In the sky above Thorndale, after emptying their second quiver of arrows, the Winged Hybrids immediately drew the daggers at their waists, flapped their wings to descend, and attacked the orcs on the ground.
At the same time, the Scale-skinned Hybrids, led by the lion hybrid, broke through like a hot knife through butter, trampling over the arrow-riddled orc corpses, and stormed into the streets of Thorndale.
A strong orc, riding a warg, appeared on the street, oblivious to its own danger. He led a squad of orcs to set up barricades on the street, intending to block the Misbegotten here.
He let out a menacing roar at the foremost lion hybrid, while the orcs behind him raised their bows, released the strings, and arrows shot out instantly.
"Roar—! For Lord Arthur! For the Erdtree!"
The lion hybrid returned an even more terrifying roar, and the Scale-skinned Hybrids behind him likewise roared.
He swept his Misbegotten greatsword horizontally, forcefully intercepting the incoming arrows. The collision of sword and arrow produced a piercing metallic symphony.
Not all arrows were parried; several mercilessly pierced his armor, embedding themselves in his skin. However, the pain, like sparks, ignited his savagery, flames burning in his eyes, his roar mixed with a lion-like bellow.
Meanwhile, the Scale-skinned Hybrids behind him did not entirely imitate the lion hybrid's method of using their broad-faced battle axes or large scimitars to parry the incoming arrows, but instead deftly dispersed to the left and right.
Arrows rained down, yet the Scale-skinned Hybrids were as nimble as the wind, their figures weaving through the narrow alleys, as agile as swimming dragons. They climbed onto the mottled, dilapidated rooftops on both sides, the timbers groaning softly beneath their feet.
In the sky, the flapping of wings was as dense as drumbeats. Just as the strong orc was about to speak, a sound of rushing wind came through the air. He suddenly looked up, only to see the Winged Hybrids swooping down like birds of prey, the short blades in their hands glinting with cold light in the sunlight.
Before the orc soldiers could react, the Winged Hybrids had appeared among them like specters. The orcs tried to redirect their arrows, but found that the Winged Hybrids' agility far exceeded expectations, while their own movements seemed clumsy and powerless.
For a moment, screams, the clang of metal, and the dull thud of blades entering flesh intertwined into a chaotic symphony.
An orc was heavily stomped on the face by a Winged Hybrid, his rough face instantly contorting, emotions of pain and anger freezing in an instant.
Immediately after, he felt a sting, followed by a cold sensation spreading along his throat. Blood, like a wild beast escaping its confinement, gushed from the cut of the short blade, staining his vision black and red. The surrounding scene began to spin, and finally darkness swallowed his consciousness.
"You damned birdmen, where are you orcs from? Why are you attacking us!" The strong orc, however, had ridden his warg to evade the Winged Hybrids' aerial assault. He angrily roared and questioned while swinging his scimitar to fend off the Winged Hybrids' pursuit.
Because, upon closer observation, he found that these birdmen attacking him did not resemble humans, and thus, the strong orc, unsure of their origins, mistook them for mutated orcs from other regions.
"Boom!"
Behind the strong orc, a loud crash broke the silence, signaling that the makeshift barricade had been overturned by the brute force of the lion hybrid.
The warg let out a low growl, its fanged maw revealing displeasure, and turned to pounce on the invaders.
The orc on its back only caught a glimpse of a sword shadow, pain striking in an instant, followed by darkness.
The strong orc's headless body slid limply from the warg's back, its heavy corpse crashing onto the cluttered street, mingling with the dust.
The warg opened its bloody maw to bite at the lion hybrid, who had not yet had time to withdraw his weapon. Before its teeth could touch the lion hybrid's fur, its throat was tightly gripped by that fiery red, furry palm, and it was lifted directly into the air.
His strength was so immense that no matter how much the warg struggled, it could not escape from this pincer-like hand.
"We are not Orcs; we are Lord Arthur's bravest Misbegotten Legion."
The lion hybrid's greatsword mercilessly pierced the warg's abdomen. The force in his hand increased, and the warg's corpse was tossed aside like a rag, landing heavily on the strong orc's headless body.
