Chapter 131 - Battle of the Cave

Deep within the dark tunnel, Kurzadh held Yala by the scruff of his neck, leading the front of the column like he was carrying a chick.

The brand-new animal hide clothes on Yala were already covered in dirt and emitting the sour stench characteristic of the skaven, yet he dared not complain, only trembling as he pointed to the fork ahead: "Le—the left one! Walk three hundred steps, then turn right, and you'll reach the outer perimeter of the Clan's restricted area. The tunnel there is wider, allowing more people to pass!"

Kurzadh squinted, staring at the complicated route Yala had described, his heart filled with doubt.

Since entering the underground, Yala had pointed out forks more than ten times, and the distance and turning angle of every route were precise down to the number of steps, not seeming fabricated at all.

He lowered his head to glance at the strategic map in his arms—Yala had drawn this overnight yesterday, marking the main routes of the skaven tunnels, trap locations, and food storage distribution with charcoal. Although the lines were crooked, the details were exceptionally precise.

"You better not try any tricks." Kurzadh's voice carried a hint of coldness, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the short axe at his waist. "I know you skaven are selfish, and if you dare betray me, you know the consequences."

Yala quickly nodded, his small eyes full of fear: "I wouldn't dare! Absolutely not! boss, please rest assured, I will definitely lead you to Ila's lair, and once you kill him, I'll..."

"Shut up." Kurzadh interrupted him impatiently.

Once this skaven started talking, he never stopped, his head filled with dreams of becoming Clan Leader, which was starting to wear out Kurzadh's ears.

However, Kurzadh knew in his heart that Yala wouldn't dare betray him for now—after all, the Squeak Clan was his nightmare, and following Kurzadh not only guaranteed him food but also fulfilled his "Clan Leader dream." This temptation was enough to keep a low-level Yala temporarily obedient.

At this time, the greenskin Army was advancing laboriously through the tunnels.

In the initial section of the skaven tunnels, the passage was so narrow that only two people could walk abreast, forcing the two thousand-plus greenskins to form a long column, inching forward slowly.

The Orc Boyz were red in the face, their great axes itching to cleave something immediately; the hobgoblin archers carried iron bows, their small eyes scanning the surroundings warily; and the hobgoblin Sappers pushed the pump pump cart, carefully avoiding the scattered stones on the ground, terrified of making too much noise.

"Keep it quiet, all of you! Anyone who dares to shout again won't get to participate in the fight later!" Kurzadh roared softly at the orcs behind him.

To ensure stealthy movement, he had long ago set a rule: if an orc made noise, their qualification to fight was revoked—for greenskins , not being able to fight was worse than being killed. This tactic proved effective; the previously noisy column instantly fell silent, leaving only the sound of footsteps and breathing.

For the hobgoblins, Kurzadh used a different method—"reasoning."

He had Gazlowe tell all the hobgoblins: "As long as we sneak into the skaven lair, we can steal all their food and weapons. Then, everyone will get a new iron bow and get to drink the strongest mushroom wine! If we get exposed now, not only will we miss the fight, but we'll go hungry too!" This speech hit the hobgoblins where it hurt, and they immediately shut up, even lightening their footsteps.

The most troublesome were the goblin.

These little guys were naturally fond of excitement, and even if their mouths were covered, they would still make "ooh-ooh" sounds.

Kurzadh simply had the Orc Boyz and squig mounts help carry them—each orc carried two goblin in his arms, and a few were strapped onto the backs of the goblins. This both reduced the noise and increased the marching speed.

One hundred Vile Stalkers had already spread out, moving through the tunnels like ghosts.

They wore black leather armor, their faces covered with cloth, and held poisoned daggers, specifically tasked with eliminating the skaven patrols.

Over the past five days, they had dealt with more than a dozen patrol teams. Judging by the spoils, the skaven's combat strength was weaker than expected—many skaven held rusty blades as weapons, their bellies were sunken from hunger, and they didn't even have the strength to swing a knife, clearly suffering badly from the famine.

"Boss, the logistics team has enough hardtack for three more days, the water supply is sufficient, and we brought enough soap. The Boyz can wash themselves every day, and we haven't had any sickness!" Gazlowe quickly caught up to Kurzadh, holding a beast-hide ledger, his face beaming with pride.

He had put great effort into this logistical support—the hardtack was sealed in burlap sacks to prevent dampness; the water was carried in ceramic pots, with dedicated personnel distributing it every short distance; they even brought enough torches to ensure the tunnels weren't pitch black.

Kurzadh nodded in satisfaction.

Thanks to Gazlowe's logistical support, even though the greenskins had been traveling in the tunnels for five days, they were still energetic, their armor polished brightly, and their weapons sharpened, showing no signs of fatigue.

But he also noticed that the fighting desire within the column was growing stronger—the Orc Boyz occasionally swung their great axes, the hobgoblin archers secretly drew their bowstrings, and even the goblins gripped small iron shovels, looking eager for action. If he didn't let them fight soon, this group of greenskins might start fighting among themselves.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the tunnel, Ila was leading five thousand skaven troops in a mighty advance.

He rode a gigantic Carrion rats, wearing black iron armor studded with bone spikes, and holding a scepter inlaid with warpstone. His mind was filled with visions of occupying Stonewatch—piles of hardtack, endless beer, skaven armies wearing fine armor, and all the skaven bowing respectfully to him.

"Faster! Move faster!" Ila shrieked at the skaven behind him. "The greenskin main force isn't here, the city walls are full of the old and sick. As long as we rush up, we can steal all their food and slaughter all their greenskins !"

Iuka led two hundred Stormvermin rat at the very front of the column. These skaven wore heavy iron plate armor and gripped poisoned short axes, representing the Squeak Clan's most elite fighting force.

Iuka's mind was also full of fantasies—once Stonewatch was captured, he could use his military achievements to become Ila's successor, eventually taking over as Clan Leader and commanding the entire Squeak Clan, making all skaven fear him!

The skaven troops surged through the tunnel like a tide. The clanrat held up short knives, the slave rat gripped wooden clubs, their eyes filled with the light of greed and hunger.

They had been hungry for too long; the mere thought of the food in Stonewatch made them involuntarily speed up, ignoring even the dripping sound of water in the tunnel.

"Turn up ahead! After this bend, we walk a little further and we'll reach the surface exit!" Ila shouted excitedly.

The skaven troops quickly sped up, turning toward the fork ahead.

But just as he rounded the bend, Ila froze—in the distance of the tunnel, a patch of green things appeared, gleaming with a strange luster under the torchlight.

"What is that?" Ila frowned, his heart full of confusion. "How could so many mushrooms grow in the cavern?"

Iuka, standing beside him, also froze. After a careful look, his expression suddenly changed drastically: "It's not mushrooms! It's greenskins ! It's a greenskin Army!"

At the same time, Kurzadh also saw the skaven troops ahead.

He had originally thought Yala would lead them around to the skaven lair, but he never expected to meet them head-on in the tunnel—this dramatic scene completely exceeded his expectations.

What were the scouts doing?! Why didn't they report back! Could it be... "What is going on?!" Kurzadh suddenly looked at Yala, his eyes full of accusation.

Yala was already terrified out of his wits, stammering: "I—I don't know! Th—this route shouldn't run into the main force! They—they should have gone to attack Stonewatch!"

Kurzadh had no time to question Yala further.

The skaven ahead had already reacted, starting to let out sharp shrieks, their dense figures rushing toward them.

The scouts not reacting could not be entirely blamed on them; this cavern was interconnected in all directions, full of passages. After passing through here, one might easily get lost in the next section, making the entire area a massive underground labyrinth.

He knew that this encounter battle was now unavoidable.

Since that was the case, it didn't matter.

"Brighten up your gear for me!" Kurzadh violently kicked aside the orc blocking his path, drew the short axe from his waist, and roared at the greenskins behind him: "Kill all these skaven! Steal all their food ! Let them know who the boss of the underground is!"

"WAAAGH!!" The greenskins instantly erupted, their five days of suppressed fighting desire completely exploding.

The Orc Boyz swung their great axes, charging toward the skaven; the hobgoblin archers quickly nocked arrows and drew bows, the lead bolts whistling toward the enemy; the Vile Stalkers, like ghosts, drilled into the skaven crowd, their short daggers constantly harvesting lives; even the goblins jumped out of the orcs' arms, clutching small iron shovels, fiercely hacking at the slave rat's ankles.

Ila stared blankly at the charging greenskins —hadn't they said the greenskin main force was absent? How could so many greenskins appear here? His fantasies instantly shattered, leaving only endless terror.

But at this point, he had no retreat, and could only steel himself and order: "Kill! Kill them for me! Anyone who dares to run will be treated as emergency rations!"

The skaven's eyes also turned red. Although hunger had greatly reduced their combat strength, the instinct for survival and the craving for food still drove them to charge toward the greenskins .

The tunnel instantly erupted with the clanging sound of weapons colliding, the miserable screams of the dying, the roars of the greenskins , and the shrieks of the skaven. A fierce encounter battle had begun.

In the narrow cave passage, the air was instantly ignited by blood and fury.

The cold rock walls on both sides compressed their vision, making every swing carry the desperate resolve of burning one's boats—here, meticulously designed formations and proud tactics were useless; only the most primal ferocity and reckless madness could determine life and death.

