Chapter 832: The Great Battle of Mountain Beasts (14)
Yet the trolls refused to retreat. The battle raged on, a brutal dance of attrition. The trolls’ primal strength and cunning against the orcs’ disciplined, fortress-like formation. The battlefield, now littered with the bodies of the dead and dying, echoed with the roars of combat. Neither side was willing to yield, each move a calculated push to outlast the other.
The battlefield trembled under the relentless assault of the trolls’ Pull and Push counterattack. Having successfully baited the orcs into their wagon laager formation, the troll commander, his beady eyes glowing with cunning, unleashed the next phase of his strategy. The feigned retreat had lured the orcs into a fortified but static position, and now it was time to shatter it.
With a deafening roar that reverberated through the valley, the trolls charged back towards the orc laager. Their massive forms, hulking and enraged, barreled across the field, trampling over the fallen. They surged forward with terrifying speed and power, their enormous clubs and jagged axes raised high, ready to hammer down on the orc defenses. As they collided with the tightly packed formation, the sheer force of the impact sent shockwaves through the orc ranks.
The orc shield wall groaned under the pressure. The elite orcs at the front braced themselves, their muscles straining to hold the line, but even their considerable strength was tested. The trolls’ weapons, far heavier than those of any human army, crashed into the shields with the force of battering rams. The resounding crack of splintering wood and denting metal filled the air as shields buckled and bent under the strain. Some orcs stumbled back from the force, their feet digging into the blood-soaked ground, struggling to maintain their positions.
Behind the front ranks, troll archers let loose a volley of massive, thick-shafted arrows. Each arrow was as long as a man’s arm and tipped with broad, jagged heads meant to punch through the thickest armor. They rained down on the laager, each one striking with deadly intent. The orcs, however, had their shield wall raised high, and though some arrows found their marks, embedding themselves in orc flesh with sickening thuds, the majority of the projectiles were deflected or absorbed by the interlocked shields. Still, the pressure was mounting. Orcs grunted and growled, their hands aching from the constant bracing, their shield wall under continuous assault.
The trolls weren’t aiming for immediate destruction—they were pushing the orcs to their limits, both physically and mentally. Their commander knew that while the orcs’ Wagon Laager was nearly impenetrable at its strongest, prolonged pressure and unrelenting force would inevitably cause cracks to form. And as the trolls slammed into the formation again and again, those cracks began to show.
The trolls’ brute strength was unmatched, and with each brutal push, the laager’s integrity faltered. Individual orcs, despite their discipline, began to stagger under the weight of the attacks. Some shields were splintered outright, and the gaps left by fallen orc warriors widened with every troll assault. The trolls exploited these cracks, hammering into the weak points with renewed fury. Orcs screamed in pain as troll weapons found flesh, and blood splattered the ground.
"Hold the line!" the orc commander bellowed, his voice strained as he surveyed his crumbling defenses. But even he could see the toll the trolls were exacting. The sheer relentlessness of the attack was starting to wear down his forces.
At that moment, the trolls shifted tactics again. With brutal efficiency, they executed a Pull and Push maneuver—a sudden retreat to draw the orcs out, followed by another crushing charge. The front ranks of trolls pulled back slightly, their withdrawal causing a ripple of confusion among the orc defenders. Some orcs, bloodied and angry, began to step forward, eager to strike back and capitalize on what they thought was a troll retreat.
But the trolls had no intention of retreating. As the orcs momentarily relaxed their guard and took a step forward, the trolls reversed course, slamming back into the shield wall with even greater force. This time, the attack was concentrated on the weakened sections of the laager. The trolls targeted the areas where the orc shields had already splintered, where the orc soldiers were beginning to falter.
The orcs, now struggling to maintain their tight formation, began to fracture. Their discipline was wavering under the repeated hammering of the trolls. Some orcs were pulled from the front line entirely, dragged away by the overwhelming strength of the trolls. Gaps widened, and the trolls exploited them ruthlessly.