Not far away, the roars of the Scale-skinned Hybrids and orcs seemed to tear through the land of Thorndale. The sudden clash of metal was heard, accompanied by the screams of orcs and the battle cries of the Scale-skinned Hybrids.
One of the Scale-skinned Hybrids, wielding a massive axe, brought it down, instantly shattering the wooden shields of three orcs standing side by side. Their arms were simultaneously broken, and they all showed expressions of terror.
The orcs quickly realized that they had no way to engage the Scale-skinned Hybrids in close combat; their weapons simply couldn't reach the Scale-skinned Hybrids. This wasn't just because the Scale-skinned Hybrids were agile, but simply a matter of attack range.
Because before the pitiful scimitars in the orcs' hands could touch the Scale-skinned Hybrids, they were split in two, orc and weapon alike, by the latter's two-handed battle axes, which were as tall as he was.
An orc struggled to get up from the ground. He had just been sent flying by a Scale-skinned Hybrid's axe handle and was now a bit dizzy and disoriented.
The pain in his body filled his muddled mind with rage. Holding his already broken weapon, he roared and swung at the nearest Scale-skinned Hybrid.
The Scale-skinned Hybrid was prepared; his long, thick tail, like a celestial net intercepting a meteor, swept lightly, throwing the orc off balance and off course. Immediately after, the axe blade pierced through this orc's chest cavity, embedding deeply into its flesh. The orc's roar abruptly ceased, replaced by another brief scream on the battlefield.
With the dual advantage of size and strength, the Scale-skinned Hybrids were overwhelmingly destroying the orcs' battle lines at a casualty ratio of approximately 1:15.
The few Scale-skinned Hybrids who died in battle were also caught off guard by arrows shot from the rear by orcs.
Of course, this also attributed to the fact that the battle took place in Thorndale, an urban environment with numerous buildings providing cover, which allowed for such a significant disparity in casualty ratios.
If it were an endless plain, the lion hybrid would absolutely not charge with the Scale-skinned Hybrids in such a manner.
His preference for brute force did not mean he liked to die.
"Winged Hybrids, go kill those archers!"
The lion hybrid noticed the orcs firing arrows from inside the houses and issued the command.
The Winged Hybrids spread their wings and soared high, their wings tracing elegant arcs in the air, stirring the breeze.
Their gaze precisely caught the orcs hidden in the shadows of the houses on the ground. These evil orcs cunningly hid behind makeshift window covers, their bows aimed at the newly airborne Winged Hybrids.
The Winged Hybrids' wings adjusted their posture lightly and swiftly, as if dancers leaping in the air, dodging one cold arrow after another.
Soon, they arrived above the orcs' houses. Having just prevented the Winged Hybrids from approaching, the orcs had exhausted their quivers and were frantically and busily resupplying arrows from inside their houses.
The Winged Hybrids seized this brief opening, charging fiercely towards the houses. The panicked cries of the orcs and the shrieks of the Winged Hybrids intertwined into a chaotic symphony.
Meanwhile, on the Scale-skinned Hybrids' side, without the support of archers, the orcs gradually failed to maintain their battle lines. Their once firm positions began to loosen, like a sandcastle eroded by the tide, peeling away bit by bit and collapsing inch by inch.
Fear, like a plague, spread through the orc ranks, passing from one orc's eyes to another orc's face, until the entire force fell into disarray.
The addition of the lion hybrid became the last straw that broke the orcs, destroying their hard-held defensive line like a raging storm.
The prelude to a rout finally began. An orc suddenly cut down a fellow orc blocking his way, turned, and fled, breaking the last line of defense for his surrounding companions. Thus, other orcs followed suit, stepping on their companions' heels, rushing backward recklessly.
Even an orc captain who directly killed another fleeing orc could not change the overall situation on the battlefield.
War was like a torrent, and the orcs were like waves crashing on the shore.
At the center of Thorndale, the horn that gave orders was mercilessly destroyed by the Winged Hybrids, and the orc responsible for blowing it was now a cold corpse. Its body was pinned to a nearby wooden stake by arrows, black blood gradually congealing and soaking the surrounding ground, its head hanging limply.
