Chapter 676: Soro's Spear
“Hurry up! Hurry up!”
“By Father God Gwush above, how could the Empire possess such weapons!”
“No wonder the High Mountain Kingdom was annihilated! With just these low-class Ogres, how could we possibly reclaim Aivendeldan?”
The Ogres stared in terror at the battlefield now shrouded in thick smoke and flickering flame-light. Without even bothering to gather their logistical supplies, they fled once more in panicked disarray, northward.
Fortunately, the Pure-Blooded Ogres’ camps lay deep in the rear of the battlefield. A retreat of just a few dozen li would bring them safely back to their ancestral home—the Ugo Great Plain.
Soro rode atop a Steppe Land Drake, turning his head to gaze at the ruined landscape behind him. Flames danced in his eyes, reflecting the inferno, but deep within his pupils burned a hatred so profound it seemed to freeze the very air.
At this point, his dream—his conquest of Aivendeldan, the grand vision of uniting the Ogre race to claim the Feiansuo Continent—had shattered completely.
His “Million Orcs” army, his mighty horde of subordinates, had never even reached Aivendeldan’s city walls. They were reduced to ash by the Empire of Ashen’s relentless, sky-filling firestorm.
And with them, Soro’s own glory, his prestige as Great Chieftain, was burned to nothing.
—In recent days, he’d heard whispers. The Clan Chieftains were already discussing, after the war ended, to scatter and return to their own homes, refusing to follow the Crimson Blood Tribe’s rule any longer.
How could he not hate?
He hated the Empire of Ashen for destroying his dream.
He hated those selfish, shortsighted Clan Chieftains for plotting rebellion—betraying their own kind.
His forehead bulged with veins, his jaw clenched so tightly that teeth ground against each other. From between his teeth came a whisper, low and venomous:
> “Empire of Ashen… One day, I will lead countless Ogres to massacre your entire nation. I will personally decapitate that Red Dragon and hang its head upon Aivendeldan’s city walls.
>
> But first… I must deal with those damned traitors.”
His fist tightened around the Blood Spear. His bloodshot eyes glowed with murderous intent.
Whoosh—
A piercing scream tore through the sky from afar. Dozens of Wyverns swooped overhead, dropping bomb after bomb onto the retreating Ogre army.
Boom!
Boom! Boom!
Flames erupted into the heavens. The earth trembled beneath the shockwaves. The Ogres flailed wildly with their weapons, helpless and terrified.
“Damn it! Those Empire bastards have Two-Headed Dragons!”
“How could they follow us all the way here?!”
“By Gush Above, do their magic and divine spells never end?!”
“Quick! Damn it, shoot them down!”
Soro watched in fury as dozens of his elite warriors were vaporized. He looked up, eyes narrowing at the dark dots high in the sky. A roar tore from his throat.
Beside him, an Ogre cavalryman looked miserable. “Great Chieftain… they’re too high, too fast. Our short bows can’t reach them.”
“Useless! A pack of useless wretches!” Soro roared. How dare these damned Two-Headed Dragons strike at his elite forces—right before his eyes, slaughtering them like cattle?
In Ogre slang, it was like being defecated upon while riding a horse.
“Empire dogs… you’ll pay for this!”
Snatching the spear from the cavalryman’s hand, Soro locked his bloodshot gaze onto the sky. The Wyverns were climbing higher—preparing to turn back.
High above, the Aerial Corps Dragon Riders went through their routine: press a button, drop a bomb, kill Ogres.
Compared to the tense, heart-pounding air battles of the past, this was now as monotonous as factory assembly-line work. Just watching the “fireworks” of Ogres’ lives being burned away.
This time, their target was the retreating Pure-Blooded Ogres.
Stuffed Bun frowned at the system panel, where experience point prompts flashed one after another. “The Ogre density here is pathetic. One boom only kills a dozen or so. At least their challenge rating is decent.”
Singo chuckled. “You’ve gotten so spoiled lately, haven’t you? Back when you’d chase after every 200 XP toilet-clearing quest, now you’re complaining about one thousand XP bombs?”