Behind the orc shield wall, the spearmen, who had been holding steady, now found themselves in a frantic battle to keep the trolls from pouring through the breaches. Spears jabbed out, finding troll flesh, but the trolls were relentless. With each troll that fell, another took its place, and soon the spear-wielders were forced into close combat, where the trolls’ massive size and strength gave them a brutal advantage.
Seeing the collapse of their front line, the orc archers fired volley after volley, desperately trying to thin the troll ranks. Arrows flew in all directions, striking trolls and embedding themselves in thick troll hide. But the trolls, enraged and seemingly immune to pain, continued their assault.
As the battle raged on, the once-solid laager formation began to falter. The orc warriors were exhausted, their muscles aching from holding up shields and thrusting spears. The trolls, sensing their imminent victory, increased their efforts, battering the remaining orc defenses with unrelenting ferocity.
But the orcs were not defeated yet.
The orc commander, seeing the collapse of his formation, ordered a retreat to a secondary defensive position. With barked commands, the orcs began to fall back, pulling into a tighter circle once more. The Wagon Laager had been broken, but the orcs were regrouping, desperate to make a final stand.
The trolls, victorious in their Pull and Push tactic, roared in triumph as they closed in on the retreating orcs. But even as they prepared for the final charge, they knew that the battle was far from over. The orcs, battered but not yet broken, would fight to the death, and the trolls would need to deliver the killing blow.
As the two armies regrouped for the next clash, the battlefield was littered with the dead and dying, the ground soaked in the blood of orcs and trolls alike. The once-clear battle lines were now a chaotic mess of bodies, debris, and broken weapons, but neither side showed any sign of surrendering.
The next phase of the battle was about to begin.
The orc commander barked orders through the clamor of the battlefield, his voice booming as he initiated the second phase of the Wagon Laager tactic: Hold and Strike. The trolls had pushed the orc defenses to their limits with relentless brute force, but the orcs were known for their discipline and resilience, even in the face of seemingly overwhelming odds.
The outer shield wall, still bruised and battered from the trolls’ onslaught, braced once more. The elite orc warriors, drenched in sweat and blood, locked their shields even tighter, gritting their teeth as the trolls smashed against them like waves against a cliff. But this time, it wasn’t just about holding the line. The orcs were ready to strike back.
From within the laager, the orc spearmen—armed with long, wickedly sharp spears—stepped forward into the gaps between the shields. With practiced precision, they thrust their spears out in quick, lethal jabs, each strike aimed at the trolls’ vulnerable spots. The spears shot out like serpents from their defensive coil, aimed at exposed flesh, eyes, necks, and the soft underarms of the towering trolls.
Trolls howled in agony as the spears found their marks. The thick hide that normally protected them was pierced, and black blood spilled onto the battlefield. Some trolls, wounded and enraged, swung wildly at the shield wall, but the orcs held firm. Each time a troll brought its massive weapon down on the shields, an orc spear shot out in return, stabbing deep into their bodies.
Behind the spearmen, the orc archers continued to rain arrows upon the trolls. The archers had become more accurate now, targeting weak points with brutal efficiency. Arrows flew in quick volleys, aimed at the trolls’ eyes, throats, and exposed joints, piercing through armor and flesh alike. Some trolls, with arrows embedded in their faces and necks, fell to the ground, choking on their own blood.
But the trolls were nothing if not adaptable. The troll commander, a massive figure with a deep scar running across his chest, recognized that his initial plan of overwhelming the laager head-on wasn’t breaking through quickly enough. The orc defenses, though battered, were holding strong, and the toll on his own forces was mounting. He needed a new approach.
With a thunderous roar, the troll commander ordered his forces to shift their tactics. Instead of focusing their attacks on a single front, the trolls began to spread out, surrounding the orc laager. Trolls moved swiftly to all sides of the orc formation, creating a ring of heavy infantry that pounded against the shield wall from every direction. The laager was now under attack from all sides, and the orc defenders were forced to divide their attention.
