From the darkness, a black shadow over two and a half meters tall strode out with heavy steps. He held a repaired black wooden club, having just sent three or four Snaga flying with a single strike.
Staring with pitch-black eyes, he watched the human standing in place with no emotion, his large fur-covered feet running "thud, thud, thud." His heavy breathing was clearly audible, the great club raised high.
Before Aedric could make out the opponent's appearance clearly, urgent whistling filled the air. That pitch-black club struck down viciously, carrying fierce wind, drawing ever closer to Aedric's head.
Without time to think, Aedric instinctively pushed off with both feet, awkwardly dodging aside in a single step.
"CRACK! The massive club shattered stone on impact, the ground trembling beneath Aedric's feet. Sharp fragments whined through the air—one found its mark, splitting his forehead open in a burst of pain. Blood streamed down, blurring his vision as he reeled backward, fighting to stay conscious.
But Aedric had no time to wipe it away. Wildly surging adrenaline quickly calmed his mind, naturally causing him to completely ignore the forehead wound.
He pushed off and charged out like a loosed arrow. Mithreleth's faintly gleaming blade was that sharp arrowhead.
The tall black shadow's missed attack left him somewhat unbalanced. Before he could recover, Mithreleth's edge was already before his eyes. Aedric's timing was quite precise, his attack angle sufficiently cunning.
Both arms gathering power, from bottom to top, the blade aimed at the opponent's thick arm, directly targeting vital points.
The black giant also sensed danger, or rather this was an instinctive reaction. Facing the deadly attack, he raised his thick left arm and swung violently, sending both man and sword flying.
The movement was incredibly smooth without the slightest hesitation. Like an unconscious reaction, never considering whether his arm might be cut by the long sword. Instantly neutralizing this fatal thrust.
The price was a large patch of flesh and skin scraped from his arm, blood gushing wildly, dripping onto the ground and staining a large area black. That rough, bark-like skin couldn't possibly block sharp Mithreleth.
As for Aedric, he flew backward completely, his long sword flying from his hands and clattering to the ground. He himself crashed heavily into the hard stone wall with a thud.
No matter how hard adrenaline tried, it couldn't eliminate the damage from violent impact. He instantly became dizzy while his chest felt like it had been hit by a truck, severe pain striking. Aedric could even hear his ribs seemingly wailing.
He leaned against the wall to barely stand steady, using willpower to ignore the gradually weakening dizziness, enduring chest pain as he strode forward, wanting to retrieve Mithreleth from the ground.
That black giant was walking toward him—he absolutely couldn't be without a weapon now!
However, willpower alone couldn't offset bodily damage. Mind commanding flesh only existed in legends.
"One step—that's all Aedric managed before his strength vanished. He hit the ground hard, his vision swimming as pain lanced through his chest with every shallow breath. Blood welled up in his throat, the taste sharp and wrong.
So much for armor. Chainmail stopped blades, not the crushing force that had just scrambled his insides.
In his daze, Aedric's mind was full of random thoughts. Yet the black giant drew ever closer, his pitch-black eyes showing no change, as if he felt no pain. Similarly unchanged was the black foul blood flowing from his left arm.
Without words or any unnecessary movements, his right hand raised high, a pair of pitch-black eyes that didn't even blink, gleaming with cruel light. It seemed he was prepared to directly finish off the little insect before him, without even the usual victory declaration.
Ruthless, cruel, like a cold killing machine.
"Move!" "Move!" Aedric watched the club slowly rising overhead, roaring internally, wanting his paralyzed body to activate once more.
Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, his body remained completely motionless. Like a disconnected game character—no matter how you commanded, only four cold words responded: Cannot respond.
Then Aedric stopped worrying. By the dancing light of wall torches, he saw what appeared to be a footprint in the black blood pool behind the black giant.
Though soundless, that large footprint was very familiar! This symbolized that when adventuring, one person's strength was ultimately limited. An extra teammate meant one more possibility!
Swish—a light sound. The club-wielding black giant's left foot weakened as he knelt on one knee, his ankle tearing open and bleeding. His wooden club swung backward but only struck air.
After the whistling disappeared, the small Hobbit appeared from nowhere, mockingly taunting: "Does it hurt? Come on then, try and catch me!"
It was Morgan! Though his mouth was cheerful as he angered the opponent, his eyes showed extreme tension.
He'd had no time to attack the black giant's vital points—the creature was simply too tall, requiring climbing up. But he didn't dare climb up, fearing being grabbed and crushed to death.
His captain, who was countless times stronger, had been swatted away by one arm—surely being crushed would be natural for him?
When flies or mosquitoes landed on people, whether visible or not, once felt, people's instinctive reaction was to slap. This black giant should be the same?
Morgan didn't want such an experience. So in desperation, he could only gather strength to slash the opponent's calf, then quickly retreat and remove his ring.
Thinking to use verbal provocation to anger the opponent into attacking him, buying his captain time. In fact, he'd been frequently using the ring throughout, using invisibility to eliminate several ambushing archers. His endurance had long reached its limit.
Continuing to wear the ring would make maintaining consciousness and balance very difficult. He also couldn't entangle with the black giant before him.
"Come on! Come chase me! Come take revenge!" Morgan frowned anxiously, calling urgently.
Then the black giant stood up. His expression remained utterly calm, the cruelty in his eyes unchanged. Then he ignored nearby Aedric, dragging his wounded leg as he turned to chase the jumping Hobbit.
"Is this guy... stupid?" Recovering from dizziness, Aedric stared dumbfounded at everything happening.
