Chapter 342: The Last Day
"Roar…!"
The Chimera King roared madly, flapping its wings furiously and slapping toward Yaya.
It tried to twist its upper and lower body to break free from Yaya's restraint.
Yaya pressed its head down and bit into its neck.
Crack!
The jagged fangs deeply tore into the Chimera King's tough skin, ripping out a large chunk of flesh.
The intense pain made the Chimera King struggle even more violently.
Yaya released her bite and clamped down hard on one of its flapping wings.
Amid the sound of snapping bones and tearing tendons, the Chimera King, with half a wing broken, screamed as it plummeted downward.
No need to look—it was as good as dead!
Yaya let out a triumphant cry, shaking off the blood from her mouth, and flew toward the remaining scattered chimeras.
The hunt had begun.
Of the forty or so chimeras, only a lucky few escaped the sky; the rest fell, becoming flesh bombs crashing into the orc camp.
While they didn't kill many orc soldiers on impact, they significantly lowered the morale of the Blackstone orc.
The sky, which should have been theirs to control,
had now become someone else's hunting ground.
Yaya, who instilled them with fear, was a dragon they could not stop.
In a tent deep within the orc camp, Black Blackstone silently lifted his head, a flicker of apprehension in his eyes, and muttered softly:
"Indeed, the larger the territory, the greater the population, the more complex the situations, and the likelier it is to produce geniuses."
"I hope this time, we can cultivate some elites…"
After speaking, he closed his eyes, seemingly unconcerned about the potential danger.
"Tomorrow, we attack one last time!"
He had sensed the threat and didn't want to linger any longer.
However, if tomorrow's attack could break through the Blood Moon Army's defenses in one fell swoop, he wouldn't mind completing the gods' "task."
November 30th.
Outside Carlisle City.
As the first ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds and fell on the earth.
The misty beams of light illuminated the messy orc camp.
Dense clusters of orc soldiers gathered together.
Under the call of Black Blackstone, they began to reorganize their ranks.
The roaring war cries of Komodo beasts echoed across the battlefield.
Dozens of scattered mutated monsters were crushed under the tidal wave of the orc army.
Soon, the massive orc army charged wildly toward Carlisle City.
A continuous rain of arrows poured down like a storm.
Orc soldiers struck fatally by the arrows occasionally fell.
The slightly tense Harley Knight, watching the nearly overwhelming orc army, shouted without hesitation:
"Fire in volleys!"
"Prepare the boulders!"
"Ready Fireball spells!"
"Release!!!"
Various lethal attacks rained down on the orc soldiers' heads.
Rows upon rows of orc soldiers fell, but more kept filling the gaps left by their dead comrades, advancing toward the city walls in formation.
They feared neither death nor pain, demonstrating exceptional battle determination.
Fortunately, the defending soldiers were now very familiar with the orc's attacks and continued firing in an orderly manner, reducing the number of soldiers nearing the city.
Many orc soldiers carried crude round shields and long ladders, slamming them against the walls of Carlisle City.
Hundreds of makeshift ladders were forcefully pressed against the walls.
Most of these were quickly pushed away by the prepared defending soldiers using long spears or smashed apart with falling rocks.
However, more ladders kept being hoisted up by the shouting Blackstone orc.
Dense waves of Blackstone orc climbed the walls like ants, inching upward.
Occasionally, some orc soldiers were struck by rolling stones and fell, their screams marking their end and dragging down unlucky comrades with them.
Yet, some elite and lucky orc soldiers tenaciously made it to the top of the walls.
They now faced the prepared attacks of the defending soldiers!
Brutal cries and clashes erupted.
Observing the battlefield, Yaya thoughtfully asked:
"Ya? Why do the orc only have ladders? Don't they know how to make rams, siege towers, or trebuchets?"
Matthew knew Yaya had seen these siege tools in his memory fragments.
Naturally, he didn't respond with a dismissive "let them eat cake" type of remark. Instead, he patiently explained:
"To make these tools, you first need talented individuals in that field."
"Orc rarely produce anything. They only know how to burn, kill, and loot. Their society respects strength above all, so they naturally lack talent in these areas."
"Moreover, applying these technologies and experiences to war requires multiple battles for gradual development and improvement."
"The crafts and skills needed to create these tools require generations of experience and refinement."
"Without a large number of inheritable craftsmen, even if the orc occasionally come up with some ideas, they lose them over time…"
Matthew merely gave Yaya a brief explanation of the various conditions needed to produce such tools.
Yaya, being very intelligent, only needed to hear the basic principles to deduce the outcomes based on the development of the situation.
This was the gift of a child of time!
"This applies not just to offensive methods but also to defensive measures!"
"This is the Netheril Empire, where spellcasters are the strongest force in this land!"
"Therefore, most resources and manpower are invested in expanding the power and number of spellcasters!"
"…"
As Matthew explained to Yaya, the battlefield below reached its most brutal and intense phase.
Bloody close combat!
More and more orc soldiers climbed the walls, forcing Harley Knight to deploy reserve soldiers while shouting to the long-prepared spellcasters in the rear:
"The time has come!"
As surging waves of magical power erupted, a mass of dark red clouds formed in front of the walls.
Sparkling flames blossomed in the whirling winds, quickly forming intense firestorms that swept toward the orc army below.
A near-legendary Seventh Circle spell—Flame Storm!
The tightly packed orc soldiers were engulfed by the terrifying storm, severely burned, and met grisly deaths.
This battlefield spell, often used in war, claimed at least three thousand orc lives.
Furthermore, it ignited blazing walls of fire before the walls of Carlisle City, preventing the remaining orc soldiers from advancing.
Without reinforcements, the orc soldiers on the walls soon found themselves isolated and helpless.
Most were overwhelmed and killed by the defending soldiers, while a few managed to escape back to the base of the walls, barely clinging to life and awaiting the next attack.
The power of a single spell was utterly terrifying!
This was the absolute authority of spellcaster power!
This was the core strength of the Netheril Empire!