Among newly appearing warriors, there were some with spears, some with swords, and even one with an arrow; apart from their smoke-colored eyes, they looked just like normal humans.
"Six Prisoners, your duty is to kill that orc!"
Humans Severo called out to didn't answer; they would only move toward the target he showed with his hand.
"Do you want me to help?"
"It is his fight, not mine; if needed, he can ask for it himself!"
When Ainle spoke for the half-orc surrounded by enemies, Nafız's answer was very short. She thought the child, who didn't give anything away while dealing with Severo, must have some trump cards under his hand.
At the same moments, the Number Two of the Black Lilies, taking the support of a group of warriors by his side, wasn't staying idle either; instead of supporting his team from behind, he was attacking together with them.
Unlike him, none of the six warriors were using soul-based attacks; while the half-orc retreated step by step, he was dealing with an attack barrage formed by many weapons.
"Come on speak again, what happened, are you out of breath?"
Severo was shouting by scattering saliva from his mouth at these moments; it was very obvious that he enjoyed the state of his enemy, on whose leather armor scars appeared.
"You can cut off his arms and legs, just don't kill him!"
The long-haired man, who wouldn't be comfortable without torturing his enemy, was raining orders incessantly on the six warriors who became his subordinates, and on the other hand, he was swinging the soul energy he gathered on his sword ruthlessly.
"Are you sure help isn't needed?"
Ainle would repeat his question once more; seemingly, things weren't going to a good place at all. Nafız didn't break her silence in the face of this; she was examining the half-orc's movements with careful eyes.
"Cut him, separate his flesh from his bones!"
When Severo shouted, the target of a warrior swinging his spear roughly was the waist part of the orc warrior; his aim wasn't a thrusting movement with his long weapon but a sweep to disturb the opponent's balance.
The half-orc was lucky because he was dealing with a friend in front of him; with this movement he would make by approaching from behind, they would be able to finish off the enemy.
The spear was about to touch the thin leather armor, but a hand appearing suddenly managed to prevent it by grabbing it. The half-orc was thrown backward as if he had been waiting for this for a long time; the target of the daggers in his hand was the warrior who got his weapon caught.
This person wanted to protect himself by swinging his fist but it was in vain; the half-orc had already locked onto his head and hadn't stopped without stabbing his weapons. No blood flowed when two ash-colored weapons came out of the enemy's body; the man dispersing slowly turned into grey smoke silently and disappeared.
"No, impossible!"
Words belonged to Severo; someone not seeing him could think the reason for these words was for the killed warrior, but the long-haired man was looking elsewhere right now.
His eye was on the owner of the hand preventing the spear blow that would land on the half-orc's waist. Just like him, the person whose grabbed spear disappeared slowly was also looking at him.
"Do I need to introduce you?"
The half-orc, grinning insidiously, was making fun of the astonished state of his enemy seeing the man standing right beside him; the Number Two of the Black Lilies, seeing someone he didn't expect at all opposite him, was truly shattered.
"This, this isn't real!"
"Ha ha ha, so it is possible to recreate dead people but impossible for the living ones, is that so?"
Although Severo couldn't believe his eyes, the half-orc's words were true. From his long hair to the finest detail of the armor he wore and even to the annoying smile on his face, the person he looked at was himself.
"You gave me so much soul power that recreating you became child's play for me!"
The eyes of the half-orc, looking at the man standing beside him with the crescent-shaped sword in his hand, were very cold compared to his words; he didn't resemble the constantly fleeing orc a little while ago at all.
"Come on bastard of the Black Lilies, the time has come for me to take your life!"
Bookworm's son, standing back to back with his enemy's image, took his war stance and fixed his feet firmly on the ground; this had only one meaning, the fleeing chapter was over now.
The young orc's situation was like the summary of the entire battlefield; the war starting as the struggle of two opposing fronts had taken a geometrically weird shape due to strong people emerging. There was no one else in the area where Maria de León and Bookworm struggled; both the existence of giant animals and disproportionate attacks of two people led to this.
On the other hand, Dragan, chased by Wind of Death, was constantly wandering in areas where the war continued intensely; while harming everyone, friend or foe, with traps he set on the way, the mercenary wasn't thinking for a moment.
Of course, there was something the man, almost untouchable inside his pitch-black armor, didn't know; the woman's husband opposite him was approaching him with all his speed. Although he would learn this with the sword blow landing on his armor a few breaths later, it would be a little late for him.
"Çekiçdöven!"
The female orc warrior was surprised when she saw her husband surrounded by dark green energy, but what really astonished her was the lineage power she felt.
"No need to worry, thanks to the shield around me, I will be able to fight without losing myself!"
While the husband and wife talked, Dragan, getting up from where he was thrown, was looking at the newcomer with eyes full of fear; although protected by the Black Hole, it hadn't been possible for him not to feel this blow.
'Just the time to run' the mercenary thought inwardly, but his movements had slowed down significantly due to the pressure an invisible force made on his body.
"What is happening!"
The Commander-in-Chief of the Army of Four Civilizations was in panic; he was experiencing the shock of wanting to run madly but moving as if in slow motion at the same time.
"Warrior's Rage!"
Wind of Death would activate the lineage power she inherited from her father for the first time; the orc woman looking for the appropriate time since the beginning of her war with Dragan had taken action.
"Metal Forest!"
The mercenary, whose movements were restricted, was murmuring vaguely when he threw a disk he grabbed into his hand to the ground; Leonardo, who could see his movements albeit from afar, would shout loudly.
"Everyone run, get away from the mercenary!"
Unfortunately, orcs hadn't developed enough to move at the speed of sound yet; despite all his good intentions, everyone inside the area having a diameter of one hundred meters was imprisoned by giant thorns coming out of the ground suddenly.
Lucky ones able to survive were very few; as soon as metal thorns whose heights could reach up to three times a normal human burst out from under the ground, they had riddled thousands of humans and orcs with holes.
"I, Dragan, will not die here!"
When the mercenary played one of his trump cards, he was slowly starting to gain self-confidence; words he constantly mumbled in his mouth were like a kind of prayer said for good fortune.
"Scoundrels, they told me they had this made only to defend themselves!"
How did the master know what would happen? This weapon was one of the concessions he gave for the utopia world he tried to establish on the Wild Swamp. The Machine Empire had specially ordered this device from him, which would cause great losses by being thrown into enemy forces during any siege.
Leonardo was shouting with anger, just like Çekiçdöven swinging his broad-bladed sword inside the same Metal Forest without minding metal thorns piercing his skin.
The orc warrior under Warrior's Rage was one of the people as few as fingers on a hand surviving this attack together with his wife, but the bodies of his kinsmen riddled with holes would ensure he went mad.
"I will kill, I will kill you!"
Çekiçdöven, clearing a few thorns from his path with every blow, was advancing rapidly toward where Dragan was; together with his wife helping him with her giant hammer, they were burning in flames.