"Crush and Pass, Three Thousand Captives!"
Number one was making a breakthrough at the critical moment of the war. He was rising a level and sending three thousand more of the spirits he hid in his totem to the battlefield. This wouldn't be the only change experienced; the totem, from which countless light rays shot, was also growing a little taller, and on top of that, it had started pushing the two orc warriors near it.
Understanding this, numbers nine and seven moved away from where they were without resisting. There was no benefit in resisting this force. The first, remaining inside the shield, also moved away and came out of the trance with the effect created by his new technique on him.
The rebel tribe had to push forward about ten thousand more of the warriors it kept behind, and naturally, there were archers among them too. As soon as they saw the totem causing them trouble was left defenseless, they were pulling their bows and sending their arrows to the target.
Number seven realized he made a mistake; he had to leave his place no matter what. He started running back rapidly, but unfortunately, the arrows were much faster than him. Before he could even cover half the distance, they were about two steps close to the totem; they would descend on it a breath later.
Then a completely unexpected event happened. The force pushing numbers nine and seven was also eliminating the incoming arrows. Weapons hitting a practically invisible force wall were falling from the sky patter-patter. The warrior making his two whips dance laughed heartily; he had come to the end of his defense shift.
Immediately cutting his advance, he sped towards the opposite direction. He was going to the side of his friend who had to deal with thousands of people for a long time. This would be a fitting move because signs of fatigue could be sensed in the movements of the fourth, who constantly used his energy as shock waves since the beginning of the war.
The warriors attacking from a single front by escaping from where the Gray Hyenas were located were in big trouble. Apart from the whip-wielding monster running towards them, number nine, leaving the first to the totem's power field, was also heading towards them.
Accompanied by number ten's arrows, the slaughter party began. Thousands of wild creature spirits embodied and four warriors from the Elite Ten seemed like they would take out the pain of staying on defense just a moment ago.
While the enthusiasm of five of the ten warriors in black hit the ceiling, the state of their other friends was also worth seeing. Each one had chosen an opponent for themselves and was pushing their limits to defeat them.
The struggle was continuing at full speed; while the situation became serious on every front, in some, contrary to how it started, things had gotten very ugly. The beautiful woman, dazzling with her ostentation while stopping incoming arrows with her pink umbrella, was currently unrecognizable. Her hair was messy, her nice clothes stained with the marks left by blood flowing from countless cuts on them.
Ellen was a bit unfortunate too. She was encountering the most difficult one for one-on-one combat among ten enemies. The beautiful woman would realize this after a while; throughout the war she had to continue, she had looked around many times with eyes seeking help.
First, the handsome man came to her mind. This person taking one to a dream world with his curly hair had never disappointed her. While thinking why shouldn't he protect me once more, she wouldn't be able to believe what she saw with her eyes she turned coquettishly.
The state of the man swinging his thin long sword was very strange. There was no trace of the aura of the person breaking from politeness. As far as she could understand from his hair covering his face, the man's face was soaked with sweat, veins on his forehead swollen as if they would pop out of his skin at any moment.
This physical state could be considered normal in a fight to the death, but what on earth was the madness she felt from him? The person not taking even a step back against number six and his unique spear was as if not the gentleman and polite human the whole team knew.
When this option disappeared, Ellen changed targets immediately. The man wandering with his upper body naked was a figure she could hide behind. Maybe he wouldn't defend her directly, but if she was around him, she could indirectly provide a defense thanks to his ability.
Her approaching that side and a dozen orcs falling on her path in a shattered state would happen at the same time. The scene was terrible; warriors whose arms were torn off, heads shattered, upper and lower bodies connected only by their intestines were agonizing in front of her.
The beautiful woman's thought was actually logical, but what she didn't know was that she was on the side where the most violent struggle on the battlefield was directed. Number two and his opponent didn't care about the world; they were clashing their fists like crazy.
Their hands, feet, whole bodies were their weapons. When they swung their arms, the end of the road appeared for the poor orcs remaining in their route. Avoiding this struggle was very difficult; neither warrior had any thought of complying with any order. Whichever way the flow of the fight dragged them, they were going full tilt in that direction.
She didn't even look at the ugly woman; if that shrew caught her opportunity, she would lead herself to death with her own hands. One last remedy remained for the monument of beauty; she would run to the leader's side, catching the chance to escape death even if she became a laughing stock later. She thought the gray-haired man was the most experienced of them; surely he must have thrown himself into a sheltered place to keep the area under control.
This day could be by far the worst day Ellen, who had every door closed in her face, experienced in her life. Even she couldn't remember how much time passed since she saw her leader fighting. The gray-haired man, the last hope of the woman approaching death step by step, was giving a serious struggle from the moment number three stood before him.
He had fallen into concern for his own life; the only thought in his mind was to flee the battlefield rapidly after shaking off the monster opposite him a little.
The gray-haired man wanted to leave everything behind and run away, and this wasn't something to be ashamed of. Heroic epics wouldn't be written after he died; he knew neither a poem nor a song would be sung in his name.
For someone earning his living by killing, in the face of the value of his life, phenomena like honor, pride, duty responsibility weren't worth a dime. Looking at his opponent reminding of a giant lizard, it wasn't possible to find these thoughts of his strange.
Number two, unable to endure after exchanging a few blows, had started applying his technique. He had poured a tube of blood he took out from his bosom onto his hands, feet, and the back of his waist.
At first, no one would be able to make sense of this movement until a giant tail longer than three steps hit the ground hard from behind him. At the same time, his hands and feet were also changing shape; giant claws were appearing in place of the disappearing limbs.
The third's fighting way was in transformation technique, and he possessed Expert level First stage. This was also the reason for the wild creature aura he emitted before. It was an ability he gained as a result of covering his body with their blood many times.
Although no one could see, his body was covered with tattoos engraved with various patterns. It was adorned with runes and magical words. His technique became active with the blood of the chosen creature. Once started, the victim's strength and might flowed in his veins; he physically assumed its shape. In Novice and Master levels, he had to undergo a complete transformation. When he became an Expert, he had now attained the freedom to choose desired places on his body.
He was using the blood of the lava lizard, a creature unique to the Hell Realm, which Nafız gave him. With his ember-colored claws and tail, he was cornering the gray-haired man.
The transformed orc warrior had a very interesting fighting style. While standing, he was attacking ceaselessly with the claws on his two hands; his giant tail was also accompanying this. When he laid his body on the ground like a lizard, his speed increased excessively, sending pinpoint strikes to his opponent's open places.
If not for the experiences the gray-haired man gained from many life-or-death situations, the result of the war would have been determined long ago by now. However, the leader of the Gray Hyenas managed to make the move that would save him at the most critical moments, and although he was constantly retreating, he was still alive.
Anything could happen at any moment in the struggles taking place on the right flank. Therefore, Ellen was alone against the Golden Chakrams passing through her clothes and opening two new cuts in her flesh. Her breathing became rapid, and she was about to lose consciousness due to the large amount of blood she lost. As a wind element user, she shouldn't have been defeated this easily actually; her other friends were also having difficult moments, but no one had come to the brink of death like her.