18. The Deceitful Humans

The orc coalition crossed the river, a vast, sweeping force surging toward human lands.

Worg-mounted cavalry spearheaded the advance, with infantry following close behind. For some reason, the weather today seemed exceptionally dry. The sky was cloudless, offering no respite from the scorching sun, while hot winds howled incessantly. Brimming with momentum, the orcs sang off-key war chants as they poured into Bloodscar Canyon—the shortest route to the human settlements.

"This time, we shall destroy one hundred human villages, and with the blood of these cowardly, pathetic humans, we shall appease the wrath of the gods!" the high priest declared.

Haug Bloodwolf, who had lost an arm in a previous skirmish against a human mage, was among this fierce army. "Revenge! I must have revenge!" Haug roared, swinging his stone axe with his only remaining arm, craving the moment he would personally sever a human head.

"Wait, the layout of Bloodscar Canyon... it looks different than before, doesn't it?"

Just as nearly the entire orc army had entered the canyon, a keen-eyed scout vaguely sensed something amiss. "It looks like there’s more clutter piled up here than usual."

In the canyon, heaps of hay and other miscellaneous debris were scattered about. Some of the haystacks even shimmered with a faint, oily sheen. It was as if... they were flammable. The orc scout, puzzled, attempted to approach one of the piles. "I'll go take a look."

Boom!

Suddenly, a fireball plummeted from high above, detonating in front of the orcs, and a raging inferno instantly engulfed the scout.

"What’s happening?"
"Enemy attack!"
"Attackers who can use magic!"

High above, a large detachment of human mages appeared, chanting in unison.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

Bundles of flames descended from the sky. *Rumble, rumble.* Fireballs burst upon the ground below. Walls of fire, gargantuan rolling spheres of scorching flame, and massive clouds of burning fire—a multitude of persistent fire-based spells manifested one after another. Blistering flames churned within the narrow confines of the canyon.

"Oh no, the fire is spreading!"

The flammable materials piled there ignited in succession, instantly transforming the place into a hellscape of fire. As the mainstay of the coalition, the Frost Dragon Clan orcs fared significantly worse than the other two clans in the face of the churning, scalding flames. These orcs, with their snow-white fur, either covered their faces and shrieked, unable to look at the blaze, or were set alight and rolled on the ground in agony.

"Just as the intelligence suggested. The Frost Dragon Clan hails from the frozen north and carries a trace of white dragon blood. They are physically formidable and resistant to extreme cold, but are highly vulnerable to fire..."

High above, Sol, the team leader, watched the carnage below and felt a surge of joy, confirming the intel was accurate. He led nearly two hundred battle mages, all of whom were mid-to-high-tier casters—some of the most elite among the mages of Eldoron.

"Orc archers, counterattack! Shoot those humans down!"
"Priest, cast flight spells on me!"

The orc warlords dodged the fire raining from above while commanding their longbowmen. The archers drew their bows, straining their thick arms to pull the heavy strings taut, aiming at the sky. Simultaneously, the dozen or so mid-tier orc priests among the coalition moved toward their respective chieftains or the strongest warriors, preparing to chant divine incantations to bestow "Air Walk" upon them, allowing them to take flight and slaughter the mages.

The orc tribes had indeed prepared countermeasures for mid-to-high-tier mages who mastered "Flight" and could hover for extended periods!

Seeing the orc tribes respond, Sol narrowed his eyes.

"Enough. The task of igniting the canyon is complete."
"By the Emperor's command, do not get bogged down in a protracted fight!"
"Withdraw!"

At Sol's order, these two hundred elite mages, organized into groups of ten, each spent several seconds chanting the incantation for "Teleportation." The remaining members either maintained suppression fire, erected "Wind Walls" to disrupt the archers' arrows, or conjured illusions to confuse their targets. The entire process was executed with seamless coordination, clearly the result of hundreds of rehearsals.

*Swish, swish, swish!*

The "Teleportation" spells completed one after another. Brilliant flashes of light erupted in the sky. With a single blink, the raiding mages vanished.

Eighteen seconds.

That was the total duration of the entire assault, from the moment the mages appeared and unleashed the fire to their complete withdrawal. No one tried to conserve mana; they all unleashed their most powerful and devastating attacks within that brief window, clearly aware that this strike would be short-lived.

"What? They all ran away?"

The orc warlords, chieftains, and priests turned pale. They only fought for that long, and then fled? Hit and run? Who taught them these tactics?

