Iron Kingdom, Mount Meikneoir, The Iron Capital, The Iron Palace, The Iron Throne Room.

1st Year of God, Tuesday, 4th Week, Month Of Jonah.

Seated on the Iron Throne, Grandlord Hammerfall held a worn picture of a young dwarf, his son, Dwalin, as a child. His massive hands trembled as he clenched the frame, feeling his heart heavy with grief and rage.

Silently, he cursed himself, the words forming unspoken yet vivid in his mind. 'I should have protected you.'

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, his voice barely audible in the vast gilded chamber.

Behind him, a soft yet firm voice broke through his anguish.

"Dear... are you certain about this?"

Hammerfall turned, his gaze meeting the steady eyes of his wife, the Queen, who's face carried the same sorrow as he was.

"I must," he muttered. "For our son."

With heavy steps, the Grandlord strode from the throne room to the balcony overlooking the vast underground city, a masterpiece of dwarven engineering, shimmering with the glow of enchanted forges and crystal lights. As he stood above the bustling metropolis, his voice erupted like a storm, echoing through every cavern and chamber.

"Citizens of the Great Iron Kingdom! To all the Dwarven race, hear me!"

The city fell silent, its people pausing in their work to listen to the Grandlord's proclamation. His voice, deep and commanding, carried across the miles.

"I bring tragic news. Our beloved Prince... is dead."

A wave of shock rippled through the crowd like a thunderclap. Cries of disbelief and wails of mourning filled the air as the weight of his words settled upon them.

"For centuries, we have prospered, achieving greatness in trade, technology, and alliances. Yet, despite our goodwill, those we called allies have turned their blades against us since the war began. For too long, we have endured their treachery. For too long, we have held back! No more!"

Hammerfall raised his fist high, rallying cry that roused the dwarves from despair.

"I declare an all-out war! Join the Iron Military, and together we will unleash our wrath, our unity, and our might! Let the world tremble before the vengeance of the Iron Kingdom!"

A deafening roar erupted from the crowd below as their grief turned to fury. Hammerfall's gaze swept over his people and his tone shifted to a colder, more calculated edge as he spoke.

"I thank you for your loyalty, for building this kingdom through your blood and sweat. I vowed to my father and now to my son, vengeance will be ours. Today, the Iron Kingdom will reveal its true might!"

He paused, letting the weight of his words linger. Then, his voice boomed once more, this time with an air of triumph.

"For decades, we have prepared for this moment. Now, I present to you... the 'Iron Badgermoles'!"

Then, the ground began to quake, and gasps echoed through the city as a massive machine burst from the earth below.

Towering above the crowd, the Iron Badgermole was a colossal mobile drilling machine about the size as a football field, its front adorned with the fierce visage of a badger with a body of a mole. Its gleaming metallic frame bristled with advanced weaponry, its adamantite drills capable of tearing through the strongest rock with ease.

Hammerfall watched the awe-struck crowd with satisfaction and a grim smile forming on his lips. He turned to his royal guards and issued his orders.

"You! Mobilize the entire military. Spread the call across the Iron Kingdom, every able dwarf must join this war."

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

Turning to another guard, Hammerfall shouted.

"Ready my armor. I will lead from the front."

"As you command, my lord!"

The guards bolted to carry out his orders, leaving Hammerfall alone on the balcony. His fists clenched as he gazed over his city with rage in his eyes.

"Rest easy, my son," he vowed softly. "Your vengeance is coming."

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

It had been several days since the Austronesian Empire had killed the Dwarven Prince Dwalin.

Since then, a lot has transpired.

A massive force of 100,000 dwarves, equipped in full metallic armor and armed with magic muskets, marched out of Mount Meikneoir. Overhead, 1,000 Thunder Warrior units flew in perfect formation, their movements synchronized with the thunderous advance below. Flanking the army were 100 Mobile Drilling Machines, their imposing forms capturing the awe of two human observers watching from a distance.

The Grandlord's rallying cry had spread across the Iron Kingdom, summoning dwarves from every corner, male and female alike, to join the war effort. What had once been a military of 20,000 dwarves had swelled to five times that number upon the announcement of the Prince's death.

But it wasn't just the sheer size of the army that was intimidating. A suffocating, oppressive aura enveloped over the city like a storm cloud, emanating from the soldiers and even the citizens, including the children.

From their vantage point, one of the two Special Operative soldiers allowed a faint smile to cross his lips.

"The plan worked," he murmured.

Killing the Prince had set the dominoes in motion. The chaos, the mobilization, the Grandlord's fury, it had all unfolded exactly as they had envisioned. Almost perfectly.

But not entirely.

If they were being honest, the past few days had been quite scary.

Naturally, because of the incident, the Grandlord was beyond enraged.

As a Tier 2 Transcendent being himself, his aura was nothing short of monstrous. His aura alone exuded the past few days was something beyond frightening for the two humans. Even from kilometers away, the soldiers could feel its suffocating pressure whenever they glanced toward the castle at the heart of the city.

It was as if death itself resided there, watching, waiting.

During this time, the two operatives had no choice but to lay low, keeping to the shadows as the kingdom burned with grief and anger.

