Inside the massive crater of a fallen meteorite, Goreaxe Strurruilk, the Orc Warboss lounged on his throne of bones and skulls. The air was thick with the stench of blood with the spoils of countless battles won by brute force and savagery.

Before him, a small, trembling Goblin approached. His crooked, spindly fingers twisted nervously as his large, bulbous eyes darted around the chamber and glanced at the towering trophies of past victories before finally clearing his throat.

"Boss! Big news, big news!" squeaked the Goblin, bowing so low his nose almost touched the ground. "'Da Tiny Feet gitz... Dey be fightin' da whole race. A big War!! Massive War!!"

The Orc Warboss leaned forward, his thick fingers tightening around the armrests of his throne, causing bones to creak and crack under his grip. His massive tusks gleamed under the dim light of torches made from the charred bones of his enemies.

"War... and I wasn't told?" His voice was a deep, rumbling growl, more like the distant roar of thunder than anything human. His rage began to build and bubbled like magma beneath the surface. "An' I wasn't invited?"

The Goblin shrank back and shivered as the Warboss became enraged as the very air around them thickened with tension. The throne room shook, and dust fell from the cavern ceiling as the Warboss stood up, towering over the Goblin greatly like an elephant over a dog and his fist crashed into the ground, sending cracks spiraling out across the stone floor.

His roar exploded from his chest like a storm unleashed, a sound so deafening it echoed across the continent. Every Orc, from the smallest grunt to the fiercest chieftain, heard the Warboss's fury.

It was a war cry, a signal, the next Green Tide was coming. Orc warbands across the land would gather, unite, and sweep across the world like a wave of destruction.

"Prepare for 'da great WAGHHHH!!" His voice boomed, shaking the very bones of his throne. "How dare dese Soft Skins fight each otha without me? Den as a gift, we shall unite all da Clans an joined da party uninvitingly! WE SHALL MAKE 'DA WORLD GREEN AGAIN!!"

The Goblin, now visibly trembling but managing a sly grin, glanced up. "Uh, boss... wot about 'da weapons we found on dat new little land?"

The Warboss paused, his rage giving way to a savage gleam in his eyes. His lips curled into a bloodthirsty smile as he recalled the strange and powerful weapons scavenged from the land they had invaded not long ago. Even though Jiak's warband had been wiped out, a few of his Grunts had returned with some strange artifacts, and the moment they demonstrated its power, he absolutely loved it.

But none of the orcs remembered the island's location. Those who had forgotten had been beaten senseless and stripped of all their teeth as punishment.

"Did yer all make more?" the Warboss asked hungrily.

The Goblin's grin widened, revealing his sharp, crooked teeth and nodded eagerly. "Oh, we make more uv 'em, boss. All uv 'em."

Goreaxe let out a guttural chuckle and clenched his fists in anticipation. "Gud... very gud." He bared his tusks and his eyes burned with the promise of bloodshed. "We're gonna showz dese soft skins... an' all uv 'em, wot real WAAAGH! looks like!"

With one final, bone-shattering roar, the Warboss made his declaration. The Green Tide was coming, and this time, nothing would stand in its way.

---------------------

1st Year of God, Wednesday, 3rd Week, Month Of Jonah.

Months had passed since the war in the Third Civilization Zone erupted, a conflict that was supposed to bring great advantage to the Austronesian People's Empire. But despite the promised gains, the lives of several soldiers have been endangered. The order to retreat should have been given much earlier. Unfortunately, the Empire's overly cautious approach and hesitance to act had left several groups of special operations soldiers stranded deep within enemy lines in the lands now occupied by the Iron Kingdom.

If these soldiers were discovered, it would mean the end of the period of the great silence and secrecy that the Austronesian People's Empire had so carefully maintained. Worse, failing to save the lives of these soldiers would cause significant instability within Austronesian society, a risk that Emperor Maximo could not afford.

Seated at his desk, Emperor Maximo contemplated his dilemma while his fingers traced a slow arc through the air. He was seriously thinking about how he would be able to get out the special operation soldiers stranded deep within the boundaries of the occupied nations and also feeling haunted by the error of not withdrawing his soldiers sooner. The mission had been bold, and the intelligence gathered could prove invaluable. But there was a line, and he had crossed it.

He cursed his shortsightedness on the matter of spying on the enemy. Even if it would be greatly beneficial and an honorable sacrifice, one should know when enough is enough, and must retreat. That was one mistake of Maximo the Emperor.

Another hard truth is that the soldiers were important. They are not disposable and tools to be used and must be taken great care as each life is precious and doesn't naturally form within a few seconds. They need to be painstakingly molded from birth, trained, and shaped to serve the Empire. Losing even a few was a blow that could not be easily replaced.

Time was running out. The special operation soldiers, despite their superior technology, were running low on ammunition and supplies. Every wasted hour drained their resources further to sustain the lives of the special operation soldiers.

