Chapter Twenty-One: Amaska in Desperation

Among the orc tribes, the Minotaurs were the largest, most robust, and strongest of all. Aside from a slight flaw in their reflexes, Minotaurs were, without doubt, the ultimate choice for heavy assault infantry in the age of cold steel. Clad in iron armor and wielding massive axes, they were unmatched among foot soldiers—unmatched, that is, only against other infantry.

When faced with the charge of heavily armored cavalry, the combined weight of man and horse—several hundred pounds of iron hurtling forward with the momentum of speed—proved too much for even the sturdiest Minotaur to withstand. The Wild Bull realized that when confronting these mobile fortresses, the best outcome was mutual destruction—Minotaurs and heavy cavalry perishing together in their collisions.

Minotaurs were sent flying in all manner of contorted postures, only to smash into bloody pulp upon impact with the ground, the sheer force of the heavy cavalry’s charge rendering most unable to resist. Those struck head-on experienced a fleeting sensation of soaring through clouds before ascending to report to their Beast God.

Though the heavy cavalry held overwhelming dominance, they were up against more than ten thousand armored Minotaurs. Even after piercing the thick ranks of Minotaurs, the cavalry still lost over a hundred men, while more than a thousand Minotaurs were rendered incapable of fighting.

The wolf riders, waiting for the opportune moment, saw their main force falter. With a howl from their minor leader, several hundred wolf riders surged toward the embattled side of the field. Yet, they were intercepted by Sun Li's final trump card: two hundred Mamluk Guard cavalry. Seeing that their numbers were not inferior and their foes lacked the ironclad protection, the wolf riders boldly launched their own charge—only to be schooled in the art of true cavalry warfare by the Mamluks, through both archery and close combat.

Watching his last contingent of wolf riders dispatched so easily, and his Minotaur formation shattered under repeated cavalry assaults, the Wild Bull suddenly realized that this battle, so unequal in strength, was likely lost. This could not be allowed! With a furious roar, he led his personal guard headlong into the oncoming heavy cavalry—only to be hurled back even faster than he had charged.

Thus ended the life of the great orc general, the Wild Bull, who departed this world in spirit, contributing ten precious points to Sun Li before his swift exit.

The disordered Minotaur formation was then cut down by a timely advance of a thousand heavy assault infantry, once again demonstrating the overwhelming advantage of a dense formation over a scattered one. The towering Minotaurs were utterly routed by the human soldiers.

With the Minotaur lines collapsing, fewer than five hundred heavy cavalry remained. They charged toward the orcs’ final headquarters—the location of the shamans. As long as the shamans remained alive, the goblins on the front lines would not break. Any further delay would result in unacceptable losses!

Once these detested shamans were eliminated, the remaining forty thousand goblins on the battlefield—oblivious to their numerical superiority—crumbled in panic. With casualties approaching half their number, the goblins were terrified out of their wits; all thoughts of honor or homeland vanished, survival being their only concern.

Thus concluded the largest and last battle of the cold steel era that Sun Li would ever fight. His victory was flawless. Soon he would enter the orc empire’s heartland, where a new age of gunpowder awaited. Against the million-strong army led by the Barbarian Hammer Emperor, Sun Li was confident he could teach them a lesson in humanity—with a firing line of muskets.

Amidst the cheers, Sun Li’s army embarked on the long pursuit of fleeing enemies. He had no intention of letting these mobile points escape—his dream was to exchange enough for the prowess of a Grand Knight!

The pitched battle was decided in less than a day, but the pursuit and slaughter of the remnants lasted a full five days. No wonder that in ancient battles on Earth, less than a tenth of soldiers perished in the actual melee, with the vast majority being cut down in the rout.

After five days of pursuit and one day of reorganizing and marching, Sun Li finally set foot in the orc empire’s heartland six days after the decisive battle. This time, he refrained from indiscriminate slaughter for points. For the sake of lasting stability, he pacified the orcs who dared not resist and promised that their lives and property would be protected, so long as they pledged loyalty to Song.

Of course, the orcs were not short of stubborn fools. Under the might of the organized human army, these fools contributed over thirty thousand points before they were subdued. The security of the imperial capital region improved rapidly, and the proportion of intelligent orcs increased noticeably, much to Sun Li’s satisfaction. Evidently, a little slaughter improved the orcs’ intelligence.

While Sun Li busied himself consolidating his hold on the orc heartland, nearly ten days of suicidal assaults had brought the orc main force face to face with the humans atop the city walls. Wave after wave of powerful orc warriors—Tiger Heads and others—scrambled up the makeshift ‘avenues’ of corpses and earth under a hail of gunfire, surging onto the battlements for brutal hand-to-hand combat.

Against these physically superior, ferocious orc warriors, the demoralized human soldiers stood little chance. In just half a day, Amaskia’s regular troops were reduced by more than half. As for the militia, the piles of their corpses on the walls—far outnumbering those of the regulars—spoke for themselves.

For the first time, the orc army achieved a one-to-one casualty ratio against humans in a direct confrontation—a historic, epoch-making advance. Yet neither side cared for any book of history: for Amaskia, it was shame; for the orcs, did such records even exist?

Thus, the orc main force firmly seized the walls and, elated, went to inspect their first captured cannons—only to find, after days of intense use, that the guns were either burst or misfiring, and those still usable had been destroyed by the humans.

Upon this realization, the orcs were enraged. After all their desperate efforts, not a single functional cannon was left—an unforgivable insult!

Seething with fury, the orc army surged down from the walls and stormed into the human city. But the colonists were neither fools nor cowards. Armed and resolute, these ‘freemen’ knew that orcs left no human captives alive. Driven to desperation, their fighting spirit flared—they would either resist or die. With no escape, humans fought on until one side was utterly exterminated.

This was a war of races—no defeat, no surrender, only battle to the death.

Though the humans remaining in the city mounted a desperate defense, Amaskia knew the city’s fall was only a matter of time. The orcs boasted a million-strong army, ten times the population of the city.

As the gates were thrown open and even the goblin cannon fodder poured in, a cold and merciless glint shone in Amaskia’s eyes.