In the silence, the two sides stopped fighting, staring blankly as Gasselzog fell to the ground, his body twitching, as life left his body, nothing to stop the blood and brains from gurgling out of the gaping hole in his head.

Halfway up the hill in front of the fortress gates, at the top of the destroyed watchtower, Diego looked up from above the butt of his rifle and took a look at the battlefield. Then he cracked his mouth and laughed. He had been waiting for this orc to appear for a long time, and for this reason he did not hesitate to spare the orc warlocks who passed by from afar.

This is the power of the hunter, which can never be ignored. Their attacks always ignore the spatial division, they are the ghosts of the battlefield, you can never be sure that he is there, only when his guns are fired, you can only know his existence, but at this time, it is already too late.

Seeing the inexplicable death of their Overseer, there was a commotion among the orc soldiers, some screaming in panic, others standing as stupid as meerkats, looking around for the murderer.

Kishan and his men rushed into the orcs like an eagle flying into a flock of chickens. The five men were so sharp that they cut down the orcs in rows, like a pack of brown bears walking into a pea field and cracking peas out of their pods.

At this time, the real bear was not idle, he was like a grim reaper in a bear's skin, rampage through the orc pile, pounced wherever there were many people, and the orc queue was often broken up by him before it was formed.

At this time, the orc warlocks in robes and staff in their hands finally couldn't stay in the back. They bucked the flow of people and tried to hold the line with their evil energy, but gunfire rang out one after another, and they found that their spell shields could not withstand these scorching bullets infused with arcane energy. It wasn't that they hadn't seen a dwarven musket, but the bullets fired were more powerful and powerful than anything they'd seen before.

An orc warlock finally found his target, but he was somewhat reluctant to find that the human hunter was out of range of his spells. "On top of the watchtower, rush over!" He commanded loudly in orc language, and about a dozen orc soldiers broke away from the battle line and rushed towards the stone tower.

But the group of soldiers didn't rush far, the musket was firing faster than all orcs could have imagined, and he felt as if he had just turned his head to look at the frontal battlefield, and when he looked back, the small orc force was completely gone.

The M1 rifle itself is designed for the field battlefield, and if it is a street fight or indoor close-quarters combat, it is not so effective, but at this distance, it is dominant, no one can escape its roll call, and if you find it, you will die.

The orc warlock panicked, but before he could order another orc squad to assault the tower, a rapid bullet ended his life. Shot in the chest, he slanted and fell backwards, the hood that had been over his head falling off, revealing his shriveled and distorted face. The red of his demonic eyes gradually died out, returning to their original black.

The other orc warlocks were horrified to find that the hunter's attack on the stone tower did not end there, on the contrary, the attack had just begun. The hunter wasn't particularly fast, and sometimes he didn't even have the shock of the elven hunters' rapid fire, but what was devastating was the consistency of his shots. The Warlocks swore they had never seen a musket reload so quickly, and although there were times when the interval between shots was a little longer (Diego was changing magazines), it was often followed by a continuous wave of fire.

The warlocks were completely suppressed, and they could only hide behind the orc infantry, not daring to straighten their waists, let alone fight back. But Rao is like this, and from time to time people are knocked to the ground by bullets that pass through human cracks.

During this period, it was not that no warlock intended to leave the hunter alone, but concentrated on attacking the human soldiers on the frontal battlefield under the protection of the shield-wielding infantry, but in despair, a yellow leopard appeared out of nowhere and scurried into the warlocks.

The big cat's attacks weren't lethal, but its swift and agile claw strikes and bites kept the warlocks from hitting their spirits to keep them focused. Just like a strong man will inevitably be busy for a while when he meets a shrew with teeth and claws.

However, the orcs were not just going to be busy for a while, as the orc guards around them fell one by one while the warlocks were scrambling, their oak shields might be able to stop ordinary bullets, but they couldn't stop bullets with arcane energy attached.