But the Emperor considered a bold plan, which is sending in another group of special forces. His best option was the Tempest Scions, an elite unit equipped with advanced magical weapons and gear. But they were already engaged in a critical mission, tasked with securing a partnership with a powerful global corporation. Their mission in Aquarius, complicated by the political and economic instability there, left no room for delays. Riley and his team would have to see that mission through before they could be redeployed.

With the Tempest Scions unavailable, Maximo turned his focus to the latest advancements in magical technology. The Empire had recently produced enough cutting-edge equipment to outfit every special operations team. The problem, however, was not simply a matter of gear. Even with superior technology, extracting the stranded teams from deep within enemy lines, surrounded by the forces of the Iron Kingdom, was a nearly impossible task.

And yet, Maximo knew he had no choice. He had to find a way. The survival of those soldiers, and perhaps the stability of his empire, depended on it.

Struggling to find a solution and lacking fresh ideas, Emperor Maximo decided to call a conference of the general staff. He knew that relying solely on his own thoughts could lead you in a state of narrowness in the end. Sometimes, the best way forward was to hear the perspectives of others in the matter. This, he realized, was the best course of action he could take at the moment.

Leaning forward at his desk, the Emperor picked up the telephone and began dialing a series of numbers. Once all the required numbers were entered, he sent out a mass voice message to the key military leaders. Within seconds, generals and admirals from the navy, air force, army, and other branches of the Austronesian military began logging into the video conferencing tool designed for such situations. No matter where they were in the world, they could always reach the Emperor, and likewise, he could see their faces and reactions as he addressed them.

After moments of waiting, the screens in front of Maximo began to light up. One by one, the faces of his general staff appeared, each in a vastly different setting as varied as their ranks, some sat in their offices, others walking through city streets, a few were aboard ships patrolling the seas, and a select few even joined the call from the skies by boarding an aircraft and traveled between key locations. The speed of air travel far outpaced that of sea, after all.

Once everyone was assembled, they greeted the Emperor, who returned their salutations before addressing the pressing matter. He laid out the problem he faced regarding the stranded special operations soldiers. To his surprise, the room was quiet for a moment before, unexpectedly, the general staff laughed, not out of disrespect, but in camaraderie.

"Sire, our role is precisely to solve such challenges. This is exactly why we're here," one of them said.

The tension in the room lifted, and the Emperor smiled faintly. He felt a sense of relief. This was why the general staff existed, to offer solutions where his own mind might falter. After all, a single mind, even the Emperor's, could not control or solve every possible scenario, but when a council of minds worked together to solve a single problem, they could tackle it far more effectively. They were glad to see their leader relying on them, which proves the fact that even the highest authority is not infallible at all.

'The strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.' Maximo thought of the quote from Rudyard Kipling, and glanced back at his own pack of wolves.

The first to speak was a high-ranking admiral from the navy.

"Your Majesty, I have a proposal," the admiral began.

"Go ahead," the Emperor nodded, inviting him to continue.

The admiral took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts.

"I believe the time has come for us to take the offensive against our adversaries."

Maximo's eyebrows raised slightly, and the other members of the general staff exchanged looks, though none appeared overly surprised as they knew this was bound to happen.

"In the past, our nation prided itself on pacifism. We were a sanctuary and a haven for refugees, a beacon of peace in times of global turmoil during the world wars that ravaged the previous century," the admiral explained. "But we are in a different world, and I believe we must abandon that mindset as the situation before us demands a different approach. It is time for a surprise offensive and must take control by occupying key islands, cities, and kingdoms beyond our borders to expand the defensive perimeter of the Empire. By doing so, we can also spread our ideology and influence to make sure that no one ever threatens the basic foundations and core principles that define our society and nation."

His words caused a stir among the staff. The boldness of the admiral's suggestion shocked many, who feared the Emperor's reaction. A few expected he would reprimand such boldness, but contrary to their concerns, Maximo remained calm, his expression one of deep thought. This only heightened their unease, feeling the Emperor's silence hinted at his agreement as the admiral's daring proposal seemed to resonate with him.

"Additionally, Your Majesty," the admiral continued, "We have the popular support needed to launch an offensive war. In fact, our citizens, once pacifists, have now turned into Imperialist Mongers, hungry for action. Even those who once protested for peace are now calling for blood. Anger is all that is coming out of them as they've witnessed the atrocities committed against our kind, abuses that strip us of dignity and honor. They demand retribution, and more than that. They demand war."

As his words settled over the room, the faces of the general staff turned serious. They could not deny the truth of his statement that the number of crimes against humanity were piling up higher and higher, and the vault which holds the anger and fury of the Austronesian people was reaching a breaking point, like a dam ready to burst open.

Maximo sat in silence, contemplating the admiral's words. The decision before him was monumental, but the path was growing clearer.

"Furthermore, Your Majesty," the admiral continued, "If we strike offensively now, we can establish buffer zones and client states. These would serve as a strategic delay should any enemy break through our defensive barrier, preventing them from reaching the core islands of our nation. Waiting until we are discovered would be too late. Our defensive lines would be spread thin, and the enemy could easily exploit weak points in the perimeter."

