Chapter 819: The Great Battle of Mountain Beasts (2)
But the orcs kept coming. The initial attack had been a feint, a means to tire out the troll front line. The real attack came from the sides.
On both flanks, orc battalions surged forward in scattered, irregular patterns. Rather than charge directly into the troll ranks, they used hit-and-run tactics, darting in to strike and then falling back before the trolls could retaliate. The trolls, larger and slower, struggled to respond to this sudden shift in strategy. The flanking orcs moved like a swarm of hornets, stabbing and hacking at any opening they could find, and then retreating just as quickly.
The troll commander knew this was dangerous. The orcs were trying to force his troops into breaking formation, hoping to spread them thin and create gaps. But he had prepared for this.
"Rear guard, tighten the lines! Don’t let them split us!" he bellowed to his captains.
The trolls on the outer edges of the formation began to shift, tightening their defensive stance. They moved slower now, backing toward the center, their shields forming a thicker wall. The flanking orcs found their movements constrained, as the trolls’ formation became more impenetrable. But the trolls couldn’t press forward either, their defensive stance preventing them from pushing outward with enough force to break the orcs.
At the same time, the orc warlord directed a second wave of his berserkers, this time aiming to punch through the trolls’ center. The orcs in the middle charged headlong, screaming war cries and smashing into the troll line. Their warlocks behind them began casting crude but powerful magic, sending waves of energy to blast the trolls’ shields and break their concentration. The spells battered the trolls, pushing them back, but the troll mystics responded in kind, casting barriers to repel the worst of the damage.
The middle line of trolls held firm, though cracks began to show. One orc broke through, plunging his axe deep into the leg of a troll before being crushed by a war club. Another troll stumbled backward as an orc’s sword pierced through a gap in his armor. The trolls’ superior strength allowed them to withstand most of the damage, but the relentless orc assault was beginning to wear them down.
The orc warlord, seeing the strain in the troll ranks, pressed the attack even harder. He sent more troops into the fray, hoping to break the trolls before they could regroup. Orcs flooded the battlefield, their numbers seeming endless as they hurled themselves against the troll defenses. The trolls, massive and strong, fought back with ferocity, but even they couldn’t hold forever against such an onslaught.
It was then that the troll commander made his move.
"Front line, break and charge!" he roared.
The center of the troll formation, which had been holding its defensive stance, suddenly burst forward. The trolls, with their enormous strength and size, pushed into the orc ranks with brutal force. Shields were abandoned in favor of massive war clubs and swords, as the trolls swung with devastating power, crushing orcs underfoot and scattering their forces.
The orcs had not expected this sudden offensive. They had assumed the trolls would continue to hold their defensive line, but the commander knew that the only way to turn the tide was to disrupt the orcs’ momentum. The trolls smashed through the orcs middle, creating chaos in their ranks as they carved a bloody path forward.
Meanwhile, the trolls on the flanks began their own counterattack. Instead of holding their defensive position, they now moved to encircle the orc forces, reversing the earlier tactic. The trolls’ massive size allowed them to crush orc formations beneath their feet, their war clubs smashing through shields and armor alike.
The battlefield became a swirling vortex of blood and steel. Orcs and trolls clashed with brutal intensity, each side refusing to give an inch. The orcs fought with savage rage, their berserkers hacking at anything in their path, while the trolls used their superior strength and endurance to grind down the orc forces. Bodies piled high on both sides, the ground soaked with blood as the battle wore on.
The orc warlord, realizing his forces were being surrounded, called for a retreat. The orcs began to pull back, but the trolls pursued them relentlessly, crushing any stragglers who couldn’t keep up. The orc warlord cursed under his breath, knowing that the battle was lost. His troops had been worn down by the trolls’ relentless defense and brutal counterattacks, and there was no way to regroup in time.
As the orcs retreated into the distance, the troll commander stood tall, surveying the battlefield. His forces had taken heavy losses, but they had held strong. The trolls had outlasted the orc onslaught, their disciplined formations and brute strength winning the day. But the war was far from over, and the commander knew that this victory, hard-fought as it was, would only lead to more battles ahead.
The battlefield was a chaotic, bloody expanse, with trolls and orcs clashing in a deadly struggle, each side employing ancient tactics that would determine the fate of this corner of the war.
The troll commander stood tall atop a slight ridge, surveying the battlefield below with a cold, calculating gaze. His massive frame was clad in dark, jagged armor that glinted in the dim light, towering over even his own troops. His long, grayish skin rippled with muscle as he gripped his iron war hammer, its head scarred from countless battles. The battlefield stretched out before him like a living chessboard, and he was the master tactician.
His plan was precise and ancient, a tactic passed down through generations of commanders—the Cannae Double Envelopment. It required patience and discipline, traits trolls were not commonly known for, but the troll commander had drilled his troops hard for this very moment. He barked orders to his lieutenants, who in turn relayed commands down the ranks. Every troll knew their role in this grand maneuver, and each one stood ready at their designated position.
The center of the troll line was the key to this entire plan. It had to appear weak, fragile, a tempting target for the aggressive orcs. The trolls in the middle had been specifically chosen for this role—seasoned warriors who knew how to give ground slowly and without breaking. They carried shields and spears, but their movements were rehearsed to give the impression of disarray. These trolls would hold just long enough to bait the orcs into committing fully.
On the flanks, however, it was a different story. Trolls with heavy armor and weapons—massive axes, flails, and hammers—stood ready, their shields locked together, forming a solid wall of defense. These trolls weren’t meant to engage yet. They were the jaws of the trap, and their role was crucial. As the orcs pushed into the center, these flank trolls would maintain their positions, waiting for the right moment to collapse inward, cutting off the orc forces and enveloping them from both sides.
The center trolls began to execute their part of the plan, retreating step by step, just enough to give the illusion of being overwhelmed. They grunted under the weight of orc blows, shields clanging against axes and swords. Their retreat was slow, deliberate, and carefully measured. Orc war cries filled the air as the orc vanguard sensed victory in sight. They surged forward with increasing ferocity, believing that they had found a weak spot in the troll defenses.
The orc commander, seeing the troll center faltering, ordered his warriors to press harder. His confidence grew as his wedge formation drove deeper into the trolls’ lines. The orcs, powerful and brutal in their assault, hacked through the troll ranks, creating a widening breach in the center. The orc foot soldiers surged into the gap, believing they could split the troll army in two.
But this was precisely what the troll commander had anticipated. His center troops were now in full retreat, pulling the orcs deeper into the trap. The flank trolls held their positions, waiting for the perfect moment. The orcs were so focused on their breakthrough in the center that they paid little attention to the looming threat on either side. It was exactly the kind of blind aggression the troll commander had counted on.
As the orcs poured into the breach, the troll commander gave the signal. The lieutenants on the flanks raised their banners high and roared the order to advance. Like two enormous jaws snapping shut, the troll flanks surged forward. The trolls, armed with colossal weapons, crashed into the exposed flanks of the orcs, their shields raised, their axes and hammers swinging with devastating force.
The orc vanguard found itself trapped, caught between the unyielding line of trolls at the front and the crushing force of the trolls sweeping in from the sides. Confusion spread through the orc ranks as they realized too late that they had been lured into a trap. The trolls on the flanks were now in a full, aggressive push, their massive size and strength overwhelming the orc warriors. Each swing of a troll’s weapon sent orcs flying, their bodies crumpling under the sheer power of the troll assault.
