Instead of endless hunting, scattering limited time, energy, and troops across vast lands, chasing after Orcs that pop up in wave after wave and run rampant.
It's better to facilitate the birth of an Orc Boss, allowing the Orcs, driven by instinct, to gradually converge at a single point.
This is a primitive instinct, inscribed in the Orcs' DNA, an irresistible, muddled, but potentially hugely influential force.
Blazkowicz used his knowledge of Orcs to strategically plan, step by step, utilizing the enemy's racial characteristics to set targeted objectives.
"Are you going to give me an explanation?"
A resentful voice came from behind him. Blazkowicz suppressed the laughter in his heart, keeping a straight face to prevent a smile from appearing.
He knew it was a performance, but thinking of Harlan being knocked to the ground by a wooden stick, Blazkowicz felt a sense of schadenfreude.
Harlan had completed a perfect performance, successfully escaping under the cover of the Specters, and rushed over, fuming.
"Orcs are phototactic animals!"
Blazkowicz's first sentence, its abruptness, made Harlan frown, not understanding at first.
He motioned for Harlan to sit beside him, and the two, master and servant, sat on the mountain on a summer night, feeling the gentle breeze carrying the scent of gunpowder.
"In the dark of night, they wander around, searching for faint light sources."
"I built them a lighthouse, visible to all Orcs." Blazkowicz pointed into the distance, where the Orcs were still cheering for their Boss, shouting "Gork and Mork!"
"Guiding the lost ones to approach the light source of the lighthouse."
"That's too dangerous." Harlan understood a little now; attracting Orcs to come voluntarily was much simpler than searching for them, but it also carried risks.
The six-meter-tall Orc Boss from a year ago had left a deep impression on him with its intense oppressive aura.
If Blazkowicz hadn't descended from the sky and destroyed it, Harlan wasn't confident he could defeat that berserk beast in a one-on-one fight.
"I have good reasons for facilitating Guzzka's rise to Boss."
Blazkowicz agreed about the danger, but he also had sufficient reasons to implement such a tactic.
"Orcs are naturally belligerent. Without human intervention, as time passes and their numbers accumulate, a Boss will naturally emerge through violence and cunning."
"Harlan, do you think a Boss who has survived fierce competition and countless selections is more dangerous, or the Guzzka from just now?"
Harlan didn't answer, thoughtfully gazing at the celebrating Orcs, then nodded heavily in agreement, beginning to gradually understand Blazkowicz's strategic arrangements.
"Did it have to be me?"
The embarrassing display today still left Harlan feeling annoyed.
"It had to be you! Your formidable reputation has left a deep impression on the Orcs."
Blazkowicz answered seriously. Having Harlan act as the defeated totem wasn't a whim; it was a carefully considered and solemn choice.
From memories obtained by consuming Orc brain tissue, he knew Harlan's reputation had deeply impressed the Orcs, and there were also memories of him in the Orc blood drunk during battles.
"Let's go, it's over there."
He motioned for Harlan to follow. The Orcs' cheers had ended, and Guzzka was hoisted onto a makeshift garbage throne by a group of Orc Kids, solidifying his status as Boss.
Returning to the command center, everyone's eyes were filled with reverence, focused on the young man.
"Planning within the tent, winning a thousand miles away."
This Old Terra idiom only described him as eight parts suitable, still two parts lacking.
As news of the Orcs gathering arrived, the battle-hardened commanders naturally knew that the scattered Orcs, like beans, would gather on their own.
The Sentinels only needed to construct a battlefield, pinning the Orc Boss there, waiting for the enemies to deliver themselves in waves.
Surrounded by reverent gazes, Blazkowicz's heart sank, feeling the burden on his shoulders grow heavier, and the expectations placed upon him increase.
Amidst the anticipation, Blazkowicz walked to the command console and drew a circle on the virtual sandbox:
"Order the Sentinels to build a fortress. We will control the battle within a ten-thousand-square-kilometer radius. No mistakes can be made!"
"Understood!"
Everyone in the command center responded loudly, clenching their fists and striking their chests, saluting Blazkowicz with a warrior's gesture.