The general staff's expressions turned into that of an understanding as many of them had been stuck in a defensive mindset and mirrored the Empire's historical approach. However, this new perspective was eye-opening, but some couldn't help but feel suspicion that the admiral's plan seemed too detailed to have been conceived on the spot. Clearly, this had been thought out well in advance.

"It seems my colleagues are harboring some doubts," the admiral remarked, glancing around the room. "But rest assured, some of us on the general staff, those of us with reformist leanings, have been refining our strategies for warfare continuously, always striving to serve the Empire better. Back to the matter at hand, the main point is that we have enough troops to deploy for both an invasion and subsequent occupation. Our navy is more than capable of supporting this expansion, and the air force is growing restless and is itching for battle as the sight of our fellow kind abused in many various ways drives our blood to boil."

Some members of the general staff broke into smiles, others chuckled, and a few simply facepalmed in the process as they now understood what the Admiral was really trying to say with his way of words and brutal honesty, hut he made some good points that were valid, and one by one, the staff members voiced their agreement.

"Additionally, Your Majesty," the admiral pressed on, "An offensive would allow us to rescue the special operations soldiers trapped behind enemy lines. Once we no longer have to hide our existence, we can hit the enemy where it hurts most. We won't need to hide any longer and we'll strike with overwhelming force."

Emperor Maximo leaned back in his chair with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips and nodded.

"Though it took you long enough to explain, I agree with your assessment," he said calmly. "It seems the time has come to fully display our power and employ gunboat diplomacy."

For the next few hours, the Emperor and the general staff discussed the specifics of their strategy. They debated reforms, adjustments, and tactics suited for this new world to make sure that none of their actions would leave them vulnerable against the more modern nations.

By the time the conference ended, Maximo felt a sense of calm wash over him. The pieces were falling into place, and soon, their enemies would feel the full might of the Austronesian Empire.

---------------------

The dawn had barely broken when the kingdoms surrounding the Orc lands began to tremble. From their high towers and fortified walls, the sentinels of the first kingdom saw it, a dark, rolling mass on the horizon, stretching from one end of the land to the other. It moved like a living shadow, a tide of green flesh and iron weapons.

The Green Horde had come.

Millions of Orcs from countless different Orc Clans and Warbands across the Orc lands and every corner of the Third Civilization Zone were united and charged across the plains in a stampede of destruction.

Their war cries filled the skies, a deafening roar that shook the very ground beneath their feet. The kingdom's defenses, built high and strong, were no match for the overwhelming force. Orc Warlords, mounted on beasts larger than any horse, led the charge and smashed through the kingdom's gates like they were made of parchment.

The cities within were engulfed in chaos. Villages were set ablaze, and the streets ran red with the blood of those who tried to stand their ground. Men, women, and soldiers alike were cut down brutally. The Orcs showed no mercy, fueled by the rage of their Warboss and the promise of unending war and conquest. Their weapons were crude but effective and their sheer numbers were an unstoppable wave that drowned everything in its path.

In the harbors, where the kingdoms' navies lay docked, the situation was no better. The kingdoms had sent many of their ships to aid the Tarxan Coalition in its battle against the Iron Kingdom, leaving their own shores vulnerable. The Orcish fleet, normally disorganized and chaotic, had appeared in such vast numbers that the remaining naval forces were hopelessly outmatched.

From the misty waters, countless Orc warships surged forward. They were crude vessels, patched together with stolen wood and metal, but they were fearsome in their size and numbers. The orcish ships descended on the coastal kingdoms, black sails billowing in the wind. Ballistae, crude catapults, and massive rams smashed into the remaining defense fleets, turning proud warships into burning wreckage. Orc warriors, grinning with bloodlust, swarmed over the decks and overwhelmed any defenders who remained.

In less than a day, entire kingdoms fell. The once proud banners of these lands were torn down, trampled beneath the boots of the Green Horde. Castles that had stood for centuries crumbled under the sheer ferocity of the Orcs' assault. The cries for aid, the pleas for reinforcements, all went unanswered. The kingdoms had been stretched too thin, and their soldiers too few to defend against the Orcs.

The Orcs did not stop to rest. They swept through the land like an unstoppable plague as the Green Horde left nothing in its wake but burning cities and shattered kingdoms.

By nightfall, the kingdoms that once stood as a bulwark against the Orc lands had crumbled. Their rulers, who had thought their armies strong and their walls impenetrable, were either slain or fleeing for their lives.

In the middle of the chaos and devastation, only a few kingdoms stood resilient against the crushing tide of the Orc Horde. Their walls were strong, their soldiers well-trained, and their defenses well-prepared, but even they knew the truth. Despite their fortifications, they were only delaying the inevitable. The Horde was too vast and too relentless. For every Orc they cut down, a dozen more took their place.

