The covers were lifted, and black cannons with color transitions bordering on red were revealed. After being fired, they sent fire beads onto the enemy from their barrels that would become ember red.
There was no word to fully describe the atrocity that would happen afterward. Accompanied by screams that wouldn't stop for a long time, orc warriors were practically melting like candles. The smell of burning covered the battlefield. With the smoke rising as the archers who had frozen before also joined this torch, they were forming a thick black column between the sky and the earth.
This scene aroused horror not only on Siyahayı's front but also in the first army of the siege forces. Everyone, including those seeing these weapons for the first time and those witnessing test shots, grasped the horror of the power in their hands better.
Since he had been working on this job for a long time, Kitapkurdu was observing what happened without the slightest mimic on his face. The place they were in was a battlefield; they had no other way than using whatever they had in their hands.
The effects of the attack made in the morning lasted until the sun rose to the top. Despite all the efforts of the defense ranks, extinguishing the fire was barely possible.
This time the loss was great; in the first ice attack, archers on duty on the wall had died, but as a result of the disaster created by fire beads, a section of the main army soldiers waiting behind had burned.
The Main Orc Tribe, falling into a troubled situation regarding population after three regions slipped from their hands, was in a constant struggle to respond to ceaselessly continuing harassment and take back the lost places.
Their forces, formerly consisting of over a million warriors, remained around seven hundred and fifty thousand as of the moment. When they sent about a hundred and fifty thousand of these to prevent the enemy from filling inside the walls through the opened gap, the number would drop to six hundred thousand.
Another side of the business was that orc warriors weren't advancing to the place where their friends turned to ash by burning, even if their commanders gave the order. Now was the time of opportunity for Alyon's army; while the second army kept the enemy busy from the other side, he went on the attack dragging half of the three hundred thousand warriors he had behind him.
"Attack!"
As a result of rushing forward with his order, his warriors came to great enthusiasm. There was a scene in front of them they hadn't seen before. Their chief, ruler of three regions, was leading the attack together with his daughter and grandson beside him. How could their blood not boil, how could they stand in their places?
They rushed forward with war cries that would make the earth and sky groan. Immediately a division would pass in front of their chief with the passion of crushing and passing the enemy during the first collision. The soldiers of the Main Orc Tribe were in fear; no matter what their commanders at their head said, they weren't taking a step forward from where they were. Thirty steps remained for the warriors of the siege armies to reach the demolished walls when a voice they would hear would bring them to their senses.
"What are you waiting for? Everyone to your places!"
This was a voice they would recognize the moment they heard it wherever it was. It belonged to the man ruling them with an iron fist for years, Siyahayı. The Orc Lord was just coming out of the depression he entered before the war at noon on the second day, and the scene he saw when he threw himself out was a disaster.
The walls he was sure like his name would defend them for a moon cycle were leveled to the ground on just the second day, and while the enemy flocked onto them, his own warriors had practically turned to stone. Warriors hearing their Lord's voice would practically obey the order automatically; even if their consciousness said otherwise, they were diving headfirst into the danger of death.
"Their chief also went on the attack; they can't shoot from a distance. Don't be afraid, meet the enemy!"
Enemy commanders recognizing Alyon were shouting to give morale to their soldiers. If the big guns descended to the front, it meant the business turned to wrist strength. Although they exerted all their efforts, they couldn't escape being late. Siege armies were entering inside high walls like waters overflowing from a collapsed dam. The Main Orc Tribe, missing the opportunity to squeeze the opponent in a narrow area, switched to chest-to-chest war status and pulled their shields in front of them against the army coming onto them destroying everything.
"Hit, crush, pass! Today is the day, my warriors!"
Seeing the shield wall appearing before them, Alyon roared with a tone of voice that would arouse horror inside a person when heard. Not only did he raise morale, but taking the leadership of the attack, he left futile efforts helpless with the giant war hammer, the loot of the first life-or-death battle.
"Bammm!"
The noise produced reached the ears of Nafız standing at the head of the new weapons. More than a dozen orcs scattering into the air was a bonus.
"Stop hiding, thief! Step forward and fight like a man!"
Alyon, stomping like a raging bull, was calling out to Orc Lord Siyahayı insolently after his every blow. Saying one, three, five, a deep rift formed inside the orcs standing like a sea of warriors.
Was it possible to stop the hulking orc locked onto his target together with the brave warriors coming after him? Along with family members right behind him, they had fixed their eyes on the head of the man with a black bear pelt on his back.
"Shut your mouth, marauder! Your hands cannot reach my noble father!"
Siyahayı's son couldn't control his nerves and rushed towards the front. Soldiers in front of him immediately opened a way for him, ensuring he reached the enemy commander coming from the opposite direction.
When a distance of thirty steps remained between him and Alyon, the young lord's self-confidence had hit the ceiling. While catching the chance to show himself to his father, in whose shadow he remained all his life, he had no intention of stopping.
The commander of the siege army was coming fighting. He, on the other hand, was charging full throttle through the sea of warriors parting in two in front of him. He would be the advantageous side at the moment of collision.
"Son, stop! Retreat immediately!"
The young lord, thinking the owner of the sounds suddenly ringing in his ears was where his father left him, had no intention of turning back from his decision even though he was surprised at what he heard. Actually, since he rushed with ambition, his father had gone after him two breaths later. Although he begged a few times, he couldn't make his voice reach his child.
Increasing his speed a bit more and turning him from the path was his only chance, but unfortunately, passing years ensured orcs lost some things too. Maybe they wouldn't die as long as they received sufficient nutrients, but the vigor of those youth years was also flying away slowly.
When his son came face to face with his enemy, a shadow at least as imposing as him leaped from behind the hulking orc. The person preparing to make her strike along with her magnificent axe was none other than Yarmagül. Observing events while coming behind Alyon, she had maintained her momentum by opening the distance with her father a bit to be able to respond to the rapidly approaching enemy.
"Poof!"
When the weapon coming from the reward dungeon hit the metal armor, there should have been a hard collision sound and sparks scattering around, but this time the expected didn't happen. When Yarmagül, the upper hand of the duo colliding at full speed, hit her halberd upwards from the enemy's waist, the lord's son took off like a balloon leaking air.
There was only someone flying scattering blood along with the disturbing effect given by the sound of flesh caving in. Although the image was frightening, an expression shouting she wasn't pleased caught the eye on Yarmagül's face. She was upset that half of the blow into which she put her speed, power, and technique went to waste. While even the first contact was enough to kill her enemy, how could Yarmagül be happy?