Chương 189: 189：The Power of Combined Arms

Shing! Soren flicked the flat of his blade, releasing a crisp, metallic trill.

"Now." His face was an emotionless mask as he issued the absolute mandate for annihilation:"End the battle. Halberd Phalanx, advance and eradicate!" KILL! The seventy Frontline Elites surged from the billowing smoke, their momentum apocalyptic. Discarding any notion of individual heroism, they utilized the dense fog to rapidly lock into an impenetrable, advancing phalanx amidst the churning mud. Soren spearheaded the charge.

Fueled solely by the explosive physical power granted by his [Blood of the Titan], his speed across the battlefield was a terrifying blur. A Ten-Thousand-Man Commander, stumbling blindly out of the inferno, locked his bloodshot eyes onto the human vanguard. Howling in berserk fury, he hefted a hundred-pound bone-cleaving heavy axe, desperate to drag the enemy commander to hell with him.

"DIE!" Soren's footwork was a phantom's dance. Refusing to clash against the devastating kinetic force of the axe, his mud-caked boots pivoted a fraction of an inch. In the span of a heartbeat, the razor-sharp edge of the falling axe shaved past his chest by a hairsbreadth. Relying on the apex dynamic vision of his [Eagle Eye Perception], Soren lashed out with a backhand thrust. Though his military steel longsword was no divine artifact, it possessed a lethal bite.

Bypassing the heavy armor entirely, the blade slipped into the microscopic gap beneath the Orc's unarmored armpit, piercing straight deep into the chest cavity with horrifying precision! Squelch! The blade bit deep into flesh and pulverized the heart. Soren smoothly withdrew his sword, accompanied by a violent, geyser-like eruption of pitch-black Orcish blood. The Ten-Thousand-Man Commander hadn't even registered Soren's drawing motion before his colossal frame crashed heavily into the muck!

Meanwhile, on the broader frontline, a scene of sheer, scalp-tingling butchery was unfolding—one that left Commander Cedric, observing from the rear, completely paralyzed with awe. Despite the immense force of the heavy halberds, forcefully penetrating the [Black Steel Heavy Armor]—which boasted a ninety-percent bodily coverage—remained an arduous task. But at that exact moment, a weightless silhouette plummeted from the canopy above. It was the throwing-knife master, Lyra!

The silver-haired girl's face was an ice-cold mask. Possessing a terrifyingly sharp observational prowess, she had completely deconstructed the enemy's defensive blind spots within mere seconds of the clash. The armor's staggering weight made the Black Steel veterans sluggish. Furthermore, to maintain even a fraction of mobility within the deep swamp sludge, the heavy armor simply could not provide full coverage at the ankles and Achilles tendons—leaving a microscopic gap between the heavy boots and the greaves!

"Wind's Guidance," Lyra whispered. Applying the rudimentary magical theories drilled into her by Chief Mage Victor, she channeled her [Basic Mana Affinity] directly into the three throwing knives pinched between her fingers. Faint, ethereal cyan wind runes ignited along the razor edges of the blades. Swish! Swish! Swish! The girl's movements were as fluid as a dancing phantom, her hands flicking in rapid, unerring succession.

Instead of aiming for the heavily protected throats or hearts, the shrieking throwing knives hugged the earth, skimming less than eight inches above the mud in an ultra-low, highly concealed trajectory! Schwing! Squelch!

"Argh! My legs!" In an instant, seven or eight Black Steel Orcs—their heavy axes hoisted high to cleave the Greywater halberdiers—suffered sudden, catastrophic ruptures to their Achilles tendons. The throwing knives, propelled by miniature wind blades, cleanly sliced through the narrow gaps beneath their greaves, entirely severing their weight-bearing tendons! Deprived of their absolute foundation, the massive, two-hundred-pound brutes lost all balance, howling in agony as they crashed helplessly into the mud.

"Thrust!" Confronted with crippled, flailing targets, Greywater Village's heavy halberdiers executed their drills with mechanical, terrifying efficiency. Functioning in three-man fireteams, three heavy halberds plunged downward simultaneously. Seeking out the visor slits or the unarmored joints around the neck guard, they drove the blades home with savage force! Penetrate! Mutilate! Withdraw! Commander Cedric drank in the unfolding slaughter, the muscles of his spine spasming involuntarily.

"An assassination grandmaster perfectly synergizing with a heavy infantry phalanx to conduct a one-sided massacre..." Cedric swallowed hard, his voice trembling with absolute awe.

"Soren's Greywater Village isn't just hiding a few talents. It is a den of absolute apex predators!"

"Hahahaha! Exhilarating! Absolutely exhilarating! We should have been fighting like this from the start!" A wildly feral, crisp battle cry suddenly erupted across the battlefield. The striking, red-haired Commander of the Crimson Moon Knights, Leona, could no longer suppress her surging bloodlust. Discarding her heavy helm entirely, she completely abandoned any semblance of aristocratic grace. Hoisting a colossal greatsword that absurdly dwarfed her own frame, she dove headlong into the routing enemy lines.

She might not possess Lyra's surgical precision, but Leona was a Goddess of War who had clawed her way to the rank of Commander over a mountain of actual corpses!

"Eat THIS, you bastards!" Leona's arms flexed, muscles coiling like steel cables. The greatsword shrieked through the air, smashing head-on into a Black Steel Orc who had just raised his thick tower shield. CLANG! CRACK! The deafening, explosive impact echoed through the ravine. Amidst the sickening screech of rending metal, the massive Orc, shield and all, was literally swatted five meters through the air. The impenetrable black steel shield caved in completely, and the Orc's ribcage was instantly pulverized.

