While sending his entire unit into battle, this person only raised his hand, but his voice was trembling while giving direct orders to the archers. At the same time, thousands of arrows headed towards the totem rising defiantly to the sky. This attack, whose shadows on the ground created a great darkness, was advancing towards the totem step by step.
"Clang! Clang! Clang!"
An unexpected thing happened just a short distance from the target. Arrows that should have shattered the place they hit were breaking one after another. While arrows, fast like lightning directed at its target and full of destructive power, fell to the ground like pouring rain, number one's eyes were shining.
The contempt in his gaze directed at the man in the gray robe, who gave the attack order with ambition just a moment ago, wasn't something to be missed despite the great distance between them. Directing the embodied wild creature spirits towards the Main Orc Tribe's warriors as he told his friends, under their leadership, Çekiçdöven's forces also came to life and started showing their true potentials.
In these moments when the attacks of number one and five caused astonishment within the enemy forces, pleas were rising from different points of the front. Archers, stretching their bows ruthlessly according to the order they received just a few ten breaths ago, were falling one by one.
The number of archers in the combined force of the Black Lily Clan and the Main Orc Tribe reached thousands. The destructive power they could create when moving together could be enormous. It just wasn't their lucky day; against them stood the Elite Ten, who would be the main pillar of the new generation of orcs, and a warrior who especially developed himself in archery among them.
While everyone was focused on the attack going towards the totem, he had already sent dozens of arrows. This was the reason why he killed more enemies than the people he fought with in the blink of an eye.
Of course, the second army had an archer unit, and they were also responding to the attack made tenfold, but it wasn't possible for them to compete with number ten in terms of accuracy and swiftness. As of the moment, number ten stood at the top of the food chain formed among warriors organizing remote attacks.
The Elite Ten's archer could be number one among warriors drawing their bows if He wasn't here. The title of the best archer on all three fronts where the war continued would undoubtedly belong to number ten if He didn't want to take action.
Enemies standing opposite them also thought so until He pulled his longbow from his back, until the arrow as long as an adult orc's arm pierced through ten Black Lily warriors.
Neither his sharp accuracy nor his superhuman speed could bring number ten to the same level as him. This was the power of the orc changing day by day with the blessing he received from his master. Sangre was taking the stage after a long time; he had drawn his bow to balance the numerical superiority of the opposite side. This was the reason for him being in the second army; this arrangement was for him to step in at a moment of mishap.
Although he was positioned much further back than the Elite Ten's archer, his every shot cut the breath of more enemies than the fingers of one hand. His shots lacked subtlety; he had no intention of surprising the enemy with secrecy and unexpected attacks inherent in the nature of archery.
While his arrows advanced tearing the air, everyone without exception was hearing the sound produced. He practically wanted to inform them that death was approaching. While this situation caused confusion in enemy lines, eight warriors burning with the fire of war inside jet-black armors got to work.
They settled on the front line on the battlefield and spread at almost equal intervals. At the place where the first wave of the enemy flocking in hit, in the center of the line, number two and three were located.
This position was natural for the warrior possessing body hardening technique. Along with his magnificent axe fitting only an orc's hand, he was busy tearing apart whoever came before him. Against blows coming to his body, he was just hitting without even moving from his place. He didn't seem likely to stop until someone capable of piercing his superior defense appeared.
When he caught an opportunity to catch his breath for a few breaths in these moments when they repelled the enemy step by step, he looked at his friend fighting on his right side. Number three was fighting at a distance that could be seen without difficulty; he had already transformed and was burning with passion.
His whole body was covered with a hard shell. His appearance, except for his head, reminded of a hulking turtle standing up. There was no mistake in this job; currently, he was using the blood taken from Dilber with a thousand pleas.
While all weapons hitting his shell broke, the opportunity to attack arose thanks to the hard skin covering his fists. Using the flexibility of the technique he specialized in, he had practically turned into a mobile fortress, leaving no chance for the enemy coming onto him to take one more step forward.
While numbers nine and seven took place on the right and left sides of these two warriors, there were tens of thousands of warriors belonging to the Second Army beside them. This was part of a plan made long ago. The moment the Elite Ten took action, all units would fight in coordination with them. Otherwise, how could it be possible to resist thousands of enemies charging with only two warriors?
The defense line, of which four warriors and tens of thousands of soldiers under their command formed the core, was curving outwards as it opened towards the flanks. When the formation was completed, it became such that numbers five and six at the tips could look at each other without turning their faces.
A giant crescent was formed. The enemy charging madly encountered a hard barrier at the center, and since turning back wasn't possible, opened towards the flanks. Two warriors integrated with their weapons were sealing the tips of the crescent. Golden Chakrams and the Unique Spear didn't stop even for a moment. They were like two bloodthirsty monsters; they wanted more as they drank, insatiable as if they wouldn't be used again.
Currently, on the battlefield of the Second Army, another weapon that would horrify those seeing it was taking the stage, even if it couldn't compete with their appetite. Two metal whips thicker than an adult orc's wrists were casting the shadow of death into everyone seeing them. One side of the crescent was completed with the ruthless attacks of the seventh positioned between number nine and number five.
Enemies facing body hardening and an impenetrable shield, while looking for an opening to attack, were falling into the hands of whips making blood-red flowers bloom on the battlefield with every swing. If they were lucky, they died here; otherwise, what awaited them were two Golden Chakrams leaving traces like comets while advancing in the air.
The end of those choosing this direction was absolute death. Actually, they didn't need to be angry at themselves for making a wrong decision about the direction to proceed because those choosing the other side weren't treated differently.
It could even be said that these unfortunate people experienced a more painful end. Here, slaughter wasn't waiting for them; it was coming to their feet to take their lives. Between numbers three and six, there were two warriors throwing themselves into the enemy army resembling a sea with foaming waves accompanied by harsh winds, leaving the Second Army's braves behind.
The aims of these orcs with different methods were the same; fast and certain death. Unlike number four opening his way by tearing through thanks to the energy overflowing from his fists and kicks, the eighth was extremely insidious.
Coming like a breeze blowing suddenly on a summer day, he left wretches trying to take their last breaths from their cut throats behind. His speed had long reached a level that couldn't be tracked by eye by enemies opposite him. His buzz was heard like a bee trying to take honey from every flower inside the crowd consisting of tens of thousands of people.
With their taking the stage, they turned things around. Even if with slow steps, even if taking a defensive stance, it was an undeniable fact that they seized superiority. Just as the face of the man in the gray robe hidden in shadows started to sour, strange events were happening on the other newly opened front too.
The unit of Gray Hyenas supported by Main Orc Tribe warriors was charging relentlessly onto the shield wall in front of them. Due to walls not completely disappeared, this was the only way to get behind the first army under Alyon's command. There was another struggle independent of the two forces locked in defense and attack status in the region, and this was taking place between Nafız and the square-jawed man.
The Blood God, displaying indifferent attitudes since the beginning of the siege, changed since seeing the giant raven. She was experiencing this change due to the memories in her brain; she knew only high-level people in the clan used such a transport monster.
This time she decided to cut her work short. By killing the commander of the enemy they clashed with, she would ensure their rapid dissolution, then crush and pass the scattered enemy with orcs under her command. This was Nafız's aim, but the situation she was currently in wasn't as she wanted at all because she was still after the commander of the Gray Hyenas.