static… Hello, can you hear me? Is there a sound?… Static…"
"This is Captain Griffin Coppersocket of Gnomeregan Special Operations Team, 138th Detachment!"
"Captain Coppersocket?… Static… Damn it, this communication line seems to have been damaged by those troggs… Hello, hello, hello… Please inform us of your team's location, rescue forces will come to find you!… Static… Can you hear me?!"
"Yes, I can hear you! We are in the lower dormitory area. Besides us, there are over a dozen other teams and thousands of civilians trapped here!"
The operator on the other end seemed surprised by the number, but he quickly composed himself, seemingly negotiating with someone nearby. After receiving a confirmed answer, he immediately said, "Don't worry, please hold on for a little longer, at most one day, our forces will be able to open the way to the dormitories—"
The walkie-talkie suddenly flashed with a large burst of blinding sparks at that moment. Griffin was startled and before he could do anything, the walkie-talkie completely broke down.
The operator above was also startled by the explosion. He hung up the call in annoyance, "Damn it, another damaged line. I wonder if that team captain got the order."
"There's nothing we can do. troggs are destroying almost every part of Gnomeregan. They've ruined most of the city's communication lines." Another technician was rushing to repair the usable communication walkie-talkies.
The troggs were not just invading the lower levels; they had burrowed out of almost every interior wall of Gnomeregan not covered by metal, wildly attacking a large number of precision instruments and equipment.
This made them waste more than double the time confirming whether communication lines were clear, and Gnome technicians were working overtime to try and repair damaged lines.
However, a very large number of lines were still completely disconnected, so they could only try to connect to those damaged terminals using unstable radio waves.
However, for some reason, perhaps due to radio issues, those machines often couldn't handle the load and exploded.
Captain Griffin was also a bit stunned by the call interruption, but he quickly reacted and, with an excited expression, ordered, "Quick, send people to the other dormitory areas to notify them, we have reinforcements!"
The Gnome soldier instantly sprang up from the ground, picked up his severely warped flintlock, and, fueled by an unknown surge of strength, strode out.
"Wait, Kirk, what are you going to do with that nearly bent flintlock? Smash trogg heads? Take this!"
Griffin threw a brand new flintlock. Kirk quickly caught it, gave Griffin a rather awkward and comical salute, and then scurried away.
Seeing the soldier leave, Griffin also breathed a sigh of relief. He looked at the pile of high explosives being assembled by the wall, thought for a moment, and then abandoned the idea of installing them on the gate.
After all, those were extremely powerful explosives. Now that they had reinforcements, there was no need to resort to using them to blow up the gate and seal themselves off.
He drew another new gun, checked its condition, took enough ammunition and explosives, and quickly rushed to the front line.
He had spent too much time here assembling explosives and waiting for an order. Now it was time for him to fight alongside his team members.
But when Griffin reached the front line, he was stunned once again, because he found that only scattered troggs were assaulting the Gnomes' defensive positions. And these few stragglers were shot full of holes before they even touched the Gnomes' defense line.
"What's going on?!" Griffin grabbed a soldier who was retaliatorily shooting at the troggs.
"Ah! Captain Griffin, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to waste bullets!"
"Idiot! I'm not asking you that, I'm asking where are the troggs?" Griffin kicked the guy, which was also a punishment for wasting bullets.
Although the Gnomes were not short on ammunition and weapons, they conserved whenever possible, because they didn't know how many troggs were still hidden underground. If they really ran out of bullets, they would have to engage in bloody close combat with these monsters.
That was a sight no Gnome commander wanted to see. Close combat meant they could no longer rely on fortifications and cover to wear down the troggs, but would have to engage in a real "numerical exchange."
Although there were many excellent warriors and assassins among the Gnomes, their physical strength was inherently much weaker than their Dwarf neighbors, which is why they relied more on their clever minds.
"I'm not sure either. After the last large-scale trogg charge, their numbers suddenly became scarce, and their movements also became very strange."
Their movements became strange?
Griffin looked out at the square and streets that served as the battlefield. The troggs were running around in twos and threes, sometimes bumping into each other in a panic.