Every day felt as though there was barely any oxygen in the air.

Suffocating.

As the soldier stared at the dwarven army in the distance, his companion broke the silence.

"What do you think their chances are?"

"Mid to high diff," he replied without hesitation.

The first soldier nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I think so too."

While the Iron Kingdom's military was fierce, disciplined, and technologically advanced, their chances of winning the fight weren't that high. The Third Civilization Zone boasted powerful kingdoms armed with advanced magic, legendary artifacts, and an arsenal of unpredictable magical forces.

And the numbers? Those were daunting. Against the combined might of every nation in the Third Civilization Zone, the Iron Kingdom was severely outnumbered.

Victory, at best, seemed achievable, but at a devastating cost.

"They might conquer a lot of kingdoms," the soldier continued, "but that's about as far as they'll go. The casualties would be staggering."

He shook his head and cast a sidelong glance at his companion. "So... what's next?"

His partner smirked faintly. "Now? We wait. Let them fight it out. Our job is done, intentionally or not."

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

Iron Kingdom, The Iron Border, The Iron Wall, Inside A House, Inside A Room.

1st Year of God, Tuesday, 4th Week, Month Of Jonah.

Rows of dwarven soldiers moved in a constant rhythm along the Iron Wall, some patrolling the top while others guarded the base. They carried heavy repeating muskets, powerful but burdened with a long reload time after three shots. Above them, magic cannons were all lined up with their barrels gleamed under the glow of enchanted crystals. Outside the walls, deep ditches lined the perimeter, reinforced with Orichulcum barricades meant to redirect attackers into carefully prepared kill zones.

On the sidelines, a dwarven courier was moving through the scene with remarkable speed. His boots, enchanted with agility magic, granted him extraordinary swiftness and resistance to the biting cold.

The soldier skidded to a stop in front of a large iron house, a military outpost built into the Iron Wall itself. Knocking three times, he waited as the door creaked open to reveal an old, weathered dwarf with a commanding presence.

"Wall Commander! I bring urgent news from the capital!" the courier announced, steadying his voice despite his apparent haste.

The Wall Commander's eyes narrowed, a flicker of curiosity breaking through his otherwise stoic expression. News from the capital was rare, and often important. Without hesitation, he accepted the sealed letters, though a part of him still wrestled with boredom. The Iron Wall had stood unchallenged for months, with no recent assaults from the barbaric orc tribes.

After delivering the messages, the courier mounted his Land Dragon, a two-legged reptilian beast armored with intricate dwarven designs. He tugged sharply on the reins and urged the creature to move forward.

The Land Dragon screeched and its powerful legs propelled it into motion. Thanks to its enchanted armor, the beast moved at a staggering 100 miles per hour, its velocity doubling that of an unarmored dragon.

Soon, the courier vanishes into the distance as he is heading back toward the capital.

Meanwhile, the Wall Commander began sorting through the letters. Many were personal, from family and friends, while others came from unfamiliar senders. But one stood out was a royal missive bearing the mark of the Grandlord himself.

With deliberate care, the Wall Commander broke the seal and unfolded the letter.

What the contents within sent a chill through him.

Apparently, they now have some leads on the main perpetrator behind this entire war, and surely it was the Inferiors. The letter revealed that a group of them was allegedly spotted at the Kingdom of Edgelaff. Reports confirmed a battle had taken place in the capital's central plaza. Witnesses described the attackers wielding advanced repeating muskets and piloting an unidentified flying wyvern-like machine.

This "wyvern" was unlike anything the Wall Commander had ever heard of. It didn't flap its wings to stay aloft and could fire projectiles from a mechanism beneath its belly.

So they were now thinking that it could be a magic technology. The problem was, how could an inferior even use magic technology? Moreover, the idea that such a machine could exist, and that it could outrun wyvern riders and obliterate the 23rd Thunder Warrior Unit, was almost incomprehensible.

But the most devastating revelation lay deeper in the letter was that the Ironstorm Dragon and Prince Dwalin, two of the Iron Kingdom's most powerful figures, were dead. Both had been killed by these "Inferiors."

The implications were catastrophic. The loss of the Dragon and the Prince would shatter the morale and image of dwarven supremacy. Worse still, it was the Grandlord's response that truly unsettled the Wall Commander. The letter decreed the complete mobilization of the Iron Kingdom's forces. All Inferiors within the kingdom and across the Third Civilization Zone were to be enslaved, stripped of any remaining freedoms. Furthermore, the Iron Kingdom would continue its war against the Tarxan Coalition with renewed fervor.

The more the Wall Commander reread the letter, the more he felt disbelief in his mind. He could easily tell that the Grandlord's words were filled with fury and desperation, teetering on the edge of madness. But no matter how extreme they seemed, they bore the weight of authority.

This was the will of the Grandlord, and as such, it could not be dismissed.

At the end of the letter was a direct order from the Grandlord, and that is to observe the inferiors under his command and root out any resistance among them. This task was to be carried out immediately, without delay. The Wall Commander stepped back inside his quarters and silently feeding the letter to the flames of his hearth. As far as anyone would know, the letter never existed.