"WAAAGH!" The roar of the orc nob Glen shook dust from the rock walls; he was clad in iron plate armor weighing dozens of pounds, and the bone spikes on his shoulder pads were still stained with the skull of a Great Horned beast, his trophy. Gripping a man-high great axe with both hands, he crashed into the skaven crowd like an out-of-control chariot.

The great axe swept horizontally, instantly cleaving three slave rat in half, splattering black and red gore all over his greenskin, yet he didn't affect his movements in the slightest.

Bone Tree, following closely behind, was equally ferocious; he abandoned his throwing spears, wielding a short-handled Warhammer in each hand. Every strike shattered the skull of a clanrat, the crunch of deforming armor plates and the screams of the skaven intertwining into the most brutal battle hymn.

The ferocity of the greenskins was completely unleashed in the confined space.

Most of the Orc Boyz wore thick heavy armor, some having iron plates embedded over their leather armor, so the skaven's short knives could only leave white marks; although the hobgoblins were small, they all wore light chainmail, and the spears in their hands, forged by Guzhana, were sharp enough to easily cleave through the skaven's leather armor.

In contrast, most of the skaven slave rat didn't even have a complete set of clothes, possessing only rusty blades or broken wooden sticks, and the clanrat's leather armor was mostly patched-up rags, completely unable to withstand the greenskins' assault.

In the first clash, the skaven were hacked back, retreating step by step.

The greenskins acted like a sharp iron wedge, tearing open a gap in the skaven ranks; the orcs hacked at the front, the hobgoblins stabbed from the sides, and the Vile Stalkers circled around to the skaven's rear, specifically targeting isolated individuals.

A Stormvermin rat attempted to ambush Glen, aiming its short axe straight for his throat, but Glen dodged sideways. The great axe swung down in a backhand strike, splitting the rat and its axe in two—this Stormvermin rat, known as "invincible" within the skaven clan, didn't even last three moves.

Clan Leader, riding a gigantic Carrion rats, watched the one-sided battle before him, his heart heavy as if struck by a massive hammer.

He had originally thought that relying on numerical superiority, even if the greenskins were fierce, they could fight to a mutual defeat. But he had forgotten that famine had long since depleted the skaven's fighting strength, while the greenskins were not only well-equipped but also fought fearlessly.

Worse still, the narrow passage completely restricted the skaven's maneuverability; their favored "Human wave tactic" couldn't be deployed at all, instead turning them into live targets for the greenskins .

"Calm down! Everyone calm down!" Clan Leader shrieked sharply, slamming his warpstone scepter heavily onto the ground. "The passage is too narrow, we can't utilize our advantage! Iuka! Take two hundred Stormvermin rat and five hundred clanrat to cover the rear! The rest of you, retreat with me! Back to the lair!"

He knew clearly that if they continued fighting like this, the five thousand skaven would eventually be completely annihilated by the greenskins .

Only by retreating to the core tunnels of the Squeak Clan, utilizing the complex network of subterranean passages, the widespread traps, and the skaven's familiarity with the terrain to fight a guerrilla war, was there a chance to turn the tide—at that point, with the greenskins deep underground and their supply lines stretched, constantly harassing their logistics and exhausting their stamina would eventually wear them down.

Although Iuka was deeply unwilling, he knew this was the only way.

He gritted his teeth, drew the poisoned short knife from his waist, and shrieked at the skaven behind him: "Hold the line! If anyone dares to retreat, I'll cut him down first!" Two hundred Stormvermin rat immediately formed a defensive line, their heavy plate armor creating a temporary bulwark in the passage, while five hundred clanrat raised their short knives, hiding behind the Stormvermin rat, trying to buy time with sheer numbers.

Clan Leader, seizing the opportunity, led the remaining four thousand-plus skaven toward the core tunnels.

The slave rat squeezed forward like headless flies, while the clanrat retreated while glancing back nervously, terrified of being overtaken by the greenskins .

The passage instantly descended into chaos, the screams and curses of the skaven mingling with the roars of the greenskins , forming a tumultuous racket.

"Chase them! Kill these wretches!" An Orc Boyz, eyes red with bloodlust, swung his great axe, wanting to pursue, but was abruptly pulled back by Kurzadh.

"Stop! No pursuing!" Kurzadh's voice carried unquestionable authority.

He knew very well that they absolutely could not pursue rashly now—the underground passages were complex, and they knew nothing about the terrain. If they chased them inside, they might fall into skaven traps. At that point, let alone killing skaven, they themselves could be trapped and die in the tunnels.

The map Yala had drawn earlier only marked the main routes; no one knew how many traps or how many forks there were in the skaven's core tunnels.

"But boss, we were about to win!" the Orc Boyz shouted unwillingly, his great axe still dripping blood.

"Win?" Kurzadh sneered, pointing toward the deep, dark passage ahead. "Do you know how many traps are up there? Do you know how many troops the skaven still have in their lair? Blind pursuit will only cost our brothers their lives!"

The surrounding greenskins gradually calmed down. Although their eyes were still full of fighting spirit, they understood that Kurzadh's words made sense.

They were all veterans who had fought through countless battles and knew that "underestimating the enemy" was the most fatal mistake.

"Yala! Come here!" Kurzadh shouted at the skaven cowering nearby.

Yala quickly ran over, his face covered in a fawning smile: "Boss, you called me?"

"Show me the way." Kurzadh pointed in the direction the skaven had retreated, his eyes sharp. "Clan Leader is going back to the core tunnels, right? How many traps are on that route? Is there a shortcut we can take to get ahead of them?"

Yala's heart skipped a beat; he hadn't expected Kurzadh to want to circle around the skaven.

But looking at Kurzadh's cold gaze, he didn't dare hide anything and nodded quickly: "Y-yes! Clan Leader is definitely returning to the core tunnels! That main path has three traps, all trapdoors and poisoned needle traps, and I know how to avoid them! There is also a shortcut, a secret passage I dug before, which can get us to the side of the core tunnels in half the time compared to the main route!"

Kurzadh nodded in satisfaction: "Good! Lead us through that secret passage right now! Tell me where the traps are and how to neutralize them!"

"I, I'll take you there right away!" Yala quickly responded, though his heart was filled with anxiety—he knew how tight the defenses were in the core tunnels, and even if they circled to the side, they might not easily break in.

But he didn't dare object and obediently led the way, silently praying that this war would end quickly so he could become "Clan Leader" sooner.

Kurzadh turned and issued orders to the greenskins behind him: "Glen, you take two hundred orcs and one hundred hobgoblins, stay behind to clear out the remnants in the passage, and protect the logistics team. Once Gazlowe's supplies catch up, follow us! Bone Tree, you take three hundred orcs and two hundred hobgoblins, come with me through the secret passage, and circle around to the side of the skaven lair! The rest of you, rest where you are and check your weapons and armor!"

"Yes, boss!" Glen and Bone Tree responded in unison.

Glen immediately led his men deeper into the passage, swinging his great axe and beginning to clear out the skaven covering the retreat; Bone Tree led his men, following Yala, preparing to take the secret passage; the other greenskins put down their weapons and began checking the damage to their armor, while some took out hardtack to quickly replenish their strength.

These were all veterans who had fought countless battles alongside him. Although they possessed the barbarism and warlike nature of the greenskins , they still maintained necessary tactics and discipline.

Kurzadh looked at everything before him, his heart filled with determination.

This war against the Squeak Clan was not only to protect the food and wealth of the Blackrock Clan, but also to gain a firm foothold underground and lay the foundation for the future WAAAGH! He would absolutely not let this victory be ruined by "underestimating the enemy."

"Let's go." Kurzadh patted Bone Tree's shoulder and followed Yala toward the secret passage.

Deep within the core lair of the Squeak Clan, Clan Leader was sitting on a throne piled with white bones, toying with a ring inlaid with warpstone, his face full of smugness.

He had just learned from the retreating skaven that the rearguard successfully delayed the pursuit of the greenskins . Now, those foolish greenskins must still be cautiously checking for traps in the main tunnels, while he had already arranged for thousands of clanrat to ambush them at various intersections

—as long as the greenskins dared to step into the predetermined encirclement, they would be met with a sky full of poisoned needles, trapdoors, and a human-wave attack from the skaven.

"Hmph, greenskins are just greenskins , only capable of brute force," Clan Leader sneered, ordering the attendant skaven beside him, "Go and check the food in the warehouse again, and while you're at it, drag those disobedient slave rat out and give them to the brothers for extra rations

—once we take care of the greenskins , we can go to the surface and enjoy real delicacies!"

The attendant skaven quickly nodded and bowed before retreating, leaving Clan Leader alone to immerse himself in the fantasy of conquering Stonewatch.

He was completely unaware that a deadly shadow was bypassing all the ambushes, rapidly approaching his lair along a forgotten secret passage.

Inside the secret passage now, Yala was walking tremblingly at the front, holding a lit torch, carefully avoiding the rubble on the ground.

The passage was narrow and damp, with water droplets occasionally falling from the ceiling, hitting the greenskins' armor with a crisp sound.

"Fifty more steps ahead, and we'll reach the side platform of the core cavern!" Yala turned and said to Kurzadh, his voice carrying a hint of imperceptible tension.

He knew that once they stepped onto that platform, there would be no turning back

—they would either watch the greenskins destroy the Squeak Clan, or be abandoned by both the greenskins and the skaven.

