Ashen Dragon

"Boom!"

The earth-shaking roar erupted, another bomb detonated mid-air, the explosion birthing flames that devoured and scorched everything around it.

The air was suffused with the acrid stench of gunpowder smoke and the metallic tang of blood.

The land was left scarred and barren, littered with blast craters, fragmented shrapnel, and towering piles of scorched orc corpses.

But now, the intensity of the bombardment had noticeably lessened compared to before.

Bipedal wyverns, after all, required resupply for their ammunition, and in this brief lull of relative safety, the orcs tread on the corpses of their kin, charging through the blazing inferno in an almost manic frenzy.

Even as the beast hide on their bodies was ignited, even as their feet stepped onto rocks burned red-hot and blistering, the orcs paid no mind—they only surged blindly forward.

Frequently, an orc would step onto a landmine and be instantly obliterated—those lucky enough would survive but lose their legs to the blast.

One particular orc, after stepping on a landmine, picked up his own mangled, bloody legs and began crawling forward on the ground, writhing with determination as he rasped hoarsely, "It's not over... I can still charge..."

"Waaaagh!"

From behind, deafening battlecries roared forth as the orcs surged en masse, trampling over the bodies of their comrades without hesitation. The crippled orc on the ground was mercilessly crushed into pulp underfoot.

The sight of their kin's deaths did not instill fear—on the contrary, it sent them into an even greater frenzy, excitement overflowing. The spores saturating the air served as the orcs' perfect catalyst.

"Let's go! Those big birds are out of eggs!"

"I'll rip them apart! Turn these bastards into stew! My little brothers died in the flames!"

"For Gush!"

The feverish warcries echoed across the wasteland as the orcs rallied, surging mightily toward Aivendel—or rather, Flying Dragon City.

After suffering close to 100,000 casualties, the orcs finally reached Black Stone Mountain, arriving within several kilometers of the fortress walls.

Yet these poor, green-skin orcs were blissfully unaware that the rounds of bombardment they'd endured were merely a prelude, a warm-up—the true test had only just begun.

Nor did they realize just how much preparation the Ashen Empire had undertaken to utterly annihilate the orcs—how many military researchers had worked tirelessly, day and night, calculating and scheming for this war.

...

Far on the empire's defensive perimeter, hundreds of heavy artillery pieces stood poised, their ominous, gaping black barrels aimed squarely at the sky.

"Heh heh, this time we're gonna blast 'em into oblivion." The Ogre Artillery Corps' legion commander, Bighead, dangled a cigarette from his mouth, grinning broadly to reveal rows of yellowed teeth—and a hideous, menacing smile.

"Commander, the orcs have entered our firing range!" A scout's voice crackled from the radio.

The empire's flying dragon cavalry, often used as scouts, wielded their aerial advantage to observe the battlefield in its entirety and uncover hidden enemy movements.

Bighead exhaled the smoke from his cigarette and crushed it underfoot before asking leisurely, "How many of them are coming?"

Perched high in the sky, a wyvern knight peered through his telescope, narrowing his eyes as he saw the vast ocean of orcs spreading before him. He muttered faintly, "Commander, their numbers... it's unbelievable!"

"How many exactly? Give me a damn number! Quit dawdling!" The Ogre Corps Commander snapped impatiently.

The scout hastily scanned the sea of orcs stretching across the horizon and reported truthfully, "Conservative estimate—those within our firing range alone number around... 300,000, and beyond them, the orcs are countless."

"Three hundred thousand?"

Upon hearing this, even Bighead couldn't help but widen his eyes in surprise. But soon after, he burst into wild laughter, "Hahahahaha! Good, damn good! So many of them—it's perfect!"

The ogre swung his massive hand and barked at the artillery crews stationed across the perimeter, "Fire! No need for calibration—hit them full force! Blow up as many as you can! Ammo is no concern!"

"Long live the commander!"

"Long live the Empire!"

"For His Majesty Cassius!"

Instantly, the perimeter was alive with thunderous cheers as the gunners thrilled in anticipation before diving into a flurry of activity, rapidly loading shells.

Those who achieved the rank of gunner in the empire often possessed certain peculiar hobbies—like the enjoyment of watching living creatures torn to pieces in explosions.

And for the players serving in the artillery corps, this was a dream scenario, where they always found the highest rewards and experience gains without risking life and limb in brutal combat.

"Boom——"

At the command of the ogre, the artillery erupted, hundreds of cannons firing in unison, their shells tracing elegant arcs through the air before raining down on the distant orcs.

At the sound of the incoming artillery fire—the shrieking and booming—the orcs were dumbfounded, utterly perplexed.

"What's that noise?"

"Wait... that sound again, I know it—it's those fire eggs! Ow! Why'd you hit me?"

"You idiot! Only those strange birds in the sky can lay those kinds of eggs! But there are no birds up there now, so where are the eggs coming from—"

In that moment, the hail of shells rained down, detonating mid-air and instantly obliterating dozens of orcs.

The searing shrapnel sliced through flesh like scalding blades, carving away half the head of the orc who had just been speaking.

Though his face was twisted with fury, the orc managed to choke out his final rebuttal with his last breath, "I'm telling you... it's... those... eggs."

"Boom!"

The next instant, with a cataclysmic explosion, the blast engulfed everything around it.