Determined to fulfill his new duty, he devised a plan to consolidate the inferiors into a single, controlled location, allowing him to monitor them efficiently while maintaining his post at the Iron Wall. However, his thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the thunderous tolling of the alarm bell.

The Wall Commander froze, recognizing the sound instantly. An attack.

The bell's clanging signaled danger to the Iron Wall, an event that had grown rare in recent months. He had no doubt about the nature of the threat. It had to be the orcs, the mortal enemies of all races.

Snapping into action, he rushed back to his armory, wearing his enchanted armor and hefting his massive, intricately forged warhammer. Outside, the sounds of gunfire was already underway. Magic muskets barked in rapid succession as their glowing projectiles streaked through the air. The rhythmic booms of magic cannons reverberated across the wall as they fired magic shells toward the approaching enemy.

After reading himself up, the Wall Commander rushed to the top of the Iron Wall to command the Troops. Upon arriving at the top of the wall, it flabbergasted the Wall Commander as he saw something out of the ordinary.

Fully armed and ready, the Wall Commander ascended to the battlements. What he saw made him stop in his tracks and his eyes widened in disbelief.

The scene ahead flabbergasted the Wall Commander as he saw something out of the ordinary.

"WAAAGHHHH!"

"WAAAAGHHHH!"

"WAAAAAGHHHH!"



A deafening roar echoed across the battlefield as a sea of green moved toward the wall, a massive orcish horde, far larger and more fearsome than any he had seen before.

This was no ordinary raid. The enemy force stretched to the horizon, their sheer numbers and ferocity making them ten times deadlier than usual.

The Wall Commander gripped his hammer tightly with a hardened expression as he realized that this was a battle unlike any the Iron Wall had faced before.

From time to time, the Orcs would launch attacks on the kingdom's walls, typically small-scale assaults led by regular orcs, bolstered by a handful of High Orcs and Orc Warlords wielding crude siege weapons like trebuchets and ladders. These skirmishes rarely posed a serious threat, and the dwarves always emerged victorious, holding the Iron Wall firm.

This time, however, something was different. The orcs had muskets.

The dwarves quickly realized these weapons bore no trace of mana, eerily similar to the firearms used by the manaless humans. But the strangeness didn't end there, this was not a simple raid.

It was a full-scale horde, a colossal army of green-skinned warriors storming the Iron Wall with large red carriages that moved super fast, large golem-like creatures with weird designs, and various more.

The Wall Commander wasted no time and immediately ordered his troops and organized the defenses, reinforcing key positions along the fortifications.

Cannons were roaring from their battlements, shooting magical payloads that exploded in the middle of the orcish ranks. Meanwhile, the Dwarven soldiers fired volleys of mana-enhanced gunfire, each shot a deadly flash of light piercing the advancing tide.

The orcs retaliated by firing their crude "sluggas" in return.

While their accuracy is shit as they fired wildly without even pinpointing their enemies, their bullets, massive projectiles the size of a human fist, were able to find their mark. Though their aim was erratic, the sheer volume of fire meant a few shots inevitably found their marks, bringing down dwarves one by one.

What had started as a siege had devolved into an all-out gunfight. The Wall Commander knew this battle would strain their resources. The dwarves would need reinforcements and supplies to sustain the defense.

Grabbing a nearby soldier by the arm, the commander ordered him, "Quick! Send a message to the capital. We need reinforcements immediately, a full-blown siege is being orchestrated by the Orcs against us, and they have muskets on their own!"

Before the soldier could respond, a terrified cry erupted from the battlements.

"Commander, it's him!"

The moment the dwarf soldier says this, the air grew heavy with oppressive energy, the kind that clawed at the soul and made even the bravest dwarves hesitate. Beads of sweat formed on the commander's brow as he turned toward the battlefield, and his heart sank at what he saw.

"Hehehe! afta centuriez uv sitt'n on ma drone, i finally get ta see ya little-feet gitz ta krump'n!"

The booming voice belonged to none other than Goreaxe Strurruilk, the infamous Orc Warboss.

Towering over his kin at the height of five meters, Goreaxe stood clad in a hulking suit of jagged metal armor, its grotesque design meant for intimidation and destruction. In his hands, he wielded guns far larger and more dangerous than even the Iron Kingdom's finest craftsmanship. The sight of him sent chills down the spine of every dwarf on the wall.



"Kraken's tits! It's Goreaxe Strurruilk!" the Wall Commander screamed in utter terror. He spun toward a nearby soldier and gripped him by the shoulders. "Send word to the capital, tell the frackin' Grandlord the Orc Warboss has risen from his throne, and he's brought some big guns!"

The soldier saluted sharply and bolted toward the communication center, weaving through the chaos as cannon fire and gunshots echoed around him.

Watching as the dwarf ran, the Wall Commander returned to his post with adrenaline coursing through his veins. Grabbing a repeating musket, he took aim at the battlefield below. His first two shots kicked up dirt, but the third struck the head of an Orc and dropped him in a spray of blood.

The repeating musket was rather inaccurate, though it's deadly when used en masse by soldiers, and the dwarves had relied on this strategy to hold the Iron Wall for generations.