In these besieged lands, desperate cries for help echoed through the air. Their brave defenders fought tooth and nail, archers raining arrows from high walls, knights charging into the fray with magical swords and enchanted armor, but their strength began to wane under the never-ending assault. The bloodthirsty and unstoppable Orcs pressed harder with each passing hour, eager to tear down these final bastions of resistance.

Among the defenders were the Kingdoms of the Eastern Marches, a proud alliance of elven realms. Their castles sat on top of mountains, surrounded by treacherous ravines, making them difficult for the Horde to breach. But even these mighty fortresses, led by powerful warriors, found themselves faltering under the weight of millions of Orcs battering at their gates. Siege towers as tall as the cliffs themselves rose from the sea of green, and the ground shook with every step the war beasts brought to tear down their walls.

But there were two realms that defied the odds entirely, where the Green Tide crashed and broke like waves upon rocks.

First among them was the Land of the Valkyries.

Though they were known as Harpies, these warrior women were fighters of unmatched skill and power and fought with the grace and fury of the legendary Valkyries of old. Their silver wings and shining spears glittered under the sun as they swooped down from their high fortresses and sliced through the Orc ranks like a tempest of steel and magic. Each Valkyrie was said to be worth a hundred warriors, and their power and discipline were a force of nature that held the Horde at bay.

At the gates of their mountainous kingdom, the Orcs threw themselves against the walls in endless waves, but for every charge, the Valkyries would descend like avenging angels with their spears crackled with immense magical energy. The Orcs, for all their numbers and ferocity, could not break through the sacred defenses of the Valkyries, and for now, the Horde had no answer to their celestial might.

Then, there was the Iron Kingdom.

Unlike the others, the Iron Kingdom had not suffered a single Orc on its soil. Their impregnable Great Wall that stood like a titan at their borders, repelled every attempt the Orcs made to breach their defenses.

As the closest nation to the Orc lands, the Iron Kingdom had defended against Orc raids everyday and had long prepared for this day. Where others were overwhelmed, they thrived and expected this level of invasion centuries before it arrived.

Their advanced technology even played a key role in their defense against the Green Wave. War machines powered by mana and steam, unmatched in strength, lined their walls and rained destruction on the Horde below. Cannons thundered, bolts whizzed through the air, and every Orc that approached the gate met a swift and fiery end.

On the seas, the crude Orcish fleets, which had overwhelmed so many coastal nations, were obliterated by the Iron Kingdom's Navy with their ironclad ships leaving no survivors.

The Iron Kingdom's preparedness and military power utterly stymied the Green Horde. Where others faltered, the dwarves stood like an impenetrable fortress that the Orcs could not breach.

But despite their victories, both the Valkyries and the Iron Kingdom understood that while they stood firm today, the Horde's numbers were endless. The fallen kingdoms that had once served as buffers between them and the Orcs were now ruins. Without those lands, the Orcs would only grow bolder and more desperate as their hunger for conquest was unquenchable.

For now, the tide was held, but both the Valkyries and the Iron Kingdom knew it was only a matter of time before the Horde surged once more. And when they did, it would be a battle for the survival of all who remained.

---------------------

Clank!

The ground trembled as a loud metallic clang reverberated across a green field filled with rocks and trees that stretched endlessly under the crimson evening sky, where the wind carried the heavy scent of impending battle. Shortly after the metallic sound was heard, a deep yet powerful voice shook the surroundings, seemingly to shake the air itself.

Thousands of Orcs stood like a solid wall of green on the field with their jagged weapons gleaming in the last light of day. The ground shook beneath their boots and their war drums echoed across the land like a heartbeat.

Standing at the head of this monstrous horde was an Orc Warlord, a hulking figure larger than the average Orc with muscles rippling under thick armor, and a scar slashed across half of his tusked face with a wicked grin playing on his lips.

In his hand, he gripped a massive axe, its blade darkened by the blood of countless enemies, and strapped to his back was a weapon the likes of which few had seen, something resembling a gun, but far larger and more dangerous.

His heavy green eyes that were buried beneath his eye sockets, looked up towards the sky where the sky darkened with thousands of Harpies hovered in perfect formation with their wings beating in synchronized rhythm while their eyes glowed with the light of magic.

At their helm, the Valkyrie Queen hovered like a divine being with her radiant silver armor and wings shimmering with ethereal power. Her long, sharp sword hummed with arcane energy, and her gaze locked on the Orc Warlord below, who met her stare with a savage hunger.



The two leaders were silent at first, standing across the battlefield from one another while their forces waited for the signal to begin the carnage.

"Khhrrr....khhrrr..."

The Orc Warlord's thick and foul breath escaped his mouth in ragged, rasping bursts, adding to his monstrous appearance.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Stabbing their weapons onto the ground, the ground shook as the Orcs repeatedly chanted their war cry.

With every cry, they would rhythmically thump their weapons on the ground resulting in an oppressive feeling to shroud the surroundings.

Looking at the army in the sky with a twisted sadistic smile on his face, the leading Orc opened his mouth and chuckled.