He thought even the stupidest Snaga would know to first kill the wounded enemy, then chase the lively one. Because this maximized effectiveness and was the inferiority bred into orc bones. Just bullying the weak and fearing the strong!
But not the black giant.
'Did they remove his brain when they made him? Those eyes aren't cruel indifference but calm, waveless stupidity, which is why they showed no change after injury.'
Instantly, Aedric felt he'd understood something. No wonder the opponent hadn't hesitated to swing his arm in counterattack—normal people would hesitate somewhat. Consider whether dodging or resisting was better.
"Damn." Aedric couldn't help cursing internally: "What lunatic created orcs like this? Probably a monster fused with trolls?!"
Though complaining verbally, his body finally began recovering sensation bit by bit. That cool breath appearing after practicing Celorn ran around his body like firefighters. Constantly soothing burning hot organs and his chest full of burning sensations.
This finally gave Aedric some mobility. He crawled toward Mithreleth using hands and feet. Looking as disheveled as possible, but he couldn't worry about such things now. And very, very slowly.
Morgan and the black giant fought for a while before Aedric finally gripped the sword hilt again, his heart instantly settling as his spirits lifted. He struggled to rise and stand!
"Boss, are you ready yet?" Morgan called loudly, then suddenly crouched down, hastily swinging his short sword to carve a long wound on the enemy's leg.
However, without gathering power, even Dúnedain-forged weapons could only barely break through the opponent's rough skin. After cutting through fat, there was no more strength to penetrate deeper.
The next moment, the black wooden club whistled over the Hobbit's head with wind sounds, smashing against cliff walls and breaking off large stone fragments. Crackling, splashing everywhere.
Morgan only felt himself being pelted painfully all over by stone fragments. Though not fatal, it reduced his reaction speed. Moreover, after this brief entanglement with the black giant, his stamina was nearly exhausted.
The opponent's club was both fierce and vicious, seemingly tireless!
"I can barely hold on anymore, boss!" Just as he spoke, Morgan rolled on the ground, again barely dodging the club attack. When he got up, his face was covered in sweat, and his breathing was increasingly rapid. Next time, he didn't know if he could manage!
Aedric didn't reply, but his actions explained everything. He gripped Mithreleth tightly with both hands, enduring pain and discomfort throughout his body as his feet moved, running across the hard ground.
Then faster and faster, like flowing water in motion, pressing forward relentlessly. Finally, pushing hard with both feet, his entire body leaped up, both arms raised high, Mithreleth reverse-gripped in hand. The sword tip reflecting firelight thrust fiercely toward the black giant's broad back.
The sharp blade first pierced skin, then penetrated fat, next cutting through muscle, grazing bone, and penetrating deeply. Finally, with a crack, it severed a rib and emerged from the front.
Pitch-black blood poured out like floodwater after a dam break, flowing along Mithreleth's diamond runes.
Morgan, unable to dodge in time, was sprayed with black blood across his face. Too late to wipe it away, he retreated repeatedly, withdrawing from the black club's attack range. He was traumatized by that thing!
The black giant who'd received a fatal blow finally reacted. He howled wildly, his voice like a dying beast's roar that made ears burn and heads dizzy. His right hand dropped the club, trying to grab the insect hanging on his back.
Aedric had already released the sword hilt and jumped down when the opponent began roaring, rolling several times on the hard ground to distance himself. Then he watched as the opponent fell into complete madness, wildly waving his arms until his foul blood ran out and silence returned.
Morgan poked out his head and stepped closer bit by bit, looking at this large corpse sitting on the ground and murmuring: "He... should be dead, right?"
Swish—Aedric also walked over, gripping the sword hilt with both hands to pull out Mithreleth, his voice somewhat weak: "Dead. If he didn't die, we two would be finished."
At this moment, those Snaga observing from the surroundings scattered like a flock of birds hit by stones, frantically fleeing toward the cave entrance.
Morgan wanted to pursue them but was stopped by Aedric.
"Let them run, let them report. Perhaps it can reduce pressure on Elrohir and the others."
If this orc chieftain was truly clever enough, upon learning his lair was under attack, he'd certainly waver, possibly splitting his forces into two parts. One part continuing to attack Thornfield village, one part returning home for rescue. This would reduce Elrohir's pressure somewhat.
If he were a brute, then Aedric's "wink" would be thrown to a blind man. Some orcs were single-minded in their actions. They'd certainly attack with full force regardless.
However, Aedric could only consider these things now, because he had other matters requiring urgent attention!
"Do you know where those captives are held?" Aedric turned to Morgan, asking: "And the location of the orc warehouse?"
"I don't know about captives, but the warehouse is back there." Morgan pointed precisely in the direction from which the black giant had emerged. He'd just searched that area, which was why he'd arrived a step late.
Reasonable. Aedric nodded.
Orcs actually had many varieties. For instance, Azog belonged to the great orcs of the Misty Mountains. Clever and powerful. Even without special abilities, relying solely on physical strength, he could eliminate dwarven royalty. His formidable combat power was evident.
Sauron had also bred Uruk-hai in the Third Age. Aedric had encountered them—though not particularly clever, they were already quite good at maintaining discipline, especially being able to endure sunlight. Enhanced by more than a little.
Then came the most common Snaga. Without powerful command, these fellows had virtually no discipline, essentially rushing at opportunities and fleeing from obstacles. Besides breeding prolifically, they had few advantages.
This orc chieftain even knew to station a black giant guarding the warehouse and captives—clearly a clever fellow.
"Let's go." Aedric pulled Morgan along, circling the black giant's corpse toward the cave depths.