These troggs had completely lost their former ferocity; instead, it was as if they were afraid of and avoiding something…
Griffin looked at the area behind the square, blocked by flames and black smoke, and ordered, "Never mind what the troggs are up to for now. Hold the line. Once a trogg approaches, immediately hit them hard with the weapons in your hands!"
"Yes, Captain!"
...
Grommash somewhat uninterestingly stepped on the corpse of a tall trogg. He heard the small shorties loudly shouting from the other side of the flames and thick smoke.
Kicking away the harmless beast under his foot, Grommash walked with his battle-axe through the "corpse-strewn" tunnel.
Here, swathes of kobolds had fallen, which was Grommash's recent masterpiece. Although the proposal to use normal plague was rejected, magical plague was still a good way to deal with these small, unkillable ant-like monsters.
Compared to real plagues created through alchemy, magical modification, and biological experiments, magical plagues spread more rapidly. These "plagues" formed from dark magic were like true plagues, capable of quickly spreading between individuals.
It was just that magical plagues did not last long; they would rapidly devour the life force of the living, turning it into their own propagation energy source, causing infected individuals to die extremely quickly.
You might only need to be a few meters away from the last victim, and the rapidly dissipating death energy would not erode your life.
However, this was not realistic for the kobolds, who almost filled the tunnel.
Under the Death Knight's magical plague, their vigorous life force instead became nourishment for the plague's rapid outbreak and spread. This magic directly stole their vitality and souls, and after they fell, the unleashed dark energy would cause secondary damage to the surrounding troggs.
So Grommash barely had to lift a finger, expending no effort, and the weak troggs died one after another, instantly leaving hundreds of corpses.
What surprised Grommash, however, was that while some strong troggs could not completely escape the plague's damage, they also didn't die immediately and could still roar and attack Grommash.
Unfortunately, although these guys were stronger and fiercer than their kin, to Grommash, they were just beasts.
On Draenor, he had hunted Gronn as an Orc. These mindless beasts, which even the weakest Orc could easily dispatch by the dozen, Grommash didn't even have the interest to destroy them.
"How does it feel to reap lives?" Ogrim walked over from the other end of the tunnel, looking at the piles of corpses at Grommash's feet, and asked.
"Their blood only insults my axe," Grommash wiped the foul blood from Gorehowl with his arm. Looking at the weapon that had accompanied him his entire life, Grommash's expression became somewhat somber.
Ogrim noticed Grommash's change. He chuckled softly, "What's wrong? Can't even wield your weapon after being 'reborn'?"
"This axe should not be held by a dead Orc. It's no different from the foolish act of taking a weapon into the grave." Grommash sighed, "Ogrim, tell me, can I give it away?"
"Of course, you can. We are the Lich King's Dark Legion, but he hasn't deprived us of our free will, has he?" Ogrim raised his runic warhammer. "My weapon hasn't been given to that kid Thrall yet. After things here are dealt with, go do what you want, my brother."
Grommash stared into Ogrim's eyes for a long moment before slowly saying, "Thank you, my brother."
Ogrim smiled, hooked his lips, patted Grommash's shoulder, and walked towards the entrance of another tunnel. "Let's go, there's still work to do. Anub'rekhan has already taken his Nerubians to hunt down the spellcasters among the troggs. We need to collect some souls for the Archlich."
"These aren't enough?" Grommash frowned, looking at the trogg corpses scattered across the ground.
"I've checked. The souls of these guys are more or less flawed, possibly because their intelligence is not much different from beasts. We need more in quantity to make up for the deficiencies."
A transparent trogg soul floated out of Ogrim's runic warhammer. He grabbed it with one hand and tossed it to Grommash.
After catching the soul, the part of necromantic knowledge that seemed to be innate in Grommash's mind made him instantly understand that the Stonejaws' souls seemed to be… unique?
Their souls appeared incomplete, even more so than those of beasts with sufficient intelligence, but when multiple trogg souls gathered together, they strangely exhibited a peculiar "sense of completeness."
"These filthy monsters are truly strange; they give me a very unnatural feeling."
Ogrim muttered to himself, then disappeared into the dark tunnel.