Kurzadh nodded and made a "prepare for battle" gesture to the greenskins behind him.

Bone Tree tightened his grip on his Warhammer, Glen rested his great axe on his shoulder, and Scarface licked his lips, his eyes filled with a thirst for slaughter.

Over two hundred orcs, more than three hundred hobgoblins, and fifty Vile Stalkers all held their breath, gripped their weapons, and waited for the signal to attack.

Soon, a sliver of light appeared at the end of the passage.

Yala quickened his pace, pushed aside a loose rock, and a wide platform suddenly appeared before their eyes.

The platform was made of hard rock, roughly half the size of a football field. Its edges were steep cliffs, and below was a giant cavern

—that was the core lair of the Squeak Clan.

Kurzadh stepped onto the platform, looked down, and was instantly stunned by the sight before him.

The entire cavern was dozens, perhaps even hundreds of times larger than Blackrock Spire. The rock walls were carved with dense small holes, which were the residences of the slave rat. Numerous crude wooden houses were built on the ground, where clanrat moved in and out, busy with work. In the center of the cavern stood a temple built of white bones and black iron. Carved atop the temple was a huge rat head statue, the symbol of the great horned rat. Next to the temple was a relatively luxurious residence, whose walls were inlaid with many glowing warpstone, clearly Clan Leader's dwelling.

"Holy hell, these skaven hid themselves deep," Glen couldn't help but exclaim, his eyes full of surprise.

He had never seen such a massive underground cavern, nor had he imagined that the skaven could transform it into a lair of this scale.

Kurzadh quickly recovered from his shock, his gaze turning sharp.

He pointed at the temple and the residence in the center of the cavern and said to the greenskins beside him: "See those two buildings? The temple must hold the skaven priests and elites, and the residence houses that old bastard Clan Leader

—these two spots are mandatory targets!"

The greenskins' surprise was instantly replaced by a desire for battle. The Orc Boyz brandished their weapons, letting out howls of rage; the hobgoblin archers quickly nocked arrows, aiming at the skaven below; and the Vile Stalkers quietly crept to the edge of the platform, ready to jump down at any moment and launch a sneak attack.

The slave rat in the cavern were the first to notice the greenskins on the platform.

They were carrying ore toward the wooden houses, and when they looked up and saw the dense crowd of greenskins , they instantly let out screams of terror.

The screams were weak and helpless, echoing like a kitten whose tail had been stepped on in the massive cavern, yet they held no courage to resist

—they had long been tormented by famine and slavery until all fighting spirit was lost.

"What are you afraid of! They're just greenskins !" A clanrat heard the screams and poked his head out to check, but upon seeing the greenskins on the platform, he instantly turned pale with fright and tried to run.

Kurzadh sneered, and violently threw the corpse of a clanrat he had just crushed in his hand toward the edge of the platform.

The corpse rolled down the cliff, slamming heavily onto the cavern floor with a dull thud.

"Boyz, let these skaven see what we're made of!" Kurzadh roared at the greenskins behind him, "Twist off their heads for trophies! Whoever twists off the most heads gets a jar of the strongest black mushroom spirits!"

"WAAAGH!!" The greenskins instantly erupted.

The Orc Boyz were the first to jump off the platform, dropping onto the cavern floor like dumplings. Their great axes swung, instantly cutting down the surrounding skaven. The hobgoblin archers shot arrows at the skaven below, the arrow rain whistling through the air, accurately hitting their targets.

The Vile Stalkers slipped into the wooden houses like ghosts, their short daggers constantly harvesting skaven lives. Scarface, leading the charge, jumped onto the back of a giant Carrion rats, grabbed the skaven's ear, twisted its head off, and held it high above his head, letting out a triumphant roar.

The cavern instantly devolved into chaos.

The skaven scattered everywhere, some diving into the wooden houses, some hiding in the small holes in the rock walls, and some simply kneeling on the ground begging for mercy, yet still unable to escape the greenskins' slaughter.

The greenskins rampaged through the cavern like a herd of runaway beasts. Wherever they went, skaven corpses littered the ground, blood stained the floor red, and the air was thick with the smell of gore.

The skaven priests in the temple heard the commotion and quickly rushed out with their elite temple guards.

These skaven wore black robes and held staves inlaid with warpstone, capable of casting simple dark magic.

They unleashed black energy waves at the greenskins , and many hobgoblins hit by the waves instantly fell to the ground, convulsing.

"These goblins know magic!" an Orc Boyz shouted, raising his great axe to block an energy wave. The axe blade was instantly covered in black corrosion marks.

Bone Tree snorted coldly and charged toward the temple guards, hoisting his Warhammer.

He dodged an energy wave, leaped up, and brought his Warhammer crashing down heavily onto a priest's head, smashing his skull to pieces.

"With me here, these magical goblins won't cause any trouble!"

Glen was not to be outdone, leading the Orc Boyz toward the temple.

Wielding their great axes, they stubbornly withstood the energy wave attacks, slowly closing in on the temple guards.

Although orcs were occasionally hit by the magic, they remained fearless of death, using their bodies to carve a bloody path for their comrades.

Kurzadh stood on the platform, watching the battle below, a satisfied smile on his face.

He knew the outcome of this battle was no longer in doubt

—the skaven had lost their terrain advantage and had their fighting strength weakened by famine; they were no match for the greenskins .

Now, he only had to wait for the greenskins to breach the temple and the residence, capture Clan Leader, and completely destroy the Squeak Clan.

"Yala, do you see this?" Kurzadh turned to look at the skaven beside him, his tone calm but carrying a hint of menace, "This is your former clan. Now, it will soon become history. And you will become the new Clan Leader

—provided you don't try any tricks."

Yala quickly nodded, his small eyes filled with both fear and excitement.

The fear stemmed from the brutality of the greenskins , the excitement from his "Clan Leader dream" being on the verge of realization.

He watched the skaven fleeing everywhere in the cavern, feeling no sympathy

—these skaven had enslaved and bullied him; now, it was time for them to pay the price.

The greenskins' slaughter continued. The screams, pleas for mercy, and clashing of weapons in the cavern intertwined, forming a cruel battle hymn.

Meanwhile, in another part of the cavern, Clan Leader was rushing toward the temple with his guards.

The roars from deep within the cave echoed like boiling magma, carrying blood and despair through the rock walls.

The dense slave rat nests on the rock walls were completely breached, and countless emaciated figures squeezed out of openings barely wide enough for one person.

Tattered rags hung in shreds from their bodies, revealing distinct ribs like withered branches ravaged by a gale.

What they clutched in their hands were not weapons—they were blunted hoes, broken mining picks, and even gnawed beast bones.

These tools, meant for labor, were now forced by the clanrat's whips to become 'weapons' charging towards death.

"Faster! One more step slower and you'll be fed to the Carrion rats!" The clanrat overseer's whip cracked across the slave rat's back, leaving bleeding red marks.

The whipped slave rat stumbled forward, but lacked even the strength to wail, allowing his body to be pushed by his companions from behind, like pebbles caught in a torrent, surging towards the greenskins .

Some slave rats ran only a few steps before collapsing from extreme hunger, and the rat swarm behind them instantly trampled over his body, leaving only a blur of flesh and a few broken bones.

Others, before the greenskin's great axe fell, were so terrified that they collapsed to the ground, their eyes staring blankly at the cave ceiling until the cold blade sliced their throats, eliciting only a faint twitch.

Many skaven also took the opportunity to gnaw on the corpses of their companions and the greenskins .

Initially, the greenskins could easily cope—orc nob Bone Tree's Warhammer smashed into slave rats, turning them directly into pulp, and black-red blood and flesh splattered on his iron armor, congealing into thick scabs.

hobgoblin spearmen's long spears could pierce two or three slave rats at once, the corpses hanging from the spear tips like strung grapes, yet they still couldn't stop the endless stream of rats.

Soon, the true killing game unfolded from the shadows: large numbers of clanrats burrowed into crude wooden shacks, tearing off door panels to use as shields.

Skaven hiding in rock crevices clutched poisoned daggers, leaping out when an orc passed by, biting fiercely onto the opponent's lower leg, and even if their heads were smashed by a Warhammer, their teeth wouldn't let go.

Some skaven even burrowed into abandoned tunnels, suddenly emerging from the dirt beneath the greenskin's feet, scratching at the opponent's ankles with their claws, even if they themselves were crushed into paste, they would drag a greenskin down with them.

The most primal slaughter erupted in every corner.

Glen had just cleaved open a clanrat's head when he felt a sharp pain in his back—a skaven hiding on a rafter had pierced his leather armor with a short dagger, and black blood trickled from the wound.

He roared, spun around, grabbed the skaven by the hair, and smashed his head violently against a wooden pillar. With a "Crack," the skaven's skull shattered, and his brains splattered onto the blood-stained pillar.

But before he could catch his breath, three more clanrats leaped from a broken window of the wooden shack, their short daggers simultaneously striking at his throat, abdomen, and knee.

Glen could only give up parrying, using his arm armor to hard-block two of the daggers, while raising his great axe with his other hand, splitting the third skaven in half.

Blood dripped down his arm, forming a small puddle of black-red on the ground.