"Yer must be da Valkyrie Queen. I've heard uv ya. Thought you'd be talla."

Staring at the Orc from above, unbothered by his provocation, the Valkyrie Queen raised her sword below and pointed it towards the Orc Warlord on the ground. Shortly after, her cold and powerful commanding voice shook the surroundings like a blade.

"And you must be the Warlord who dares challenge the skies. Your Horde should have stayed in that giant rock where it belongs."

The Warlord grunted and widened his grin. "Yer fink yer magic kan save yer? You're fly'n into deth, bird-woman. Ma Boyz are ready. Yer an' yer feathered lot won't last 'da night."

The Valkyrie Queen's wings spread wide, and the air shimmers around her as if bending to her will. "We are not here to save ourselves, beast. We are here to end your rampage."

The tension between the two armies tightened, like a bowstring drawn to its limit. Soldiers from both sides bristled and waited for the inevitable clash. The Warlord spat into the dirt and raised his massive axe high as his grin faded into a snarl.

"So be it. DIE!"

With a thunderous roar, the Orc Warlord swung his axe down as a signal to his army to advance. The earth trembled under the pounding of thousands of bootd as Orcs charged forward with their guttural war cries blending into a deafening cacophony. At the same moment, the Valkyrie Queen raised her sword high, and the sky erupted with the battle cries of her Harpy warriors, who descended like a storm of wings and light.

As the Harpies swooped toward the Orc horde, an unexpected sound sliced through the air.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

It was sharp, mechanical, and unnatural, like the sound of gunfire, which it was.

The Orcs had weapons unlike anything seen before, crude yet deadly, twisted versions of the firearms used by the Austronesia Empire. These were not the blunt, savage tools of typical Orc warfare but lethal, brutal firearms, forged for maximum destruction.

The air was filled with the sound of exploding shots as the Orcs fired their slugas and dakkas into the sky with reckless abandon, and the Harpy warriors fell in dozens and screams echoed in the air as the shots hit their marks, but the Harpy warriors used their wings to protect themselves from the sudden attacks from the Orcs.

As the bullets collided with the wings of the harpies, some of them were able to repel the bullets whilst others found their bodies completely shredded by the countless bullets headed in their direction and shot them from the sky by the crude yet powerful guns as their blood rained down from the sky and painted the field below.

But many Harpies moved with unnatural speed and agility as their wings weaved between the bullets, while others cast shimmering barriers of magic to deflect the bullets in flashes of light.

Seeing the Orcs' new weaponry, the Valkyrie Queen's eyes burned with fury as she saw her warriors fall. "Since when did they wield such weapons?" she muttered through clenched teeth and cast a protective spell over her warriors, "Were they the ones who helped the inferiors on High Tarxa? No, that would be absolutely absurd."

With a graceful dive, the Queen herself led the counterattack with her sword glowed with immense energy. She struck the Orc lines like a lightning bolt, cutting down several warriors with one slash as her sword left trails of magical flames in the air.

Each slash sent waves of Orcs sprawling and their bodies aflame as they writhed on the blood-soaked ground.

The Warlord bellowed in rage at the sight of her attack and raised his massive axe and roared over the battlefield like thunder, calling his warriors to press forward.

"WAAAAGHHHH!"

The Orcs roared as one, their rage boiling over and their Warlord's war cry surged through their blood and drove them to fight even harder.

The other Harpy Warriors were also motivated to see their Queen slaughtering the Orcs and joined the fray as they dove down into the thick of battle. With each flap of their wings, their speed multiplied several folds leaving behind after images.

Their talons flashed as they tore into Orc ranks. In one sweeping motion, they cut through the gaps in the Orcs' bulky armor, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

Spurt!

Rumble!

Not long after they attacked, the Orcs met them in brutal melee combat with their axes and spears clashing with enchanted swords and razor-sharp talons.

Explosions rang everywhere as spells collided with the brute force of Orc weapons, and pained and enraged screams echoed around the battlefield as it turned into a chaotic storm of violence and the ground soaked in blood from both sides as desperate roars and cries echoed across the expansive land.

Both sides continuously fought against each other and neither was willing to yield. The Orcs swung their massive weapons down with bone-crushing force, while the Harpies rained down death from above by diving down from the sky, piercing through the gap of the Orc's bulky armor.

Blood sprayed in all directions, and the battlefield became a swirling storm of carnage, with no clear victor in sight.

In the center of the battle, the Valkyrie Queen and the Orc Warlord finally clashed. The ground quaked as their weapons met, and the force of the collision sent a massive shockwave sweeping through the surroundings as both Orcs and Harpy Warriors in the vicinity were flung away like leaves caught in a storm.

The Queen moved with supernatural speed, her wings propelling through the air and cast spells as she darted around the Warlord with her sword slashing at him from every angle. But the Warlord was no mere mindless brute as he parried her blows with his massive axe, and when she came too close, he fired his oversized gun, forcing her to retreat.