So, a few minutes later, the orc warlocks were desperate to find that there was almost a clearing around them, and no orc dared to approach them, as if it were a death zone. They're on their own.

The Warlocks finally realized their predicament, but they clearly didn't intend to give up. As if by chance, they rushed in the direction of the watchtower, not dodging the oncoming bullets at all, nor intending to dodge. It looks more like you're going to get a decent death than you are going to do any damage to your enemies.

But the truth is never as simple as it seems. The orc warlock who rushed to the front was hit, but strangely, he only shook his body for a moment, and then continued to rush forward as if nothing happened. However, just behind the warlocks, a flame imp suddenly let out a terrible scream, and then collapsed to the ground, dark green blood spitting out of its mouth like a puddle of pus. After a few seconds, the imp vanished, banished back into the twisted void, leaving behind only the disgusting pool of liquid still emitting evil powers.

"Sacrifice the contract!" The human hunters on the watchtower immediately realized what was happening. Unlike hunters, who rely on loyalty and friendship to maintain relationships with their pets, the relationship between warlocks and their demonic minions is more profit-driven and violent. When needed, warlocks will not hesitate to rely on the loopholes in their contracts to sacrifice demons in order to restore the damage they have received.

The hunter froze, lowered his head and continued to shoot. He didn't believe that the damage that the Warlock's demon could take was infinite, and if the demon died, the Warlock would still have to rely on himself to take the next damage.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, the warlock who rushed to the front fell, then the second, then the third......

Only one orc warlock rushed within range of the spell, and he raised his hand in joy to try to release the shadow energy that had been building up for a long time, but at that moment, a huge black shadow came from behind and threw him to the ground. The big cat finally got rid of the orc infantry and rushed over in time.

At the top of the tattered watchtower, Diego sat on his back and let out a long sigh. Beside him, there were empty magazines thrown all over the place, and the magazine of the rifle was empty, if Guan Haifa hadn't arrived in time just now, he was destined to eat a warlock's spell when he didn't have time to reload, to be honest, those weird and terrifying spells, he really didn't want to try.

In the middle of the battlefield, the orcs panicked, and the loss of Overseers and spell power was almost irreparable. And at this moment, something even more desperate happened.

Above them, a human mage appeared on the ramparts, and now the orc, without ranged power, was completely unable to stop his killing.

Masenna raised his hand, the ruby on the tip of his staff glowing brightly, too dazzling even in the sunlight to ignore. A few seconds later, a ball of flame erupted from his hand and rushed forward, striking a group of orcs in front of Windsor's side, and with a loud thud, they were blown away and blown to scorched pieces by the force. Then came the second fireball, and another group of orcs was charred. Just before the orcs realized the terrible threat and rushed to stop him, another huge flame stone fell from the sky like a meteorite, and fell obliquely on the most dense place of the orcs, igniting a sea of fire.

The orc front finally loosened, and the gnolls of the orc army were the first to break up, and these wall-riding grasses who saw the wind and steered the rudder did not hesitate to abandon their allies - and to be honest, their allies were not very good to them - and fled away from the battlefield.

Their rout was almost fatal to the orcs, and along the holes they left on the front, the human soldiers rushed out like a flood of broken banks, splitting the orc army into disconnected pieces.

The orcs finally realized their defeat, and fled in panic down the hillside outside the fortress, some to the northwest the way they had come, while others fled in panic to the mountains to the northeast. It's the territory of the Gnolls, and maybe these temporary allies will give them some help, but it's more likely that they'll fight back against these once powerful allies. Nearly every race of Azeroth is well aware of the greed and capriciousness of the Gnolls, but unfortunately, these Outland invaders are unaware of this.

"Shall we pursue, Marshal?" Colonel Todman, covered in blood, ran towards Windsor and shouted. He was still in the heat of the battle, trying to chase after the orcs and catch them all.

"Nope." But Wendthor shook his head and stopped him.