"Let the hunt begin!"
The Sentinels, after a brief rest, began to cut stone with their weapons to build sturdy fortresses, initiating a war of attrition against the Orcs.
The War Lord's order was simple: the Orc Boss must be held, and under no circumstances allowed to leave its designated graveyard.
Seeing humans build fortresses, the Orcs also began to act, felling trees and piling stones to build their own stronghold to confront the humans.
Their castle had to be in the image of Gork and Mork, and it had to be bigger and more Waaaaaagh!!!! than the humans'!
Blazkowicz saw the stronghold rising from the ground, with a ferocious, roaring Orc head at its center, and his last trace of worry finally dissipated.
If it were a normal Orc Boss, at this moment it would have already started to break through, reassembling its forces, and utilizing the Orcs' rapid reproduction to drag humanity into a quagmire of war.
Guzzka building a castle also sealed his own Blazkowicz.
"All units, abandon non-crystal weapons, seal them for future use."
This order was easy to understand. The Sentinels knew the characteristics of Orcs: except for crystal creations, they could quickly imitate technology and then overwhelm with sheer numbers.
Blazkowicz knew even better that the more Orcs gathered, the more 'bright sparks' would appear among them.
With everything prepared, a protracted war of attrition began.
Under Blazkowicz's command, the Rangers secretly monitored the migrating Orcs, ensuring they faced no obstacles along the way.
After the Orcs departed, the path they took was handled by the Forging Academy of the Core Forge, who used their expertise for the aftermath.
Using scientific instruments to detect the land, excavating developing Orcs underground, and simultaneously incinerating the paths the Orcs had taken with plasma flames, ensuring no residue remained.
Not only that, but the incinerated land, at the War Lord's request, would be regularly inspected and re-incinerated.
Ensuring not a single Orc was missed, and that no green mushrooms would ever grow in the land again.
The main battlefield where the two sides confronted each other, under Blazkowicz's precise command, gradually achieved strategic victory.
Large Orc migration teams, entering the designated war zone, would immediately be intercepted by the Sentinels, and the tactic of encircling and annihilating reinforcements constantly depleted the enemy's effective strength.
When Guzzka led his subordinates out to rescue, the Sentinels would "fear" his reputation, "terrified" and fleeing in disarray.
The Sentinels would retreat upon encountering Guzzka, fearfully spreading his reputation, constantly strengthening Guzzka's status.
Every time the two sides clashed, the Specters in the shadows were responsible for sniping other Orcs, ensuring Guzzka's position remained unchallenged.
The Orcs attacked the castle, and the humans hunkered down. When the Orcs wanted to leave, the humans chased and attacked, forcing the Orcs back into the stronghold.
When the enemy advanced, we retreated; when the enemy retreated, we advanced.
The Orcs were happy all the time; they thanked Gork and Mork and fought every day under Guzzka's leadership.
Guzzka brought back countless victories, and the 'shrimps' were scared out of their wits by him.
But in reality, no matter how the Orcs fought, they never left the war zone. New Orcs joined every day, but the Orc population always remained below fifty thousand.
Guzzka's physique remained at four meters, unable to grow another inch.
This peculiar war of attrition lasted for six months, until no new Orcs arrived from beyond the wilderness for a long time.
Inside the Orc stronghold, the Orcs, whose hearts were joyful from fighting, inevitably began to feel physically exhausted.
The Orc Kids around Guzzka were replaced again and again. The Kids did not grow stronger in battle; instead, they became weaker and weaker.
After being Boss for half a year, bolstered by the "Waaaaaagh Field," Guzzka's weak body was replaced by a strong one, and he also gained some intelligence.
Seeing the weakened Orcs, he understood that he had been set up, and the Orc race had been set up.
"My Lord, as per your request, all paths taken by the Orcs have been thoroughly investigated."
"Except for your current location, I swear on the honor of the Core Forge, there are no other Orcs or Orc spores in Argent Nur!"
In the command center, the Forging Master, dressed in a technician's robe, with several auxiliary arms placed in front of him, humbly reported to the War Lord as good news arrived one after another.