Stuffed Bun grimaced. “Back then was back then. Now is now. Honestly, this quest is boring. No real battle fire. Just eat, sleep, bomb Ogres. Thousands of XP drop in effortlessly. It’s soul-crushing.”
Singo smirked. “If you say that out loud, you’ll have Newcomers banging down your door, begging for a chance at XP.”
Stuffed Bun shot back, unapologetic: “So what? Can they beat me? Hmph. If they come, one bomb and they’re gone to the afterlife.”
Singo’s tone turned dry. “Want to see someone destroyed? First, let them inflate. I think you’re getting a little too full of yourself.”
Stuffed Bun scoffed. “Hardcore Player, shut up. Stop pretending. You’re always the one stealing the spotlight.”
“Wait—”
Singo’s voice suddenly turned eerie. “Stuffed Bun… the battle thrill you’ve been craving? It’s about to arrive.”
“What?”
Stuffed Bun blinked, then looked down.
On the ground, a towering Ogre in heavy armor, massive and hulking, stood glaring up at him, spear in hand, eyes blazing with fury.
On his helmet’s display screen, a blood-red warning flashed:
> WARNING! WARNING! DANGER APPROACHING! IMMEDIATE RETREAT REQUIRED!
Curtis’ voice crackled in his ear:
> “You’ve been targeted by a top-tier Ogre. Our Energy Level Recognition System confirms this beast is Legend-tier or higher. It’s emitting an aura we can’t detect.
>
> Retreat—now. If you’re caught… well, good luck.”
The call ended.
Stuffed Bun’s face fell. He wanted to slap himself. Why did I have to open my big mouth?
He knew the death penalty for experience points was brutal—proportional to how much he’d earned. If he died now, half his hard-earned XP would vanish.
But then he gritted his teeth, muttering under his breath:
> “Damn it… it’s just an Ogre. Can’t even fly.”
Following Curtis’ order, the Aerial Corps Dragon Riders simultaneously yanked their control sticks upward, climbing vertically at breakneck speed.
Though the Heaven’s Fire Armor reduced the Wyvern’s agility, its speed skyrocketed. From low-altitude swoops, they now ascended to safety—high above the ground.
Even the strongest warrior couldn’t fly.
But Soro’s body tensed like a coiled spring. Kneeling on the earth, his legs braced like compressed springs.
Boom!
The ground cracked violently. The earth sank beneath him, sending dust and debris into the sky. In a single, explosive leap, the six-meter-tall Ogre launched himself into the air—soaring past a hundred meters, as if he were flying.
A spiderweb of cracks spread across the ground, forming a crater several meters wide and deep.
Whoosh—
At such speed, the air friction ignited his body, producing streaks of flame. He shot upward like a meteor from the earth.
Inside him, his heart—filled with Primordial Ogre Spores—pulsed violently, emitting a powerful force field and aura.
Stuffed Bun stared in disbelief. “What the hell is that monster? Is this even a real Ogre?”
The Dragon Riders, seeing the threat, no longer held back. They pressed the acceleration buttons.
Whoosh—
Jets of fire erupted from the back of their armor, propelling them forward at terrifying speed. Crimson afterimages streaked across the sky like spears.
After a few seconds, gravity began to pull the Ogre down. His speed slowed. He was falling back toward the earth.
At last, he was only a few dozen meters from Stuffed Bun.
But that final gap? It was unbridgeable.
Stuffed Bun exhaled in relief. He turned, stuck out his tongue, and mocked:
> “Heh. How about a taste of my Dragon Tail Wind?”
“Bastard!” Soro roared, his face twisted in fury. Muscles bulged on his arms, veins standing out like cables. He gathered strength for a killing blow.
Stuffed Bun felt a chill. His instincts screamed danger. Wait… is he really going to—
Whoosh—
A thunderous crack split the air. The spear, wreathed in glowing green Ogre spores, tore through the sky like a blade of death—aiming straight for Stuffed Bun’s chest.
> “You filthy Empire dog! Die!”
Behind him, the Ogre’s thunderous roar shook the sky.