For a moment, it seemed the two were locked in a stalemate. The Queen's magic illuminated the battlefield as she summoned great power, while the Warlord's sheer strength and primal fury matched her every attack. He tapped into the primal force of the WAAAGHHH, a raw, war-fueled power that bolstered his might with each passing moment. His muscles bulged with veins under his thick skin, and his eyes burned with untamed rage.

"Dey said I must answa for ma krimes... repent for ma sins. But every choice I made, I would proudly make again!"

"Why not just be silent and submit," The Valkyrie Queen spat with a cold and calm voice. Her eyes narrowed as she lifted her glowing sword high, chanting an ancient incantation. The blade glowed brighter than ever, crackling with arcane lightning, and with a powerful cry, she unleashed a devastating spell. A beam of pure magic energy shooting forth, aimed directly at the Warlord with unprecedented speed.

Something that moved faster than the eye could follow.

"I submit ta no wun! Not yer, not 'da Jaiter, an' not 'dat koward Thrall!"

The Orc Warlord roared in response with defiance in his voice as he channeled the raw power of his Horde. His muscles bulged further with even greater strength, veins bulging as the WAAAGHHH engulfed him in a violent red aura.

"FOR DE HOOORRRRRDE!!"

The beam of the Queen's spell slammed into him, but the Warlord roared in defiance and swung his colossal axe with all his might to meet her magic.

Soon the Harpy and the Orc once again came into collision and another massive shockwave swept the place, creating a blinding explosion of light and fury.

In an instant, the battlefield erupted as the collision sent a shockwave so immense that it obliterated the ground beneath them. Hundreds of Orcs and Harpies were caught in the blast and were either thrown back or torn apart by the sheer power of the magic and rage that were unleashed.

The very land itself buckled and tore, creating a massive crater where the two leaders stood, and their forces were momentarily stunned by the sheer magnitude of their battle.

From a distance, hidden behind a small boulder, two humans from the Austronesia Empire's Special Operative team watched the battle unfold in stunned silence.

"Transcendents... it's always insane when they fight," one of them muttered in utter amazement at such raw power and strength from these two individuals alone.

Such overwhelming might that caused the surroundings to shake with every single one of their moves, and the soldier felt like he wanted to become that strong too.

To be that powerful, so strong that every action was a force of nature, without having to calculate or second-guess every move, it was a dream. He knew it was a greedy wish, but the desire for that kind of power never stopped in him.

"Just as what we feared," the other operative replied grimly as his eyes fixed on the Orcs. "They've reverse-engineered our guns." He clenched his jaw as the battle raged on. "Damn it, this is our fault. We've made them more dangerous than ever."

A crackle came from the radio at their side. [Special Ops, return to base immediately. Report what you've seen.]

The two operatives exchanged one last look, filled with dread. "Let's go," one of them said, rising from their hidden position. "High Command needs to know everything."

As the two operatives slipped away from the battlefield, the first soldier couldn't help but glance back at the carnage with his brow furrowed in deep concern. "Fuck, I still can't let go of the thought of them getting a hold of our weapons. They're gonna be a bigger problem than anyone thought. How's the Iron Kingdom supposed to handle this?"

His companion, still shaken by the sight of the Transcendent battle, shook his head and sighed sharply. "The Iron Kingdom? These midgets could adapt, like they always do. From what we have learned from the team stationed there, they've got that massive ancient fortress that is strong enough to hold off Orc raids for hundreds of years, and their technology was more advanced than anything the Third Civilization Zone could ever come up with. But still..." He paused, glancing back at the towering Warlord who roared on the battlefield. "Even they didn't expect the Orcs to get this dangerous, this fast. If the Iron Kingdom can't hold the line... then no one will, other than us."

The first soldier gave a slow, grim nod. "Let's hope they can hold them off long enough. The last thing we need is another full-scale Orc problem."

---------------------

"Come on, Dwalin, are we really gonna charge headlong into another of these Orc punks?" A wiry, grumbling dwarf muttered as he stepped out from the bushes, brushing twigs and leaves off his armor. "Blasted trees everywhere, can't even see the sky! This is why I hate forests, damn trees and bugs!" He swatted at an insect crawling on his shoulder and adjusted his trusty grappling hook on his belt with his dual-wielded shotgun-like muskets slung across his back.

Behind him, a much larger, broad-shouldered dwarf named Dwalin stepped out after him, his massive chain-fed autocannon lazily resting on his shoulder. His face was covered in a thick beard, which barely hid his perpetual grin.

"Quit your whining, Bilbo! You gotta appreciate nature! It's all part of the mission." His deep voice echoed through the forest as his heavy boots crushed underbrush with each step. "Besides bugs or trees, it's all worth blowing up!" He chuckled.

"Bah! Nature's overrated," the young dwarf named Bilbo shot back, slapping yet another bug off his arm. "And why aren't you sweating? It's hotter than a furnace out here!"

