Capítulo 10: Young Warrior
As he fought, Woric's blade met the sword of a Tampe knight. The clash of steel rang out, but Woric's strength and fury quickly overwhelmed the knight, sending him sprawling to the ground. Without missing a beat, Woric picked up the knight's fallen sword, dual-wielding the weapons with lethal grace.
The battlefield was a maelstrom of chaos. The Blue Fangs, initially disoriented by the fireball, were beginning to find their footing again. Inspired by Woric's ferocity, they rallied around him, their war cries growing louder and more fervent.
Woric fought with anything he could find. He picked up a fallen firearm, its barrel still hot from use, and fired into the advancing ranks of the Tampe soldiers. The bullets tore through their armor, sending them reeling. When the gun clicked empty, Woric discarded it without hesitation, grabbing a heavy rock from the ground and using it to bludgeon an enemy soldier who had gotten too close.
The other Blue Fangs watched in awe and admiration. Woric was like a demon on the battlefield, his sheer will to survive driving him forward. They began to chant his name, their voices rising above the din of battle.
"Woric! Woric! Woric!"
The chant spread through the ranks of the Blue Fangs, a rallying cry that reignited their fighting spirit. They pressed on with renewed determination, their attacks becoming more coordinated and fierce. The sight of their comrade fighting so valiantly inspired them to push harder, to fight with every ounce of strength they had.
Woric heard the chants, It fueled his rage, his desire to win. He cut through the enemy lines, his twin blades flashing in the morning light. Blood splattered across his face, but he didn't falter. Each swing, each strike was precise and deadly.
An enemy mage attempted to cast a spell, but Woric was on him in an instant. He knocked the mage's staff aside, plunging one of his swords into the man's chest. The mage's eyes widened in shock before he crumpled to the ground, his spell dying on his lips.
The Blue Fangs surged forward, their confidence bolstered by Woric's relentless assault. They chanted his name louder, their battle cries echoing through the forest. The Tampe soldiers, initially confident in their superior numbers and tactics, began to falter. The unexpected ferocity of the orcs, combined with Woric's near-superhuman efforts, was breaking their resolve.
Woric picked up another firearm, this one a heavier rifle, and took aim at the distant figures of the enemy commanders. He squeezed the trigger, the recoil jolting his arm, and watched as one of the commanders fell. He tossed the rifle aside, grabbing a fallen spear and hurling it with deadly accuracy into the chest of another soldier.
The battle was a brutal melee, bodies littering the ground, the air thick with the scent of blood and gunpowder. Woric continued to fight, his movements a blur of violence. He felt a blade slice across his arm but ignored the pain, turning to decapitate his attacker with a single, powerful swing. Veran and Darius stood in the command tent, their eyes fixed on the runes-covered drone feed. The magical glyphs shimmered, casting an eerie glow over the flickering holographic display. They watched in silent awe as the battle unfolded below. The Tampe soldiers, initially confident in their numbers and tactics, were being decimated by the Blue Fangs. But it wasn't the orcs that held their attention; it was the lone human boy in the midst of the chaos.
The boy, no more than 14, fought with a ferocity and skill that rivaled the fiercest orc. His movements were a blur of deadly precision, every strike calculated and devastating. He wielded both blade and firearm with equal mastery, switching seamlessly between the two as the battle demanded. Blood and sweat mingled on his face, but his eyes were cold and focused, burning with an unquenchable fire.
Veran wiped the sweat from his brow, his worry evident in his furrowed brow. "Who is that young warrior?" he muttered, his voice tinged with both admiration and concern.
Darius, equally captivated by the boy's prowess, shook his head slowly. "I don't know, Sir Veran. But he's unlike any warrior I've ever seen. He's... unstoppable."
In the midst of the battle, the boy—Woric—fought with relentless determination. His blades flashed in the sunlight, cutting through the enemy soldiers with ease. He moved with a grace that belied his age, his youthful energy driving him forward despite the growing exhaustion.
Suddenly, one of the orcs in the thick of the fight looked up and saw a blue flare in the distance. He let out a thunderous roar, pointing towards the flare. The other Blue Fangs, hearing the call, stopped in their tracks and looked up as well. The sight of the blue flare ignited a powerful response in them. They began roaring in unison, their voices merging into a deafening battle cry.
Woric, covered in cuts and blood, paused and looked up at the blue flare. The sight of it brought a wave of relief washing over him. He let out a sigh, his tense muscles relaxing for just a moment. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Despite the chaos around him, despite the pain and fatigue, the flare was a sign. It meant the battle was nearly over.
But he knew it wasn't time to rest yet. The enemy still pressed in, and he had a duty to fulfill. With renewed vigor, Woric continued fighting, his movements now fueled by a newfound determination. The roars of the Blue Fangs echoed around him, a powerful chorus that bolstered his spirit.
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