"The Sentinels thanks you for your efforts; the Core Forge churns with your enthusiasm."
Blazkowicz thanked them sincerely, the selfless dedication of the Forging Master of the Core Forge.
They led their apprentices, day and night, to clear the lingering Orc menace, deserving the gratitude of the Sentinels.
"Is this the final battle?"
Harlan asked excitedly. His master had lit a lighthouse, luring and killing millions of Orcs in just half a year.
What King Nowick had failed to do, Blazkowicz had accomplished!
During the standoff with the Orcs, Harlan was the happiest.
Seeing his Sentinels colleagues being chased in disarray under Guzzka's tyrannical power, his heart was healed.
Even though he knew it was an exaggerated performance, he felt greatly relieved. Who isn't an actor?
"Let the warriors rest well. We will launch the attack when the sun rises tomorrow, and make the Orcs completely disappear from Argent Nur!"
"War Lord, the Orcs have retreated into the Junk City under our siege. They are now just caged beasts, like a flock of lambs waiting to be slaughtered, unable to resist us."
"No rush. We must be even more cautious at the final moment. There are countless historical tales of efforts failing at the last hurdle.
The victory of the Sentinels is not a massacre; preventing a single Orc from crossing the blockade and avoiding all future troubles is the ultimate goal."
The voice that answered Harlan was loud and deep, containing suppressed power and a mysterious authority that made people unconsciously trust him, even feel an urge to kneel.
A giant stood before Harlan, fully four meters tall, his large and robust physique making the spacious command hall appear slightly small.
In half a year, Blazkowicz had grown considerably taller, his strength was even greater, and the aura he casually exuded was enough to make any Mortal kneel before him.
Staring at the changes on the holographic map, he held a long staff, constantly pointing.
Under precise command, the Sentinels split into numerous action teams, perfectly fulfilling their duties and responsible for achieving their predetermined objectives.
Nine thousand Sentinels surrounded and killed approximately fifty thousand remaining Orc troops; victory was within reach.
Without any command or dispatch, if nine thousand Sentinels had simply charged, the Orcs would not have been able to resist.
However, Blazkowicz remained serious, determined not to let a single Orc escape, and to avoid a repeat of the siege of the city.
That was an indelible pain in the hearts of the Sentinels, a dark page mixed in their glorious history.
Blazkowicz now rarely used numerical commands; after half a year of adaptation, the messengers had gradually grown accustomed to the speed of verbal commands.
His god-like, towering figure stood straight, the long staff precisely pointing on the holographic map, rapidly dispatching multiple units.
Even with verbal commands, his extremely fast speaking rate still made the messengers sweat profusely.
The War Lord's command ability could even be precise down to a single person, a single gun, a single sword, while also taking into account the physical condition of each warrior.
Inside the command hall, no one offered an opinion, silently relaying orders, allowing the troops to maneuver quickly.
The Sentinels gradually surrounded the Orc stronghold, crushing it like a dull knife cutting meat, slowly alternating attacks, and rapidly wearing down the Orcs' patience and strength.
"Harlan, let's go bid farewell to our 'old friend.' After this battle, there will be no more Orcs on Argent Nur."
With that, Blazkowicz showed a hearty smile, a gesture of invitation, calling Harlan to join the battle and thoroughly end the war with the Orcs.
In the past half-year, Blazkowicz had also frequently joined battles, often 'playing' with Guzzka on the battlefield.
Today, all efforts would culminate in this one battle; the grievances between the two sides would be completely settled. It was time to say a final goodbye to the Orcs, their old friends.
"It is time to say goodbye!" The scar on Harlan's face twitched, revealing a strange smile: "Guzzka probably wishes he could devour you alive."
"He definitely misses me." Blazkowicz extended his left hand, and two warriors placed armguards on him. In his mind, he thought of the Orc Boss he had personally supported.
He called to the Champion Swordsman: "Let's go fight and end the final battle! And say goodbye to an old friend."
"Come out! Face me!"
