Chapter 820: The Great Battle of Mountain Beasts (3)
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.
The trolls’ envelopment maneuver was now in full effect. The orcs in the center were cut off from their reinforcements, isolated, and surrounded on all sides. Panic began to set in among the orc ranks as they found themselves pressed into a shrinking pocket of resistance. Orcs who had once been eager to push forward now turned in desperation, only to find their path blocked by a wall of massive troll shields and weapons. They were trapped, and the troll commander knew it.
His flanks closed in tighter, forcing the orcs into a tighter, more confined space. The trolls on the flanks showed no mercy, their heavy weapons crushing orc skulls, breaking bones, and tearing through armor. The orc warriors, known for their brutality, were now being slaughtered en masse, their wedge formation turned into a coffin. The orc commander, realizing his mistake, tried to rally his forces, but the chaos and bloodshed made it impossible to regain control.
The troll commander, watching the scene unfold from his vantage point, allowed himself a grim smile. The plan had worked flawlessly. The orc forces, once a terrifying sight on the battlefield, were now being systematically destroyed, their formation broken, their morale shattered. Victory was near, and the trolls’ double envelopment had crushed the orcs in the jaws of their own arrogance.
With the center fully collapsed and the orcs surrounded, the troll army pressed their advantage. The troll commander raised his hammer high, signaling for the final push. The troll reserves, fresh and ready for battle, surged forward to finish the job. The orc forces were obliterated, their bodies littering the battlefield, as the trolls completed their envelopment, closing the trap entirely and sealing their victory.
The troll commander stood tall, watching as the last remnants of the orc army were crushed beneath the weight of his strategy. This battle would be remembered, not for the sheer brutality of the fighting, but for the brilliance of the trolls’ ancient tactic, executed to perfection.
The orc commander was no fool. Watching the trolls’ center give way, he realized the danger of being encircled. His eyes gleamed with a savage brilliance as he saw an opportunity to turn the tide in his favor. The trolls’ slow retreat was meant to pull his forces in, but he had no intention of playing their game. Instead of cautiously advancing, he ordered a massive, aggressive charge, seeking to tear through the center before the trolls could close the jaws of their trap.
"Form the wedge!" the orc commander roared, his voice thundering above the din of the battlefield. His lieutenants echoed the command down the line, and the orc forces immediately shifted into formation. The wedge formation was a classic orc tactic—designed for brute strength and raw aggression. At the tip of the spear stood the strongest orcs, towering brutes clad in jagged black armor, their muscles rippling under the weight of their colossal, cleaving weapons. Their war axes and greatswords were designed for destruction, not finesse, and they wielded them with terrifying power.
Behind the vanguard, more orcs fell into place, fanning out to form the wide base of the wedge. Orc berserkers, clad in blood-splattered furs and wielding dual weapons, took their positions in the center of the formation, ready to tear through anything in their path. The orc archers and skirmishers lined the edges, providing support as they advanced with grim determination. The entire wedge formation was built to punch through the enemy like a battering ram, concentrating their might at a single point.
With a deafening war cry, the orc wedge surged forward. The ground shook beneath their feet as hundreds of orcs charged in unison, their weapons raised high, their eyes wild with the thrill of battle. The air filled with the sound of heavy armor clanging, battle axes slicing through the wind, and the thunderous stomps of orc boots pounding the earth. Their war drums beat in perfect rhythm, driving the orcs into a frenzy as they rushed headlong into the troll center.
The trolls’ thin central line—deliberately weakened to lure the orcs in—stood ready for the clash. The troll warriors braced themselves, shields raised, spears aimed forward, their feet digging into the blood-soaked ground. But the sheer force of the orc wedge was like a tidal wave crashing into a sandcastle. The trolls’ center buckled under the pressure as the orc vanguard tore into their ranks, cleaving through troll shields, armor, and flesh. War axes hacked through troll limbs, and greatswords shattered bones as the orcs pressed forward with relentless fury.
The center trolls, though seasoned and disciplined, were forced into a full retreat under the brutal onslaught. They staggered backward, barely able to hold their formation as the orcs drove deeper into their ranks. Blood sprayed across the battlefield, mixing with the dirt as orc blades struck with lethal precision. Trolls grunted and bellowed as they were cut down, their massive forms crumpling to the ground in heaps of armor and blood.
Yet, this retreat was not disorganized. The troll commander watched from his position, grim but unfazed. The center was designed to give way, to stretch the orc forces thin as they advanced too far forward. But the orcs were not playing into the troll’s hand as expected. The orc commander had no intention of falling for the envelopment. He wasn’t allowing his forces to be swallowed—he intended to rip the belly of the troll army apart before they could close the trap.
As the orc wedge drove deeper, splitting the trolls’ center wide open, the orc commander executed the second phase of his plan: the Hammer & Anvil. The orc center would continue to punch through the troll lines, but now the orc cavalry and reserves, waiting in the rear, would flank the trolls and smash into their back lines. This move was meant to cripple the troll army’s ability to reinforce their weakening center and destroy any chance of closing the double envelopment.
The orc cavalry, comprised of massive war boars ridden by hulking orc warriors, thundered around the battlefield’s flanks. Armed with long spears and heavy maces, they galloped in perfect formation, their tusked mounts snorting and snarling as they charged. Their objective was simple: to hit the trolls’ exposed flanks before the encirclement could fully take shape, turning the trap into chaos.
The troll commander, sensing the shift, signaled for his flanks to press in harder, but it was already too late. The orc cavalry slammed into the troll’s flank, their long spears piercing through troll armor and flesh. The trolls roared in surprise as the orc cavalry tore into their ranks, disrupting their carefully orchestrated plan. War boars rammed into troll warriors, knocking them to the ground as their riders swung maces, shattering troll bones and crushing skulls.