"We've managed to hold the Stone Fortress, but that doesn't hide our numerical inferiority, and we must keep Stormwind alive in this area, rather than die with the orcs." He turned to face Todman and smiled, a cold, tired smile. "You know, even if these orcs are dead, it's still possible for them to send other legions from the Blackstone Tower, but if we're all dead, there's no way Stormwind can send another soldier here. In fact, that woman was dying for us all to die. ”

"If we don't destroy them, then we should at least drive the orcs out of the Red Ridge Mountains, lest they find a place to live," Todman asked, "shouldn't we?" ”

"We really should." Wendthor agreed, "But look behind you." ”

Todman turned, and immediately understood what the marshal meant. Behind him, the soldiers were teetering as the battle ended, and he saw many soldiers lying weary on the blood-soaked mud, some unconscious from their injuries, others from sheer fatigue. The battle had been going on for more than two days, and though it had not been felt at first, now, when the first qiē was over, Colonel Todman suddenly found himself in pain, and their weapons had been damaged a lot, their arrows had almost been depleted, every sword was chipped, and their shields were scarred

"We need to recuperate, and the soldiers need to rest and heal," Todman said with a bit of a gloomy look, looking annoyed that he had missed this opportunity, and his frustration with Stormwind for pulling troops from here deepened, "Damn politicians, a bunch of self-righteous bastards. He cursed viciously.

"Who's to say it isn't?" Wendthor let out a sneer, then rode his horse towards the fortress, "But we have also defeated the main force of these orcs, and the remaining stragglers will be able to solve them slowly." ”

He smiled and looked at Todman, then finally nodded. "Well done, well done, my Excellency Colonel, I must now admit that the appointment of you as the commander of the Twelfth Legion was a very good choice!" He whispered this before Lema walked towards the castle.

The Colonel watched him leave with gusto, a simple compliment that made him very proud. To many mid-level officers like him, the taciturn marshal was not a passionate orator, always influencing the soldiers around him by his actions rather than his words. This upright and sacrificial commander exudes a strong sense of strength and conviction throughout his body, which is awe-inspiring. He has an unrivalled appeal among all the legions of Stormwind, which is unmatched by other marshals. It can be said that getting his approval is something that all middle-level officers dream of, and it is worth putting on a feast and celebrating it.

But Windsol didn't stay in the fortress for long. When he found out that cleaning up the battlefield, treating the wounded, and restoring logistics, all the follow-up affairs were in charge, and that Yiqiē seemed to be in order, and that his existence was more like some kind of symbolism, he immediately decided to leave as much as he could.

He had only spent one night in the ruined stone fortress. This was uncompromising news for Diego and Masrae, in fact, the barracks were never a comfortable place, as evidenced by the rattling bones of Diego when he got up in the morning - because almost all the beds were occupied by the wounded, and the two of them had spent the night in the stables with Wendsall last night, and for the druids and hunters, the smell of horse manure everywhere was honestly less pleasant than in the wilderness.

"I have to leave, there are more important things for me to do in Stormwind." Windsor and Todman explained, leading their horses in the direction of the fortress gates. Although a night's rest was not enough to eliminate his fatigue, it was not as important to him as the mission on his shoulders.

Under the almost ruined gates of the Stone Fortress, Wendthor and his old men said goodbye.

Officers and enlisted men surrounded him, eager to help the marshal return to Stormwind, but Wendthor refused. It's one thing for him to go back to Stormwind, it's another to go back with the army, it's a rebellion. What he wanted was to set things right, not to cause a split in Stormwind.

"May the Light be with us!" He finally nodded and shouted at the soldiers.

"For the glory of the king!" The officers and soldiers responded in unison, tears welling up in the eyes of many of them, for all knew that the future was uncertain and dangerous, and that perhaps this would be the last time they would see the venerable marshal.

In the dim morning light, he rode his horse to the west. The two adventurers followed him, as they had ever stepped into the area, looking lonely and smaller.