A deafening roar echoed through the sky. On the wall of the Orc Junk City, the four-meter-tall Guzzka stood on the battlements, roaring fiercely: "Blazkowicz!!!!!!!!!!"
In despair, the Orc Boss let out an angry roar, challenging the human leader to a duel!
Through a long tug-of-war and countless clashes, the Orc Boss had risen, and a big strong one had also appeared among humans.
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He was invincible on the battlefield; the only one who could rival him was the Orc Boss. Under deliberate guidance, the Orcs firmly believed this.
In reality, Blazkowicz could kill Guzzka without breaking a sweat. Their body sizes were similar, but their actual combat power was worlds apart.
Guzzka's eyes were blood-red, his lower jaw protruded hideously, a gaping maw with a huge fangs on the left corner of his lip, covered in rough, terrifying vertical lines.
His right fangs had been shattered by a punch from Blazkowicz in a previous encounter. Guzzka considered it a lifelong disgrace and swore to get his revenge.
"I know you're watching me!" Guzzka held a makeshift giant axe in one hand, pointing it towards the human War Fortress.
Thinking of all the past events, Guzzka's eyes widened, and he roared fiercely: "You got what you wanted! The Orcs are finally exhausted by you!"
Guzzka wore a tattered vermilion power armor, his inner humiliation burning like magma.
That big human could have killed him countless times.
He constantly let him go, deceiving the younger Orcs, making Guzzka a puppet leader.
Today, this very day!
A look of relief appeared in Guzzka's blood-red eyes. He could finally get rid of that cunning and cruel human, return to his 'Gao Mao Er Ge' (Mork and Gork), and completely end his humiliating life.
The Orcs' coarse roars rumbled like muffled thunder, wild howls echoing across the plain, and furious shouts exploded in the ears of every Orc and human.
The battlefield paused briefly at his roar; soldiers from both sides looked at him, then followed his gaze.
On the ramparts of the human fortress, a man stood tall, dressed like a gladiator, an axe handle resting on his shoulder. He also stood on the high battlements, staring across at Guzzka.
Sunlight fell upon his shoulders, giving him the appearance of a god.
Two powerful beings with extraordinary strength, at the moment their eyes met, the air seemed to twist in their gaze, sparking lightning in the void.
"Blazkowicz! Blazkowicz!"
The Sentinels fought, shouting his name; the War Lord was a symbol of invincibility.
"Guzzka!" Blazkowicz replied to the Orc Boss. He leaped, jumping down from a city wall dozens of meters high. His massive body crashed to the ground with a thunderous sound.
From amidst the stirred dust, a figure stood calmly. Blazkowicz grinned, his fighting spirit surging!
Harlan secretly shook his head and activated his armor's protective mode. He did not possess such extraordinary power. Protected by his power armor, he followed Blazkowicz, leaping down the city wall.
Blazkowicz pressed a mechanism on the axe handle in his hand, and the battle axe emitted a flash of lightning, as two dimensional light blades sprang from its tip.
The large crescent-shaped light blades were azure like the sky, their surfaces inscribed with cuneiform characters formed by patterns, symbolizing courage and glory.
The axe was the proud creation of a Argent Nur master craftsman. By carving intricate characters onto raw null crystal, the crystal could project them onto the light blades.
Harlan held a spear horizontally in front of him with one hand and pointed a light sword at the ground with the other. The cape behind his power armor billowed without wind, making him look awe-inspiring!
A subtle change occurred in the battlefield situation; the strongest on both sides watched each other, preparing for a hearty duel of honor!
The Orcs unconsciously cast their gazes, for worshipping the strong was their racial nature.
Guzzka felt Blazkowicz's aura—a powerful presence that was difficult to reach or defeat, an insurmountable mountain.
His breathing quickened a few beats; that man was taller and stronger than when he last saw him!
Although his height was similar to his own, the power contained within that formidable body gave the Orc Boss a chilling sensation.
Terrifyingly strong!
"Face me! Blazkowicz!"
Guzzka leaped down, climbed onto a makeshift armored vehicle, and with all his courage, shouted, his coarse roar trembling.