"Damn it! These bastards hide better than squig!" an Orc Boyz cursed. He had just chopped down a slave rat with his axe when he was shot in the shoulder by a poisoned dart from a clanrat that sprang out from behind him.

The black venom on the dart instantly spread, his arm quickly stiffened, and his great axe fell to the ground with a "Clank."

Before he could draw the short dagger from his waist, he was tackled by the surging slave rats, dozens of claws simultaneously scratching at his face, teeth gnawing at his flesh, and his piercing screams were soon drowned out by the "Squeaking" of the rat swarm.

By the time the greenskins finally managed to drag him out of the rat swarm, his face had been gnawed beyond recognition, leaving only faint breathing, clearly not going to survive.

Kurzadh stood on a rock at the edge of the platform, his arms crossed.

The greenskins below had been divided into three sections: the orcs were entangled with the clanrats in the wooden shack area, every step forward required stepping over piles of corpses.

The hobgoblins formed a spear formation on the outskirts of the temple, but were constantly pushed back by the human wave of slave rats; some hobgoblins were squeezed and fell into the underground river at the bottom of the cave, instantly swept away by the swift current.

Although the Vile Stalkers could clear out enemies in the shadows, they couldn't withstand the endless reinforcements of skaven from every cave entrance—he had just witnessed a Stalker, using a smoke bomb to cover himself, kill three clanrats, only to be drowned alive by slave rats surging from a side cave, without even having time to scream.

"Iron Claw! Raise the flag!" Kurzadh's voice was a little hoarse. The standard-bearer Iron Claw immediately responded, raising the greenskin battle banner embroidered with a black squig design with both hands.

The beast bone at the top of the flagpole gleamed coldly in the firelight, and each wave carried commands of life and death—this was a signal Kurzadh had repeatedly practiced before the expedition, and now it became the only order in the chaotic battlefield.

Iron Claw first drew a horizontal arc, signaling all units to contract their defensive lines, then raised the battle banner vertically upwards, ordering them to prioritize seizing the high ground, and finally brought it down heavily towards the southeast—where there was a circular cave, the highest point of the entire battlefield.

Bone Tree, who was fighting in the wooden shack area, was the first to see the signal. He plunged his Warhammer into a clanrat's chest, black blood splattering all over his face, but it didn't affect his movements in the slightest: "Follow me! Go seize the stone shacks next to the temple! Anyone who dares to fall behind won't get any mushroom wine tonight!"

The orcs immediately tightened their formation, abandoning the pursuit of scattered skaven, cleaving through blocking slave rats with their great axes, and advancing towards the stone shacks in the direction of the temple.

These Kurzadh shacks were built of hard rock, with only a few narrow windows, making them easy to defend and difficult to attack.

An orc had just rushed to the entrance of a stone shack when he was shot in the eye by a poisoned dart fired from inside. He screamed and fell, and the orcs behind him immediately stepped over his body and charged into the stone shack.

Soon, the wails of skaven and the crisp clang of weapons echoed from within.

"Scarface! Take your archers to the circular cave on the southeast side!" Kurzadh shouted to the hobgoblin beside him, "Lay down an arrow rain, don't let the skaven get close to the stone shacks!"

Scarface immediately took the order, leading over two hundred hobgoblin archers to rush towards the southeast side.

The entrance of the circular cave was funnel-shaped, and from inside, one could clearly see the slave rat's charge route below.

As soon as the hobgoblins found their footing, they saw dense slave rats surging like a tide. They immediately drew their bows and fired, and the first wave of arrows shot down swathes of slave rats at the forefront, the black arrow shafts sticking out of the corpses like a grotesque forest.

But the slave rats still did not retreat; the skaven behind them charged forward over the bodies of their companions, some even using corpses as shields, and the power of the arrow rain gradually weakened.

"Hobgoblin spearmen! Go guard those three intersection!" Kurzadh then pointed to the three cave entrances at the edge of the cave, "Don't let the skaven ambush from behind, and don't let them deploy reinforcements!"

Over three hundred hobgoblin spearmen immediately split into three groups, blocking the cave entrances with their long spears.

They formed dense spear formations, spear tips pointing outwards, like three steel barriers.

A clanrat attempted to lead slave rats to flank from a side cave, but as soon as he poked his head out, he was pierced through the chest by a long spear, black blood dripping down the spear tip.

Seeing this, the skaven behind still charged forward madly, some even clinging to the spear shafts and climbing up, trying to get over the spear formation.

The hobgoblins could only use their spear shafts to poke them down, and the cave entrance was soon piled high with skaven corpses, blocking half of the entrance.

Iron Claw's battle banner waved again, this time drawing a semicircle towards the west—this was a signal for Glen.

Glen, who was entangled with slave rats, his eyes lit up. He wiped the blood from his face and shouted to the Orc Boyz beside him: "Follow me! Go around from the west side! We'll flank the skaven from behind!"

The Orc Boyz followed Glen, moving quickly along the narrow passage at the edge of the cave.

The passage was piled with discarded ore and skaven skeletons; they could only advance by stepping on the skeletons, and crisp "Cracking" sounds occasionally came from under their feet.

The end of the western passage was behind the slave rat charging party, where only a small number of clanrats were overseeing the battle.

Glen led the charge, his great axe splitting open the wooden barricade at the passage entrance, launching a surprise attack on the overseeing clanrats.

A clanrat had just tried to raise his short dagger to resist when he was split in half by the great axe, black blood splattering all over Glen's face.

Under the command of the banner, the various units gradually stabilized their positions, but the brutality of the battlefield continued.

A hobgoblin archer had just shot down a clanrat when he was struck in the head by a falling rock from a rock crevice above, dying instantly.

An Orc Boyz, to protect the hobgoblin beside him, used his body to block a poisoned dart, but due to the rapid spread of the venom, he soon stopped breathing.

Some slave rats, even in their dying moments, embraced the greenskin's leg and bit through the opponent's artery, perishing together.

Kurzadh looked at the tragic scene below, his heart feeling as if it had been struck by a heavy hammer.

He looked down at the mechanical pocket watch in his hand—two hours had passed since entering the cave, and Skarsnik's squig Hoppers and Keziaz's Death Crawler had not yet appeared.

He was secretly anxious: squig Hoppers could launch surprise attacks in complex terrain, and Death Crawler could climb and flank on rock walls.

Once these two units arrived, they could tear open the skaven's defense line; not to mention Gazlowe still had five hundred reserve troops and his secret weapon.

"Must hold on..." Kurzadh muttered to himself, his gaze returning to the battlefield.

The slave rats on the east side were still charging madly, and the clanrats in the temple also began to organize a counterattack.

Although the greenskins had stabilized their defensive line, people were still constantly falling.

He tightened his grip on the short axe at his waist, his fingernails deeply embedded in the wood grain of the axe handle—now was not the time to relax.

He had to wait for reinforcements to arrive to avenge his fallen brothers and to completely crush these vile skaven.

The monotonous sound of dripping water from the cave ceiling was still there, but it was drowned out by the sounds of battle.

The roars of the greenskins , the screams of the skaven, the crisp clang of weapons, and the wails of the dying echoed in the huge cave, weaving a bloody and desperate battle song.

And in a hidden passage in the cave, a "Dada" of footsteps was rapidly approaching—Skarsnik's squig Hoppers were finally about to arrive at this blood-soaked battlefield.

In the wooden hut area on the east side of the cave, the greenskins , who were entangled with clanrats, suddenly heard a rapid "thump-thump" sound—the muffled thuds of squig hooves on rock, mixed with the hobgoblins' shouts, rapidly approaching from deep within the passage.

Before the clanrats could react, three hundred figures suddenly burst out from a side alley. The hobgoblin riders, clad in thick tanned leather armor, holding long spears or lances, sat astride cavalry squigs covered in thin iron armor. Like a green arrow, they fiercely plunged into the clanrats' formation.

"Charge! Trample these rat pups!" the squig Hoppers roared, as the cavalry squigs pushed off the ground with their powerful hind legs, leaping up and landing heavily among the clanrats.

Iron armor shattered the Skaven's bones, spears pierced their chests, and the squigs' fangs directly bit through the Skaven's necks, splattering black-red blood and flesh across the ground cracks.

A clanrat had just raised his dagger to resist when a squig's hoof stomped on his chest. The crisp sound of breaking ribs accompanied a shrill scream; his body was flattened like a rag doll, and internal organs mixed with blood overflowed from the corner of his mouth.

The clanrats, who had been stubbornly resisting, were instantly scattered. The remaining ones could only flee in panic, but they still couldn't escape the pursuit of the squig hounds—dozens of smaller squigs darted out of the passage, noses to the ground, chasing and biting the fleeing soldiers like hounds. One squig even bit directly into a fleeing soldier's calf, dragging him down forcefully and leaving a long trail of blood on the ground.

Skarsnik rode his giant, all-black squig, slowly emerging from the passage.

He wore leather armor adorned with bone spikes, a blade of grass in his mouth, and a spear inlaid with squig fangs in his hand. He frowned and fanned his nose: "Damn it, this rat nest stinks worse than my squig pen. No wonder the Boyz don't want to come underground."

Complaining aside, when he saw the greenskins fighting ahead, he immediately raised his spear and shouted to the squig Hoppers behind him: "Get your spirits up! Whoever kills the most Skaven, I'll reward him with a roasted squig! Charge!"

