Ashen Dragon

"Bang!"

The warhammer flew out of his hand, piercing through the air, instantly smashing several shells horizontally before boomeranging back into Giant Mountain's grasp.

Immediately after, several jagged iron balls shot out from the broken contraption on his shoulder, soaring toward the incoming shells in the sky, causing them to detonate mid-air.

Facing the last few shells, Giant Mountain roared once more, swinging his warhammer and smashing it down ferociously.

"Boom!"

A massive fireball erupted in the air, while an orc warrior clad in crude armor landed heavily on the ground. Aside from scorch marks, he was almost entirely unscathed.

"Giant Mountain! Giant Mountain! Crude Giant Mountain, the terror of the Ashen Empire!"

"WAAAAGH!!!"

The orcs shouted his name feverishly, growing even more frenzied. Amidst this tidal wave of voices, Giant Mountain's force field grew even stronger.

Mycelium released by Mo Ke connected the orcs together, generating a reality-defying force steeped in sheer willpower.

Watching this scene, even the Empire's observers found it hard to comprehend.

Staring at the magic image of those laughable, barely toy-like weapons and armor, they muttered, "How is this possible? No matter how you look at it, that junk shouldn't even function!!"

"By Cassius above, damn it, that's just scrap metal from disassembled shells!!"

The researchers were utterly exasperated, clutching their already sparse hair as they cursed at the orcs decked out in their crude gear.

"WAAAGH!!!"

"Plunder them all!"

Under Giant Mountain's rallying call, the orcs' offensive grew fiercer as they picked up their scavenged scraps of iron and steel, launching another charge against the Empire's defenses.

Faced with shells raining from the heavens, this time the orcs used their self-made armor for protection and relied on the force field for interference.

Some orcs were still blasted into bloody shreds, their bodies pulverized, but far more surged forward to fill the gaps, roaring as they streamed toward the distant fortress.

This time, braving the relentless barrage of artillery fire, the orcs managed to close in, advancing to within several hundred meters of the Ashen Empire's defenses, nearing the fortress.

Within those defenses, the Empire's engineers had already constructed countless fortifications. The winding trenches stretched like giant serpents, snaking for miles.

Hundreds of bunkers of varying sizes formed a sturdy network, each providing mutual protection. Every bunker housed several light and heavy machine guns along with dozens of soldiers, creating formidable fire points.

From the moment the orcs entered the defensive zone, the infuriated voice of the Great Goblin General Derol echoed through the fortifications: "Open fire! Light them up! Don't let them take a single step closer to Flying Dragon City!"

Instantly, rows upon rows of gun barrels erupted with fierce flashes of fire. Over a thousand machine guns pulled from various locations opened fire simultaneously, presenting a spectacular sight.

"For the Empire!"

"For His Majesty Cassius!"

"By the mighty Cassius above, with Flying Dragon City standing with us, these green-skin vermin won't cross this line!"

The Imperial Soldiers within the bunkers shouted fervently, their battle cries imbued with the might of Dragon Blood rivaling the orcs' savage howls.

"Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat——"

Heavy machine gun bullets poured out, showering down on the orcs like torrential rain.

The frontmost orcs bore the brunt of the onslaught and suffered the worst luck. Their chests, abdomens, and even heads were torn apart by blood sprays, collapsing motionless onto the ground.

The Ashen Empire observed no mercy. Each bullet churned the enemy's flesh into pulpy messes, striving for maximum carnage—even the resilient vitality of the orcs struggled to withstand it.

"Imperial humans, I'm gonna smash you into meat paste!"

Giant Mountain hoisted a steel giant shield cobbled together from shell fragments, holding it before him as he charged ahead like an armored vehicle.

"Giant Mountain! Crude Giant Mountain!"

"I'm following him into the charge! Forget these tiny scraps of iron—just kill the soldiers hiding in their holes and we'll win!"

At once, under Giant Mountain's urging, thousands of orcs surged behind him in a fierce charge.

"Die!"

