Orc Tyrant

The air was full of pungent smells, and the approaching army made a deafening roar. Turk could no longer hear the prayers of other people around him.

He glanced around the front line, and the soldiers did not disappoint him.

In the extreme situation, even though they were forced to assemble in a hurry, they formed a perfect formation and stood in battle behind trenches and sandbags in accordance with the plan of countless exercises.

Turk knows how they perform in the next thirty minutes will be crucial.

These soldiers cannot turn the tide, but by delaying the enemy and slowing down the opponent's pace, they are expected to determine how this **** day will develop.

An Old World Volunteer Company flying the banner of the Great Corps rushed to the right flank of the Eleventh Step Corps, forming a line between the barracks trail and the southern canyon.

The other field force, which was smaller but equipped with tanks, moved behind its colleagues.

The communications report stated that the armored units and infantry support of the Sixth Regiment would arrive behind them within ten minutes.

The left flank of the Eleventh Step Corps was the wall of fortifications. Turk and his trusted captains cleverly deployed their positions on higher terrain and in the undulating terrain between the barracks.

They received good tactical instructions in the communication, and their insight was with them.

Turk was able to see the chaplain approaching his soldiers and asked them to fine-tune and tighten the formation. He nodded, believing that his troops were at their peak.

Then he raised his dagger and held it high in the air.

The sound of the safety bolt opening suddenly sounded.

The tide of the enemy forces was less than a quarter of a kilometer away from them, and thick smoke swept in with them.

Dozens of local soldiers in Tyre who escaped from the attacked position are rushing. Turk realizes that those poor idiots are doomed to escape. They are in the line of fire, and he has no conditions to order his men to wait until they escape. Fire again after a few days.

People have to make some difficult choices in war.

As early as Aswan, people have shown how indifferent they can make this choice.

Compassion is a liberal folly. It is extremely stupid to save one life and cause the death of another hundred lives.

"The Father is with me."

Turk looked up at the flag hanging in the dry air. He looked at the pattern on the flag. It was an angel with wings and a white dove head, holding a scepter with a bell and a telescope.

As a believer, he is well aware of the impermanence of fate, and also understands how fast time passes for a person who shuttles in the shadow of the sword.

Turk believes that he also understands fate.

You pay the price, get her service, and know that she will switch to another person's arms on a whim.

The sky above his head became even darker, turning into a dark red of blood.

"Boys!"

He shouted:

"Don't be afraid of death! Under the gaze of the Father, everything is judged!"

The soldiers responded with open throats.

"Everything has a trial!"

The time has come.

Turk used his short sword to make a short slashing motion, spinning in the air.

This is the first signal.

On the low ridge to his right, the mortarer filled the cannonball into the angled barrel, took a step back, and turned his head.

Bo Bo Bo Bo~!

A burst of hollow explosions sounded continuously, and the mortar shells accurately grasping the distance flew into the sky and fell into the enemy group.

Turk observed the explosion and flash of the shell after it hits the ground, and nodded in satisfaction.

Every explosion raised white smoke and dust, throwing up a corpse.

He swung the dagger back and forth.

This is the second signal.

The water-cooled heavy machine gun and the direct-fire cannon on the tripod began to roar, and the dazzling tracer projected toward the approaching enemy.

Pieces of enemy forwards were wiped out in ashes, smoke and blood mist enveloped the surging Ouke front, and pieces of meat fell on their heads like rain.

Turk could see the tall Okk swordsman shivering and dissociating under the torn of heavy firepower. He also saw a behemoth running into pieces, tumbling and crushing all the riders on its back.

He laughed. Turk had also heard that in Oak's society, body size determines status.

However, being huge on the battlefield, apart from being able to shed more blood, it may not have other advantages.

Later, he slashed the short sword downward.

This is the third signal.

The barrels of guns protruding from behind the trenches and sandbags immediately opened fire, and the explosion of the muzzle echoed like the sound of a tree branch breaking.

Under the roar of the officers and the command of Turk's insight, rows of soldiers aimed, fired, aimed, and fired.

The effect of this is devastating.

The marksmanship of the Eleventh Step Corps has a long history, and Turk is very proud of it.

In the eyes of colleagues in the army, all the guys carrying the angel banner were sharpshooters, and no one could not hit the flying wild bird from 900 meters away.

Turk often received applications from other troops to borrow one or two shooters for training purposes. He suddenly thought bitterly and regretfully that Giannofa and Komanzil, his two best shooters were not with him this morning. Around.

A month ago, he loaned those two guys as instructors to the Rossiya Corps stationed in Tyre.

According to the news he received recently, their training journey has ended and they are on their way back.

These two guys missed all the fun, those two lucky bastards.

A professional volley killed the front row of the Ouke’s troops. The infantry and the cavalry were killed together. Although a few Tyre soldiers who were escaping for their lives were unfortunately hit, Turk was gratified to see that the marksmanship of his soldiers was not good. Prestigious and avoided most of his comrades in arms.

The frantic survivors rushed into the front, crying for asylum.

Turk didn't lift his eyelids, but looked at his deputy commander.

"Continue shooting—"

Turk lip-synched in the boom.

"Maintain the order until the enemy is received."

The other nodded.

Turk raised his dagger again, level with his eyes, and raised it in front of him.

This is the fourth signal.

The wizards interspersed among the soldiers took a step forward, and as they released their long-lasting spiritual power, a deadly fence appeared.

On the outer edge of the position, sharp stalagmites rose from the ground, like an awakened behemoth opened its big mouth, and surrounded the whole position in a piece of diagonally inserted sharp teeth, the longest of which was ten feet. Meter.

At the same time, the tip of the stalagmite began to become hot in the scorching energy.

"Put your head on, bastards!"

Turk thought.

"At that time you will understand how the Black Legion can kill you."

As if he had obeyed his wishes, Oak did so.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! ! ! !

The enemy swarms like locust swarms rushed through the last bit of open terrain. Under the salvo of various light and heavy weapons, every step they took was exchanged for life.

Ten meters, five meters, two meters...

Although they suffered heavy losses, they continued to approach.

Whenever an Ouke dies, there are two other places on top of it, and four more rush up after they die.

In the blink of an eye, the Oak striker reached the stalagmite fence.

The first row immediately pierced like meat skewers. They didn't want to stop, but the push behind made them unable to stop at all.

The wizards did not relax either. They tried their best to fight against the shocks and the weight of several enemies.

Some of them hummed laboriously, causing the entire body to be picked off the ground and stuck in stalagmites like a caught fish.

Others struggled to fall, with blood spurting from their mouths. The huge weight of the enemy's corpses crushed the stalagmites, and even the rocks solidified by witchcraft shattered overwhelmingly, and the witchcraft sheath that protected them disappeared.

"it has started--"

Turk whispered to himself.