But this time, the Wall Commander couldn't shake the gnawing sense of dread. Barking orders, he instructed his troops to tighten their defensive lines to make sure that no gaps remained in their formation.

His fears were confirmed moments later as one of the orcs, clad in a massive mechanical suit bristling with weapons, aimed a massive cannon directly at the wall, and in that exact moment, a deafening explosion followed and obliterated a section of the fortification.

The Wall Commander was knocked a few meters back and slammed into the stone floor, his vision swimming as nausea and pain overtook him.

Through the haze, he noticed hundreds of orcs had began pouring through the breach like a green tide, hearing their guttural war cries that filled the air.

"WAAAGGHHHHH!"

Empowered by their savage battle fervor, the orcs charged forward with axes and clubs as their brute strength was bolstered by the sheer madness of the WAAAGH.

The dwarves met them in melee combat with their weapons enhanced by magic technology. Axes clashed against hammers, and fists encased in enchanted gauntlets struck with bone-shattering force.

Meanwhile, the dwarven rifleman scrambled into position and formed disciplined ranks. The front row fired their muskets in unison before dropping to their knees to reload, while the second row stepped forward to unleash their volley before kneeling and reloading their gun. Then, the front row stood up and fired again.

This happens vice versa, from row to row, and this alternating rhythm created a barrage that shredded the advancing orcs, turning the breach into a kill zone.

For a brief moment, it seemed the dwarves might hold. But the tide turned as tracers from the orcs' muskets began cutting through the ranks. The unlucky dwarves hit by these shots exploded into bloody mist, and their screams were drowned by the cacophony of battle.

Sooner than later, the number of orcs armed with firearms were piling up higher and higher until the dwarven line faltered, losing their ground and numbers significantly. Sensing an opportunity, the orcs charged in, dozens at a time, scrambling over debris and charging into melee range.

The dwarves, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught, were quickly overwhelmed. Their magical technology, so effective at range, became nearly useless in the brutal chaos of close combat.

The dwarves were not a very tall race. In fact, humans are much taller than them. So they were at an unbelievable disadvantage, as they were fighting against huge Orcs,

Which is so as to say, much taller than them and have much larger dicks than the dwarves could ever dream of.

Aside from that, they were physically outmatched, and the dwarves struggled against the towering orcs, whose sheer size and strength dwarfed their smaller, stockier frames. For every orc that fell, another took its place, and the pressure was relentless.

Still, despite the overwhelming odds, the dwarves refused to yield. Their morale was battered, but the thought of their families, of the loved ones depending on them, kept them fighting, even as the green tide surged ever closer to victory.

Meanwhile, the Wall Commander groaned as he regained consciousness, feeling the pain lancing through his body. The explosion had thrown him several meters, leaving him battered and disoriented. Rising shakily to his feet, he looked at the carnage.

The once-mighty Iron Wall and the outpost behind it lay in ruins with fires raging as the green horde roamed around unchecked.

As he stared at the devastation, a hand tapped his shoulder. He turned to see a soldier with urgency etched on the dwarf's soot-streaked face.

"I need a situation report!" the Wall Commander demanded.

The soldier frowned and motioned for him to follow without a word.

"Excuse me?" the Wall Commander barked in frustration. "You're a soldier, dozens of ranks below me! How dare you-"

"Just follow me," the soldier snapped, cutting him off.

Though furious, the Wall Commander hesitated. The battlefield was swarming with orcs, and standing here arguing was suicide. With gritted teeth, he relented and trailed the soldier through the wreckage.

After navigating the chaos for several tense minutes, they arrived at what seemed like an entrance of a cave. The Wall Commander, looking rather a bit annoyed, walked upfront, and told the soldier.

"Is this it?" he growled as he stepped forward. "What are we supposed to-"

Before he could finish, a sudden force slammed into his back, sending him sprawling face-first into the dirt.

"What in the name of-?!"

Rage boiling over, the Wall Commander scrambled to his knees and drew for his magic musket. As he turned to shoot his attacker, a sharp pain pierced his chest. He gasped, his vision blurring as he stared down at the blade buried in his armor.

"Aghhhh!" He screamed in pain but managed to endure it.

The soldier stood over him, holding the weapon steady. "I wouldn't try that," the soldier said coldly as the Wall Commander's trembling hands attempted to raise his musket.

Summoning his strength, the Wall Commander channeled his mana into the gun to unleash a blast.

Nothing happened. The energy within him felt muted, blocked.

"What... is this sorcery?" he rasped with blood stained his lips.

The soldier smirked. "This blade? It cuts more than flesh, it severs your connection to magic. An ability to stop the flow of magic in someone's body"

Before the Wall Commander could respond, the cave mouth stirred with movement as dozens of dwarven soldiers emerged.

"Good! Arrest this traitor immediately!" the Wall Commander shouted while holding his wound.

His plea fell on deaf ears as the soldiers did not respond. Their movements were stiff, unnatural, like puppets on strings.

The soldier who had attacked him stepped back and pressed a hidden mechanism on his armor. As the Wall Commander watched in horror, the dwarf's body began to shift and contort. His ears elongated, his pale skin darkened to an obsidian hue, and his stature grew.

