Chapter 247: The Emperor's End

Outside the Luonan Imperial Capital, the chieftains of the major orc tribes stood beside the ballistae supplied by the White Castle, chatting and laughing as they watched the distant city walls enveloped in heavy fire.

Watching the fierce assault mounted by the "puppet army," one of the orc chieftains marveled.

"These Luonan Empire traitors actually have some strength. Why did they just throw the gates open and surrender the moment they faced our orc army?"

"Hmph!"

Another chieftain flourished his Warhammer and roared with bold pride.

"Because the Orc Race is invincible! Raaaargh!"

Hearing the roar from the front lines, the orc soldiers gathered behind the chieftains began hollering in excitement.

Standing at the very front of the group, Sodmar Warcry—the beastman grand chieftain—heard the brazen chieftain's arrogant declaration and chuckled dismissively.

After all, bragging was a victor's prerogative. Such declarations were great for morale, as proven by the soldiers echoing the excited roars.

Of course, any wise orc knew the real reason the Orc Race had won so easily.

The immediate cause was obvious: the sheer might of the orc army laying siege to the city had plunged the defenders into absolute despair.

But there were many indirect causes.

Chief among them was the betrayal of the Kingdom Alliance, which had completely shattered humanity's psychological defenses. Some men might not fear dying in battle, but they absolutely feared dying for nothing.

Pondering further, Sodmar Warcry felt the White Dragon Lord's edict against massacres was another major factor.

Most humans were afraid of death. If the orcs had followed tradition and slaughtered every living thing in their path, those surrendered cities would have likely fought to the bitter end—just like lone wolves backed into a corner on the savanna.

Framed that way, Sodmar felt he finally understood why the White Dragon Lord had forbidden the slaughter of civilians.

'The wisdom of such a being is simply beyond my current understanding,' the beastman grand chieftain mused, falling into deep thought.

Beside him, the chief of the Blood Axe Clan—Gnosh Bloodaxe—interrupted his thoughts.

"Grand Chieftain, look! There is a true warrior on that wall. I request to lead the vanguard!"

Gnosh Bloodaxe stared at Count Saroyan, who was fighting off ten men at once on the wall. He licked his lips in excitement, a bloodthirsty gleam sharpening his eyes.

Sodmar Warcry looked up at the wall. While he had been lost in thought, the Catapults and ballistae had stopped firing. The "puppet army" had already raised their siege ladders and begun scaling the ramparts.

Even from a distance, Sodmar Warcry could clearly make out the figure swinging a Greatsword, single-handedly holding back a swarm of puppet soldiers from that section of the wall.

The enemy numbers were few, but they fought without any fear of death. The puppet soldiers scaling the wall had utterly failed to establish a foothold.

Sodmar narrowed his eyes.

"Gnosh! He's yours!"

Gnosh Bloodaxe flourished his Scarlet Battleaxe. His muscles pulled taut, trembling faintly in anticipation. He was just waiting for the battlefield's supreme commander—Sodmar Warcry—to give the word, and he would be the first to charge.

Sodmar nodded in satisfaction at the chieftain's display. Having led the Orc Race for years, he naturally recognized that Gnosh Bloodaxe shared a deep connection with the White Dragon Lord.

Yet despite having such a massive backer, Gnosh had never disobeyed orders on the battlefield—even when the sheer pressure of war left him trembling uncontrollably.

Calm, brave, and strong!

And he had a powerful backer, too!

The future was incredibly bright for such an outstanding young orc.

Thinking of this, Sodmar felt a twinge of envy toward Gnosh's sheer luck in meeting the White Dragon Lord.

Up on the ramparts, the puppet army had started suffering massive casualties. Sodmar decided it was time.

"Blood Axe Clan! Broken Tooth Clan! Stubborn Stone Clan!"

"Here!"

The three called chieftains quickly stepped forward, bloodlust shining in their eyes. Being summoned now could only mean one thing: they were the vanguard.

"I command you! For the great Orc Race and the great Guardians—seize the gates of the Luonan Imperial Capital!"

"Yes!"

The three chieftains sprinted excitedly toward their respective clans. Being chosen as the vanguard by the grand chieftain was a mark of ultimate recognition—a tremendous honor.

Gnosh Bloodaxe vaulted onto his worg, spurred it to the front of the Blood Axe Clan, and hoisted his battleaxe high.

"Move it, you whelps! Charge with me!"

Arooo!