He gripped his giant axe tighter and tighter, clinging to the sense of security the steel provided, and as his body trembled uncontrollably, Guzzka shouted resentfully: "I finally dare to face you! No longer fleeing!"
"Sentinels! Execute the plan!"
Blazkowicz roared, his shout exploding like thunder, shattering Guzzka's indignant roar, showing not the slightest regard for him.
At the War Lord's command, filled with the desire to wash away shame and exact revenge, the Sentinels roared with excitement:
"The day of atonement is now! We shall have our revenge!"
The War Fortress, which had been hidden, slowly emerged from behind the mountains. The dark, trapezoidal fortress reflected an obsidian-like sheen.
Its dark body was solemn and majestic, and its gaping muzzles exuded a chilling aura.
As the War Fortress's giant plasma cannons finished charging, several scorching deep-blue plasma bolts streaked across the sky, slamming into the gates of the Orc Junk City!
"Sizzle~~~"
There was no booming explosion; the plasma, like superheated iron balls, dropped into a block of butter, melting and even vaporizing everything it encountered.
The gates of the Orc Junk City collapsed with a crash, the Orc head sculpture symbolizing 'Gao Mao Er Ge' (Mork and Gork) was riddled with holes, and the entire Orc city wall instantly shattered into pieces.
The plasma burst open, its high temperature igniting all combustibles. In an instant, the city was ablaze, and thick smoke billowed.
"Blazkowicz!!!!"
Guzzka couldn't care less; there were no other thoughts in his mind, only one enemy in his eyes. He wanted to make a final stand to wash away his shame.
The garbage truck rattled and banged as Guzzka, with his personal guards, screamed and charged towards the leisurely Blazkowicz.
Those personal guards, wearing simple power armor powered by cylinders and hydraulically driven, their grotesque faces distorted with excitement, tongues lolling and saliva flying, rode their junk motorcycles and rushed forward!
Blazkowicz's eyes held contempt. He raised his battle axe, enveloped in a containment field, and then swung it down.
In the center of the battlefield, the leaders of both sides met, generals commanding tens of thousands of troops, yet deciding victory with swords.
Blazkowicz's movements could be so fast that no one present, human or beast, including the Orc Boss, could track him.
But there was no need for that. Battles on the battlefield were not only about physical combat but also about psychological warfare.
Allowing the Orcs to charge repeatedly, letting other Orcs witness how their comrades were easily cut down, was a powerful deterrent.
It also had a significant effect on the Orcs, this barbaric fighting race, not to mention other intelligent beings.
If Blazkowicz had exerted his full power, the Orcs would only see corpses strewn everywhere without understanding the process, which would instead ignite their ferocity, making them charge forward with roars.
Restraint was also a strategy; sometimes, going all out could backfire, while appropriate relaxation, hitting just the right spot, could achieve twice the result with half the effort.
As automatic gun bullets flew from a distance, Blazkowicz wielded his war axe, and the Dimensional Blade touched the bullets. The dimensional rift would banish any colliding object to an unknown dimension.
The automatic fire from those Orc motorcycles posed no threat to Blazkowicz even if he didn't intercept it. His healthy and resilient skin was enough to resist medium to large caliber weapon fire, only causing some pain.
Seeing that ranged shooting was useless, the Orc Kids roared in on their junk cars, using the vehicles' kinetic energy and installed spikes to ram and send the large human flying!
Blazkowicz, unhurried, calculated the angle of each motorcycle to deal with them most efficiently.
When the first motorcycle crashed, Blazkowicz simply shifted sideways, elegantly dodging the head-on collision, and his war axe descended into the terrified eyes of the Orc Kid.
The Dimensional Blade had no thickness; the two-dimensional blade was not "sharp" in the conventional sense. It didn't cut through matter itself but rather the dimension through which the blade passed.
In the universe, almost no physical entity or material existence could block the blade.
The blade cut through a perfectly straight line without any deviation. Armor, skin, flesh, bones—no material made a difference; nothing could hinder the dimensional tear in the slightest.