"Green-skin vermin! Taste our bullets!"

Under the scything fire of over a thousand heavy machine guns, the green-skin orcs fell like wheat cut down by sickles; even those wearing armor struggled to withstand the penetration of the bullets.

"Get moving with me! Damn it, where is everyone?"

Giant Mountain charged enthusiastically but suddenly noticed a lack of movement behind him. Turning around, he saw his subordinates riddled with bullet holes, lying lifeless on the ground with bloodied corpses.

Meanwhile, the Empire's artillery bombardment continued unabated, subjecting the orcs to slaughter from both sky and ground. Despite their vast numbers, advancing even a single step proved challenging.

From within the bunkers, the Imperial Soldiers also identified Giant Mountain as the "boss," redirecting their aim to focus fire on the leader they sought to kill.

"Bang!"

Within seconds, Giant Mountain's steel giant shield was shattered into pieces, riddled with holes, while bullets pierced through to strike his formidable frame.

"Ah!"

Giant Mountain howled in pain.

When the bullets penetrated his body and detonated violently, he felt as though a chunk of his entire shoulder had been gouged out.

However, due to the spore enhancements, his body possessed tremendous resilience and rapid recovery. The surrounding airborne mycelium quickly converged, sealing the bloody hole in a matter of moments.

"You! You dare to harm me! I am Giant Mountain!"

Soon, the rage from being wounded overcame the pain, frenzy clouded his mind, and Giant Mountain's blood-red eyes lost all sanity, becoming a beast of war.

"Waaaaagh!!"

He discarded the shield, let out a furious roar, and charged headlong toward the bunkers, his armored bulk resembling a walking fortress.

"I'll kill you all!"

Bullets continued to strike Giant Mountain's body, spraying blood mist as crimson holes dotted him, turning his flesh into a macabre sieve.

But with the spore network's power, the surrounding mycelium merged to become part of him, constantly repairing and filling his wounds.

"Follow Crude Giant Mountain!"

"He's the boss!"

The orcs shouted gleefully.

Under a downpour of artillery fire, in the smoky chaos of the battlefield, the air was saturated with the pungent tang of gunpowder and blood.

Thick black smoke cloaked the skies while the earth, ravaged by artillery strikes, became marred with cracks and craters like the injuries of a battered body.

On distant ridges, smoke roiled, shells whistled through the air, tearing through the silence, while thunderous explosions roared deafeningly.

The soldiers' faces were smeared with sweat and grime, their taut expressions betraying exhaustion and tension. Every explosion quickened their heartbeat, each blast reminding them of death's proximity. The atmosphere within the trenches was suffocating and oppressive, a blend of gunpowder and decay, making breathing laborious.

A command issued by the Commander pierced through the chaos like lightning, racing through the ranks. Soldiers scrambled out of the trenches, charging toward the enemy lines. Their footing was unstable on soft ground, their strides heavy, but none hesitated. Gunfire ahead rang out like death's beckoning, yet they pressed forward without falter, staring mortality in the face.

The charging formation was loose and chaotic; some stumbled, instantly pulled up by comrades, while others grazed by bullets sprayed blood but never slowed. Shell casings sparkled as they flew, the screams of ripped air shattered the surrounding silence. Enemy machine guns erupted abruptly, pouring relentless fire from the flanks onto them. Soldiers dropped to the ground, desperate to survive within sparse cover, as bullets zipped past, their iron clang sounding like death's whispers.

On the artillery positions nearby, gunners were diligently loading ammunition. Every firing cannon shook the battlefield with immense explosions, illuminating every corner with fiery flashes. The enemy lines in the distance were shredded instantly, yet far from retreating, their unyielding retaliation shocked and awed.

"Advance! Quickly! Don't stop!" The Commander's voice, tinged with veiled desperation, rang across the turmoil. Soldiers trudged onward through mud and chaos. Every step felt like treading on blades, each moment threatening to topple. Yet they pressed on, for behind lay their homeland, their comrades—they had no choice but to fight to the bitter end.