Chương 199: 199：Light Dispels the Darkness

BOOM! Two overwhelming forces—one a blur of crimson, the other a mass of grayish rock—violently collided! The [Son of Titan], unleashing a palm strike capable of pulverizing a boulder, found its attack forcefully halted! Leona had braced the broad, flat side of her colossal greatsword, anchoring the apocalyptic impact. The sheer, crushing kinetic recoil forced her boots to plow two deep trenches into the stone paving, yet her battle lust only burned brighter.

Not only did she withstand the titanic impact, but she physically severed the beast's path of escape!

"Flawlessly executed, Commander Leona." Simultaneously, atop the second-floor balcony, the Military Priestess Elena brought her palms together, her entire being bathing in a radiant, holy brilliance.

"May the Holy Light banish all illusions! [Grand Purification Beam]!" A blinding, colossal pillar of golden light plummeted from the heavens, violently piercing right through the shadow canopy deployed by Zagar! The exact microsecond the holy and shadow elements collided, a ferocious, sizzling cacophony of burning mana erupted. Illuminated by the divine radiance, the pitch-black mist that completely obscured their vision was scorched, dissolved, and utterly dispersed at a visible rate!

The battlefield was instantly illuminated! Zagar's supposedly airtight flanking maneuver was completely and utterly crushed! Stripped of their rock-shields, deprived of their shadow concealment, and completely bottlenecked in the corridors, the eight [Sons of Titan] were left fully exposed to the unrelenting, point-blank suppressive fire of the heavy repeating crossbows and the anti-siege ballista! Swarms of triangular armor-piercing bodkins mercilessly shredded their tendons and punctured their internal organs.

Geysers of dark green blood violently erupted, painting the courtyard of Bloodhorn Fortress in a macabre hue. The eight [Sons of Titan]—monstrosities that had once struck terror into the hearts of countless armies—were now pinned down by impenetrable halberd phalanxes and point-blank crossfire. Bristling with bolts like grotesque hedgehogs, they suffered catastrophic injuries, hovering on the absolute brink of death. Soren stood atop the high balcony.

Drawing his military longsword, the [Minor Blood of Titan] surged violently within his veins. He gazed down at the Shadow Priest, who was currently trembling in absolute disbelief, his voice ringing with commanding authority.

"Zagar. Your arrogance ends tonight." However, even stripped of their impenetrable rock-shields, the raw vitality of the eight [Sons of Titan] was chillingly resilient. One [Son of Titan], despite having its left arm and ribs completely riddled with bolts, unleashed a frenzied roar. Abandoning all defense, it lunged forward, weaponizing its four-meter-tall, mountain-like bulk.

The catastrophic kinetic force of the tackle violently sent two halberd-wielding Frontline Elites of Greywater Village flying through the air! Their pitch-black heavy armor caved in, the soldiers vomiting blood mid-flight. Had Lyra not instantly rallied a squad to plug the gap and firmly re-anchor the line, their three-dimensional, crossfire kill-box would have been breached. A profound, unprecedented dread gripped Zagar's core.

This human detachment numbered less than a hundred, yet their tactical discipline was so horrifyingly high it sent shivers down the spine of this century-old monster. Their flawless, telepathic coordination, their layered, escalating fire suppression... they completely lacked the archaic, aristocratic stupidity of honorable duels seen in traditional human warfare. Every single motion they made was ruthlessly engineered for absolute slaughter. I have to shatter their rhythm! I must call back the Bloodhorn garrison!

Zagar commanded a flurry of shadow tentacles to deflect the relentless barrage of fireballs raining from the sky, his mind churning with desperate calculations. Just as he was frantically searching for an opening, his gaze locked onto the center of the courtyard. There sat an agate slate, engraved with deep violet runes. Even amidst the deafening roar of slaughter and explosions, the magical communication slate was vibrating violently.

Overloaded by frantic, continuous incoming calls, the mana pulsing across its surface had turned a blinding, blood-red hue. It was a high-clearance communication request, desperately fighting to establish a connection. It's Karlok! The five-hundred-strong Black Iron elite patrol must have realized their home base is under attack! They're calling ahead as they rush back! A surge of ecstatic relief washed over Zagar.

As long as he connected the slate and ordered the massive army outside to smash through the gates, creating an inside-out pincer movement, these trapped humans would be completely annihilated! Without a microsecond of hesitation, he gritted his teeth and absorbed a glancing blow from Victor's wind blade. Splitting off a thick shadow tentacle, he viciously slammed it onto the agate slate's activation node.

"Karlok! It is I, the Shadow Priest Zagar! Smash through the gates immediately! Butcher this—" Zagar's frantic roar was violently cut off. The voice projecting from the agate slate wasn't the gruff, booming bark of the Bloodhorn Commander. Instead, it was a shrill, panic-stricken string of aristocratic Orcish.

"Bloodhorn Fortress! What in the name of the Beast God are you lowly, incompetent trash doing?!" Zagar recognized that voice instantly. It belonged to the Deputy Envoy of another echelon of the inspection delegation—a High Orc possessing the aristocratic title of Count. But right now, this usually haughty, untouchable diplomat spoke with a voice completely shredded by soul-crushing terror:"It's over! It's all over! Soul-Sever Gorge is choked with corpses! Hundreds of Black Iron and Black Steel Royal Guards...

utterly annihilated! Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"Young Master Mogg... the Governor-General's own nephew, he was decapitated by humans! And not just him! The [Province Oracle] and thirteen core high-ranking officials of the inspection delegation... their heads were all severed from their shoulders!