With one swing of the axe, a smooth, mirror-like diagonal cut sliced through the Orc Kid's flesh and blood body and steel mount, leaving without any resistance.
The screams that couldn't be uttered were drowned out by the sound of explosions.
Blazkowicz's expression remained unchanged. His sensory organs captured every incoming bullet, and he leisurely walked through the hail of gunfire towards Guzzka's junk car.
Axe after axe, he swung left and right, cutting everything in two.
Harlan was different from Blazkowicz; his spear and sword clashed with ferocity. The spear, seizing the opportunity, impaled the junk car driver.
With a graceful turn, his longsword sliced the Orc, car and all, into two halves.
The Champion Swordsman's sword skills were extraordinary, effortlessly unleashing killing moves. Though lacking the posture of a famous master, he had grasped the true essence of swordsmanship.
The Orc junk motorcycles charged towards the master and servant, like moths drawn to a lamp, exploding into a ball of flames upon approach, with no other result than burning themselves to ashes.
"Blazkowicz!"
With a roar of grief and indignation, Guzzka watched the tragic state of his subordinates. Unable to suppress the sorrow in his heart, he charged recklessly towards Blazkowicz, intent on a decisive battle!
He was originally someone who valued his life.
When he was an Orc Kid, he earned the reputation of being a "squeaky brat" and a "coward."
Now, seeing his subordinates bravely die for him, one after another falling under Blazkowicz's hand, Guzzka's heart was overwhelmed with surging grief and emotion.
The Orc Boss's crimson eyes flashed with rage, roaring, wanting to tear Blazkowicz limb from limb.
His four-meter-tall body, like a tank of flesh and blood, leaped from the junk car. His strength was astonishing with every move, and he held his great axe horizontally in front of him, roaring as he charged towards that damned human!
Blazkowicz was soaked in Orc blood, his eyes growing colder, and a sneer appeared at the corner of his mouth. He raised his hand and crooked a finger, his contemptuous voice chilling to the bone:
"Come and die!"
"WAAAGH!!!!!!!!!"
Guzzka was on the verge of madness, his eyes burning red, muscles bulging, veins like coiling dragons: "There must be an end between you and me!"
That reckless posture, in Blazkowicz's eyes, finally held a bit of the "Boss" aura.
Well, just a little bit of aura, that's all.
His footsteps were heavy like muffled thunder. His thick calves suddenly exerted force, and his green body leaped high.
Guzzka, using the momentum of his charge, leaped up, raising his war axe with both arms. Speed plus strength, a powerful leaping cleave, intended to split Blazkowicz in half!
Seeing his fierce momentum, the look of certain victory in his suicidal charge, Blazkowicz did not retreat but advanced, darting forward.
His extraordinary body tensed, instantly accelerating to supersonic speed, an aural boom cloud enveloping his charging form.
Before the piercing sonic boom exploded, with lightning speed, he leaped up from the ground, like a rising meteor, crashing into Guzzka's embrace!
"Boom!" Muffled thunder echoed across the battlefield, attracting everyone's gaze.
A dull sound exploded! A violent shockwave was visible to the naked eye!
In the flash-quick confrontation, victory was decided in an instant. A green figure flew backward, his tragic state extraordinary.
His condition was too horrible to behold; his body fell like a broken sack, shattering all the Orcs' courage.
"Look there! The War Lord has defeated the Orc Boss, the victory is decided!"
The Sentinels was awestruck by the epic scene, like ancient human heroes defeating a demon god, bringing immense exhilaration to the soldiers.
Seeing their Boss fall, the Orcs in the stronghold became even more chaotic. A breach was torn in their defenses, and the Sentinels surged into the city.
"Cough, cough, cough..."
Guzzka lay in a pool of blood. His skin seeped a large amount of blood, all his bones were shattered, and his muscle tissue was pulverized into a meaty pulp by the shockwave.
His chest rose and fell erratically; the Orc Boss, who was almost insane a second ago, was now utterly weak. His gaze was scattered, but he stared fixedly ahead.
That human was still standing, bathed in his own blood, without a single wound on his body. Only his shattered left shoulder guard proved that he had indeed collided with him.