The orc captain's eyes reflected terror as he struggled amidst the chaos and panic.
Scale-skinned Hybrids surged like a tide, while Winged Hybrids circled in the air, their scales or feathers reflecting a cold light in the sunlight.
His warg mount had died outside, and he himself was trapped inside this house.
The orc captain's gaze was instantly drawn to a fiery red figure; the lion hybrid emerged from within.
Suddenly, the orc captain felt a heavy force on his shoulder. He almost instinctively tried to dodge, but the force came too fast, too fierce. He only managed to turn slightly before feeling a tremendous power pressing him to the ground.
It was the lion hybrid, who had mercilessly pressed the blade of his Misbegotten Greatsword onto the orc captain's shoulder plate.
"Where in the world are you orcs from? Are you insane! Aren't you afraid of the Master's wrath coming down on you!" the orc captain cursed exasperatedly after clearly seeing the somewhat dirty appearances of the surrounding Misbegotten.
The lion hybrid frowned. This was the second time he had heard the enemy in front of him call himself an orc.
This made him feel somewhat annoyed. How dare they confuse Misbegotten with you weak orcs.
At this moment, Arthur, still wearing the Blaidd, the Half-Wolf set, walked in. The surrounding Scale-skinned Hybrids and Winged Hybrids all bowed their heads to him in respect.
"You have done well. First, send some people to investigate the enslaved humans. The rest of you, check if there are any remaining orcs hiding in Thorndale. Be careful, these orcs are cunning; don't let your guard down just because they fled," Arthur first praised with a nod, then ordered.
The surrounding Misbegotten dispersed, leaving only the lion hybrid, who was pressing the orc captain down with his Misbegotten Greatsword.
"Lord Arthur, he is the orc commander of Thorndale," the lion hybrid said in a low voice.
Arthur glanced at the wounds on his body; several broken arrows were embedded in his arm and back, and there were also two shallow scars on his chest.
He took out his red dew holy grail bottle and a Mossfruit, handing them both to the lion hybrid's other hand: "Treat your wounds first. I remember some orcs like to poison their arrows. Don't fall because of such a ridiculous reason."
Then Arthur took the Misbegotten Greatsword from the lion hybrid's hand, looked at the orc captain, and lightly tapped the other's face with the blade, asking: "Why are you orcs here?"
The orc captain let out a "ho ho" laugh, not answering Arthur, but cursing at the lion hybrid: "Humans? You actually serve a human? You and your kin have betrayed our Master; he will bring punishment upon you!"
The lion hybrid had been somewhat pleased because Arthur cared for him and had even given him his red dew holy grail bottle for treatment.
However, the orc captain's words darkened his expression. The lion hybrid unceremoniously walked over and kicked the orc captain hard in the stomach: "You're mistaken, you blind fool."
Arthur then lightly sliced the other's neck with the blade of the Misbegotten Greatsword: "Answer my question, orc, why are you here? Whose command was it to repair Thorndale?"
The orc captain, however, revealed a smile of unknown meaning, then intentionally struck the blade, slitting his own throat.
The lion hybrid quickly bent down to check, then shook his head: "He's dead, Lord Arthur."
"I know."
Arthur exhaled, nodded, then returned the Misbegotten Greatsword to the lion hybrid and took back his red dew holy grail bottle.
The orc captain's words reminded him of what Gandalf had said to him when they met.
"Darkness lurks beneath the light, and in the caves, forests, and mountains we cannot see, evil forces are festering."
Arthur felt it was time to find Gandalf again and tell him about what happened here.
But where was Gandalf now?
Elrond said that after Gandalf left Rivendell, he continued eastward into the Misty Mountains, which was a bit too far from Minhiriath.
And his whereabouts were uncertain.
If only there was a way to quickly contact him, he thought. He must ask him next time they meet, or figure out a way to contact him promptly himself.
Just then, Arthur heard some commotion outside.
He exchanged a glance with the lion hybrid, who went out first, then came back in and said to Arthur: "Lord Arthur, it's the enslaved humans. Some of them want to see you."