With that, he slapped the head of the squig he was riding, and the giant beast immediately let out a roar, charging towards the temple.

But before they could charge far, a series of "whoosh-whoosh" sounds suddenly came from the cave ceiling—dozens of night hobgoblins, armed with stone slings, emerged from holes in the rock wall. These Skaven had sunken eye sockets, and their stone slings were wrapped with sharp gravel and rusty iron pieces, which they hurled fiercely at the squig Hoppers.

One hobgoblin rider, unable to dodge in time, was hit on the helmet by a gravel. The helmet instantly cracked, and blood streamed down his cheek. He screamed and fell from the squig's back. Just as he tried to get up, he was pounced upon by three night hobgoblins. Daggers simultaneously pierced his chest, abdomen, and throat, and black blood gushed out like a fountain. He quickly stopped breathing.

"Shields up!" Skarsnik reacted extremely quickly and immediately gave the order.

The squig Hoppers all raised their round wooden shields. With "Bang-bang" sounds, gravel struck the shields, making the hobgoblins' arms numb.

Several slow-reacting hobgoblins were hit on the head by gravel and fell to the ground on the spot, quickly surrounded and killed by charging night hobgoblins—one night hobgoblin even used a stone sling to wrap around a hobgoblin's neck, pulling back fiercely. Accompanied by the "Crack" of a broken cervical vertebra, the hobgoblin's head slumped limply to one side.

Skarsnik roared, slapped the squig he was riding, and the giant beast leaped up, pouncing towards the night hobgoblins on the rock wall.

The squig's sharp claws gripped the rock wall, climbing rapidly like a gecko, while the hobgoblin rider raised his spear and thrust it fiercely at the night hobgoblins.

One night hobgoblin was pierced through the shoulder by a spear, screaming as he fell from the rock wall, landing right in the slave rat swarm below, instantly trampled into a bloody pulp by the chaotic rat swarm.

Just then, the temple gate in the center of the cave suddenly burst open with a "rumble."

Iuka, riding a giant Carrion rats comparable in size to a small elephant, charged out of the temple. His son Iuka followed closely behind, accompanied by over two hundred Stormvermin completely covered in black iron heavy armor—these were the Squeak Clan's most elite warriors, wielding heavy blades or halberds inlaid with warpstone. Strange runes were carved on their armor, glowing with an eerie green light under the firelight.

"Greenskin scum! How dare you invade my territory! Today, you shall die here!" Iuka shrieked sharply, waving the warpstone scepter in his hand. A black energy wave shot towards the Bone Tree.

The Bone Tree, who was leading the orc nob in clearing the clanrats around the temple, immediately raised his Warhammer to block. The energy wave struck the Warhammer, and black corrosive marks instantly spread. The Warhammer's wooden handle snapped with a "Crack."

An orc nob, unable to dodge in time, was grazed on the arm by the energy wave. The flesh on his arm instantly festered, revealing white bone. He screamed, trying to hack off his arm, but a Stormvermin seized the opportunity and pierced his chest with a heavy halberd.

The Stormvermin lifted the orc's corpse overhead with a powerful flick, black blood dripping from the halberd tip, splattering onto the slave rats below, eliciting a frenzy of "Squeaking" sounds.

Kurzadh stood on high ground, seeing clearly—warpstone was mixed into the Stormvermin's armor and weapons! This chaotic energy crystal had a deadly corrosive effect on intelligent creatures. What surprised him, however, was that when the greenskins were cut by warpstone weapons, although their wounds bled, there was no sign of festering or confusion; instead, they became even more berserk due to the pain.

The Bone Tree roared, throwing away the broken-handled Warhammer, and drawing two short axes from his waist, charged towards the Stormvermin.

A Stormvermin's heavy blade struck his shoulder, splitting his leather armor with a deep, bone-visible wound. Blood gushed out, but the Bone Tree, as if unfazed, swung an axe back, splitting open the opponent's helmet and severing the Stormvermin's head. Black blood and brain matter splattered all over his face.

Just as Iuka's elite forces were tied up, a "rustling" sound suddenly came from the eastern cave entrance—Keziaz had arrived with eight hundred Death Crawlers! These night hobgoblins, draped in black burlap cloaks, rode massive giant spiders, wielding short bows or scimitars, weaving back and forth on the steep rock walls.

A Death Crawler, riding a giant spider, quietly circled behind a Stormvermin, thrusting his scimitar at a gap in the opponent's armor, but it was deflected by the warpstone armor.

The Stormvermin turned and fiercely hacked at the giant spider's leg with his heavy blade. The spider leg was instantly severed, and green fluid gushed out. The giant spider let out a painful shriek, throwing the night hobgoblins off as it fell to the ground.

Before the night hobgoblins could get up, they were surrounded by two Stormvermin. Their heavy blades fell simultaneously, splitting him into three pieces. His internal organs scattered on the ground, attracting several hungry slave rats to fight over them.

The brutality of the battlefield intensified. Airachnid—the five-meter-long Arachnari Giant Spider—joined the main battle.

Its ink-black carapace could easily withstand the Stormvermin's heavy blades, but it was pierced in the abdomen by a Stormvermin's heavy halberd. Green fluid dripped from the halberd tip.

Airachnid let out an angry shriek, fiercely stomping on that Stormvermin, crushing him into a bloody pulp. However, fluid continued to gush from the abdominal wound, and its movements gradually slowed.

Glen rode on Airachnid's back, swinging his great axe. Each hack could split open the Stormvermin's heavy armor, but he was also struck on the thigh by a Stormvermin's heavy blade. Blood streamed down his pants, yet he still clung tightly to the giant spider's fur, refusing to fall.

Kurzadh stood on high ground, watching the greenskins and Skaven constantly falling below, and the hot blood in his heart was also ignited.

Skarsnik and Keziaz's reinforcements had arrived, the Skaven's main force was tied up, and victory was within reach.

He could no longer hold back. He placed Furball, who was in his arms, on his shoulder and patted Furball's head: "Let's go! Let's join the fun too!"

Furball let out an excited growl, his body instantly growing larger, carrying Kurzadh towards the battlefield.

Kurzadh drew the short axe from his waist, looking at Iuka, who was stubbornly resisting ahead, his eyes filled with killing intent—this war with the Squeak Clan should end in blood!

The Squeak Clan never relied on strange creations; they believed in the most primitive way of blood-soaked battle.

warpstone, this chaotic crystal, was never used by them as a material to research deformed monsters. Instead, it was crushed and mixed into the tempering core of armor and weapons—heavy black iron armor glowed with a faint green light, and the edges of heavy swords and halberds were inlaid with tiny warpstone particles.

Every chop and hack carried the cold gleam of chaotic energy, yet it had no corrosive effect on the greenskins , which Iuka always found incomprehensible but could only grit his teeth and accept.

From the top of the cave above the battlefield, a dense rustling sound suddenly came. A hundred night hobgoblins poured out of the rock crevices like a tide.

They clung to the rock wall upside down with all four limbs, their slings rotating at high speed, and Kurzadh bullets wrapped with gravel and rusty iron pieces whizzed down towards the greenskins below.

A hobgoblin spearmen was too slow to dodge, and a stone bullet hit his helmet, instantly denting it. Blood flowed from the helmet's seams, and he screamed as he fell to the ground, quickly torn apart by the charging slave rats.

Another Orc Boyz was hit in the eye by a stone bullet, making him roar in pain and wildly swing his great axe, accidentally injuring his companions.

"A few Boyz! Deal with these wall-crawling scum!" Keziaz's roar came from the rock wall, and a large number of Death Crawler immediately moved.

night hobgoblins, riding giant spiders and cloaked in burlap, moved like ghosts across the steep rock faces, some climbing vertically along the wall, others leaping using protruding rocks, their scimitars and shortbows striking with precision.

One Death Crawler, riding a giant spider, pounced on an upside-down night hobgoblins. Its scimitar flashed, and the night hobgoblins' body was instantly split in half, black blood dripping onto the battlefield below.

Another Death Crawler drew his bow, and an arrow pierced the night hobgoblins' chest, pinning him to the rock wall, where he struggled a few times before falling still.

Death Crawler were already experts in close-quarters and rock wall combat. In a short while, all hundred night hobgoblins were harvested, and the rock wall was covered with their bodies, green spider silk intertwined with black and red blood, a shocking sight.

At the same time, Kurzadh patted Furball's head, followed by the standard-bearer Iron Claw and dozens of orc nob personal guards.

These personal guards were the elite of the Blackrock Clan, each over two meters tall, heavily muscled, wearing the tribe's best quenched iron heavy armor, with squig tusks inlaid on their shoulder plates, and wielding the finest forged great axes or Warhammers.

They ate the tribe's most abundant meat, drank the strongest mushroom wine, and after countless battles, were selected to chew the hardest bones and fight the fiercest battles. Now, they silently followed Kurzadh, their eyes filled with bloodthirsty desire.

"Charge!" Kurzadh commanded, and Furball let out a deafening roar, his body swelling to three meters tall. He stomped all four feet, charging through the battlefield like an out-of-control Warhammers.

The slave rats in front were instantly sent flying, some trampled into meat paste, others slammed into the rock wall, the crisp sound of breaking bones echoing.

Three enormous Carrion rats charged from the side. They were war beasts specially trained by Iuka, with razor-sharp teeth and crude iron armor, attempting to block Kurzadh's path.