"I'm too tough to sweat," Dwalin replied with a grin. "It's all muscle. You wouldn't understand, string bean."

Behind them, a third dwarf chuckled as he adjusted his helmet. "Relax, Bilbo, we'll be blasting our way through this in no time. You can use that fancy grappling hook once the fireworks start. We'll have more Orcs to shoot soon enough."

"You better be right, Balin," Bilbo snapped and pulled his orange-tinted goggles down over his eyes. "I'm ready for a fight, not a nature walk."

"Outta the way, you nitwits!" A stocky figure dwarf suddenly pushed past them, brandishing his twin weapons that appeared to be flamethrowers. "Better keep your beards on, lads, I'm ready to toast some green mushrooms. But you're flappin' your gums! I don't got time for your whining, Bilbo!"

Bilbo leaped aside, "Watch where you're swinging that thing, Gimli! You almost set me on fire!"

"I 'meant' to," Gimli growled, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he swung one of his flamethrowers in a wide arc. "How else are we gonna cook these Orcs? I say we burn this whole forest down while we're at it. These trees are in my way."

"Easy there, Gimli," Dwalin cautioned, holding up a hand. "Let's not turn the whole forest into ash... yet."

"Fine, fine," Gimli grumbled, scuffing the dirt with his boot, clearly disappointed. "But when the Orcs come, I'm frying the lot of them."

At the rear, Balin, the calmest of the group, tapped a few buttons on his golem-like turrets, watching as they followed him closely. "Can we focus, boys? There's a good chance there's an Orc camp nearby. I'd prefer we survive this time."

"Always with the survival talk, Balin," Bilbo teased. "We all know you're really here for the minerals."

Balin smirked and adjusted the massive platform musket slung across his back. "Hey, I like to multitask. And if I happen to gather some Nitra while we're at it, all the better."

As they walked through the forest, Dwalin's usually jolly face suddenly grew serious. He raised his hand to stop the group. "Hold up! We've got company." He whispered, pointing through the thick trees ahead.

Bilbo, always quick to act, fired his grappling hook into a nearby tree and hoisted himself into the branches with ease. "Orcs?" he called down, pulling out his shotgun-like musket and scanning the forest floor. "Yup, definitely Orcs. At least a hundred of 'em, and some other big ugly thing lumbering behind 'em."

"It might be a High Orc," Gimli grunted as he spun the barrel of his flamethrower. "Just a few more to roast!" He laughed maniacally, already revving up his flamethrower and the sound of it whirred to life filling the air, "Let's melt these Orcs back to the Stone Age!"

"Well, that's what we're here for!" Dwalin grinned as he slammed the ground with the butt of his massive autocannon into position. "Ain't no Orc gonna stop us! Time to make some noise, boys! Dwarves, Lock and load!"

"Wait!" Balin called out while deploying his golem turrets in strategic positions. "Let them come to us. We should set up a defensive perimeter first."

"Too late for that!" Dwalin bellowed, already charging headlong into the horde and his autocannon sprayed bullets in a wide arc. The first wave of Orcs was shredded instantly before they even knew what hit them, but more kept coming, drawn by the noise and fury.

"Always the loud one, aren't ya?" Bilbo muttered from his perch as he took potshots at the approaching Orcs.

Meanwhile, Gimli unleashed a wall of flames, setting the forest and a wave of Orcs ablaze. The creatures screamed in agony as they were reduced to charred husks and their shrill cries echoed through the trees.

"WAAAHA! Come on, you green brutes, I'll burn you all!" Gimli roared, the flames casting a wild light over his maniacal grin.

"Watch it, Gimli! I need those trees to grapple!" Bilbo yelled as he zipped between the branches and picked off Orcs with his twin smaller muskets spitting out magic bullets as he weaved between flames and falling Orcs. "I can't grapple fire, you know!"

"You'll manage!" Gimli shouted back and laughed as he torched another group of advancing Orcs.

Dwalin charged forward and mowed down Orcs with a barrage of autocannon fire. "HA! Come get some, you green-skinned freaks!"

Despite his smaller size compared to the Orcs' massive frame, he was able to bulldoze through their ranks with inhuman strength and speed, leaving a trail of broken bodies in his wake.

"This is what we're built for!"

Behind them, Balin stayed calm, methodically placing platforms and directing his golem turrets to cut off the Orcs' approach. His turrets rattled off suppressive fire, and he tossed out magic bombs to support his golems.

"Dwalin, try not to hog all the kills, eh? My golems need some action, too!"

"Keep up, then!" Dwalin shouted over the noise of battle as he obliterated another group of Orcs with a single devastating blast.

"Bilbo!" Balin called out, "Keep an eye on the big one. That High Orc's gonna be trouble."

"On it!" Bilbo zipped across the battlefield with his grappling hook and dodged many attacks from Orcs below. With a quick aim, he fired a bullet of magic energy directly into the High Orc's face, causing it to roar in pain.

"TINY FEET GITZ! I'LL RIP YER GUTS OUT!" the High Orc roared and charged toward Dwalin with furious speed.