Vomiting chunks of ruptured organs and thick blood, he died before he even hit the mud. Her tyrannical, sweeping strikes radiated an overwhelming destructive force, utterly atomizing whatever pitiful resistance the Orcs had left. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. The battle concluded even faster than anticipated. In barely fifteen minutes, the ravine was thoroughly purged.

Every single Black Steel Orc guard had been butchered; severed limbs and shattered armor littered the bloody, churning sludge. At the absolute epicenter of this apocalyptic slaughterhouse stood the last survivors. A mere five or six core, high-ranking Orc Warlords. They hadn't even lifted a finger to fight—because they simply hadn't possessed a single microsecond of an opening to do so.

Surrounding them in a suffocating, airtight circle less than three meters in radius were seventy armor-piercing heavy halberds, their steel tips gleaming with cold, murderous intent. The freezing rain continued its relentless drizzle. Leona, the military priestess Elena, and a profoundly shaken Cedric stepped over the mangled corpses, advancing from the rear.

When they finally drew close enough to clearly discern the exquisite, aristocratic regalia worn by the surrounded Orc officials, the three of them were nailed to the spot. Even the perpetually serene Elena, who had witnessed countless grand ceremonies within the Church, parted her red lips and drew in a sharp, shuddering breath of cold air.

"By the Great Gods above..." Cedric's lips trembled violently. His gaze locked onto the young, aristocratic Orc who was currently hugging a warhammer to his chest, shivering uncontrollably. Hanging from the Orc's waist was a [Bleeding Amethyst] pendant—the absolute symbol of the Blood Province's ruling class.

"Lord Soren..." Even Cedric's vocal cords were vibrating with sheer shock.

"You have truly captured a strategic linchpin capable of triggering a catastrophic political earthquake! That shivering whelp... my eyes didn't deceive me earlier. He is the biological nephew of the Blood Province's Supreme Governor-General!"

"And that elderly Orc beside him, clutching the staff..." Cedric swallowed with agonizing difficulty.

"It truly is the [Province Oracle]! The direct conduit of the Beast God's will!" These were mythic figures—apex commanders that human armies would bleed rivers just to catch a distant glimpse of on a grand battlefield. Yet here they were, utterly powerless, trapped like rats in a muddy ditch by a battalion of "village guards." Leona's breathing grew ragged and heavy. With a single swing of her greatsword, she could personally rewrite the military history of the Silvermoon Kingdom right here, right now!

"Despicable, lowly human filth! Your very existence is a bottomless blasphemy against the Beast God!" The suffocating tension finally snapped the stripped, humiliated [Province Oracle]. This absolute titan of the southern provinces, accustomed to the fanatical worship of millions, simply could not endure the psychological shatter of having his supreme honor violently pierced by the halberds of nameless grunts. He spiraled into sheer, frothing madness.

"I absolutely refuse to die at the hands of mud-caked peasants!" The elderly Oracle roared, viciously ripping away the remnants of his scorched, luxurious robes. He snapped his head around, his burning gaze locking directly onto Soren—the supreme commander who stood casually with his sword angled toward the earth.

"Come forth! You cowardly wretches who rely on shadows and deceit! I am the divine walker of the Beast God!" The Oracle beat his chest, his voice echoing with archaic power.

"I demand a duel to the death! By the ancient rites of [Mak'gora]! If you are truly a sovereign commander, step forward and claim my head yourself!" Confronted by the desperate, cornered shrieks of the Orc, Leona immediately stepped forward, preparing to ruthlessly mock the trapped rats. But a strong arm intercepted her. Soren raised his left hand and gave a slight, downward flick. Swish! Displaying a terrifying level of elite military discipline, the wall of halberdiers executed a synchronized side-step.

Without a single word, they flawlessly parted, carving out a circular combat arena exactly five meters in radius.

"Soren! Are you out of your damn mind? Why risk personal injury just to grant a dying dog its dignity?!" Leona hissed in absolute disbelief. Soren offered no verbal reply. Dragging the tip of his longsword through the churning mud, he slowly, deliberately stepped into the center of the ring. He needed this. He desperately needed a personal, hands-on probe. He had to experience exactly what underlying racial foundations and hidden powers allowed these aristocratic Orcs to sit atop their thrones.

"Come, then." Soren raised his chin, his tone dripping with glacial provocation.

"Show me if the 'will of the Beast God' can stop three feet of sharpened steel." The blatant disrespect completely shattered the doomed Oracle's sanity.

"You will pay the ultimate price for your arrogance!" The Oracle unleashed an ear-splitting, blood-curdling howl. Discarding his bone scepter, he reached over his shoulder and drew a vicious, crimson-hued warblade. The microsecond the blade was drawn, the mana reservoir deep within the elder's shriveled torso hit a violent boiling point.

"Flesh is fragile! Divine power reforges! [Advanced Divine Berserker Rite]!" The incantation detonated on the spot. Crack! SNAP! The sickening cacophony of rapidly mutating and fracturing bone echoed loudly through the ravine. Within two agonizing seconds, the elderly Oracle's withered frame underwent a catastrophic, hyper-accelerated expansion. Thick, bulging, blue-black veins ruptured through his shriveled skin. His stature violently elongated, shooting up to a towering, terrifying three meters.

A dense, scalding cloud of blood-vapor began to radiantly steam from his pores, while his previously atrophied muscles were forcibly transmutated into slabs of rock-hard density.

"DIE!" Having completed the horrific transformation, the monstrous Oracle stomped viciously against the mud. The staggering kinetic kickback instantly caved the earth into a deep crater. Propelled by that explosive force, the colossal behemoth launched himself forward. Moving at a hyper-accelerated speed that defied his sheer mass, he left a blur of crimson afterimages in his wake.

The heavy warblade sheared through the air, triggering a localized sonic boom as it cleaved straight downward, aiming to split Soren's skull perfectly in half! Such speed! Such apocalyptic power!