The light of Tyre illuminates the hideous and ugly faces of the orcs, and the knights of Baldwin form a loose arrow shape, protecting their companions from their sides and behind, they are blessed by Tyre with extraordinary strength and agility, but Thundercastle has always had to face thousands of orcs, and the knights can only temporarily disperse them, force them to flee, disrupt their formation, and disrupt their vision...... Baldwin was the only one who was focused on moving forward, and his goal was so clear- The orc warrior jumped down from the triangular shed that guarded the battering ram, brandishing his hammer and axe, and Berdwin, chanting Tyre's name, fearlessly met an enemy ten times as numerous as him, and he threw his spear, which nailed an orc to the axle of the wooden platform that carried the battering ram, and then he drew his broadsword and slashed the shoulder of an orc warrior diagonally, from his collarbone to his ribs, an orc attempted to strike his mount's knee, the horse rose to its feet in anger, and the huge, black-iron horseshoe of the horse struck a bloody crescent mark on his ugly face, and Baldwin's body tilted in midairUnfazed, he turned his broadsword and struck an orc who wanted to stab him in the back, the orc was holding a shuttle dart with an elongated wooden handle, the shuttle dart was clearly from the orc's blacksmith's hand, the impurities in it had not been completely removed, it was broken into several pieces on Baldwin's armor, and the real threat to Baldwin was a strong orc with a lantern shield and a short sword, the so-called lantern shield was an expensive iron shield large enough to cover a well, attached to a fingerless iron glove, the gap between the gloves was inlaid with iron thorns, and the center of the shield also had a dagger-like sharp protrusion, and some of its edges were deliberately polished, glowing with a cold white light like the edge of a sword.

The orc clutching to this terrible armor stood almost as tall as Berdwin sitting on a horse in the melting snow, his filthy and brutal reddish-brown eyes staring at each other with cold, determined gray eyes—orcs had only tribes, chiefs and priests, no nobles or knights, only great warriors, warriors and ordinary orcs, orc slaves, half-orcs, human slaves- The orc opposite Berdwin wore a necklace of cured and embalmed human eyes around his neck, interspersed with two elven ears, in which elven ears were the prerogative of the priest - he was most likely the priest's son, the only or the greatest, and his father hung these two blessed sacrifices around his neck, asking the orc gods for his approval and reward, which proved his identity more than steel armor, dragon leather boots, and Mithril bracers.

He jumped to the side, more silent than a vicious wolf, and swung the massive shield at Baldwin's left rib, the owner of Thundercastle raised his arm just in time, the blue-gray surface of the shield and his armor collided loudly and harshly, and the pinprick protruding from the front of the shield forced Baldwin to tilt to the right - the orc was stronger than Baldwin had expected, and he was knocked off the ground - Astonishing pressure shifted from his arms to his waist, and from the human waist to the horse, the dexterous horse, named Meteor because of the white marks between its eyes, was also shaded by Tyre, stronger and smarter than its kind, but this time it also shook its head in irritation - and the horse and its owner's right, rear and front, had only enemies and no friends.

The orcs around them tried to attack the legs of the "Meteor", but the ornate coats of the horses did a good job of hiding the position of the horses' legs, and as a warhorse that had been tested in countless training and battles, the "Meteor" was also good at dodging the stabbing of the sword, even if it could not see it, the sword shuttle could only cut the tassel of the horse's coat at most - so they went to the "shooting star" Archery, most of the arrows were bone, but some were of black iron, and one of the arrows of an iron arrow went into the only part of the loyal horse that was not covered with armor, that is, the small piece near the tail, and the arrows were quenched with vinegar, and the "shooting star" trembled with pain, and it used almost all its strength to hold its four iron hooves firmly on the frozen ground made muddy by blood and snowmelt, and to maintain its balance and stability when greater pressure came, like four steel pillars inserted into the frozen ground. Birdwin spun violently, removing the oppression of his shield and holding the broadsword in both hands, he swung his furious sword laterally, and the orc had to retreat, his mouth wide open and hissing menacingly at the master of Thundercastle.

Bodwin quickly glanced around, the situation was not so favorable to the humans, the corpses of the orcs were accumulating, but their numbers seemed to be endless, and the power of the knights was limited—he made a decision that made everyone jaw-dropping, he jumped off his horse when the swords intersected again, and gave up the help and fetters of the "shooting star", he faced the orc twice as tall as he was, he was fearless, and his broadsword swallowed colorless flames like embodied rage.

The warriors of the humans and the warriors of the orcs let out a dull roar at the same time, clashing like a lightning strike, and the daggers, shields, and broadswords seemed to collide countless times in that short moment, and sparks leaped in all directions in the darkness.

Baldwin had made the right decision, the orc warrior's taller stature than the average orc was a weakness in the face of too small enemies, and he should have bent down like other large orcs to fight the humans with his claws and teeth like a beast, but he was reluctant to give up his precious shield, and he chased after him clumsily, trying to squeeze the human leader to death under the massive steel armor.

He gave Berdwin the chance to kill him.

The orcs clamoured and retreated in fear, if they had more courage, they might have been able to keep Berdwin in battle, but no orc was willing to die first—Baldwin got on his horse and almost unhindered himself to the triangular tent covered with the battering ram, and while chanting Tyre's name, he swung his broadsword three times, the first to split the plank wrapped in the damp hide, the second to break the chain from which the battering ram was hanging, and the third to cut off the battering ram, and the iron argali's head fell into the mud.

The orc warriors shouted angrily, and instead of whipping and sticks, they drove the orc soldiers forward with their swords, but a dense stream of arrows from human crossbowmen and archers halted their pursuit—an orc warrior was pierced by a short spear fired from a ballista just three horses short from them.