A thunderous cheer answered him. Gnosh Bloodaxe led the charge, racing straight for the walls of the Luonan Imperial Capital. Behind him, the wolf cavalry of the Blood Axe Clan urged their worgs forward, following right on their chieftain's heels.

Because the Blood Axe Clan had brought only the absolute elite of their forces this time, their numbers were relatively small, and every single warrior was mounted on a worg. This allowed them to swiftly leave the other two clans and their infantry entirely in the dust.

Before long, the Blood Axe Clan neared the walls. The puppet soldiers clustered at the base of the ramparts hurriedly scrambled to clear a path.

Gnosh led his clan through the opening, dismounting at the foot of the wall. With his battleaxe in one hand, he grabbed a siege ladder and scrambled upward, using both hands and feet.

The clash of weapons and fanatical battle cries echoing from above made the approaching orcs' hearts pound. Fiery battlelust flared in their eyes as they scaled the ladders even faster.

Gnosh was the first to vault over the parapet. The instant his boots hit the stone, a Greatsword swept toward his legs, whistling through the air.

He hurriedly blocked with his Scarlet Battleaxe, immediately feeling a massive surge of force travel up the haft. Only after parrying the strike did he have a moment to look at his attacker.

It was the commander of the Imperial City Guard—Count Saroyan!

Gnosh locked eyes with the valiant count, and Count Saroyan glared right back at the towering, agile orc.

Seeing his first strike fail, Saroyan instantly withdrew his Greatsword and thrust it straight at the chieftain's stomach.

Gnosh reacted quickly, nimbly dodging atop a nearby merlon and bringing his axe crashing down from high above.

Saroyan was forced to step back and create distance. Seizing the opening, Gnosh leaped down from the merlon, landing solidly on a walkway slick with corpses.

By then, hordes of Blood Axe orcs had scaled the wall. Roaring like beasts, they charged into the fray, brandishing their heavy weapons and unleashing a bloody wind and bloody rain.

Yet they tacitly gave Count Saroyan a wide berth, leaving the prey to their chieftain.

Count Saroyan raised his Greatsword, gripping the hilt firmly with both hands. His eyes remained locked on the orc before him; the war banner strapped to the creature's back told Saroyan he was facing a chieftain.

"Come on, you monster!"

Gnosh grasped his battleaxe with both hands, turning sideways as he leveled the weapon. His frantically pounding heart flooded his body with heat, and the boiling blood surging through his veins screamed at him to tear his opponent to pieces.

Yet his eyes were unusually calm and clear—like a wolf stalking its prey on the savanna.

Finally, Gnosh moved. He unleashed an angry roar, raising his axe high and bringing it down right at Count Saroyan's head. The blade cleaved through the air with a vicious howl.

Saroyan desperately twisted his body aside, dodging the blow.

The battleaxe smashed into the stone, gouging a deep crater in the wall and sending a spray of shattered rock flying.

In a sweeping counter, Saroyan's Greatsword carved a lethal arc through the air, whining as it sliced toward the chieftain's waist.

If that strike connected, Gnosh had no doubt he would be chopped clean in half.

But the chieftain had intentionally held back a fraction of his strength on his initial swing. He swiftly yanked his battleaxe back, blocking at his waist.

The Greatsword slammed into the battleaxe and was solidly repelled.

Gnosh lunged inside the man's guard and threw a brutal kick right at Saroyan's stomach.

Saroyan bent his knees and sprang backward, narrowly avoiding the massive boot.

The two tangled into a fierce melee. Gnosh held the upper hand with his superior strength, but Saroyan was an experienced veteran. He dodged the orc's attacks with perfect timing and seized every opening to strike back.

For the moment, even Gnosh could do nothing to break the greatest empire's Imperial City Guard commander.

Unlike the deadlocked duel between the leaders, the overall battle on the ramparts was completely one-sided. With terrifying enemies like the Blood Axe Clan joining the fray, casualties among the city guards skyrocketed.

By the time the other two orc clans finally reached the walls, the stone walkway was practically carpeted with corpses. Only a tiny fraction of the defenders remained, backed into corners and stubbornly resisting the relentless onslaught of the Blood Axe orcs.

The battle was drawing to a close.

The growing horde of orcs swarming the wall heaped massive psychological pressure on Count Saroyan. During one dodge, he failed to notice a corpse behind him and lost his footing as he landed.

In a clash between masters, even the tiniest mistake could be fatal—let alone a blunder of this magnitude.