"Greetings from the Dark Legion," the figure said maliciously. The grin on his now-elongated face revealed sharp, predatory teeth.

"Dark Elf..." the Wall Commander whispered as the realization twisted his gut.

The Dark Elf crouched to meet his gaze and spoke softly but with chilling finality. "Remember that this is nothing personal, Commander. We're just assisting our elven cousins. Don't worry, your sacrifice will not be in vain."

With that, pain and exhaustion overwhelmed him as his vision faded. The Wall Commander collapsed and slipped into eternal darkness.

The Iron Wall of the Iron Kingdom had fallen. Chaos reigned as waves of Orcs surged through the breach and trampled over the bodies of dwarven soldiers that lay in growing mounds. Driven by greed and bloodlust, the Orcs pressed forward, intent on plundering the Iron Kingdom's riches.

Their ruthless plans left no room for mercy, men slaughtered, women seized as captives for breeding purposes, and their resources stolen to fuel the Orc horde's insatiable conquest.

But just as their sights turned to the first city of the Iron Kingdom-

BOOOOOMMM!!!

The skies tore apart with a deafening roar as a streak of blinding light descended, blazing like a divine retribution with meteoric speed.

The impact was cataclysmic, a thunderous explosion obliterating hundreds of Orcs in an instant. The ground quaked as shockwaves rippled through the battlefield, silencing the clamor of war.

As the dust began to settle, all eyes turned to the crater at the heart of the blast. From its depths emerged a figure, small in stature but colossal in presence.

It was Grandlord Hammerfall, in his ancient dwarven armor that glinted ominously beneath the sun.



The armor, though lacking the technological sophistication of the Thunder Warriors, bore the unmistakable craftsmanship of dwarven mastery, imbued with power beyond the Iron Kingdom's finest works.

In his hand, he wielded Ghal Maraz, a massive hammer that pulsed with raw, untamed energy.

Unlike his armor, the weapon blended magic and technology in perfect harmony, powerful enough to slay even 2nd Tier Transcendents. It was a relic of his great-great-grandfather, a legendary weapon forged to vanquish demons thousands of years ago.

Behind him descended hundreds of Thunder Warriors, their sleek armors glinting in the haze of battle. Massive Mobile Drilling Machines followed, deploying wave after wave of Dwarven soldiers, each armed and ready.

The tide had turned.

The Orc advanced to a halt as Hammerfall stepped forward, his voice echoing across the battlefield, amplified by his suit's mechanisms.

"Goreaxe Strurruilk, your reign of destruction ends here. Stand down, or face annihilation!"

The Orc Warboss laughed uproariously, "Yer fink ya shiny armor's gonna stop me, Hammerfall? Let's see how pretty it iz when I rip it off ya korpse!"

Tension crackled in the air as the armies faced each other, weapons from both gun and melee drawn, muscles coiled. For a brief moment, there was only silence.

And then, the Warboss roared that tear through the battlefield.

"WAAAGH!"

The Orcs rushed forward in a frenzied charge, and the forces of the Iron Kingdom responded in kind.

Soon, the two forces met them head-on.

BOOOOOMM!!!

The earth trembled as the clash began, a cacophony of steel and fury that would decide the fate of the kingdom.

Grandlord Hammerfall wasted no time as he propelled forward with incredible speed. His hammer, Ghal Maraz, swung in wide devastating arcs, obliterating waves of Orcs with every strike. Around him, the battlefield erupted in chaos as both sides exchanged volleys of magic-charged bullets and massive metal projectiles.

Unleashing arcs of lightning from his hammer, Hammerfall mowed down dozens more in an instant. Then, with a sudden charge, he slammed his weapon into the groun and unleashed a devastating blast that vaporized a hundred Orcs in a single blow.

The Warboss, seeing his forces demicated, watched roared in unrestrained fury. Leaping high into the air, he landed in the cockpit of the Gargant, an Orc Titan Mech, a 100-meter towering nightmarish machine cobbled together from salvaged metal and crude Orc engineering.



"Get a load uv dis!!"

The Gargant's massive arm swung up, revealing a gargantuan gatling gun. Goreaxe grinned wickedly as he opened fire and the weapon roared to life, spitting out thousands of rounds in a relentless stream that tore through everything in its path from trees and the earth, including Orcs, and Dwarves alike.

"AHAHAHAHAHAAAHAAA!!"

Through the chaos, Hammerfall moved with precision, moving at a speed unmatched even by the Gargant's deadly barrage. Each perfectly timed evasive maneuver only enraged Goreaxe further.

"Hold still, ya tiny-footed git!" the Warboss bellowed.

As Hammerfall continue to move forward, his hammer glowing with raw power, and with a mighty leap, he closed the distance between himself and the Gargant.

"Silence, you green filth!"

The Gargant raised its massive gatling gun to block the attack, but Hammerfall's strike shattered it with a thunderous explosion, sending shards of twisted metal raining down like shrapnel.

Goreaxe snarled in frustration and swing the Gargant's massive chainsaw arm in retaliation. Hammerfall dodged with an agile leap, but the Warboss wasn't done. Hidden compartments in the Gargant opened and unleashed hundreds of rockets that streaked toward Hammerfall.

