The wind rolled up the dead leaves, and Rod's back seemed so determined, and one man and one sword slowly walked away on the gray street.

When his figure completely disappeared on the edge of the grizzly hills, there were many black and strong figures on the edge of the town, and these figures showed a tendency to encircle, faintly surrounding the town.

A tall figure slowly appeared on a hill outside the town, his gray bear skin, his chest covered with scars from his breathing strength, a bone helmet made of polished white bones that hid his face, and his large bear-like hands held a jagged hunting blade.

Behind him, hundreds of strong and terrifying orcs were quietly staring at the depressed town in front of him, these orcs held many iron weapons in their hands, and some of the small bosses' chain mail still had the emblem of a certain territory faintly visible, compared to the militia in Graystone Town, the orcs with weapons in their hands were obviously palpitating.

Rubbing his hunting blade, Karloch looked coldly at the town in front of him.

As a Son of the Wild, he grew up in the most dangerous forests of Sikyeu in the Ponse Mountains, and the powerful natural bloodline of the orcs allowed him to survive until the Grand Elder of the Narinivati tribe took him in.

At the age of ten, he hunted timberwolves in the jungle alone, and when he became an adult, he even hunted a wilderness overlord, and if it wasn't for the great migration, he might have been able to leave the tribe and become a member of the Frostfang Clan, but he also became a famous warrior among the clan's affiliated tribes.

"Kill! Roar! ”

A wild roar sounded, and Karlock's strong body leaped out, and he looked at the town in front of him and roared, "For the clan! For the Horde! Kill all the humans there! ”

The hunting blade in his hand slashed a cold light, and his body rushed out faster than the cheetah.

Looking at the town that was getting closer and closer in front of him, there was only endless indifference in his eyes, as a powerful warrior of the tribe, he knew what he was shouldering behind his back.

In the midst of that dangerous mountain, a terrifying existence is revived, the beasts are trembling, the forest is letting out its last screams, and all the tribes are forced to embark on a great migration under the leadership of the three major clans.

As a son of the wild, his professional expertise has made him more sensitive to the changes in the forest.

At the Ponse Pass, he led the warriors of the Narinivati tribe under the leadership of the Frostfang Clan to launch a fierce assault on the tall wall, countless familiar companions fell at his feet, and Karok had no choice in the face of enemies that threatened the survival of the tribe.

Roar!

Wild roars echoed.

This is a war that will decide the life and death of the orcs of the Ponse Mountains! In order to survive, they have no choice!

It was with this determination that Karok led the few warriors of his tribe to climb the Grizzly Hills with great difficulty, with no food, no support, and everything on his own, and he vowed to open the gates of the Ponse Pass for the clan.

"Woooooo

Greystone reverberates with horns, made by the first generation of Pioneers after slaying a powerful beast, and it represents the sound of Greystone's Pioneers defending against foreign enemies.

However, at this moment, when the horn sounded, the townspeople were still at a loss.

"Orcs! It's the orcs coming! ”

The militia shouted hoarsely, looking at the hundreds of orcs that suddenly appeared around the town, these militias who usually could only bully and bully rogue adventurers behaved very badly, and some of them couldn't even hold their weapons steadily.

Laugh at!

The militiaman, trembling and clenching his spear and shouting, was suddenly pierced through his chest with a spear, and his frightened eyes were full of despair and fear.

"Ahh …… Run! The murderous orcs are coming! Run away, everyone! ”

The bloody scene stimulated the surrounding militia, and some of the cowardly ones immediately began to flee, and even the town began to be chaotic, and the trembling humans could not fight the orcs who had been fighting since childhood.

A few bloody-looking men tried to lead the militia to resist, but as soon as they met the orcs, they basically lost their lives, lost their tall walls and powerful magic equipment, and these weak humans were indeed no match for the orcs.

People screamed and fled, and the orcs indifferently slew the panicked humans.

It's a very frustrating scene.

Humanity, who occupies the most fertile land on the Salt Coast, is often so unbearable when faced with a crisis that they have forgotten to fight for so long in peace and contentment.

Humanity, which once drove out its enemies with wisdom and courage, has long since decayed.

It was precisely because he had seen too much of this scene that Rod couldn't help but feel a trace of pessimism in his heart.

But.

In the smoke-filled ruins and panicked crowds, there are also some different people.

A dirty-looking old man was staggering down the street with a bottle of wine, and he didn't know where he got a piece of leather armor with sword marks on it.

The old drunkard, who smelled of booze, ran against the fleeing crowd, carrying a bottle in one hand and a rusty iron sword in the other.

In the crowd, his slow retrograde movement is very unique.

"Old drunkard! You are crazy? Run! ”

Someone who knew the old drunkard shouted, and the man couldn't help but turn pale as he watched this usually confused old guy run towards the murderous orc.

The old guy ignored the shouts of the others.

He tilted his head and took a sip of the bitter ale from the bottle, his cloudy eyes flashed a hint of clarity, he squinted at the orc figure appearing in the street, and blinked his mouth, as if to savor the taste of wine in his mouth.

At this moment, he seemed to have changed.

The thin old man who was always scolding and scolding on weekdays became strange, and he silently dragged the iron sword forward, even if there were those terrible orcs in front of him, there was no trace of cowardice in his eyes.