A cold light flashed in Kurzadh's eyes, and the WAAAGH! energy within him surged wildly, a pale green magical light enveloping Furball.

"WAAAGH! Charge!" He roared, slapping Furball's neck. The giant beast accelerated sharply, kicking up a shower of rock fragments as it stomped, charging into the Carrion rats like a green lightning bolt.

The first Carrion rats had just opened its mouth when it was violently struck by Furball's head. Its body flew out like a kite with a broken string, crashing into a stone pillar of the temple, its brains splattering.

The second Carrion rats' iron armor was dented, its ribs broken and piercing its internal organs, and it lay on the ground convulsing uncontrollably.

The third tried to circle around for a sneak attack but was violently struck by Furball's tail, its body directly split in two, black blood splattering all over Kurzadh's armor.

Having dealt with the obstructing Carrion rats, Kurzadh's gaze swept across the battlefield, seeing Bone Tree locked in a fierce battle with orc nob and Stormvermin.

The warpstone heavy armor of these elite skaven was exceptionally sturdy, and Bone Tree's short axe could only leave shallow marks on it, leading to a stalemate between the two sides.

Kurzadh's lips curled into a cold sneer, and he formed hand seals, the WAAAGH! energy within him transforming into a strange magical fluctuation—"Death Itch!"

A pale green magical mist instantly permeated the Stormvermin ranks. These elite skaven, who should have been fearless in death, suddenly shivered, their faces contorted in extreme pain.

An itching sensation came from deep within their skin, like countless small insects crawling, spreading throughout their bodies with their blood.

One Stormvermin couldn't help but reach out to scratch, but the stinging pain of the warpstone heavy armor rubbing against his skin did nothing to alleviate the itch.

He roared, tearing off his helmet, and frantically scratched at his face with both hands, his fingernails tearing his skin, bleeding profusely but still not stopping.

Another simply undid the straps of his heavy armor, rolling on the ground with his upper body bare, his entire body covered in scratches, even tearing out his own eyes.

"Now!" Bone Tree seized the opportunity, roaring as he charged.

The Stormvermin, stripped of their heavy armor, were no match. The orc nob' great axes easily split open their chests, and Warhammers smashed their skulls.

The greenskins , like a breached dam, instantly tore through the Stormvermin's formation, charging towards the temple. The clanrat and slave rat along the way were utterly unable to stop them, becoming mere casualties.

Kurzadh's goal had always been only one—Iuka.

Riding Furball, he charged directly towards the Clan Leader in the center of the battlefield.

Iuka was riding a giant Carrion rats, directing the battle. Seeing Kurzadh charging, a fierce glint flashed in his eyes, and he shouted to his son beside him: "Iuka! Come with me! Kill this greenskin scum!"

Iuka's eyes were already red. The wound from Bone Tree's axe was still on his shoulder, black blood soaking his heavy armor.

Hearing his father's command, he immediately raised his warpstone-inlaid heavy sword, riding a medium-sized Carrion rats, forming a pincer attack with Iuka, and charged towards Kurzadh.

"Good timing!" Kurzadh roared excitedly, drawing the short axe from his waist. Furball suddenly stopped, his front hooves rearing up towards Iuka. Iuka reacted quickly, slapping the Carrion rats' head, and the giant beast dodged sideways.

The heavy sword, gleaming with a faint green cold light, slashed towards Kurzadh's waist.

At the same time, Iuka's heavy halberd also thrust from the other side, the warpstone tip flashing with dangerous light, blocking all of stone's escape routes.

This father and son had fought side-by-side for many years, their coordination reaching perfection.

Iuka's heavy sword focused on low attacks, chopping swiftly, the blade wind carrying the chill of warpstone. Iuka's heavy halberd focused on high attacks, thrusting and parrying precisely, each attack aimed at a vital point.

Kurzadh, riding Furball, could only parry left and right. The short axe collided with the heavy sword, creating a loud clang, sparks flying, and Kurzadh's arm went numb from the impact.

He dodged the heavy halberd sideways, the halberd tip grazing his armor, leaving a deep scratch. The warpstone's energy caused a black mist to rise from the armor's surface, but it didn't harm him in the slightest.

"Greenskin scum! Die!" Iuka roared, thrusting his heavy halberd again, while also waving his warpstone scepter at Kurzadh, a black energy wave shooting towards his face.

Kurzadh ducked, and the energy wave hit the rock wall behind him, blasting a small, pitch-black hole, the rock instantly corroding into powder.

Iuka took the opportunity to swing his sword at Furball's leg. The blade cut into the beast's hide, leaving a bone-deep wound. Furball let out a painful whimper, his body staggering slightly.

Kurzadh immediately fell into a defensive position. Iuka and his son's attacks became increasingly dense, heavy swords and halberds raining down like a storm.

He could only barely parry, his arms gradually aching, and his armor also had several gashes.

He knew he couldn't maintain this stalemate any longer. His peripheral vision scanned the battlefield, and he met the gaze of several Vile Stalkers lurking in the shadows.

These hobgoblins in black leather armor instantly understood his meaning, quietly circling behind Iuka and his son, lurking like ghosts in rock crevices and piles of corpses.

Kurzadh took a deep breath, then suddenly deliberately exposed a weakness, revealing his left side to Iuka.

A look of wild joy flashed in Iuka's eyes, and he fiercely swung his heavy sword at Kurzadh's left shoulder.

Just as the blade was about to hit, Kurzadh suddenly slapped Furball, and the giant beast leaped up. At the same time, the short axe in his hand slashed at Iuka's heavy halberd. With a crack, the axe blade cut into the halberd shaft, splitting it in two.

Iuka froze for a moment. Before he could react, Furball's hoof had already stomped on his Carrion rats. The giant beast screamed as it fell to the ground, throwing Iuka off.

Iuka's heavy sword missed its target, and his body rushed forward due to inertia.

Just then, two Vile Stalkers suddenly sprang from the pile of corpses, their poisoned daggers fiercely stabbing into Iuka's lower back—that was a gap in his heavy armor, and his weakness.

Iuka felt a sharp pain, looked down, and saw the dagger had already pierced his body. Black blood flowed down the dagger hilt, and the venom instantly spread throughout his body.

His body began to stiffen, and his heavy sword clanged to the ground.

"Iuka!" Iuka roared, scrambling to his feet. Just as he was about to rush over, another Vile Stalkers pounced from the side, a dagger aimed at his thigh.

Iuka quickly dodged but was grazed by the dagger. Although he avoided a vital point, it still slowed his movements.

Kurzadh seized this fleeting opportunity, swooping down on Furball, his short axe whistling as it slashed at Iuka's neck.

With a squelch, blood gushed out, and Iuka's head was severed, rolling to the ground, his eyes still wide open, filled with unwillingness and fear.

Having dealt with Iuka, Kurzadh turned to look at Iuka.

The old Clan Leader's eyes were filled with despair and madness. He raised his warpstone scepter, and the faint green light all over his body became exceptionally dazzling, clearly intending to detonate the warpstone within him and perish with Kurzadh.

"Greenskin scum! Even if I die, I'll drag you down with me!"

Kurzadh sneered, giving him no chance.

Furball leaped up, his hooves fiercely stomping on Iuka's chest, pinning him firmly to the ground.

Iuka coughed up a mouthful of black blood, his body convulsing, and the warpstone's light gradually dimmed.

Kurzadh jumped off Furball's back, walked over to him, and pressed his short axe against his throat.

"Your Clan is finished, and your son is dead," Kurzadh's voice was cold. "Next life, don't provoke greenskins again."

After speaking, the short axe in his hand chopped down forcefully. Iuka's head rolled to the ground, his eyes fixed on the direction of the temple, which had once been the symbol of his rule, but was now about to be completely occupied by the greenskins .

Kurzadh picked up Iuka's warpstone scepter, weighed it, and casually tossed it to Iron Claw beside him.

"Tell the brothers, full assault on the temple! Loot all the food and valuables, don't let a single skaven escape!"

"WAAAGH!" Iron Claw raised the scepter and shouted loudly.

The greenskins heard the command and instantly boiled over, charging towards the temple like a tide.

The outcome of the battle was decided; the rule of the Squeak Clan completely collapsed at this moment.

The heads of Clan Leader and Iuka rolled onto the ground, black blood spreading through the cracks in the stone slabs, soaking the bone steps in front of the temple.

Kurzadh had originally thought that with the fall of the skaven's supreme leader and heir, this clan, already worn down by famine and bloody conflict, would instantly collapse

just like all the other enemies defeated by the greenskins , scattering and fleeing, ready to be slaughtered.

But reality slapped him hard across the face.

The clanrats who had been scattering suddenly stopped, and the slave rats no longer fled mindlessly; instead, they converged toward the temple like a tide, as if controlled by an invisible hand.

Relying on the wooden houses, stone structures, and narrow alleyways around the temple, they formed temporary defensive lines; some climbed onto the roofs, some burrowed into cellars, and others hid in corners, using short knives, long spears, or even their teeth to launch frantic counterattacks against the pursuing greenskins .

"Damn it! Why aren't these rats running?" Glen cleaved open a clanrat's head with an axe, black blood splattering across his face.