However, the Grandlord weaved through the explosions effortlessly, leaving trails of fire and destruction in his wake.

Desperate, Goreaxe detached the Gargant's chainsaw blade and fired it like a massive projectile.

It struck Hammerfall mid-air with tremendous force, sending him skidding across the battlefield. But the Grandlord dug his heels into the ground and halted his momentum. Gripping the spinning blade with his bare hands, he brought it to a screeching halt before throwing it back with superhuman strength.

The chainsaw flew like a missile and cleaved straight through the Gargant, splitting it down the middle.

As Hammerfall landed, he swapped his hammer for a massive glowing gauntlet.

"RAHHHH!"

With a deafening roar, he slammed his fist into the ground, triggering a seismic wave. The earth itself rose in jagged spikes and raced toward the crippled Gargant. Within moments, the spikes impaled the Titan's upper half, tearing through its metal body.

Goreaxe, realizing the battle was lost, slammed the eject button. The upper half of the Gargant collapsed in a cacophony of screeching metal as the Warboss was launched skyward, leaving a trail of smoke marking his escape.

Hammerfall watched the Orc flying through the air and scowled.

"Don't you dare run from me!"

With a thunderous stomp, he launched himself forward, leaving the remnants of his army to finish off the remaining Orcs.

Hammerfall's blazing form streaked toward Goreaxe, closing the distance between predator and prey with relentless determination.

BOOOOOOOOMMM!

Before anyone knew, the fight quickly moved into a nearby dwarven city, which was already a mess the second the two titanic forces got there, causing entire buildings to crumble under the sheer shockwaves of their strikes, and the destruction claimed the lives of hundreds of unfortunate residents caught in the crossfire.

"WAAAGHHH!"

With a mighty roar, the Orc Warboss Goreaxe slammed his massive axe into the ground. The impact sent a seismic shockwave rippling outward and forced Grandlord Hammerfall to stagger back as nearby structures crumbled into heaps of rubble. Goreaxe's muscles bulged with unnatural energy, enhanced by the dark magic coursing through him.

"TIME TA GET KRUMPIN'!"

Goreaxe's axe blurred as he brought it down in a lightning-fast vertical strike. Hammerfall barely had time to react and raised his golden hammer to parry the blow. The clash of weapons sent a deafening crack through the air and forced the Grandlord to one knee under the tremendous pressure. But his free arm shot forward and slammed into Goreaxe's skull with a bone-crushing punch. The Orc was thrown backward, momentarily dazed, as Hammerfall seized the opportunity and unleashed a bolt of crackling lightning.

The attack struck Goreaxe and engulfed him in blinding energy.

But as the light faded, it revealed that the attack failed miserably as the Warboss shrugged it off with a maniacal grin splitting his face.

"DA TWIN GODZ PROTECT ME!" he roared. "YER PUNY MAGIC AIN'T DO-"

Before he could speak, a massive magic bullet slammed into his head, silencing him mid-sentence.

"You may be shielded by your gods and magic," Hammerfall growled as he brought out a giant magic musket in his hand. "But I have technology and science on my side."

Before the Orc could respond, another piece of magic bullet struck his torso, followed by a second, then a third, until Goreaxe reeled, growling in frustration, before shattering the next projectile with a swing of his axe.

"I'll make ya beg for mercy!"

Suddenly, a fiery red aura erupted around Goreaxe, growing more intense by the second. Hammerfall barely had time to react before the Orc moved, causing the entire building behind Goreaxe to explode from the sheer force of his launch, turning his massive form into a blur as he closed the distance in an instant.

Goreaxe plowed into Hammerfall like a freight train, ramming him through the walls, collapsing buildings, and leaving devastation in their wake.

Hundreds of bodies of innocent bystanders were crushed as the pair crashed through countless buildings of the city.

Moments later, the two combatants reached a towering bridge. With a guttural roar, Goreaxe threw Hammerfall high into the air.

Suspended mid-flight, the Grandlord's eyes ignited with a blinding golden light. His hammer glowed with divine energy as he aimed it downward at the Orc.

BRRRRRRR!!!

Beams of searing golden light exploded from the hammer, vaporizing the bridge in the blink of an eye.

From the ground, Goreaxe stared at the vaporized remains with a mix of anger and amusement in his expression.

"WOAH! Ya nearly hit me!" he shouted, before bursting into laughter. "Although, yer kilt hundreds uv yer own people! Dat's pretty funny! Hehehehe!"

Hammerfall's fury boiled over. "You insolent wrench!" he roared and fell toward the Orc with his hammer raised, only for Goreaxe to sidestep the attack effortlessly and taunted him as he moved.

"Tired yet, shorty? When are ya gonna stop?"

"Not until you Orcs stop living!" Hammerfall spat as he swung his hammer with all his might.

The blow connected with Goreaxe's massive metallic fist, and the force of the impact sent the Warboss flying downward and carving out a massive crater upon landing.

