It took about half an hour for the hot lava surrounding the Citadel to be fully drained. The slow retreat of the fiery liquid was like the ticking of a clock, counting down to the inevitable confrontation. All those times, the Orcs on the other side of the shore were growling excitedly, their voices a mix of anticipation and bloodlust that echoed across the battlefield.
Inside the Citadel, the human magus was stationed on all four sides of the walls, eyes fixed on the now accessible land that lay before them. They were waiting anxiously, preparing for the final battle.
Finally, the warhorn was blown, a deep and haunting sound that reverberated across the landscape. It was a call to arms, a signal for the hordes to march. The ground shook with the thunderous footsteps of the Orc army, all moving as one.
The Orcs were more than ten times their previous force. They were also better equipped and better disciplined. Their formations were tight and organized, a stark contrast to the wild and chaotic hordes from before.
Seeing the magus guard's concern, Commander Shepherd, a figure of authority and strength, addressed the assembled defenders. His voice rang clear, and his words were simple but powerful. "Let's give them hell!!" he proclaimed, his eyes aflame with determination.
The effect was immediate. The trembling among the magus guard ceased, replaced by a newfound courage. They were ready to face the horde.
And the battle began.
Crackling thunder, chaotic winds, fallen ice hails, and flaming blasts filled the Citadel's surroundings as the magus unleashed their arsenal.
The orcs fell by the thousands, yet for every orc that was killed, there were more waiting behind them. Their numbers seemed endless.
10,000...
20,000...
The numbers were overwhelming, a sea of fierce warriors pushing each other relentlessly. They surged forward, unstoppable in their advance. In just a little over one hour of intense battle, the orcs had managed to reach the walls, and some even started to climb over. The magus were certainly overwhelmed, their lines strained to the breaking point.
However, despite such dire circumstances, the Commander held his ground. He did not order the use of the turrets or the shields, keeping these powerful defenses in reserve. Instead, he called out a simple command, a rallying cry to his beleaguered forces.
"Hold them back!!"
A little over two hours into the battle, a new threat emerged. A group of orcs, distinct from the rest, dashed toward the gates. What caught the eye of an observant captain was the pouches attached to their bodies. They were running straight toward each gate, their intent clear and deadly.
The captain, recognizing the threat, quickly mobilized his forces.
"STOP THEM!!"
Spells were cast, arrows were loosed, and every available means was employed to stop the orcs' suicidal advance. Yet, despite their best efforts, one managed to reach the North gate.
KABOMMM!!!
It was a tremendous explosion, a concussive force that shook the very foundations of the Citadel. The gate was cracked apart, the damage severe and irrevocable.
The explosion was a signal, a call to action for the orcs. They concentrated their attack on the northern gate, crashing their hammers, fists, and even their heads against the thick rock gates.
This alarming progress prompted the commander to shout his command, his voice filled with urgency: "They are breaking the wall!! Reserve unit to the north gate!!"
A group of 15 combat magus hurriedly assembled, creating a line of defense with their limited weapons to stop the incoming orcs. Their equipment, swords, shields, and spears, was forged by the renowned Master Borin. Although it was barely comparable to tier 4 material, the quality and craftsmanship were more than enough to cut the orcs to pieces.
That was until the Orc Warchief entered the gate, flanked by several of its champions. A massive figure, its warcry resonated through the battlefield, turning the whole orc force at the gates into a frenzy, their eyes heated by bloodlust. The combat magus fought valiantly, but eventually, a small mistake cost one of them their life.
While the Magus was occupied with the orcs swarming into the gates and walls, the orc horns were blown again, a call for the hordes in the back to make another push.
This development, a new wave of orcs ready to charge, forced the commander's hand. His decision was inevitable, a necessary response to the escalating threat.
"Raise the Barrier!!" he commanded.
Right at that decisive moment, a soft ringing sound filled the air, like the chime of some distant bell. Almost instantly, a shimmering barrier materialized 50 meters in front of the gate. It was a spectacle to behold, an ethereal wall that split the sea of orcs in two. Those that stood too near were caught in the mystical force, their bodies disintegrating, killing thousands in a blink of an eye.
"Now!! Everyone, push them back!!" the commander's voice rang out, infused with determination and authority.
Answering the order, half of the magus leaped from the walls, swords and staves in hand. They descended upon the chaotic masses of orcs trapped inside the barrier, cutting and slashing, their faces set in grim determination.
The other half of the magus stood their ground on the walls, their hands weaving complex gestures as they began to shoot their long-range spells toward the orcs at the back.
Tens of thousands of orcs pushed and jostled, creating multiple huge clumps, their desperation and fury evident in their wild eyes. Sensing the opportunity, the commander swiftly sent another command, his voice clear and unwavering: "Activate the turrets!! Kill them all!!"
With a series of mechanical clicks and whirs, the turrets came to life, their barrels turning and aiming. The bombardment began, a relentless storm of projectiles and magical energy. The sound was deafening, a continuous roar that echoed across the battlefield. For about ten minutes, the onslaught continued, the turrets laying waste to everything in their path.
When the front was finally cleared, the smoke and dust settling, the commander ordered everyone to return to their posts. Their faces were streaked with sweat and dirt, but their eyes shone with the fire of victory.
The battlefield was littered with the corpses of 40,000 orcs, a grim testament to the ferocity of the fight. The human side had not escaped unscathed, mourning the loss of 3 human magus.
But the battle was far from won. The commander, aware of the need to conserve energy, repeated the tactic every hour. The barrier, the turrets, the magus—all played their part in holding back the relentless orc onslaught.
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