The Orc Boyz around him were also full of confusion; according to greenskin combat logic, once the leader died, the troops should scatter. Yet these skaven not only didn't retreat, they fought even more fiercely. Every building and every alleyway became a stronghold for a fight to the death, with skaven suddenly leaping out from rafters or gutters, dragging greenskins down in mutual destruction.

Kurzadh, riding Furball, stood on the high ground overlooking the battlefield, observing the situation with a deep frown.

He quickly realized that the skaven resistance was not disorganized madness, but clearly commanded

every time the greenskins breached a defensive line, skaven quickly filled the gap; the stone throwing from the rooftops and the charges on the ground coordinated seamlessly, even forming crossfire against overly aggressive greenskins .

"Something is wrong, there's still a Commander." Kurzadh's gaze swept over the temple, finally settling on the high platform at the main entrance.

Standing there was a unique skaven; his head was not covered by the usual gray-black fur of common skaven, but instead grew a clump of bizarre green fuzz, like moss contaminated by Chaos energy.

This skaven wore black iron heavy armor superior to that of ordinary clanrats, had two poisoned short blades hanging from his waist, and held a command baton studded with small pieces of warpstone, screaming shrilly while constantly adjusting the skaven defensive formations.

"That's Damn, Clan Leader's vanguard officer." Yala behind him trembled in fear, his voice laced with tears, "He is the most cunning and vicious; he often bullied the slave rats before... I didn't expect him to still be alive!"

Kurzadh narrowed his eyes, looking at Damn on the high platform.

This skaven looked at the corpses of Clan Leader and Iuka, showing no sadness, but rather a hint of barely concealed ecstasy; his tiny eyes were filled with greed and ambition.

Kurzadh understood instantly

this skaven had long been waiting for Clan Leader and Iuka to die; once they fell, he would become the greatest Commander of the Squeak Clan, and after repelling the greenskins , the position of Clan Leader would naturally be his.

"Dream on." Kurzadh sneered.

Damn was indeed thinking exactly that.

Watching the fierce battle below, his heart pounded uncontrollably

Clan Leader was conservative and cowardly, and Iuka was reckless and incompetent; they should have long ago made way for someone truly capable!

Now, the remaining strength of the entire clan was in his hands. As long as he defended the temple and held out until that "Great weapon" was fully debugged, he could tear open the greenskin encirclement and break out. Then, by gathering the remnants and annexing the surrounding minor clans, Damn would become the new skaven overlord!

"Hold the line! If anyone dares to retreat, they will be thrown to the Carrion rats!" Damn shrieked, pointing his command baton at the greenskins charging at the front, "Priests! Bless the brethren with Bloodlust! Let these greenskins see that the followers of the great horned rat are inexhaustible!"

The side door of the temple opened, and a dozen skaven priests wearing black robes emerged.

They held staffs carved with bizarre runes, performing a twisted dance around the temple while chanting incantations.

Pale purple energy fluctuations spread from them, enveloping the surrounding skaven.

The previously exhausted skaven instantly had bloodshot eyes, their muscles swelled, and they became even more berserk, roaring and fighting back frantically with their weapons, seemingly impervious to pain even when struck by greenskins .

"Damn it! Why did these rats suddenly get so strong?" An orc Boy was tackled by a Bloodlust-blessed clanrat; although he managed to kill the attacker with a backhand swing, a chunk of flesh was bitten clean off his arm, leaving him grimacing in pain.

Kurzadh saw clearly that the priests' Bloodlust blessing not only boosted the skaven's combat strength but also stabilized their morale which was on the verge of collapse.

The cluster of buildings around the temple became the skaven's best barrier

the dense wooden and Kurzadh houses were interconnected, and the narrow alleys only allowed two people to walk abreast. The greenskins' numerical superiority and individual combat strength could not be utilized, and every step forward required heavy casualties.

What was worse, there was a low stone wall surrounding the temple perimeter; although only waist-high, it allowed the skaven to fire from cover, forcing the greenskins who wanted to charge across to expose themselves to dense arrow fire and thrown stones.

"We can't keep fighting like this, the casualties are too high." Bone Tree rode Airachnid back, his heavy armor covered in scratches, and a skaven poison arrow stuck in his shoulder, "The brethren charged three times but couldn't get through; there are too many skaven behind that stone wall!"

Kurzadh nodded, feeling a sense of urgency.

He hadn't expected Damn to hold out so effectively, nor had he anticipated that the skaven possessed priests capable of blessing their combat strength.

Just then, an earth-shattering roar came from the outskirts of the battlefield, as a large number of greenskins poured in from the eastern passage, charging toward the skaven defenses, weapons waving

Gazlowe had arrived with reinforcements!

"Boss! I'm here!" Gazlowe, riding a massive war-spider, slowly traversed the battlefield, a smug smile on his face.

Behind him followed over five hundred fresh greenskin troops, including Orc Boyz, hobgoblin spearmen, and many Big 'Uns wielding cleavers and axes, all looking energetic and clearly having conserved their strength.

Kurzadh's eyes lit up, and he urged Furball forward to meet him: "You finally made it! Where's my treasure?"

Gazlowe grinned, showing a mouthful of uneven, rotten teeth, and clapped his hands.

Several orcs carried a massive machine forward

this device was built from hard oak and black iron, with a heavy iron base, a huge launch trough in the center lined with thick animal hides, several thick springs attached to the back, and the top carved with a squig's grimace pattern.

"Boss, behold! This is the 'Death Dive Catapult'!" Gazlowe introduced proudly, "It was inspired by Dragu, that hobgoblin Tinker, after we stole the cannon from the cloth Brotherhood last time. He used 'orc Kunnin'' to force it into existence! It can launch hobgoblins, and they explode on impact, killing a whole group!"

A flash of excitement crossed Kurzadh's eyes, and he slapped the catapult's casing: "Good stuff! Try it out quickly!"

"It's all ready!" Gazlowe waved, and a hobgoblin was pushed forward.

This hobgoblin's eyes were bloodshot, his face painted with red pigment, and he was screaming wildly, clutching a short knife strapped with explosives

it was a Suicide hobgoblin, specially tasked with suicide attacks in the tribe.

"I'll blow up those rats' nest for you!" the Suicide hobgoblin shouted maniacally, voluntarily leaping into the launch trough.

Several orcs immediately turned the levers beside it, and the springs were tightly compressed, making a "Creak, creak" sound.

"Aim at the temple entrance! Fire!" Kurzadh commanded.

The orcs released the levers, the springs instantly rebounded, and the enormous force violently launched the Suicide hobgoblin from the trough.

The hobgoblin traced a bizarre arc through the sky, still screaming, and smashed heavily into the stone wall entrance of the temple like a green cannonball.

"Boom!"

The explosives instantly detonated; the massive shockwave blew out a corner of the stone wall, sending debris flying and kicking up dust.

Dozens of clanrats guarding the entrance were instantly killed in the blast, their bodies torn apart, black blood and organs splattering the temple door.

The skaven who miraculously survived were stunned by the shockwave, lying on the ground convulsing uncontrollably.

Damn on the high platform was completely dumbfounded.

He widened his eyes, staring at the demolished stone wall and the corpses littering the ground, his smugness instantly replaced by terror.

He never imagined that the greenskins possessed such a bizarre weapon!

"Quick! Hurry up and debug it! Get that weapon ready quickly!" Damn screamed hysterically into the temple, his voice so sharp it sounded like he had been stepped on, "It will be too late if you wait any longer!"

From deep within the temple came the sound of turning gears and clashing metal.

Hidden there was Damn's last hope

ten "Great weapons" traded from the Skryre skaven clan, trump cards he had spent half a year acquiring with countless amounts of grain and slaves.

As long as these weapons were fully debugged, he could use them to tear open the greenskin encirclement and even counterattack and kill these damned greenskins !

Kurzadh looked at the demolished stone wall, a satisfied smile appearing on his face.

Urging Furball forward, he shouted to the greenskins around him: "Brothers! Charge! Smash this rat nest! Steal all their food ! Kill all their skaven! WAAAGH!"

"WAAAGH!" The greenskins instantly erupted, their morale greatly boosted.

Glen led the Orc Boyz to charge the gap in the stone wall first, Bone Tree followed closely riding Airachnid, while the Death Crawler units scaled the rock face, attempting to breach the temple from the side.

Deep within the temple, the ten mysterious "Great weapons" were still being debugged, the sound of turning gears becoming increasingly frantic.

Damn gripped the command baton in his hand, his eyes fixed on the charging greenskins , with only one thought in his mind

he absolutely had to hold out until the weapons were ready!

The roar of Death Crawler catapults was deafening in the underground cavern, the mechanical frames of oak and black iron creaking as springs pulled them, each rebound accompanied by the frenzied shrieks of Suicide hobgoblins.

These hobgoblins, their minds clouded by stimulants and tribal glory, clutched tightly to bundles of explosives traded from the dwarves—black squares wrapped in layers of oilcloth, filled with saltpeter and sulfur, powerful enough to collapse thick rock walls.

"Fire! Blast these rats to kingdom come!" Gazlowe stood by the catapult, waving his wrench and roaring at the Orc Boyz operating it.

The Orc Boyz abruptly released the joystick, and the springs instantly unleashed their stored power, launching a Suicide hobgoblin violently into the sky.

He arced green through the air, a corner of the explosive bundle in his arms flapping in the wind, revealing a glimmering spark.

