Orc Tyrant

The wind of war intensified.

Rankagra, an imperial sergeant and a ancestor, belonged to the 59th Regiment of the Black Legion.

His armor was broken into bronze and iron, and the pale painting of the black armor was like clouds of smoke in the past, and the tactical flashlight mounted on the left side of the helmet was re-lit, miraculously not damaged by his fall.

His subordinates have become pieces of meat scattered around him, Dmitry has become a mass of scum, his remains are scattered in the ruins, Vaddak’s chest is pierced, and the first level is cut off by the broken wall. Twitching on the **** sand.

Dane and Farley were just the closest to the defensive turret when the enemy’s machine guns fired and blasted the wall. In the flash of Langkagra’s memory, both of them were enveloped by the martyrdom flames. When the shock wave would They were burning when everyone flew.

The remains of the two were burned so that no human form was visible, and he suspected that they were dead before they landed.

Thick smoke rose from around him, but the blowing wind blows most of it away.

He couldn't move, he couldn't feel his left leg, and the fragments were scattered around him, one of which was particularly sharp penetrated his thigh and nailed him to the ground.

He turned his head and looked at the burning bunker. The remaining machine guns were firing at the roaring rockets. The entire wall was blown up, opening wide to the enemy's door.

The enemy's army is coming through the dusty desert, and the filthy dust and engine smoke from their motorcycle tires half-hidden the enemy's body.

The enemy army was adorned with various primitive and crude armors, galloping in frantically and coordinated.

He remained calm and called the friendly forces on the communicator, but he knew that there would be no support coming. They were abandoned under Ouke's artillery fire, and they were abandoned.

Although he understood that this was a helpless move, Rancagala still felt sad for the death of his brothers.

Their regiment has run out of ammunition and food, and there are only less than 300 people left, but it is almost impossible to stick to the two-kilometer front.

"Um...cough cough."

Rankagra looked at the steel bar that pierced the flesh and blood of his thigh, and tried to pull it out. Even the analgesic in the blood could not offset the tooth tingling pain caused by the metal rubbing the thigh bone. .

"Ancestors bless you."

Half-dreaming and half-awake, he whispered in Zuen language.

Waaaagh! !

A huge mechanical howl came from nearby, it was some kind of howling flying machine, and it fell heavily beside him.

Immediately, a shadow obscured the sky. It was not his comrade-in-arms. Instead of reaching out to help him get up, the other party pointed a gun at his face.

Rankagra stared at the same emptiness in the muzzle of the darkness between the two worlds. He glanced to the left. His gun fell in the ruins. With his feet pinned, it was half of the world. distance.

With a sigh, he took off his helmet and felt the sand-filled wind blow over his bleeding face, and he wanted his servants to see his smile.

Charl Deschuk, the company commander of the 30th Company of the Fifth Guard Division of Tyre.

While breathing, he exhaled a breath full of sourness and felt the blood flowing between his teeth.

One of his lungs seemed to be pierced, and the other seemed to be a booming drum, overworked and without rhythm.

His face felt fierce pain from the lash that struck flesh and blood like a tiger's claw, and the last lash took away one of his eyes.

When the whip hit again, he immediately raised his sword to resist, and the viper-like long whip hit his gun-holding hand, knocking his weapon away from it.

Deschuk, who was half-blind, breathless and disarmed, was forced to kneel on one knee.

"For... Empire!"

The words that burst from his broken throat were weak and weak, and his opponent responded with a low and huge roar, enough to knock Deschke's other eye out of the socket.

The thick wall formed by the sound blew his hat off in a resonant sound. After three full heartbeats, he lost his balance and fell to the ground. The breastplate drew a spark on the rough ground.

There are corpses all around, some huge and rickety figures are executing the wounded, the twisted remains of two cannons are burning, and not far away, an ugly-looking truck is also burning, and many green corpses are scattered around.

This time a successful ambush required the price of half a company, and they only had half of the company left.

Deschke didn't regret it, because this was his duty to block the enemy and destroy the enemy. This was the only thing they could do when the retreat had been completely cut off.

"Well……"

He tried to stand up, but stepped on the back of his head with one foot and slammed his devastated face against the ground. He felt his teeth shatter and pierced his mouth with saliva.

"in order to……"

His cry turned into a silent pump when the blade gently penetrated his spine.

Sharak is a Blurred Blade.

He is the heir of a flesh and blood sacrifice, like a statue made of flesh and blood, dedicated himself to demons for remodeling.

Sharak pursues them, proves himself with the sacrifice of flesh and soul, and pursues the strongest among them to lodge in his body to gain superhuman power-this is the truth of flesh and blood sacrifice.

He can't remember how long he has been here, or how long Oke has been chasing him.

The organization of the Blurring Blade was on the verge of disintegration. After Lord Silas disappeared, most of them fought alone with their hatred of Ouke.

He chose to come to the back of the Ouke front to carry out his own hunt.

He is not here to escape them, but to face them.

They chased behind, mocking and shouting on the other side of the mountain.

Sharak could hear the ridicule in their words, and didn't care about their laughter.

His muscles seemed to be on fire. The last demon was driven away from him seven nights ago. He could only pursue the next demon hungrily.

Soon, he knew, and soon he would find it.

He grasped the heavy rock with his hand in hand armor, and when a bullet hit the stone wall on the side and blasted it into flying fragments, he could sneer for a moment, and immediately let himself escape Ouke. Fire net.

This temple secretly enshrined by some miners was waiting for him. He was very sure of this, but what he saw now was far beyond his expectations.

In front of him is a statue, which has become some kind of rickety, fuzzy, almost invisible creation under the shape of a long time.

"You found me—"

A voice appeared in his mind, and Sharak left a cold sweat from the sound of silence. He turned his head and saw only the almost invisible sculpture and the endless rock.

"Sharak—"

It said:

"Your enemies are approaching, let us join forces to destroy them, me and you?"