"Traitor! Waumu! After all His Majesty's trust in you, you dare betray him!"
"Waumu, may your soul burn in the deepest pits of hell!"
The voices of rage echoed across the field the moment Waumu stepped forward. The beast orc generals, mutilated and broken from capture, spat curses with every breath. To subdue them, Ross soldiers had blasted away their limbs with rifle fire—only then were they dragged in chains before Gavin Ward.
"Why is Waumu standing beside that human?" one of the beast generals growled, eyes bloodshot.
"I don't know," another rasped, his voice low with despair. "But if anyone can plead for us, perhaps it's him."
Behind them, the earth orc soldiers gripped their axes uneasily, whispering among themselves.
Then Waumu's voice thundered through the execution ground. Holding a crude loudspeaker, he shouted for all his kin to hear:
"My people! For five thousand years, have the earth orcs not suffered enough oppression? Enough scorn? Enough death at the hands of the beast clans?"
His words rolled like waves.
"Think of how many of our brightest were slain simply for daring to rise! How many of our families perished, mocked as weaklings? Even my own brother was butchered by the beast emperor Longdangor during the last war!"
The earth orcs stirred, their faces twisting with buried anger.
"Yes! He speaks true," one cried. "My mother—she was old, frail. Two winters ago, beast nobles cast her out of Halma as worthless. She starved in the streets, though the storehouses overflowed with food!"
The soldier's hands trembled as he raised his axe, staring down at the kneeling beast orc before him. His eyes blazed red.
Waumu's voice grew louder, resonant, impossible to ignore.
"But now—now the King of Ross has given us freedom! Under his command, I have sworn the oath of blood. I am no longer a general of the orc empire—I am the king of the earth orcs!"
Gasps spread through the ranks.
"From this day, we will no longer live beneath the boot of the beast clans! No longer will our mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters be cast aside as less than animals. Pick up your axes, my people! Execute these tyrants who sneer at us. Let the earth drink their blood and mark the dawn of our freedom!"
"To a new life! To freedom after five thousand years of chains!"
The earth orcs roared back as one.
"Kill! Kill! Kill!"
And with a single motion, thousands of axes fell.
The plain trembled with the sound of severed flesh. Eighty thousand beast orc heads rolled across the blood-soaked earth, the stench of death choking the wind.
Gavin Ward stood at the edge of the killing field, his cloak stirring in the metallic breeze. He watched calmly, unflinching.
"This Waumu is impressive," he remarked to his officers. "The earth orcs understand each other better than we ever could. With only a few words, he has set their blood aflame."
When the slaughter was done, Gavin gave his next command.
"Have the earth orcs bury the corpses. When the work is finished, we march on Halma. With Waumu's presence, the gates will open without resistance."
---
Two days later, the city of Halma rose before them—its towering walls, proud banners, and gleaming palace castle standing as the jewel of the beast orc empire.
Inside the palace, unease stirred.
Fox Adviser, a shrewd counselor draped in fine robes, paced back and forth across the polished stone hall. His tail lashed behind him, betraying his agitation.
Something gnawed at him, a whisper of dread he could not silence.
"My lord," asked a tiger-orc warrior in ornate armor, one of the emperor's personal guards, "are you troubled for His Majesty's campaign?"
Fox Adviser stopped, pressing his clawed fingers to his brow. "I do not know why, but I feel a storm approaching. My heart will not rest."
The guards chuckled, their fangs gleaming.
"Hah! You worry too much. His Majesty commands five hundred thousand of our finest. The humans brought only twenty thousand rabble. They will be crushed like twigs."
"Yes," another sneered. "When His Majesty returns, perhaps he'll bring back prisoners for slaves. My household needs more hands."
"You?" a third laughed harshly. "You drink and kill them for sport. No number of slaves could sate you!"
"Better none return," a fourth muttered with grim delight. "Why waste food keeping weak humans alive? Slaughter them all, I say."
Laughter filled the hall, cruel and harsh.
Fox Adviser's ears twitched. The sound rang hollow in his ears. Something was wrong—terribly wrong.
Just then, a soldier burst in, bowing low. "Report! His Majesty has returned victorious!"
The warriors grinned, boasting as they prepared to summon the emperor's seven princes to welcome him.
But in truth, Emperor Longdangor's paranoia had long kept his sons powerless. Each prince was confined to the palace, denied land, denied armies, denied even the authority given to minor nobles. They were prisoners in their father's gilded cage.
---
At the gates of Halma, the deception unfolded.
Columns of earth orcs and Ross soldiers disguised as prisoners approached. Chains rattled, but behind their hollow faces burned anticipation.
The city guards opened the gates without question, allowing the column to snake into the streets. Waumu marched at the head, his expression solemn, every gesture rehearsed.
On the city wall, a fox-orc officer frowned. Something pricked at his instincts.
According to Waumu's report, the emperor had taken the bulk of the army to assault the human kingdoms, leaving only token forces to escort the captives home. The story made sense… at first glance. But…
Where was the baggage train?
The earth orcs had always been tasked with carrying supplies. No campaign left the baggage behind. And another detail clawed at him—
The "prisoners." Their faces bore no marks of battle, no bruises, no fear. Their eyes were too steady.
His pupils shrank. Horror dawned.
"No! They are not prisoners!"
The cry left his throat too late.
From the crowd, the Ross soldiers snapped their chains free and drew concealed weapons—pistols, submachine guns, rifles of gleaming steel.
Gunfire erupted.
The sharp staccato of bullets split the air. Orc guards atop the walls screamed as they crumpled, their bodies riddled with holes. The fox officer felt hot pain blossom through his chest.
He staggered back, blood bubbling from his lips, his mind reeling as he glimpsed the alien weapons.
"What… what are those…?"
His voice died with him. A great knight of the beast clans, slain in moments, his strength meaningless before the thunder of steel.
The fall of Halma had begun.
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