"Why are you so strong? Why..."
His weak murmur was full of unwillingness; he had lost again, utterly defeated.
Guzzka's shattered organs, accompanied by foamy blood, continuously gushed from his mouth.
In his field of vision, the ground in front of him was torn open by the immense impact, forming a semi-circular crater. Blazkowicz stood within it, unmoving.
Blazkowicz stood there, his left shoulder guard shattered, but his shoulder skin was undamaged. The resilience of his flesh and blood body far surpassed steel; his body was as steady as a rock, standing like an unyielding monument.
Guzzka had always understood that there was a vast difference in existence between him and Blazkowicz; it was never an even match.
But he hadn't expected that in this very moment of true confrontation, it would be a one-sided, merciless crushing.
No creature could have emerged unscathed from the violent collision just now, yet Blazkowicz stood there, upright as usual.
Blazkowicz said nothing, walked in front of Guzzka, and looked down at the Orc Boss who had accompanied him for so long. Now, his body was like a shattered porcelain bowl, covered in cracks.
He raised his foot and stepped on the Orc Boss's chest. His combat boot felt a chaotic heartbeat. Without a doubt, the Orc Boss was dying.
"Take my head!" Feeling the pressure on his chest intensify, Guzzka gasped for air, only wishing for a quick release.
A release from a lifetime of humiliation, to return to the side of Gork and Mork.
"I don't plan to kill you yet," Blazkowicz shook his head, a chilling smile appearing on his blood-stained face: "After you die, the Orc forces will scatter."
At the most critical moment, Blazkowicz could not allow the battle to change.
"Blazkowicz," Guzzka gave a bitter, tragic laugh, his rough voice gasping briefly as he called out to the enemy leader before him.
He was a pure war machine, a born commander who thought rationally: "You are truly powerful. You possess great strength and also know how to restrain it."
"To have been toyed with by you for half a year, I consider myself honored."
At this moment, Guzzka suddenly felt relieved.
His failure was not due to his own abilities. Facing such an enemy, even if another Orc had been Boss, the process might have been different, but the outcome would never change.
With that, he closed his eyes, not looking at the hunted Orcs.
He waited quietly, waiting for the last Orc to fall, and then he would die, returning to the embrace of Gork and Mork.
"Are you alright?"
The Champion Swordsman Harlan had charged through, his power armor covered in splattered Orc blood.
He was slightly out of breath, looking at the blood-soaked Blazkowicz and the fallen, closed-eyed Guzzka, asking with concern.
The collision just now was terrifying, and seeing Blazkowicz covered in blood, he asked to put his mind at ease.
Guarding the War Lord was his duty. He knew Blazkowicz's strength, but his own duty could not be neglected.
"I'm fine, he couldn't possibly hurt me," Blazkowicz returned with a smile, "Not even ten more could..."
Harlan's gaze carefully scanned Blazkowicz's body, and only after finding no wounds or suspicious bruises did he nod in relief.
He had thoroughly eliminated Guzzka's personal guards, leaving no hidden dangers.
Watching Guzzka with interest, using his honor as a stepping stone to become the Boss of the Orcs, his eyes darted, and another idea formed.
He cut steel from the junk car, bound it to Guzzka with chains and steel cables, and motioned for Blazkowicz to set him upright, impaled on the ground.
"Orcs! Look here!"
Harlan shouted triumphantly at the junk city, using Guzzka to crush the Orcs' courage and wash away the humiliation brought by that ridiculous performance half a year ago.
Sure enough, the Orcs fighting among the broken walls and ruins, resisting the Sentinels, saw him and completely lost their courage, their heads being cut off in terror.
"Today was truly exhilarating! What a..."
Before he could finish speaking, Blazkowicz suddenly looked up, quickly stepped forward, shielding Harlan behind him, and gazed past the battlefield into the distance.
There, amidst the rolling hills, a powerful force was gradually brewing.
Blazkowicz felt an unusual fluctuation, a cold, sinister aura that made his hair stand on end—it was Psionic energy!