Dwalin laughed and planted his feet firmly. "Oh, you want some too, huh?" He unleashed a hailstorm of bullets into the High Orc's face and the massive creature staggered under the assault. With a final thunderous roar, the creature collapsed to the ground with its insides spilling out onto the forest floor in a gruesome heap.

"Boom, baby!" Dwalin shouted triumphantly, wiping Orc blood from his face. "Another day, another Orc splattered."

The dwarves regrouped, looking at the battlefield littered with the bodies of Orcs while the forest around them was now smoldering.

Balin grinned as he looked over the carnage. "Well, lads, that's one way to clear a forest."

Suddenly, the trees parted, and a towering forest troll crashed through the dense foliage, brandishing a massive tree trunk as if it were a club and the ground trembled under its weight.

"Looks like we've got a big one!" Dwalin called out as his eyes gleamed with excitement.

"On it!" Gimli hollered and charged straight at the troll without hesitation. His twin flamethrowers flared to life, sending torrents of fire toward the beast's lower half, and the creature bellowed in pain as it stumbled, "Let's see you try to walk now, ya big oaf!"

Bilbo zipped down from the trees and slashed it's thick skin with his pickaxe before grappling back up to safety. "That's one big ugly beast!" he called out. "Take it down, lads!"

The troll, though weakened, swung its massive tree trunk down toward Dwalin. With a mighty roar, Dwalin braced himself and held up his reinforced Orichalcum shield. The impact of the club reverberated through the forest, but Dwalin stood firm.

"Hit it while it's off balance!" he shouted, planting his feet as the beast struggled to recover.

Balin's sentry golems whirred to life, locking onto the towering figure and unleashing a hail of magic bullets. Each shot pierced the troll's thick hide and riddled the troll with holes, but the creature still stood tall and let out a pained, enraged growl.

"This thing's tough!" Balin shouted over the din of battle. "Keep hitting it!"

With the troll staggering, Dwalin seized the moment as he leveled his autocannon and unleashed a final barrage of high-caliber rounds that ripped through the creature's torso. The troll let out a last guttural roar before collapsing in a heap, shaking the ground as it fell.

"Good work, lads!" Dwalin shouted, wiping troll blood off his visor. "That's how we do it!"

"Ahh, that was fun," Gimli said with a broad grin, stomping out the last smoldering patches of fire. "Nothing like a good bit of destruction to brighten the day."

"I still prefer the underground bugs over this forest nonsense," Bilbo muttered, kicking the severed hand of an Orc lying nearby. "Less trees, more minerals."

Just then, Balin felt a vibration underfoot, and the distant roar of more Orcs echoed through the trees.

"WAAAGHHHHHH!!"

"More incoming from the west!" Balin shouted and his eyes narrowed. "We've got a swarm!"

Bilbo quickly repositioned himself in the trees and took aim at the approaching horde. "Hundreds of 'em, swarming in like flies! You better have enough ammo for this, Dwalin!"

Dwalin's grin widened as he reloaded his autocannon with a satisfying clank.

"I've got enough for all of 'em!" His voice was filled with raw excitement as he prepared for the onslaught.

In the next instant, the sounds of battle filled the forest once more from the roar of gunfire, the hiss of flamethrowers, and the rhythmic firing of Balin's golem turrets as the dwarves fought their way through the seemingly endless tide of Orcs.

Gimli spun in place, spinning and torching Orcs left and right with arcs of fire in every direction. "Come on, you green-skinned filth! I'll burn the lot of ya!"

Dwalin mowed down waves of Orcs, laughing heartily as he went. "This is what we're made for!" he shouted over the roar of his autocannon. Orc after Orc fell, blowing away trees and creating holes on the forest floor as the dwarves left a path of carnage in their wake.

As the final wave of Orcs fell to the ground, Balin wiped the sweat from his brow. "Well, that was fun," he said, catching his breath. "Now, let's grab some loot before more of 'em show up."

"Bilbo, check that ridge for any signs of more Orcs coming," Balin directed. "We'll need more ammo if we run into another horde."

Bilbo nodded and zipped off. "On it. You guys just keep being noisy."

The team regrouped, bloodied but victorious. They stood among the wreckage of dead Orcs and the charred remains of the forest, while Dwalin, covered in soot and blood, was still laughing with his autocannon resting on his shoulder.

"Not bad," Gimli said, flashing a grin under his soot-streaked beard. "I think we're ready for another round!"

Balin chuckled and shook his head. "One mission at a time, Gimli. Next time, maybe we don't alert every Orc in the forest, eh, Dwalin?"

Dwalin shrugged and simply grinned. "What's the fun in that?"

Balin let out a hearty laugh. "Well, either way, there's one thing you can count on. Wherever we go, we leave nothing but destruction behind. Rock and stone, brothers!"

"Rock and stone!" the team echoed in unison, laughing as they made their way through the smoldering wreckage of the forest.