Hammerfall hovered above the scene, his chest heaving with exertion. For a moment, he thought the Warboss was incapacitated. But just as he glanced down at the vaporized bridge. He blinked in genuine surprise.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Goreaxe flying at him. It would be impossible, until the dwarf king realized there were rockets strapped to the Orc's boots.

Primitive, impractical rockets, yet advanced enough to allow flight at mach speed and the mobility of a fighter jet.

"Kraken's tits!" Hammerfall cursed as he flew higher to get a better view of the unfolding chaos.

"I'm Goreaxe Strurruilk Mag Uruk Thraka!" the Warboss roared with pride. "I'm not just an Orc, I AM THE ORC!" He chuckled darkly. "Prepare to get krumped, 'cause I'm droppin' a Krooz Missile!"

Hammerfall raised a brow. He had no idea what a Krooz Missile was, but the gleam in Goreaxe's eyes sent a chill down his spine.

Goreaxe erupted into manic laughter. "I'm da hand of the Great Twin Orc Gods! Dey sent me to crush, to kill! [Krooz Missile]!"

Meanwhile, the remnants of Gargant's body trembled violently. Its lower half groaned and buckled before collapsing entirely itself into pieces, revealing a gigantuous rocket, towering at over 100 feet, with a scary red pointed tip.

The missile rumbled ominously, and smoke began pouring from its base. If Hammerfall were to witness this, he would be baffled by the absence of any discernible mechanism triggering it.

Even the most brilliant scientists of the Austronesian Empire and the sharpest scholars of this magical world would have suffered mental breakdowns trying to comprehend its operation. The missile defied both magical and scientific explanation.

It was pure Orc ingenuity, if it could be called that.

But none of that mattered now. The Krooz Missile, a monstrosity bearing the Orcs' twisted design, launched into the heavens with a deafening roar.

High above, Hammerfall's sharp eyes tracked its ascent, but his heart sank as the projectile arced and began descending, straight toward the dwarven city. Its size and speed were horrifying, and he could feel the raw energy radiating from it. If this thing hit, the city wouldn't just be destroyed, it would be erased from the maps.

"What... what is that?!" he shouted with panic creeping into his voice.

"A Krooz Missile!" Goreaxe replied smugly as he crossed his arms. "I'm droppin' it on ya! When it hits, all I'll see is glorious scraps, heaps and heaps o' scraps!"

"You'll destroy the entire city if you do this!" Hammerfall roared, his fury barely contained.

"AHAHAHAHA!" Goreaxe laughed maniacally. "Like I care! Burn it all!"

Grinding his teeth, Hammerfall clenched his fists in rage. He closed his eyes briefly, searching for a solution.

Then, an idea struck him. Raising his hand, a mysterious black box materialized from his Spatial Ring, hovering above his palm. Its surface pulsed faintly, radiating otherworldly energy.

'I was saving this for a greater threat... but it seems I have no choice.'

The artifact on Hammerfall's hand was no ordinary creation. It was a Transcendent Tier 2 Magic Artifact, a relic from the legendary 1st Civilization Zone. Its magic and technology were so advanced that even the Iron Kingdom's brightest minds couldn't fathom replicating it.

Hammerfall opened his eyes, now glowing with fierce determination. His gaze shifted to the descending missile, and his voice rang with authority as he spoke.

"Let me show you the unlimited power of the Iron Kingdom."

He channeled all his mana into the artifact and the box vibrated wildly in response. Its pulsing grew faster and faster, like a beating heart on the verge of exploding.

Then, with all his strength, Hammerfall threw the artifact at the missile.

"Behold the magic artifact that can tame even black holes! [Black Box]!"

The instant the black box made contact, it shattered and unleashed its hidden power. Space itself warped as a dark void opened beneath the Krooz Missile, a small but insatiable hole that began pulling the massive projectile toward it.

The missile resisted and trembled violently, but it was no match for the void's pull. Within seconds, the Krooz Missile vanished, consumed entirely.

The hole sealed itself as quickly as it had appeared, leaving no trace of the missile behind.

Upon seeing this, Goreaxe froze and his laughter cut short.

"...Wat?"

For the first time, Goreaxe's jaw dropped in sheer confusion as his brutish mind struggled to process what had just happened.

"I opened a Magic Artifact capable of summoning a Black Hole," Hammerfall said calmly. "It could've swallowed the entire city inside to oblivion. But it's designed to focus on a single target." He paused, his tone turning grim. "Had it been a 3rd Tier Transcendent, it would have caused our demise as well."

"My missile! You destroyed my Krooze Missile!" Goreaxe's voice erupted in raw fury, his face twisting into something between a tantrum like an angry child and murderous rage of a monster. He stomped closer and pointed a finger at Hammerfall. "YOU BROKE MY KROOZ MISSILE!"

Hammerfall tilted his head slightly, and a smug smile crept across his face. He raised his hammer, its glowing head sparking with energy.

"Sad," he said mockingly. "Not my problem."

With a deafening crack, Hammerfall unleashed a colossal beam of blue energy from his hammer. The blast struck Goreaxe dead-on, triggering an explosion that shook the entire city. Buildings trembled, windows shattered, and the ground quaked beneath the sheer force of the explosion.