"They rigged the corpses with high explosives! Two of my aides tried to move the bodies, and they were blown into bloody mist right in front of me!

"This is a massacre! A premeditated ambush targeting the absolute highest echelons of the Alliance!

"An entirely structured human main force has breached the Bloodhorn defensive sector! Send reinforcements immediately! You filthy mutts, you're all going to hang for letting Young Master Mogg die!!" Click. The communication crystal on the other end completely drained its mana, violently cutting the feed. Yet, within the courtyard of Bloodhorn Fortress, the air—thick with freezing rain and the acrid stench of scorched flesh—plunged into an absolute, deafening silence.

"The Governor-General's nephew... is dead? The Oracle... was decapitated?" Zagar's hovering, incorporeal shadow-form violently twisted in extreme instability. The two orbs of ghostly blue soul-fire flickered and scattered, momentarily dissolving in sheer, unadulterated shock. As an apex political opportunist, Zagar's mind instantly spiraled into unprecedented, catastrophic chaos.

The sheer volume of intelligence packed into those few frantic sentences was a hundred times more lethal than the seventy heavy crossbows currently aimed at his head! The Orcish Alliance was far from a monolith; their internal factional warfare was exceptionally bloody and ruthless. The only reason Warchief Blackstone had agreed to let Zagar command the eight [Sons of Titan] to assassinate Grand Duke Valentine—and even mobilized forty thousand troops to run a feint......

was exclusively because this "High-Ranking Inspection Delegation" was present to observe it! This was entirely a performative decapitation strike staged exclusively for the provincial high command, designed to secure a massive influx of military funding! But now? The audience was dead! And not just dead! Even the biological nephew of the supreme ruler of the Blood Province—the notoriously tyrannical Governor-General—had his head separated from his shoulders!

Although those thirteen individuals only comprised a fraction of the total delegation, they were the absolute, undisputed core figures holding true military authority! Zagar's heart plunged into an icy abyss, every single one of his grand ambitions turning to ash. Without Mogg alive to witness it, even if I march back to the Governor-General's estate carrying Grand Duke Valentine's severed head, what meaning would it have?! Zagar roared in mental agony.

Driven mad by the loss of his beloved kin, the Governor-General would inevitably descend into absolute, apocalyptic fury. He would never care about Zagar's "merits" in assassination. He would ruthlessly pour his sky-shattering wrath and blame onto Zagar, making him the ultimate scapegoat: The greedy commander who abandoned the perimeter defense to steal glory on the frontlines, leaving the core inspection delegation completely defenseless to an ambush!

Why would there be a human detachment boasting such terrifying combat power hiding in a remote mountain ravine?! Why did these humans completely ignore the forty thousand Orcs massing on the perimeter, appearing silently and directly inside Bloodhorn Fortress?! This is an encirclement! A meticulously orchestrated, interlocking kill-box! A grand conspiracy that had read me, Warchief Blackstone's entire command, and the inspection delegation like an open book from the very beginning! Retreat...

I must retreat immediately! The veteran, highly cunning Shadow Priest's psychological defenses suffered a total, catastrophic collapse. He completely abandoned his delusion of marching to Boulder Fortress to assassinate Grand Duke Valentine. He looked down at the courtyard. Two of the [Sons of Titan], having suffered catastrophic blood loss, had already collapsed to their knees in the bloody mire, gasping with agonizing, ragged breaths.

Not only had the grand political landscape crumbled, but this supposedly impregnable frontline fortress had been completely usurped by the enemy. If he stayed, his most powerful trump cards would be bled to death in this claustrophobic courtyard!

"Break out toward the depths of the swamp! Shatter the southern wall!" Zagar unleashed a shrill, piercing shriek, executing the most ruthless, decisive command possible. He decisively sacrificed a fraction of his own core shadow soul essence. BOOM! An [Abyssal Shadow Mist], ten times denser and more volatile than before, erupted frantically outward from Zagar at a terrifying speed! This mist possessed horrific corrosive properties.

Even the falling winter rain hissed and flash-evaporated the microsecond it touched the fog. The pitch-black mist instantly swallowed more than half the courtyard, completely blinding the soldiers of Greywater Village and forcing the heavy halberd phalanxes to rapidly contract their defensive perimeter. The two largest [Sons of Titan] received their master's command, their eyes flaring a horrifying, bloodshot crimson. Ignoring the human infantry completely, they spun around.

Weaponizing their terrifying, colossal mass, they launched a suicidal, thunderous charge directly into the aging southern wall of the fortress. KABOOM! With a deafening, earth-shattering crash, pulverized stone flew in all directions. The sheer kinetic impact violently blew open a massive breach leading straight out into the swamp!

"He's trying to escape! Do not let him slip away!" Leona, fighting viciously on the ground floor, cleaved through the falling debris with her greatsword, her roar echoing with frantic urgency.