Stuffed Bun threw himself into full combat mode, slamming every emergency button on his armor. Flames, lightning, and force fields erupted from the Wyvern’s back. He performed emergency maneuvers—twisting, diving, spiraling.
But the spear moved like a ghost.
It followed him, impossibly fast.
Shriek—
A sharp, clean tear. Then the wet, tearing sound of blade piercing flesh.
The spear pierced through the Wyvern’s body—and then through Stuffed Bun’s chest, driving straight through him.
Stuffed Bun looked down. The bloodied spear tip protruded from his chest. He opened his mouth, but no words came. No tears. Just silence.
In his ear, a remixed version of See You Again began to play. Curtis’ voice, smug and amused:
> “Stuffed Bun, thank you for stepping forward. You’ve covered the retreat of the rest of the Aerial Squadron.”
End of the line.
—That was the last thought in Stuffed Bun’s mind.
Boom!
The Dragon’s belly self-destruct mechanism activated. Dozens of bombs exploded in midair, unleashing a regiment of fireballs.
Burning debris rained down onto the earth. Stuffed Bun’s body was reduced to charred meat scraps—perfectly synchronized with the melancholic music.
The Ogre warrior landed on the ground with a thunderous boom.
“Great Chieftain Soro!”
“Powerful Soro! Your strength is awe-inspiring! You’ve slain the Two-Headed Dragons!”
“The Terminator of the Two-Headed Dragons—Soro!”
“Great Chieftain, you’ve avenged our warriors!”
“Enough!”
Soro’s face remained grim. No triumph. No joy. Only fury.
> “They’ll come back. We retreat—now!”
“Yes, Great Chieftain.”
Soro scanned the surroundings, his expression dark and uncertain. But now, after revealing his true strength, the Ogres—no matter their clan—would obey him. Even the rebellious Chieftains.
His eyes returned to the fortress atop Blackstone Mountain.
You’ll pay, Aivendeldan. I’ll return.
Next time, I’ll bring a stronger Orc army. I won’t flee in panic. I’ll reclaim you.
—
“General Drool,” said the Adjutant, “the Ogre Chieftain is leading the Crimson Blood Tribe north. Should we intercept?”
“No,” Drool waved a hand. He turned toward the north. “Remember His Majesty’s orders. Our goal isn’t to win this war. It’s to eradicate the Ogres of the Ugo Great Plain—root and branch.”
The Adjutant frowned. “But the Ugo Great Plain is vast. Once they reach their homeland, they’ll be unstoppable.”
Drool smirked. “His Majesty once said: The bishop may flee, but the church cannot escape.
Once they return, we’ll trace the source. We’ll strike their homes—destroy them at the root of their magic. The Ogre problem will be solved.”
The Adjutant nodded eagerly. “Truly, General Drool, your strategy is deep, cunning, and perfectly aligned with His Majesty’s wisdom.”
Drool puffed his chest. “Of course. His Majesty personally gave me these orders.”
> “No wonder you’re trusted by King Kai Xiusu!”
If this mission succeeds, Drool thought with pride, I might finally ascend to Duke.
Suddenly, Curtis’ voice crackled through the magic communicator:
> “General Drool… we just lost one of our Heaven’s Fire Armors.”
Drool’s brow twitched. That armor was priceless—costing thousands of gold coins. Each one was irreplaceable.
“What happened? How could those weak, green-skinned Ogres damage our Aerial Squadron?”
Curtis replied calmly:
> “We encountered the Ogre main force. Conducted a probing strike. Among them was a Legend-tier warrior—likely the Great Chieftain himself.”
“Legend-tier.”
Drool’s expression hardened.
Such a being was a force of nature across the continent. Even the Empire of Ashen had only a few such figures.
He asked, voice tight:
> “If you can’t handle it… should I request assistance from Lady Misha?”
“No need, General.”
To Drool’s surprise, Curtis shook his head.
> “Actually… I want to test that thing. See if it can kill a Legend-tier warrior.”
The subtle thrill in Curtis’ voice sent a chill down Drool’s spine.
(End of Chapter)
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