As soon as Birdwin and his knights rushed into Thundercastle, their retinues rushed up, and the knights had exhausted their last of their strength, and they simply fell from their horses, and the retainers unloaded their armor with ease, took off their chain mail, and unfastened their tight robes. The priest in charge of the healing, either the servant of the light of Rosada or the benevolent Ilmot, cast their healing spells one-on-one, the warm white light brushing the knights' bodies and minds, and Baldwin counted them with his eyes, each name that could not correspond to the living face made his heart ache.

"How is Kerry Ben doing?" he asked, one of his most trusted knights, and when he went out to fight, the steady young man would take his place in commanding the soldiers and knights to continue their battles.

"The elves succeeded. The knight said excitedly, "They are burning." ”

Before.

One by one, one of the mages beside Kerribben was the first to cast the spell, and it brought with it a large cloud of elusive but foul-smelling mist, and one by one the orcs who operated the trebuchet and protected it began to vomit, except for the priest and some of the men who clearly looked different from ordinary orcs, who were spared not because they were stronger, but because they had amulets from the priests hanging from their necks. They soon discovered the presence of the elves and shot arrows at them, but faster than them were the elven arrows, whose arrows were enchanted, and the Mithril arrows, which pierced through the steel chain mail like iron arrows pierced through leather armor.

Kerryben's arrows were aimed at an orc priest, who was older than the others, with strange black spots on his blue-gray skin, and the elves' eyes could see how they squirmed and bulged. He was Denver, the priestess of the Blizzard tribe, who had captured Kerryben's friend and tormented him for ten days and nine nights, but Kerryben had not been able to save his friend, and he had cut off the old priest's right hand, which was now occupied by the claws of a black baboon, which stretched out into the sky like a dead tree.

The arrow pierced the priest's neck, but it didn't do even a single bit of damage like a phantom, and Kerry knew that maybe somewhere, an innocent human slave or ordinary orc or orc was terrified by the sudden fatal wound in the neck—one of the common spells used by orc priests to use someone else's life to keep themselves safe.

Denver held up a finger to Kerryben, the fingers of a baboon, the translucent white nails curved and pointed—a chilling wind passed through the elf's body.

Cremar immediately cast his spell, a scorching and brilliant flame. The flames struck the base of a catapult, but it did not ignite the entire trebuchet as the elves and humans had hoped, and it burned quietly for a while before being silently extinguished by the lack of magic.

"Water?"

"Charms. Carey Ben said, "Follow me." ”

The orc soldiers climbed upwards, the elves swooped down, the elven mages cast spells, and the warriors drew their scimitars after shooting empty quivers, but they were not up to the orcs, or they had to devote much of their time and strength to the right place—the orc priests, and their leaders—who flew over the heads of the orc soldiers like birds, or stepped on their heads like stones in a stream over the filthy and noisy battle formations.

And the priests of the orcs have been hissing and chanting, waving brass bells rhythmically, and spilling blood and wine...... The leaders of the tribes, or their approved warriors, stood before the priests, who would summon the attendants of Kawuha, and borrow their magic from them, so that they could gain greater bravery and wisdom than ever before.

"Don't let them complete the call. Kerry Ben said that he was the first to charge at a priest, the elven's scimitar flashing, and the priest hastily tumbled to the ground—he had taken his life, but the summoning was interrupted.

Cremar threw a greasy spell at one of the priests, and he slipped along with his warriors, and the thin priest was crushed under his body by the strong warriors, waving his shriveled hands and feet in vain—the orcs tried desperately to get up from the venerable priest, but he fell again and again on the poor little body, but unfortunately he was finally dragged away by the feet of another warrior, otherwise he might have done the elf a great favor.

The black-haired spellcaster glanced at Keriben, who was having trouble with the third priest, and Cremar turned his attention back to his target - the two giant trebuchets, as Kerribben had said, the light brown wooden structure depicted a jet-black spell, and he cast another spell, the flames burned, the spells twisted in the flames, and hissed, but Cremar found that they were not as effective as the orcs had expected - the flames still had an effect on the wooden parts, and the places that were burned by the flames were blackened.

Maybe it only needs a higher temperature, but the gaze of the otherworldly soul inadvertently falls on a pile of strangely shaped shadows, and around them are stone balls, and those shadows are some one-foot-square wooden boxes, several wooden boxes are open, inside, oh, it's wonderful, containing brown clay pots that the otherworldly souls think are quite familiar.

He activated a flying scroll again, and with his mind, he moved the wooden boxes one by one.

The man standing in front of Denver was not the leader of the Blizzard tribe, Gersh, but his nephew, and the orcs knew that Gersh had never received the honor - and he himself didn't seem to care. His relationship with the priests was not very good, and there was a lack of respect and trust between the two, but both of them were essential in the tribe, so they had to endure each other.

Denver has always called himself the most favored priest of Kawu, and perhaps he is not exaggerating, he is the quickest to complete the summoning, the attendant of Kawulax - its image in the main material realm is uncertain, like a cloud of scarlet mist, like a three-dimensional shadow, it looks like a combination of a lion, a wolf, a viper, and a vulture, and you can find fangs on it, and you can find claws, and you can find many pairs of wings of different sizes. It gives its power like a flesh-loving worm burrowing into the body of a victim - the priest wields the spell, and he will return the greedy waiter (in general, for a short time) depending on the situation, lest the body of the chosen one end up being overrun by the waiter.

But Denver didn't do that.

The waiter of Kawu took possession of this body.

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