Capítulo 571: Chapter 571: The Collapse of the Orcs
At that very moment, Turalyon, on horseback, swiftly arrived, preparing to deliver the final blow to Zuluhed.
However, Zuluhed made a move that stunned everyone present. With a swift motion, his left hand grasped the severed half of his right arm, and holding the hammer in the broken arm, he swung it directly towards Turalyon's head.
Such an act was beyond any normal being's comprehension.
No one would anticipate that their entire arm would be knocked away, let alone think that a severed arm could still grip a weapon so firmly.
But Zuluhed did it, against all odds.
The weapon, like a giant nunchaku, descended swiftly. One end being his arm, the other his massive war hammer.
Even Turalyon, who had seen many battles, was momentarily taken aback.
With no time to dodge, Turalyon reflexively swung his holy, golden-lit paladin hammer towards Zuluhed's face, hoping to strike before Zuluhed's hammer could reach him.
Both of them landed blows almost simultaneously.
Zuluhed perished.
Under the impact of the holy strike, his face shattered. In front of the eyes of Warchief Orgrim, whom he held in high regard, he fell, twitching as the life drained from him. Nothing could stop the blood gushing from his fractured head.
Turalyon...
The Light saved Turalyon. A brilliant surge of holy energy enveloped him, reminiscent of a luminous eggshell, shielding him from the blow that would have surely ended his life.
A paladin's divine shield is always their last line of defense.
No competent paladin should fall in battle without invoking their Divine Shield.
The onlookers were shocked.
Orgrim, instead of showing weakness as many expected, gazed upon Zuluhed's lifeless form and unleashed a final, primal fury. Unable to lift his heavy Doomhammer due to his injured shoulder, he suddenly drew two daggers crafted from the fangs of some unknown beast, starting a breakout that seemed doomed to fail.
In an unexpected twist, it was Turalyon who rushed forward.
Dismounting, he swung his hammer down.
No one needed to warn Turalyon; all knew him as a person of thought and caution. Sure enough, at the last moment, he twisted his hammer to hit the orc warchief with its side, rather than its sharp head. The precise force brought Orgrim to his knees, collapsing him. More than one person noticed the orc warchief's labored breathing.
"You will face justice for your grievous crimes against humanity," he said to the unconscious Orgrim, still surrounded by the Light. "You will be paraded, chained, through every Alliance city, atoning for your sins!"
Uther arrived, standing beside Turalyon, radiant with a golden glow, brighter than the sun itself.
The orcs either turned to flee or, at best, shielded their eyes from the blinding brilliance. In this overwhelming light, the last orc who dared to rescue their chieftain was slain.
As the holy radiance faded, over a thousand orc eyes stared in disbelief as their leader was dragged away, shackled in thick chains.
Defeated!?
The mightiest orc of the Horde, the undefeated champion of Mak'gora, Orgrim, was defeated!?
Not just Orgrim, but also the famed Rexxar among the orcs, was captured!
For the orcs, who venerate individual strength, this was a catastrophic event that could shatter their very beliefs.
"Ah! The Warchief is defeated!"
"We've lost! The Warchief is captured!"
"Ancestors! Mak'gora's strongest has fallen!"
While not every human understood the orcish language, they could feel the terror and weakness in their cries.
"Do not let them escape!" commanded Lothar.
Indeed, the orcs were not surrendering; they were fleeing.
Pursuit has always been the norm in warfare. The paladins mounted up again, chanting prayers, their Light-infused hammers pointed at the orcs.
The Light shone brightly from the paladins' eyes, hands, and raised hammers. The scorched land beneath them turned pale in the glow of the Light emanating from them.
"Extinguish these wicked beings! Return these brutish creatures to the dust and rid the world of their corruption forever!" Uther zealously proclaimed the Light's doctrine.
Leading the charge, he hurled his radiant hammer with the intensity of the sun.
A paladin's Hammer of Wrath embodies their utmost fury against evil.
It's a release of their inner rage and also a judgment from the Light.
Many orcs, still in flight, were unexpectedly struck down by these hammers of light.
The charge led by the paladins broke the momentary silence on the battlefield, reigniting the clash between orcs and humans. The remaining Alliance forces soon joined the charge.
After witnessing Orgrim's defeat, the orcs, numbering nearly 150,000, frantically tried to flee the battlefield.
Blackrock Fortress's treacherous terrain played to their disadvantage. All fortresses are designed to be easily defended and hard to attack. The pathway leading from the Burning Steppes to Blackrock Mountain, at its widest, was less than 500 meters, narrowing as it ascended.
With enemies pursuing from behind, trying to climb was tantamount to becoming sitting ducks.
Tens of thousands of orcs crowded at the base of the mountain. Even though the humans behind them were not significantly more in number, not a single orc dared to face them.
In their desperation, they even turned against each other, grappling and tearing at their own kin for the sole escape route.
"Fire! Fire! Do not fear a misfire! Send all our shells to these green-skinned beasts!" Magni exclaimed excitedly.
Excluding those destroyed by the orcs or trolls and those that broke down en route, over 120 of the new steam tanks, the Model IVs, had gathered at the mountain's base, along with another 180 armored vehicles.
Thankfully, the most devastating tank destroyer was present.
"Fire the Little Steel Cannon!"
"Boom!" Each deafening explosion was followed by a burst of carnage.
The orcs... were finished!
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