"Let the horses come!" Muradin let out a low roar, even though his opponent could not understand him. Grom's assault was swift, the huge axe slicing through the air, whining with a whining wind, slashing at Muradin's chest, grinning mouth full of fangs, and a cruel and excited smile on his face—in Grom's opinion, a swift attack was the best way to greet Mulardin.

However, Muradin did not agree that Grom was a friend. For such a jackal-beastly intruder, it is necessary to give a resolute counterattack with an axe and hammer. Grom was indeed powerful and ferocious, but Muladin stood firm on his feet, and his stocky body gave him enough confidence to meet Grom's attack.

While using the hammer of his right hand to block the strangely shaped axe, he slashed at Grom's neck with the city-breaking axe in his left hand. Of course, Muradin knew that this was not an opponent that could be solved with just three or two clicks, but Muradin had his own way. As if anticipating Grom's ability to dodge his axe's attack, Muradin's steps moved forward in an orderly and rapid manner, and his body in steel plate armor slammed into Grom's thigh like a cannonball.

Of course, this move is usually used by Muradin to attack the lower abdomen of the enemy, but due to the difference in height, the king of the hill will always target the enemy's thigh when fighting enemies of other races. Grom suffered a heavy blow to his thigh, and although he did not break it, Muradin's horned steel helmet picked at the tough skin on Grom's leg, and bright red blood flowed out and dripped onto the green grass at the feet of the two.

The wounded Grom was even more ferocious, and the injury on his leg did not seem to have any effect on his movements. The first brave of the orcs, holding the hilt of the "Blood Roar" axe in both hands, moved briskly under his feet, and smashed the huge axe into Muradin's head like a wheel.

Grom's height advantage was obvious, and Muradin could only block Grom's attacks with a hammer and a city-breaking axe. The muffled sound of the massive weapons clashing together and the metal crashing of the axe blades were mixed in, and Grom thought the sound was simply wonderful—perfect if you added the howls of the enemy.

Muradin's situation was anything but rosy. Every attack of Grom was a condescending and powerful slash; And even if Muradin seized the opportunity to fight back, it was difficult to gather enough strength in a hurry. But Muradin, however, did not retreat, but circled Grom in a small area - with each turn and turn, Muradin's axe could catch the flaws in Grom's rotation and attack the enemy's legs and abdomen.

Of course, duels between real warriors are not always as elegant and beautiful as the girl's fantasy. On many occasions, Muradin was nearly cleaved in the skull by Grom's massive axe blade, and had to roll on the ground like a leper dog to barely avoid the orcs' attacks.

After a few wolf bèi rolls, Muradin was covered in grass debris and mud on the ground, and he didn't know where the horns and helmet had gone. Grom's situation was much better than Muladin's, and apart from a few new innocuous wounds on his thigh, the orc took the initiative in the battle.

Spinnering, slashing, smiling, Grom seemed to see the future of his victory. Although he could not be distracted in battle, Grom could not calm himself down - perhaps only by severing the dwarven warrior's head and spilling the blood of his proud and noble warrior on his body and grass would he be able to calm his current blood.

As he thought so, Grom sped up the pace of his attack on Muradin. Although Grom was about the same strength as his opponent, with the advantage of height, Muradin had to use the strength of his hands to fend off Grom's axe, and at this point, the next attack from "Blood Roar" was ready to be launched.

Grom, who had quickened the pace of his attacks, keenly noticed that his opponent was a little untenable. At first, Muradin was able to go around in circles with Grom in an orderly manner, but now, he could only retreat in a straight line, and no longer had the energy to pay attention to the terrain around him and his own pace.

Grom was encouraged, and let out a roar of rage, pale yellow saliva dripping down his fangs on the grass and spraying into the air. Finally, Muradin seemed to be a little tired, and before he could fully dodge Grom's attack, he was slashed in his right arm by the sharp blade of the axe, and the heavy two-handed war hammer fell to the ground - Muradin's right arm was wounded, and he no longer had enough strength to hold his weapon!

Grom's eyes narrowed in satisfaction - despite his opponent's ability to wield two two-handed weapons, and Grom had to admit that the dwarven warrior's left hand was as nimble as his right hand, it was clear that Muradin was not capable of defeating Grom with his left hand alone.

Not intending to give his opponent any chance, Grom's steps shifted nimbly, his body spun in a circle, and the blood roar cut through the air in an arc of death, and the massive axe slashed down on Muradin's head. However, after Grom's body turned, he realized that his opponent did not have any nervousness, but rather some sarcasm and ridicule on the rough and bearded face.

Wrong! - Grom realized this, but it was too late. His left foot slammed on something, and his original flowing body was interrupted, not to mention, Grom's body was unbalanced by the blow because of the force of the final blow, and he fell to the side.

At this moment, Grom didn't have time to look at his opponent, but instead set his eyes at his feet - damn it, the dwarf's helmet! Grom didn't think it was a coincidence, and it was clear that the dwarven warrior had quietly led himself into this little trap while he was intoxicated by the humiliating victory.

Naturally, Muradin did not let this opportunity go, his right hand was bleeding and he was no longer able to wield it; But in his left hand, he still held the huge city-destroying axe. With a low roar, the sharp blade of the axe slashed across Grom's body, sliding from the base of his left thigh to Grom's right shoulder, but Muradin's arm was not long enough, otherwise Grom would have been disemboweled.

With two thuds, Grom and Muradin fell to the ground at the same time. Muradine cursed under his breath, trying to get up and deal a fatal blow to his opponent, only to find that his opponent had the same intention - Muradin's blow also did not completely incapacitate Grom, and although the huge wound that pierced the orc's entire chest and abdomen was still gushing blood, Grom had to stand up before Muradin.