"You're crazy! Old drunkard! Come with me! ”

Suddenly, a figure rushed out, and the man pulled the old drunkard past him, and shouted in a sharp voice.

"Huh? It's you, little Pol. ”

The old drunkard looked at the familiar young man in front of him, a trace of emotion flashed in his eyes, and immediately, he pretended to be disdainful and said: "Look at what kind of cowardice you are scared of, aren't there just a few orcs!" ”

"Do you want to die?!"

Pol, whose face was a little pale, shouted, this young man who yearned for the city was a little flustered at this time, looking at the bad old man in front of him, he felt that he must be crazy, otherwise why would he reflexively come back to pull him.

He looked at the orc in the distance, there was no trace of blood on his already pale face, he looked at the damn bad old man, gritted his teeth and grabbed him, and pulled him back.

Surprisingly, however, the old drunkard pushed him away with a gentle hand.

"Little one! Don't underestimate me! Let you see the spirit of our older generation of gray stone people! ”

The old drunkard staggered to tidy up his equipment, and said in pieces: "Grass! Lao Tzu even cut down the lizardman lord back then! You young people, you are becoming more and more angry, and when you see that group of orc barbarians, your legs are weak, and you think that back then, we ...... in Graystone Town."

While thinking about the bloody deeds of his youth, he clenched his iron sword and faced the orc in front of him.

"Damn orc brutes! This is Greystone Town, the hometown of your Uncle Roger with the Quick Sword! Get out of here! ”

The old drunkard roared, picked up his sword, and rushed into the midst of the orcs.

"Whew!"

Blood splattered, and a strong orc was accidentally stabbed in the chest by the old drunkard, but unfortunately, the old guy's old body did not have enough strength to penetrate this sword.

"Roar!"

The orc roared, a glint of blood flashed in his eyes, and a huge force blasted out, breaking the rusty iron sword with a single blow.

"Bastard! I'm a Roger of the Swift Sword! Don't underestimate Uncle Ben! ”

The old drunkard spat out a mouthful of blood, his face revealing a hint of hideousness, and used all his strength to stab the broken sword out with all his might, but this time, the price he paid was that his chest was pierced directly by the bone spear.

Laugh at!

Blood gushed out uncontrollably.

The old drunkard still died, and the miracle did not happen.

Xiao Boer, who was sitting on the ground not far away, looked a little sluggish, the old drunkard died, died on the last charge, but the impact of this scene on him was huge.

“…… The spirit of the Greystone people. ”

He sat on the ground, his ears still echoing the spirit of "never say die" in the old drunkard's thoughts, and the picture of himself often complaining about these old guys flashed in front of his eyes.

At this moment, there was a flame burning in his chest.

He shuddered and pulled out a small dagger in his backpack, and he walked towards the orc step by step.

“…… It's going to die! You're going to die! ”

At this moment, his heart was roaring wildly, and a voice was telling him that he would definitely die this time.

However, his footsteps could not be stopped, as if an invisible force was urging him forward.

"Ahh Yes! Yes! Die! ”

Pol, who looked a little crazy, had bloodshot eyes and rushed frantically towards the nearest orc.

"Human!"

The orc bared its sharp fangs, and a bone knife slashed at the weak creature in front of him.

Sonor!

A tall figure stood between Bol and the orcs, stopping the fatal blow.

"Old fellow, people are still so reckless when they are old! Hmph, you stole a bottle of good wine from me back then, and it looks like you're not going to pay it back, what a cunning guy. ”

The bearded owner of the tavern suddenly appeared on the street, and his eyes flashed a little as he looked at the corpse of the old drunkard with blood gushing out.

Immediately, he sighed lightly, and the old man left again.

Looking back at the street behind him, the tavern owner Old Thor had a lot of vicissitudes and memories in his eyes.

Back then, a group of hot-blooded young men set sail here, and they were fighting to break out of the sky.

Today, all that remains is billowing smoke and ruins, and the people of those days are gone.

Adventures can be brutal at times.

"Old Buck is right, warrior, what is it like to die on the bedboard, like a.

You old thing, you didn't get drunk in the stinking ditch, you finally died on the battlefield as you wished......"

Old Thor shook his head, and while recalling what an old brother had said, he pushed Pol away and said, "Little one, you are really in the way, young man, don't always be frizzy. ”

An old fist glove in his hand was worn by him at some point, his thick beard was open, looking like an angry lion, he stared at the orcs surrounding in front of him, and a terrifying force was condensing in his fist.

Suddenly, as if he remembered something, he turned back to Little Pol and said seriously: "I put a bottle of good wine in the third compartment under the counter of my tavern, and you kid remember to take it out and pour it on our grave in the future." No, who knows if we still have graves? ”

After saying that, regardless of Pol's reaction, Old Thor was like a brute dragon hunting for food, and a pair of fists tore through the air and slammed into the orc in front of him.

However.

Even if Old Thor was very powerful when he was young, he only held on for a while in the face of orcs who had the upper hand in numbers and strength.

As the four bone spears plunged into his chest, Old Thor let out a final roar: "Gray Stone Man, never say never!" ”

Immediately, the gaze in his eyes began to fade.

Thundered.

It seems to be in response to the will of these old guys.

When Old Thor fell, a figure riding a polly dragon rushed down the street behind him......