Ashen Dragon

"No——"

"Ouch, it's so hot!"

"This is molten iron, get away! These damned, despicable Dwarves!"

The Orcs let out cries of agony, trying in vain to struggle within the scalding molten iron and escape, but it was all to no avail.

Steam billowed around their bodies first and when every droplet of moisture had evaporated, their flesh could only have intimate contact with the iron at over a thousand degrees Celsius.

Rolling steam enshrouded the battlefield, where only the crackling sound of liquid steaming away and the crispy noise of flames could be heard, while the screams of the Orcs had all but faded.

In this terrifying inferno of steel, any flesh would be burned by frenzied molten iron.

The group of Orcs that first made contact with Aivendel were all cast into the scorching molten iron, refined into dross by the Dwarves' expert smelting.

By the time the iron solidified, not even a single Orc that could still stand was visible underneath the walls, leaving only irregular blocks of iron still warm to the touch.

"Orc bastards, taste what it's like to be scorched!"

"Ha ha ha, this is the punishment Moradin has laid upon you!"

The Dwarf Warriors on the walls laughed loudly without restraint, thoroughly gratified by the miserable state of the Beastman Army, feeling particularly vindicated.

"This could have forged so many fine weapons... what a pity to waste such good iron."

"Yes, it's such a waste to pour it over these devotees of Father God Guosh."

"Moradin above, please forgive our actions..."

The former Dwarf Craftsmen looked down at the gradually solidifying molten iron beneath the walls, sighing with regret.

Despite the sight of Orcs being shrouded and topped with steaming molten iron, they had yet to give up on the assault, still believing the Orcs would take Aivendel.

So more Orcs crowded around the iron-covered walls, commencing a new round of offensive.

"For Father God Guosh!"

"Crush the Dwarves! Take the fortress!"

Siege ladders were placed against the towering walls, with hundreds of Orcs clinging to them like threatening fangs embedded in the fortress, a dreadful sight.

On this battlefield, deemed narrow, Death continuously wielded its scythe, but the Orcs, more bloodthirsty than ever under the Shamans' rallying cries.

...

Inside the gates of Aivendel, the air was somber and solemn.

Hundreds of Dwarf Cavaliers clad in Heavy Armor, holding heavy Warhammers and iron rods, mounted on their sturdy Big-horned Mountain Goats, waited for the King's command.

The armors of these Dwarven riders shimmered brightly, even the goats they rode on were draped in well-crafted Leather Armor.

The Heavy Cavalry, the most formidable Dwarf Cavaliers in the High Mountain Kingdom, unequaled for a century, once praised by Bards: "These Dwarves charging down the mountainside, like a crumbling boulder."

And now, five hundred Heavy Cavalry stood in formation, prepared to launch a counterattack against the Orcs.

Under the tide-like onslaught of the Beastman Army, the defenses of Aivendel were gradually dwindling. If the enemy were to scale the walls, the fortress would surely fall.

"The time has come..."

"Endless retreat will only encourage the Orcs further and dampen the will of our Dwarf Warriors.

We need to counterattack! We must take the fight outside the city gates, with blood and death we shall show the filthy Orcs—Dwarves never surrender! Aivendel never falls!"

Instantly, a mighty legion of Dwarf Heavy Cavalry manifested, with a sound that shook the heavens.

Ed finally made up his mind determinedly, mounting his massive Big-horned Mountain Goat and gripping the Heavy Hammer in his hand.

"Open the city gates!"

Ed commanded gravely, then slowly pulled down the metal face mask on his helmet.

"Boom——"

With a muffled boom, the Dwarf Guards strained at the winches, and the heavy city gate slowly opened.

The Orcs outside, desperate in battle upon seeing this gate open without cause, were overjoyed, their voices excited.

"Are these cowardly and incompetent Dwarves surrendering? Aivendel is ours!"

"Ha ha ha! They cannot withstand the onslaught of the Orcs!"

"Wait... what's that?"

But soon, the Orcs realized with horror that although the gates were wide open, what awaited them was not a dispirited army of captives—but eagerly awaiting Dwarf Heavy Cavalry.

And at the forefront of the army, the Dwarf King clad in a metal mask was stern and forceful, resonating like a war drum.

"All forces, heed my command!"

"Charge!"

The ground trembled, dust filled the air.

With the rumbling of the earth, a tide of steel burst forth from the city gates as the iron hooves of the Armored Mountain Goats trampled directly over the frail bodies of the Orcs.

The Dwarf Cavalry, mounted on their goats, crushed the heads of the Orcs with their heavy Warhammers and iron rods with ease, as they effortlessly reaped lives.

"In the name of the High Mountain Kingdom, Aivendel shall never fall!"

At the front of the Heavy Cavalry, Ed hoisted his Warhammer with one arm, as his steed leaped several meters high.

"Bang!"

The Hill Giant's head burst on the spot, blood, flesh, and bone Shards scattered everywhere, only leaving a headless corpse to fall thunderously.

Riding the momentum of descent, Ed smashed the hammer onto the ground, the Warhammer, blessed by Mola, emanated sparks of light.

"Boom!"

The Warhammer smashed a giant pit in the ground, and with a grating sound, web-like cracks spread out along with charred marks.

Next, flames erupted from the pit and fissures, burning brightly and turning several Orcs standing atop into ashes.

Acrid, billowing thick smoke emerged, a smell of earth and metal filled the battlefield, and Ed swung his hammer again toward the place where hundreds of Orcs had gathered.