Chapter: Chapter 2: New Century (Epilogue)
Ah—
The totem is calling.
Souls are burning.
Gurosore Death Roar had only one goal: to kill the “King.” Perhaps by killing the “King,” everything would end. At the very least, it would buy the Orcs behind him time to breathe. With the complex terrain of the Dragon Ridge Canyon, they might still be able to hold their ground.
“Leader!!”
The Orcs’ roars echoed from behind him.
But Gurosore was focused, for the moment his soul began to boil, he had no more retreats. He had offered everything he had to the totem—just like the Orcs who died in battle, their last moments burned like torches.
The greatsword was Gurosore’s favorite weapon.
Because it could cut enemies, or smash them to pieces, allowing him to unleash his full strength and vent the brutality in his heart!
“Kill—!!”
His roar was like thunder.
The scorching blade easily tore through the worm’s supple body, even shattering its hard fangs. Foul-smelling blood mixed with food scraps and internal organs splattered onto Gurosore, but was instantly burned to ash by the totem’s flames.
One step, one slash.
Sword light like fire.
“Thousands of years ago, the Emperor of Humanity drove our Orc tribe to the desolate Death Desert, intending to exterminate us with this barren land! But we still survived tenaciously!”
Gurosore’s roar echoed through the desert sky.
It reverberated in the Dragon Ridge Canyon.
It struck a rallying drum in the hearts of all Orcs.
“We gnawed on grass roots, ate poisonous insects, and drank the foul water from the swamps!”
With a slash of his greatsword, a pouncing worm was cleaved in two by the heavy blade. Brilliant sword light spread backward, leaving deep sword marks.
“Some Orcs died under the scorching sun, some died in raging sandstorms, some died in monster attacks, but not a single Orc died fleeing. We pressed forward, unyielding, resilient like rocks, and we eventually established ourselves on this land!”
In the totem’s fire, the Orc Warlord charging forward was like a heavy chariot, smashing the worm legion into pieces. His savage strength wielded the greatsword into a dense storm of blades, leaving only the shattered bodies of Old Ones’ Retainers wherever he passed. The sound of steel cutting through the air even drowned out the wails and roars of millions of worms.
Forward, forward!
Without hesitation!
Charge!
No retreat!
In the howling wind, there was only blood, ashes, and ever-louder roars.
“No one can kill us!”
“No one can defeat us!”
“No one can enslave us!”
Gurosore, clad in armor and wielding his weapon, was like a whirlwind, already having reached Sigfridsonmos. His burning body was like a flickering candle in the pitch-black tide, like a small boat in stormy waves, yet stubbornly pushing forward.
His roar had gradually become indistinct.
Only the tearing sword light raged freely.
Standing on the fortress of the Dragon Ridge Canyon, all the surviving Orcs had successfully retreated to this final defending line.
The time to breathe was bought for them by the Warlord.
But at this moment, they could do nothing.
They could only watch that flame flicker in the overwhelming darkness.
“Tuk tuk tuk!”
An Orc, with red eyes, banged on his shield.
Then, choking back sobs, he began to hum the battle song of the Boiling Blood clan.
“Azuka (Father)—
When I die, please do not grieve.
Cast me into the Ancestor’s Totem.
Scatter my bone ash upon the hills of the Paros Highlands—”
Tuk tuk tuk—
More and more Orcs began drumming on their shields and humming. Their voices merged, becoming ever more grand, as if to break through the entire sky!
“…So that I may see the morning wind blow across the Gobi Desert,
And see the Telnar River rush by,
Oh, and that girl with the braided hair,
Help me send her a bouquet of flowers, and tell her that I died on the battlefield.
Oh, but I am not reconciled!
I haven’t seen the enemy’s blood flow in the river!
I haven’t seen their bone ash scattered across the mountains!
That clear roar is the call of my comrades.
That melodious horn is the final chapter of the assault.
Ancestors! Please carry my soul to see—
See the direwolves running, tearing through the twilight.
See the armor clashing, the Orc blood boiling.
See the sharp swords pierce through flesh!
Bless you, my comrade!
With swords clashing, you are invincible!
With suffering intertwined, you grasp hope!
May the souls of the ancestors protect you,
May the spirits of the earth accompany you,
May the boiling blood forge you!
At dawn, the new dawn will be reforged!
Boiling blood and burning souls, Orcs eternal!
For the Tribe—!!”
All the Orcs roared in unison.
And the Orc Warlord in the endless black tide also let out a sky-splitting roar.
“For the Tribe!!”
Crimson blood spouted from all over his body, ignited by the totem’s fire and transforming into steaming mist.
He did not need to defend; he only needed to push forward.
He allowed the seeping blood to soak through his armor.
He allowed his body to develop one scarlet crack after another.
“Hah!!”
With a roar, the soul of the ancestor appeared behind Gurosore—it was a gigantic golden lion-man.
He wielded a greatsword, with golden flames spewing from his eyes, his movements merging with Gurosore’s.
With one slash, he struck at the worm’s “King.”
Boom—
A thunderous explosion shook the earth.
Terrifying heat formed waves of distorted air.
Gurosore’s flesh and bones cracked under the unbearable force.
His heart throbbed like a drum, emitting a deep, powerful beat. With each pulse, his aura grew stronger. His blood and soul had already burned out. Each beat pumped out even greater strength. His remaining will supported him in delivering this, his final sword strike.
“For…”
Before the explosive sound of the gigantic flaming blade breaking through the air, it struck the “King.” Gurosore gritted his teeth, flames burning through his eyes, veins bulging on his forehead.
He growled.
Gritting out the last two words—”the Tribe!”
The sword broke!
The blade shattered!
At the same time, Sigfridsonmos’s head exploded. Before he could even let out a wail, this most prized retainer under Gatanothoa was like a watermelon hit by a cannonball, his entire head blown to pieces. White and yellow fluids rained down as a foul-smelling shower in the sky, and Gurosore’s figure turned to ash in this rain.
On Dragon Ridge Fortress.
All the Orcs were silenced.
Until a young Orc cried out.
“The Warlord has returned to the embrace of the ancestors!”
Only then did the other Orc soldiers react.
The soul of the Boiling Blood Legion—Gurosore Death Roar had died.
To defend Dragon Ridge Canyon.
To buy the Boiling Blood Legion time to withdraw and catch their breath.
They knelt on the fortress in pain, bowing towards where Gurosore had died, praying to the ancestors, hoping their leader’s soul would be treated kindly there.
However, at this very moment.
The entire Dragon Ridge Canyon began to shake violently.
All the Orcs looked towards the rear of the fortress and saw an abyss gradually expanding within the fortress. It was a crater nearly a thousand meters in diameter, filled with sharp teeth, and the muffled roars could even be heard from the depths of the earth.
This was Gatanothoa’s Incarnation.
Even as an Incarnation, it was by no means something the current Boiling Blood Legion could resist. Even the Orc Royal Court could not stand against it.
Looking at the distorted, expanding pit that had already swallowed half the canyon, despair spread through the hearts of the Orcs.
Until a streak of golden lightning descended from the sky.
“Crack—!”
It was a Thunder Bird, soaring with its wings spread.
It flew from the end of the horizon, transforming into a sea of thunder wherever it went, carrying golden lightning and a world-destroying momentum, crashing fiercely into Gatanothoa’s Incarnation.