Gnosh seized the opportunity. He took a massive stride forward and brought his axe crashing down on Count Saroyan.

Off-balance and thoroughly drained from their intense duel, Saroyan simply couldn't bring his weapon up in time. Gnosh's battleaxe cleaved squarely into his left shoulder.

The chieftain's devastating blow shredded right through the man's armor, nearly hacking the Imperial City Guard commander in half.

Blood sprayed outward!

Clang!

The heavy Greatsword slipped from his calloused hands and slammed into the bloodstained stone. Count Saroyan felt his eyelids growing unbearably heavy. He thought of his three children who had died at Blade Fortress; their past smiles felt as fresh as yesterday.

"I'm sorry, Saman, Glor, Sindnor... your father couldn't avenge you."

Gnosh yanked his battleaxe free, and Count Saroyan collapsed to the ground.

Having slain his formidable foe, Gnosh raised his bloodied battleaxe high, throwing his head back in a euphoric, bloodthirsty roar.

Count Saroyan's death ignited a furious fire in the surviving soldiers' hearts, driving them into a fearless, suicidal frenzy against the enemy.

But against the absolute strength of the orcs, these dying death-throes accomplished very little. One by one, the soldiers followed Count Saroyan into the grave.

Gnosh flicked his battleaxe, shaking the blood from the blade, before bending down to pick up the Greatsword.

It was his spoil of war!

Then, lifting his chin with fierce pride, he stepped over the corpses and led the orcs down the stairs on the inner side of the wall.

Reaching the gates, the vanguard raised the portcullis, threw the massive doors wide open, and lowered the drawbridge to welcome the main orc army into the city.

Beastman Grand Chieftain Sodmar Warcry rode an imposing black worg, a Single-Edged War Saber strapped to his back, as he led the main force into the Luonan Imperial Capital.

Three thousand years ago, it was the founder of this very city—the Blade Emperor—who had driven the Orc Race from the heart of the Madilan World. On the ruins of the Orc Empire, he had built a mighty nation that dominated the continent for millennia.

But now!

The orcs had returned!

Sodmar was practically shaking with emotion. Astride his worg, he led his army down the imperial avenue at an unhurried pace, casting a conqueror's gaze over the buildings lining the streets.

But his true focus never wavered from the end of the avenue: a set of colossal gates studded with golden rivets. That was the residence of the Luonan Empire's emperor.

The imperial avenue stretched for over a kilometer, and Sodmar and his orcs relished every single step.

Piercing the wind-whipped dust, the army drew closer and closer. The very seams between the stones of the imperial palace walls slowly snapped into sharp focus in Sodmar's vision.

These inner walls were only marginally taller than the outer fortifications, but they were remarkably clean—as if the stones had been freshly scrubbed. They bore not a single scar of war.

That was because, for thousands of years, no one had ever managed to strike the heart of the mighty Luonan Empire.

And now, the orcs had done exactly that.

Yet, most wise orcs understood that they hadn't achieved this because they were truly stronger than the Luonan Empire. They had achieved this because they were backed by Guardians—specifically, the three invincible Guardians who had completely obliterated Blade Fortress.

But regardless of the reason, the orcs were the victors now.

With a complicated swirl of emotions in his chest, Sodmar rode his worg toward the palace gates.

He had initially planned to order his soldiers to scale the unmanned walls with grappling hooks and open the gates from the inside.

But as he drew near, he was surprised to find the gates slightly ajar. He immediately ordered several soldiers to push them open.

Creaaak!

The heavy wooden doors were slowly heaved open, revealing the courtyard within to the invading army.

Sodmar's eyes narrowed. He noticed that the inner gates of the barbican were also wide open. Without hesitation, he led his massive army inside.

Bypassing the barbican revealed a perfectly straight marble avenue. Exotic, vividly colored flowers and bizarre plants lined both sides, while towering, exquisite sculptures and lavish fountains dotted the gardens. Everything about this place screamed of the Luonan Empire's immense prosperity and power.

Well, its former power.

Sodmar merely glanced at the finery before locking his attention on the magnificent palace at the far end of the avenue. Even from out here, he could see straight through the open double doors of the grand hall. Inside, seated upon an elevated throne, was a lone figure draped in imperial robes.

At the entrance to the hall stood three people, utterly silent.

Total silence.

The only sound that reached the orcs' ears was the ticking of worg claws against the marble as the great army marched, step by step, toward the throne room.