Orc Tyrant

This is a day of destruction, and I faithfully record this day.

The soldiers dressed in black are the guards of Broka's Black Legion. This disciplined and dedicated force is the defensive force of Gramatia and the remnants of the defenders of the Aswan Fortress.

They are well-trained, vigorous and vigorous, not losing to any elite corps of the imperial army, and even have an impressive record in the war against Ouke.

However, their numbers are too small. According to only two regiments guarding Broka, it is difficult to withstand the ferocious offensive of Ouke’s main force.

It looked like a flood from the pavement, and they seemed to turn around and run for their lives.

But they did not run away. I should recognize their courage and record this in the story.

They faced the main force of the royal court of the Ouke Empire, the most efficient and ruthless killing machine under the command of the overlord, but they did not back down.

The opponent in front of them is a savage and frantic behemoth, like a wild variant of nature, and they still hold their ground. They were ordered to defend Pero, and they did not abandon this order from beginning to end.

So all of them went to death.

When enthusiasm and fanaticism face each other, there is only one ending.

Neither party will abandon the cruel and heavy responsibility on his shoulders, so at least one of them will be completely destroyed.

Bulletproof armor is woven into the iconic dark coat of the Black Legion, but it cannot withstand the impact of large-caliber bullets. Some soldiers are equipped with breastplates or riot shields, but everything is withered in front of the brutal automatic guns. .

Their helmets are made of cold steel and are still as fragile as paper for tomahawks and blades.

A few of their combat vehicles were covered with heavy armor, but under the impact of individual rocket launchers and various war machines, there were only scorched wreckage in an instant, or they were turned into cremation pyre by heavy flamethrowers. Wooden coffin.

According to a number of Ouke soldiers, the leader of the scrap iron faced a gun cart single-handedly, as if it was just a cub of howling cows, about to be twisted to the ground and **** by him.

He tore open the armor with mechanical claws. The steel body was as thin as tin foil. He opened the interior door of the tank, and then used shotguns to turn the crew inside into meat sauce.

The scene of destruction was heartbreaking.

The legion continued to advance, and the corpses were everywhere, which was terrible to watch.

Some of them were dismembered by sharp blades, while others were scorched and melted. The bombardment of various guns left huge wounds, which looked like deep bite marks on an apple.

On the other hand, the standard rifles and automatic weapons of the Black Legion were like itching to the murderous Ok, they only suffered minor injuries.

Only heavy weapons and direct-fire artillery can act as a real threat. However, as the armored forces of the Ork side advance and rumblingly approaching from the cloud-filled area by the sea, even this last bit of hope of stubborn resistance has completely disappeared.

Tanks as gray and huge as granite-as it should be called, and war trucks rushed through the forested buildings in the lower city, crashing the towers and houses.

Their tracks have opened up new roads between the streets of the city, leaving death trails paved with gravel behind them. The weapons search for the enemy at any time and quickly annihilate any targets within the attack range.

The gloomy figure ran around, rushing into the flames of war along the newly formed road of death.

They look like some kind of round bipedal creatures, large and small like scattered beads.

I'm not sure whether they actually exist or are imagined by me.

The smoke and dust enveloped the Quartet, making it indistinguishable.

Before that day, I had never seen the Oukes so wild and so cold.

They often look at war with a peculiar lightness and indifferent attitude. This attitude of still not forgetting humor in the execution ground allows them to establish bonds, overcome difficulties, and face their fate with a loud laugh.

It was almost a joy and relief, an eagerness to perform duties properly. Even in the cruelest cruel battles, I often witnessed such attitudes: mean jokes, cheering each other, acrimonious irony, and indifference. Way of thinking.

But this is not the case in Broca.

This conquest was too dark and disgusting, and they immersed themselves in the fury of battle.

To a certain extent, this makes Broka's punishment more extreme and terrifying. No mercy was given, and mercy was not even considered at all. The only thing that showed sharp teeth was a roar full of rage and hatred, rather than making people. A timid smile.

The blood-red eyes with golden pupils cast a decisive shadow, and the fierce gaze became more and more cold in the fierce battle.

Blood leads to blood, killing leads to killing, flame feeds flames, in the burning furnace of madness, a city is destroyed, a society is ruined here, and a deep wound that will never heal is torn on the Benedict Empire. Open.

The guards performed all their duties without hesitation or concerns.

They did nothing wrong, they were perfect fighters, perfect executioners, they were born like this.

This story, my story, is not to eliminate their guilt.

But this story has to explain another point, and another secret thing...

The experience of that day has been integrated in my mind. This is often the case after too many extreme shocks, too many brutal scenes and ear-splitting noises.

A brief moment may be longer than that, and different events are intertwined and superimposed.

I remember being in a park, or the wreckage of some kind of public green space.

All the plants are burning, and there is a small temple-like building next to it. It was hit by a stray bullet, and it was puffing thick smoke into the reddish sky.

We pushed forward from the east with crossfire. I temporarily fell from the sky, because the thick smoke had already covered the ground and made observation extremely difficult.

Subsequently, I encountered those monsters for the first time.

There has never been a record of this army in the intelligence, they are like a shadow that appeared out of thin air, lying in front of Oak's sharp spear.

At first they stopped for some reason.

That is not fear, perhaps their tactics in order to gain a certain advantage, or perhaps it stems from a certain kind of restraint.

They wore cold and grotesque black battle armor with gold edges, and the nose bridge of the helmet was covered with a symbolic decoration similar to that of a poisonous snake.

Although they seem to be the same as the Black Legion fighters in terms of silhouette, size and equipment, in fact they are quite different.

Their ways of acting are different.

Oak Benz leaps, they are steady.

Oak buried his head and sprinted, and they swaggered.

Oak shouted loudly, but they were silent.

I stood in the middle of that anxious lawn, watching the two hostile fronts meet each other, and the wild iron gray figure swooped at the black warrior.

The sound was as loud as thunder, and the two armies met like a rock crashing in mythology, and there was a sharp sound of gold and iron. It sounded like the terrible rolling thunder at the peak of the blazing plateau. Detonated by the rolling dark clouds.

In ancient times when only the gods and their demigods walked on the ground, war must be exactly like this.

Many mighty giants wore noble armors, and some of the dark warriors covered in battle flags were like the gods of the sky in mythology.

Both sides put heavy hands on them, and one soldier was wounded under guns and swords and died on the spot.

The roaring chainsaw cut into the serpent-shaped helmet, the heavy blow of the strange-shaped pistol penetrated the rough armor, and the two fronts lost their ferocious momentum after the head-on collision.

Afterwards, the fury of the overlord guard seemed to completely engulf this mysterious army.