"For the Blackrock Clan! WAAAGH!" The hobgoblin's shout had not yet faded when he crashed heavily into the wooden hut area on the west side of the temple.

"Boom!"

A violent explosion instantly engulfed the entire area, wooden beams from the huts were sent flying, shattered rocks and wood splinters scattered everywhere, and black and red skaven corpses flew like broken kites, smashing against distant rock walls, leaving behind gruesome bloodstains.

The shockwave from the explosion made the surrounding greenskins' eardrums ache; slave rats near the explosion's center were directly torn to shreds by the blast, black blood and organs splattered all over the surrounding stone walls, and the air was thick with gunpowder smoke and the stench of blood.

This was just the beginning.

Death Crawler catapults fired one after another, Suicide hobgoblins like green cannonballs, raining down densely on the defensive fortifications around the temple.

Some landed in narrow alleys, and after the explosives detonated, the collapsing rocks directly blocked the skaven's retreat; others struck gaps in the stone walls, pulverizing clanrats attempting to repair the defenses; still others even directly smashed into the temple's stone pillars, which collapsed with a crash, crushing large numbers of skaven priests hiding beneath.

Repeated explosions not only inflicted devastating casualties on the skaven but also completely crushed their morale.

Those skaven whose fighting spirit was maintained by bloodlust began to waver amidst the continuous explosions; some clanrats threw down their weapons, attempting to escape through tunnels, only to be cut down on the spot by the execution squad sent by Damn; the slave rats were even more terrified, trembling on the ground, unable to even move.

"Charge! Break into the temple and seize the food !" Glen seized the opportunity, brandishing his great axe, and led the charge towards the gap in the stone wall.

The greenskins surged like a breached dam through the gap into the temple's outer perimeter; Orc Boyz swung their axes and Warhammers, cutting down the surviving skaven; hobgoblin spearmen formed dense spear formations, advancing step by step, pushing the skaven towards the temple's main entrance; Death Crawlers, riding giant spiders, climbed the temple walls, firing arrows from above, precisely shooting down skaven hiding in corners.

The buildings around the temple were occupied by greenskins one by one, and the skaven's defensive positions steadily retreated, quickly being forced to the temple's main entrance.

Just one more step, and they could rush into the temple, completely destroying the Squeak Clan's last resistance.

Kurzadh, riding Furball, stood at the rear of the formation, looking at the increasingly close temple gate, a victorious smile on his face—he could already imagine, after rushing into the temple, plundering all the food , warpstone, and valuables, completely wiping this cunning skaven clan from the underground.

But just then, the temple gate suddenly burst open with a "Boom."

Damn emerged from within, accompanied by a dozen Stormvermin clad in heavy armor.

In their hands, they held an unprecedented weapon—a cylindrical device made of black iron, its body covered with heat dissipation holes, its front arrayed with six menacing gun barrels, its base connected to a magazine full of bullets, and etched with eerie warpstone runes; it was none other than the skaven clan's ultimate killing machine—the ratling gun!

Even more horrifying to the greenskins was that Damn was followed by nine more Stormvermin, each carrying an identical ratling gun, and beside each ratling gun was a clanrat specifically responsible for feeding ammunition, their hands cradling belts filled with warpstone bullets, their eyes feverishly fixed on the approaching greenskins .

"Greenskin trash! Taste my power!" Damn's face was contorted in a frenzied grin, his green fur standing on end from excitement.

He abruptly pulled the ratling gun's trigger, and the six barrels instantly began to spin at high speed, emitting a terrifying "whirring" sound.

"Whizz! Whizz! Whizz!"

Countless warpstone bullets, glowing with an eerie green light, spewed from the gun barrels, forming a dense barrage that mercilessly swept towards the greenskins charging at the front.

The greenskins were completely unprepared, caught off guard in an instant.

The first few Orc Boyz charging at the front were instantly riddled with holes, the warpstone bullets penetrating their heavy armor, leaving smoking blood holes in their bodies, black blood gushing out; they didn't even have time to scream before collapsing to the ground, twitching a few times and then falling silent.

A hobgoblin spearmen tried to block with his spear, but his arm was directly shattered by the bullets, the intense pain eliciting a mournful wail, but the next second, more bullets struck his chest, tearing his body to shreds.

The greenskin charge formation instantly collapsed, those in front falling one after another, those behind unable to dodge, tripping to the ground, and soon engulfed by the dense barrage, suffering heavy casualties.

"Get down! Scatter!" Bone Tree roared.

He had once fought against human musketeers and had a deep understanding of the power of such firearms.

Although his shoulder was also struck by a warpstone bullet, the intense pain made his vision blur, his heavy armor was pierced, and black blood flowed from the wound, but he still held on, falling to the ground while roaring at the greenskins around him.

The greenskins reacted, falling to the ground or taking cover in the buildings on either side.

Bullets struck rocks, sparking; hit wood, sending splinters flying; struck greenskin armor, making a "Clanging" sound, many armors were pierced, and greenskins screamed and fell, the entire battlefield instantly enveloped in an atmosphere of despair.

Kurzadh, riding on Furball's back, looked at the ratling guns in front, glowing green and firing wildly, and was completely stunned.

His eyes widened, his face filled with disbelief—how could these skaven, who only knew brute force and warpstone melee combat, possess such high-tech firearms? The power of this thing was even more terrifying than human musketeers!

"Damn it! Where did these rats get this junk!" Kurzadh couldn't help but curse, his heart bleeding as he watched the greenskins continuously fall.

These were his brothers, the most elite warriors of the Blackrock Clan, suffering heavy casualties in front of such bizarre weapons, which made him both angry and anxious.

Meanwhile, Damn at the temple gate had completely descended into madness.

He gripped the ratling gun's trigger tightly, unwilling to let go; the six barrels glowed red from continuous firing, warpstone bullets were constantly consumed, and empty casings fell to the ground with a "Clanging" sound, piling up into small mountains.

He watched the fleeing, heavily wounded greenskins , a twisted smile on his face, continuously shrieking: "Kill! Kill you all! I am the Clan Leader! I am the overlord of the underground!"

The Stormvermin around him were equally fanatical; the ratling gun's barrage never ceased, the dense bullets forming a net of death, turning the area in front of the temple gate into a forbidden zone.

The greenskins were pinned down dozens of steps from the temple gate, completely unable to approach, only able to lie on the ground, watching their comrades continuously fall, yet utterly helpless.

Gazlowe hid behind a rock, looking somewhat disheveled.

Although his Death Crawler catapults were powerful, they couldn't withstand this dense barrage; as soon as he showed his head, he would be riddled with holes.

"Boss, what do we do now? This damn thing is too powerful!" He shouted towards Kurzadh's direction, a hint of helplessness in his voice.

Kurzadh gritted his teeth, his eyes fixed on the ratling guns ahead.

He knew they couldn't continue like this; if they kept being swept by gunfire, his brothers would eventually all be killed.

They had to find a way to destroy these ratling guns, otherwise, they might lose this war!

But the ratling gun's barrage was too dense; there was no chance to get close.

Kurzadh's mind raced, his gaze sweeping the battlefield, trying to find a way to break through.

He saw Bone Tree lying on the ground, Glen hiding behind the buildings, and the Death Crawler catapults still firing in the distance; a bold idea gradually formed in his mind.

"Gazlowe!" Kurzadh shouted to the distant hobgoblin, "Keep using the catapults! Aim for those ratling guns! Even if you can't blow them up, you have to break their barrage!"

"Boss, but..." Gazlowe hesitated; the catapults weren't very accurate and might hit their own people.

"Stop talking nonsense! Hurry!" Kurzadh roared, "It'll be too late if we wait any longer!"

Gazlowe dared not disobey and immediately ordered the Orc Boyz operating the catapults: "Aim for those ratling guns! Fire! Fire quickly!"

Several Orc Boyz immediately adjusted the catapults' angles, targeting the ratling gun positions in front of the temple gate.

A Suicide hobgoblin, clutching an even larger bundle of explosives, frantically leaped into the catapult slot, shrieking: "For the mushroom wine! WAAAGH!"

The Orc Boyz released the joystick, and the Suicide hobgoblin flew like a green cannonball towards the ratling gun positions in front of the temple gate.

Damn saw the flying hobgoblin, his smile instantly freezing; he immediately swung the ratling gun's muzzle, aiming at the Suicide hobgoblin in the air.

"Whizz! Whizz! Whizz!"

Dense bullets shot towards the Suicide hobgoblin, forming a green barrage in the air.

The Suicide hobgoblin's body was instantly struck, blood gushing out, but he still clung tightly to the explosives, using his last ounce of strength to lunge towards the ratling guns.

"Boom!"

A violent explosion erupted again, this time, the center of the blast was precisely the ratling gun position.

A Stormvermin, unable to dodge, was blown to death on the spot; the ratling gun in his hand was also blown away, smashing to the ground, its barrels twisted and deformed, no longer usable.

Damn was thrown back a few steps by the shockwave, black blood oozing from the corner of his mouth, his madness instantly replaced by rage: "Damn greenskins ! I'll kill you all!"

He immediately ordered the remaining Stormvermin to adjust their angles and continue sweeping.

But just then, Bone Tree, who was lying on the ground, suddenly roared: "Brothers! Now's the time! Charge!"