However, they were immediately forced to face a more dire problem. The canyon had turned into a hell of fire. Every second, orcs were being reduced to charred corpses amidst screams. It wasn't just the pre-placed combustibles; the persistent fire spells—the "Walls of Fire," "Scorching Orbs," and "Burning Clouds"—remained in the narrow canyon path. The fire walls emitted rolling waves of heat, the scorching orbs rolled back and forth, and the burning clouds churned, continuously devouring the lives of the orc warriors.

Though they had teleported away, the mages were still elsewhere, maintaining their focus on these persistent spells! Because the mages were no longer on the battlefield, there was no possibility of their concentration being broken. Persistent magical effects do not simply vanish just because the caster is absent!

"Aaaah!"

Haug Bloodwolf, missing his left arm, dodged the encroaching heat, only to realize that in the narrow canyon, fire was everywhere, and there was nowhere to run. In that instant, with the fur on his back catching fire, Haug looked at the flames ahead and behind, feeling an overwhelming, primal fear:

Those humans... they had become clever.

"Damn it! Damn it all!"

Within the coalition, the Bloodwolf Chieftain, carrying a giant axe, was beside himself with rage. He saw the warriors of the Frostwolf Clan—the backbone of the coalition—weakened by the heat due to their white dragon bloodline's fear of fire, cowering and fleeing in terror.

"Who taught these mages such insidious and vicious tactics?"
"When did they learn the weakness of the Frost Dragon Clan? I only found out myself recently!"
"What kind of skill is it to strike once and run?"
"If you've got guts, fight me head-on with your weapons!"

The Bloodwolf Chieftain felt a suffocating sense of impotence. This was more painful to him than being defeated in open combat. Had they met in close-quarters battle, even the chief mages of the major factions in the Eldoron Imperial Council would likely have perished by his hand. But now, these cunning mages refused to engage directly! No matter how great his personal strength, he had no way to use it.

"Forget it!"
"Brothers, charge! Push through the fire, break out of this sea of flames!"

The chieftains, priests, and warlords rallied their warriors. They braced against the heat and sprinted toward the sides of the canyon, attempting to force their way out of the lethal, scorching trap. The group retreating in the direction from which the coalition had come managed to escape relatively smoothly; the warriors who hadn't yet entered the canyon rescued them.

But at the other end of the canyon, the end closer to the human villages, the orcs attempting to flee encountered a terrifying force of undead blocking their path.

"Aaaah!"
"Zombies, so many zombies!"

Hundreds of orc zombies, emitting beastly whimpers, blocked the end of the canyon, preventing the orcs from escaping the sea of fire. The orc zombies raised stone axes, spears, and clubs, engaging the living orcs in a brutal melee. As absolutely loyal undead, even if the mages were not present to control them, zombies and skeletons could still execute broad commands!

"Wait, aren't these corpses our own kind?"
"They’re all orcs!"

Faced with these undead, who had forgotten their past bonds and were now attacking their own kin, the orcs—who were usually bloodthirsty and took pleasure in killing humans—felt a profound, deep-seated fear and resentment.

Haug swung his stone axe with his only arm, using all his strength to fell a zombie. But the zombie, half its body carved away, immediately crawled back up, emitting a wild, beastly hiss.

"Aaaah!"
"These zombies don't feel pain! Cutting them in half is useless; they're too tough!"
"Right, smashing their heads with stone hammers doesn't work either!"
"Are they immortal? How do we stop these monsters!"

Different undead had different advantages. Skeletons were agile and adept at precise movements and ranged attacks, while zombies were thick-skinned and incredibly hard to kill! From a gaming perspective, they were super-tanks. That was why Arian had specifically instructed the mages to arrange this group of zombies at the end of the canyon.

It didn't matter how many orcs they actually defeated. What mattered was delaying them, ensuring the orcs could not escape the sea of fire!

The orcs shrieked as they were pinned at the canyon's end by the zombies. Behind them, a sea of fire raged with rolling heatwaves; ahead, they faced hideous, relentless undead that climbed back up every time they were struck down. Many orcs perished in that despair.

Before the last drop of blood was shed, these orc warriors had never even crossed blades for a single second with the humans they had deemed "cowardly and weak."

The dry, scorching wind howled, intensifying the fire in the canyon. The flames licked the earth, leaving behind a canyon filled with charred orc corpses.

History would come to call it the "Great Victory at Bloodscar Canyon."

The casualty ratio between the human side and the orc side was 0 to 10,000.