The footsteps echoed in the steppe as the unit headed towards the battlefield, clad in purple armor.
"Soldiers, no one from the orc tribe will survive. I don't want to stay in this smelly place any longer!"
''Yes, sir!''
Shouting enthusiastically, the soldiers began to advance towards the tribe, but Commander Anton was rather unhappy as he sent his troops to the battlefield. He had to fight with this bandit group as if it wasn't enough to come here.
Seeing that the armored unit was attacking, Redtail drove his remaining fighters to the front.
"Chief Alyon, I am inquisitive about your plan this time," said Dimitri, who saw the movement of the bandit group from where they are.
"There is no longer any plan that can be made. Our numbers have become equal; we will fight hand to hand."
The Orc Chief answered the merchant, arms outstretched.
"Finally, they used the armored unit. It is an excellent opportunity to see the results of a month's training. I hope I won't need to get up. "
Alyon continued his speech as he took a fruit from the plate in front of him.
"How can you find an armored military unit within the bandit group? Judging by the color of their armor, they are soldiers from Nikonia city troops. "
Sasha was most surprised at armored units from the trio following the battle at the top of the hill. "Personal ambitions, my young friend, I think having a city is unsatisfactory for the city lord," Alyon said, smiling at the state of Sasha, who looked at him in amazement.
There was a conversation on the hill, but when Pigtail saw the enemy troop coming over them with spears, he hurriedly shouted.
"All warriors, retreat to the second line and build the shield wall. Archers, the shot is free! "
Orc warriors came to the middle of the hill, kept their distance from the enemy, and began to build the shield wall. Archer Orcs were positioned at a slightly higher place and attacked the enemy with the advantage of its inclination.
While the arrows they shot injured the bandits, the purple rhino warriors did not suffer from these attacks because of their armor. Although the armor joints were the target of some arrows, the soldiers were not injured thanks to the steel braids they wore. As the enemy soldiers in heavy armor began to demoralize the Orcs, one of them threw the spear in his hand at the place where Chief Alyon was.
These experienced soldiers knew that the Orcs would disintegrate if they lost their leader. Everyone's eyes were on him on the battlefield as the spear moved through the air.
Alyon slowly stood up as he watched the spear coming towards him. Aiming directly at his head, this spear did not even blink when it hit between the two eyebrows.
Those who were on the battlefield were frozen by the scene they saw. The spear that hit the chief's head was shattered in half, including the tip of steel.
Upon this attack, Alyon picked up a fist-sized stone from the ground and threw the spear at the throwing soldier. His spear was broken at the head of the enemy, damaging the soldier's honor. He was planning to take this humiliating attack in return in the same way.
How would he look in the faces of his friends if he escaped from a thrown stone while he had a steel alloy armor reinforced with amethyst?
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Had he known that he would not have a face because he was hitting the rapidly coming stone armor, the soldier would consider fending him off. The stone from Alyon's hands shattered the head of the armor, and blood began to ooze from several open holes. The purple rhino warriors had amazement and the Orcs joy when the soldier fell like an empty sack.
The Orcs were enraged at the targeting of their chief after this event, which soon happened. Sangre was stretching the string of his bow one after another to punish this insult, and he was raining arrows on the soldiers.
When the enemy soldiers reached the shield wall, they saw the Orcs puncture their shields halfway through the ground. Deciding that the final result would come out with the combat to be held here, the Orc warriors began waving their axes with exuberant cries.
Orcs were much more determined and resourceful after a month of hell training. At the front, Orcs supported the shields with their shoulders, occasionally pulling some soldiers over the shields into the wall.
As the bloody war raged in the heart of the tribe, Alyon sadly observed things getting worse. Although courage, tactics, and morale were determinants of the outcome on the battlefield, the equipment difference was bending the orcs' backs in this combat.
The soldiers were inflicting pain on the Orcs with their attacks with their long spears between the shields. Although they had the advantage of position and defense, their weapons were helpless against the armor of the purple rhino warriors.
When Alyon, who could not hold it any longer, got into his tent and stood up to retrieve the war hammer, his eyes seemed to catch on Sangre, who was fighting with his bow.
Seeing the orc brothers fighting in front of him, falling one by one, this warrior was shooting continuously. As blood dripped from his right hand, he could not feel the cuts in his fingers with the fire of battle.
Alyon, thinking I should finish this war without further loss, was startled by footsteps inside the tent. Soon after, the figure emerged from the tent as his hands walked to the shattered archer, and he sat back in place.
Although the arrows he fired could not harm his enemies, Sangre continued his shooting without getting tired. As he thought about what else I could do, he heard the voice of someone speaking in his ear.
"Is that all your talent?"
Sangre, struggling with desperation and tiredness, shouted angrily at the voice behind him.
''Who are you?''
"Apart from being inept who can't pierce those lousy armors, you were too stupid to recognize the master's voice!"
Seeing Nafız in front of him, Sangre knelt excitedly.
"My arrows can't pierce the armor, no matter how hard I stretched my bow!"
Sangre threw his weapon to the ground with anger as blood dripped from his hands.
This desperate state of the first blood warrior, created after Mora's inheritance, helped Nafız soften a little. When she waved her hand, a bow from nothing and a quiver full of arrows appeared.
This seven-foot-long bow that appeared out of nowhere drove Sasha crazy.
"This bow is one of Abarran's twenty major bows ..."
Seeing the shut-up sign made by his master's hand, Sasha had to interrupt his speech before he could finish. Of course, Dimitri had noticed that the bow and quiver appeared out of nowhere. As a result of some thoughts, he wanted his apprentice not to make any more fuss.
"You stubborn brat, let's try them for once. We never got along with this big boy, but I think he will get along very well with you."
While Nafız gave the bow to Sangre, she was also watching the ongoing war. Sangre knew very well the current state of his hands. As an unbearable pain penetrated his bones, he reached for the spring given to him by his master. An indescribable feeling spread all over his body since he took the bow, making it feel as if it had been with it for years.
Because Abarran was a follower of the Sacred Blood Sect, most of the weapons he made were designed to interact with blood with its users. It was impossible to use the equipment he made, especially those who carried their blood without proper blood ties. That is why Sangre, who holds a piece in his veins, even though it is smaller than the blood of the Mora, took his bow in his hands.
Sangre, who gently pulled this spring of 250 pounds with three fingers, gently pulled it and sent the two-and-a-half-foot long blood-red arrow to the armored warriors. Unlike arrows that did not work on armor before, this special arrow got stuck on its third target; after it got out of the soldier's armor, it entered and pierced through the soldier behind it.
Seeing the destruction caused by his arrow, Sangre roared wildly, unable to suppress the enthusiasm within him. The collapse of the arrow and their roar drove fear into the hearts of the enemy soldiers. Unlike the enemy, the faces of the Orcs behind their shields were smiling.
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Two perfect people can never be together. Because the ideal woman doesn't say yes the first time, and the ideal man doesn't give her a second chance.
Anton Chekhov