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Jimmy had no solution.
But Thorin did.
"Listen to me, Jimmy," Thorin said, his voice hoarse but steady. "I've been watching Azog's movements from the heights. Every time you push toward Ravenfield, he shifts his command toward the Snowline Ridge."
Jimmy's eyes narrowed.
"In a moment, you'll charge first," Thorin continued. "Drive straight toward Azog's position on Ravenfield. He'll retreat, just like he always does. When he does, he'll pull back toward the ridge, and that's when we advance."
Jimmy said nothing, listening closely.
"Dáin will lead the remaining fire charges and collapse the tunnels the earthworms dug. That will cut off the underground orcs' escape routes."
"And at dawn," Thorin went on, "Gandalf will disperse the remaining fog. The underground breeds won't survive exposed to the sunlight."
Thorin's expression hardened.
"I'll take a strike team and finish Azog myself."
Jimmy shook his head immediately.
"No! That's too dangerous, Sending a small team alone is suicide."
Thorin didn't back down.
"No, this is my fight. This is the only way to end it quickly, We can't afford more losses."
Jimmy looked around.
The elves nearby were filthy, exhausted, and bloodied.
Their arrows were gone.
Their breathing was heavy.
After a long moment, Jimmy nodded.
"Alright," he said. "Be careful. The moment you pin Azog down, give me the signal. I promised Beorn I'd cut that bastard in half."
Thorin allowed himself a grim smile.
"I promise."
Jimmy turned, then stopped.
"Dwalin, don't split your forces. If Azog is engaged, sound the horn immediately."
"You have my word."
Dáin stepped forward.
"Jimmy, do you want a mount?"
Jimmy shook his head.
"No need, from here on out, full power."
He stripped off his armor and opened the system interface.
---
[Name: Jimmy Halstead]
[Level: 12 (0.07%)]
[Age: 1]
[X-Gene: 1 (+)]
[Abilities:] Accelerated Healing, Feral Senses, Enhanced Smell, Advanced Hand to Hand Combat, Bladed Weapon, and Claw Mastery
[Equipment: Memory Adamantium Alloy]
[Strength: 60]
[Agility: 55]
[Mental: 40]
[Available Points: 0]
[Skill Points: 1]
(One skill point every ten levels. Can be used to evolve X-Gene or unlock latent mutations.)
Techniques: Silat
---
X-Gene?
No, Not yet.
That gene couldn't be touched right now.
He had no idea what activating it would trigger.
If it knocked him unconscious for days, the battle would be lost.
But raw stat points?
Those couldn't wait.
Food became fuel.
Elven travel rations were swallowed without chewing.
Chunks of dragon meat were torn apart and devoured.
Water followed.
Then more meat.
Warmth spread through his body.
Jimmy could feel it clearly.
His regeneration had grown stronger.
Strength increased recovery.
Recovery demanded fuel.
The cost was hunger.
The downside was control.
Once Strength surpassed Coordination, precision suffered.
But that didn't matter right now.
This fight came first.
"I'm moving out," Jimmy said. "Remember, blow the horn."
"Your armor," Dáin called after him.
Jimmy glanced back, clenched his fist.
Wolf claws extended, gleaming white, shrouded in faint crimson mist.
He dragged a claw across his forearm, The skin split and healed instantly.
He looked at Dáin calmly.
"Do you really think I need that?"
"I'm not human anymore."
Jimmy charged out alone.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
"What… is he?" Dáin finally asked.
"Definitely not human," Bard said quietly.
"And not an elf," Legolas added.
Thorin exhaled slowly.
"But he is Jimmyz, a friend of the dwarves, and that is enough."
"He's charging," Bilbo said, drawing his short blade.
Dáin laughed, lifting his hammer.
"We're already fighting alongside elves. One strange human won't change anything, Goat riders. Prepare to charge."
A thunderous roar answered him.
"Tauriel, sound the rally horn. Elves, regroup," Legolas ordered, sword flashing in his hand.
"All men," Bard shouted, raising his blade, "one final charge, for Dale. For our families."
High atop the Lonely Mountain, Gandalf stood still, staff in hand, waiting for the sun to rise.
For reasons unknown, Sauron's sorcery was being suppressed.
Gandalf might still wear grey, but he was present, here and now.
He only needed twenty minutes.
Once the sunlight broke through the fog, the cave-bred orcs would begin to die where they stood.
…
Everything was in place.
Jimmy burst from the line first.
This charge was faster. Cleaner. More direct.
Straight toward Azog.
Just as predicted, Azog fled, riding his warg hard and fast.
By now, Azog had abandoned any thought of surrounding and killing Jimmy.
That monster was no longer something orcs could deal with.
Better to leave him to Sauron.
"Now, Goat riders, charge," Dáin roared.
"Loose the last arrows, clear the path," Legolas commanded.
"Charge, Stay with the goats. Keep moving," Bard shouted.
The timing was perfect.
With Azog gone, the orc ranks lost cohesion, scattering like headless insects.
Arrows tore open lanes, and the charge didn't come head-on.
The dwarven riders smashed through the flank with unstoppable force.
Behind them, elves and men formed tight defensive circles, blocking pursuit and pinning the orcs in place.
The goat riders reached the tunnels left behind by the earthworms.
Fire charges were placed at the weakest points.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The ground collapsed.
The tunnels caved in completely.
They wouldn't be digging their way out anytime soon.
Even if the earthworms returned, the fractured terrain would likely crush them underground.
"Circle back," Dáin laughed. "Let's make sure those woodland elves aren't getting overwhelmed."
A roar echoed as the riders surged onward.
Using their speed, the goat cavalry began cutting the orc army apart layer by layer, peeling them away like skin from an onion.
Then—
Azog appeared.
Not at Snowline Ridge.
Below it.
At the Icefall.
He couldn't stay hidden any longer.
If he didn't reassert command, victory would slip through his fingers.
Azog still didn't believe he could lose.
He had the numbers.
And at dawn, reinforcements would arrive.
Once that happened, Erebor would fall.
As for that monster of a man?
Let Sauron deal with him.
"Azog sighted. Icefall below Snowline Ridge."
"We move now, Mount up, Charge," Thorin ordered.
His strike team surged forward toward the Icefall.
It had to be said.
The great mountain goats were the perfect mounts for dwarves.
Cliffs, Broken ground. Near-vertical slopes.
They charged across it all as if it were flat stone.
"Kill them."
The goats collided with Azog's warg riders.
Steel flashed, Blood sprayed.
Despite the dwarves' ferocity, the wargs tore into the mounts, ripping them apart piece by piece.
The charge slowed.
The clash had begun.
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