The flames still raged in the camp, casting red glows against the dark sky. The Horde no longer looked like a unified army—it had become a mob, fracturing into pieces. Some still held together, others were already retreating, throwing down their weapons.
In the midst of this chaos stood the chieftain. His eyes burned with fury, and in his hands, he gripped a heavy sword, already stained with blood.
—"All of you, to me!" his voice thundered. —"The Horde is power! The Horde is victory!"
But his words no longer carried their former weight.
One of his commanders stepped forward. His face was blackened with soot, and his armor scratched, but his voice remained firm:
—"We believed in you. We followed you. But what do we have now? We die without honor in our sleep. We kill our own brothers."
The chieftain's face twisted in rage.
—"Do you have doubts?"
The commander raised his head.
—"These are not doubts. These are truths."
The chieftain no longer listened. His sword flashed in the darkness, and within a second, the commander's head rolled across the ground with a resounding thud.
Silence fell.
Some of the orcs looked at the corpse, fists clenched. Others simply lowered their weapons.
Someone took a step back.
Someone else turned and began to walk away.
The crack in the Horde became even wider.
But the chieftain did not give up. He stepped forward, his sword lowered, but his voice thundered, carrying across the battlefield so that all could hear:
—"Listen to my command! Anyone who betrays me will be killed immediately!"
And his loyal warriors obeyed.
They lunged at those attempting to flee, chopping them down on the spot.
Unarmed, confused, wounded—no mercy was given.
Those who had hesitated stopped. Many now faced a choice: remain and submit or die.
On the city walls, Lenor watched this unfold, his gaze cold and focused.
Then he raised his hand sharply and shouted:
—"Prepare yourselves! We're not fighting for life, but for death!"
The city erupted in a roar.
Warriors grabbed their weapons, jumped into positions, and turned to face the walls.
Lenor felt the tension in the air spike to its breaking point.
Grimtar approached his friend, who had just climbed the walls with his clan. They stood side by side, watching the events below.
Grimtar smiled.
—"Take your warriors and wait for the command. It looks like a new Horde is about to be born."
Lenor squinted.
—"Let the chieftain try again to rally his men. We'll show him what real fighting looks like."
Grimtar stepped forward, his heavy footsteps echoing through the night's silence. He raised his axe above his head and, with a voice that drowned out even the wind and nearly silenced the explosions, he bellowed:
—"Horde, do you hear me?!"
His voice rang out over the desolate camp, even causing the loyal orcs to pause for a moment.
—"Your chieftain kills anyone he pleases, for his own whims! He follows no traditions! And those who abandoned you will now fight against you!"
He spread his arms wide, pointing at the dead, their bodies still smoking in the ashes.
—"Look around! How many are dead?! Not hundreds, thousands! Is this the future you wanted?! Is this what he promised you?!"
The orcs were silent. The fire illuminated their weary faces.
Grimtar took a step forward, his voice turning into a growl:
—"I'm going to tear you apart! And anyone who stands with me can decide right now! I will punish no one! But those who stand against me—will not be spared!"
The chieftain of the Horde narrowed his eyes.
—"You're a traitor!"
But Grimtar no longer listened.
The camp froze. For a moment, even the fire seemed quieter.
Chapter 103: The New Horde
And then the city gates opened.
The first to emerge were the higher orcs—warriors who knew no fear, wielding strength capable of shattering mountains. They moved slowly, each step brimming with cold confidence.
Behind them came those who had betrayed the Horde—those who had now become part of the new army.
They did not stand aside. They marched to fight.
And then, hundreds of other orcs began to join them. First by the dozens, then by the hundreds, and within moments—by the thousands.
The chieftain of the Horde saw his army crumbling before his eyes. He growled in fury, his sword trembling in his grip.
—"You will all die!" he howled.
And then the battle began.
The higher orcs struck first.
They crashed into the crowd of warriors still loyal to the chieftain, swinging their massive axes, cleaving through enemies in one blow. One higher orc could stand against ten regular warriors.
Their strikes shattered armor, bones broke like dry wood, and blood sprayed across the ground.
Naira surged through the crowd, her enormous battle axe slicing enemies left and right. She moved so fast that her enemies couldn't even react. Her blows severed limbs in a single swing, and the force of some strikes sent warriors flying as if struck by a battering ram.
The chieftain saw her. He felt her power. And he understood—he couldn't even get close to her.
The screams of battle filled the night.
Orcs, who had once been brothers in arms, now tore each other apart.
Swords sliced through muscles, spears pierced chests, battle axes shattered skulls.
Blood flooded the earth.
Naira forged ahead, and behind her, thousands of traitors followed. They fought with the hatred and fury of those who had finally found true freedom.
The chieftain growled, fought, and destroyed enemies with every swing of his sword, but he already knew—he had lost.
When he looked at his warriors, he realized the horrifying truth.
He had only three thousand left.
They had four thousand.
His army no longer outnumbered the enemy.
His army was smaller now.
He was no longer the leader of a great horde.
And he howled in fury:
—"You will all die as slaves, serving! Your descendants will be killed by my hands! I will return and wipe this city off the face of the earth!"
His voice rang out over the battlefield.
—"Warriors, retreat!"
His loyal orcs reluctantly pulled back, covering one another, abandoning the wounded. They ran.
They were no longer an army.
They were the pitiful remnants of the past.
And then the battle stopped.
Those who had only seconds ago fought to the death lowered their weapons. All eyes turned to the wounded, lying among the bodies.
No one finished them off.
Lenor stood on the walls, his eyes narrowing as he watched the battlefield.
—"They've lost, but we're not butchers."
And then Seline stepped forward.
Her hands glowed with a soft blue light as she bent over the first wounded.
She touched them, and the wounds began to heal. Even those close to death returned to life.
Orcs, who had just moments ago been fighting to kill, looked at her in awe and fear.
She said nothing. She simply saved them.
And then they understood.
They hadn't just survived.
They had been given a second life.
Lenor stood on the walls, watching as the enemies fled and the wounded received aid.
And then he realized.
The city had not only held.
The city had gained unprecedented strength.
The higher orcs now fought for them. The Horde, which had shattered, now belonged to them.
He looked at Naira, who stood among the victors, covered in blood, breathing heavily, but with eyes full of life.
She was no longer just a symbol of hope.
She had become the salvation of the Horde.
Lenor exhaled deeply.
Grimtar approached him, wiping blood from his axe blade.
—"What, don't you believe?"
Lenor smiled.
—"I believe. Now we have an ally who can destroy any threat."