Hammerfall lowered his hammer, his lips curling into a victorious smirk. "That should do it," he muttered, moving to inspect the aftermath.

Then he froze.

"...No."

Emerging from the dissipating smoke, Goreaxe stood tall as he shrugged the attack off in sheer rage. His muscles bulged unnaturally and veins glowed crimson with raw energy.

Hammerfall blinked, genuinely taken aback. "Did he just shrug off a point-blank blast?"

"YOU'RE DEAD!" Goreaxe roared like thunder. A compartment on his armor slid open, revealing two stubby yellow-tipped rockets.

"Krooz Missile, redux!" Goreaxe roared and fired the missiles in quick succession.

Hammerfall moved aside, skillfully dodging both projectiles as they crashed into the city below, triggering more destruction.

"I'M GONNA KRUMP YA TILL YA DIE!" Goreaxe roared again, and his hands glowed with twisted energy as he began an incantation. "AN' DERE AIN'T NO SUCH FING AS ENUFF DAKKA! Enuff'z more than ya got an' less than too much an' there ain't no such fing as too much dakka!"

In an instant, his arms morphed grotesquely into big multi-barreled firearms.

"NEVER ENUFF DAKKA!"

And they opened fire in a loud melody of bullets, explosions, and ricocheting shrapnel followed by the frenzied Orc's joyous roars.

Within seconds, the entire streets became a warzone, entire blocks reduced to rubble under the hail of gunfire.

As one-fifth of the city turned into a No Man's Land, Hammerfall gritted his teeth and summoned an electrical force field just in time. Sparks flew as bullets halted mere inches from his face, piling up in a growing heap at his feet.

Goreaxe obviously compensated for his lack of accuracy with more bullets, laughing maniacally as he painted the city in destruction by shooting everything on sight.

"You're insane!" Hammerfall growled.

Then, without warning, Hammerfall rushed forward as his hammer glowed with divine energy. He swung Ghal Maraz directly into Goreaxe's face, and the impact created a shockwave so powerful it leveled nearby buildings.

The Orc staggered with blood dripping from his nose, but instead of falling, he roared louder as a crimson aura erupted around his body, crackling with raw, chaotic power.

Upon seeing this, Hammerfall's eyes narrowed. He planted his feet firmly and gripped Ghal Maraz with both hands as he decided to unleash his own power.

"Forefathers, lend me your strength! For I am the Iron and the Hammer that shall crush our enemies!"

The sky darkened as storm clouds gathered and swirled violently above the city. A massive vortex formed, miles wide, with a glowing blue eye at its center.

"[EYE OF THE STORM]!!"

🎵 Two Kings Killing For The Crown 🎵

From the heart of the storm, a colossal beam of light descended and enveloped Hammerfall. His entire body radiated with blinding energy, transforming him into a figure of divine wrath, like a living sun burning with holy power.

Goreaxe didn't falter as his weapons spun to life, and the barrels glowed red-hot.

🎵 To Stake Their Claim, They Will Tear Every World Down 🎵

At this point, the two titans whose both kingdoms fought for centuries charged toward each other with their weapons ready for slaughter and carnage as their battle cries shook the heavens.

🎵 Behold the King, Let It Be Known 🎵

Onlookers from miles away could only stare in awe and terror, knowing they were about to witness the most legendary clash of their time.

The Grandlord of the Iron Kingdom, wielding the might of ancient dwarven magic, versus the Warboss of the Orcs, armed with the deadliest and biggest guns his savage ingenuity could create on the planet.

🎵 Who Sits Upon The Throooone 🎵

It was a battle destined for the ages.

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

"I heard there's trouble brewing in the Iron Kingdom. What's the situation?"

The question came from Emperor Maximo, who sat into his chair and accepted a steaming mug of tea from an aide.

Agent Amelia, the agent of the IDAC, turned toward the massive television screen at the head of the conference table and activated the feed.

"We know the Iron Kingdom mobilized their entire military following Prince Dwalin's death by Project Mjolnir, one of our strongest hypersonic missiles. But just hours ago, the Orcs launched a massive assault and breached the Iron Border. This time, the Orc Warboss himself entered the fray."

"And the result?" Maximo asked as he leaned forward.

Amelia folded her arms. "The Grandlord of the Iron Kingdom personally confronted the Warboss. Historically, both factions agreed that their strongest leaders, such as the Grandlord and the Orc Warboss, would never enter combat directly. But with the Warboss breaking that deal, an all-out war ensued."

The room fell silent. Politicians and generals turned their attention to the satellite feed. The screen displayed a ruined battlefield with the Iron Wall reduced to rubble, the surrounding region a barren wasteland. Nearby, what was once a thriving city was now little more than scorched earth, devoid of life.

"An entire city... gone?" one politician murmured, equal parts awe and horror. "This is so much similar to the battle in Marawi City."

"Indeed it is," Amelia confirmed. "And the devastation? It wasn't caused by armies, it was just the Grandlord and the Orc Warboss."

With a flick of her wrist, the screen shifted to multiple scenes from a colossal, mech-like contraption battling the Grandlord, a black hole consuming a massive missile, and, finally, the golden eye of a storm raging in the sky.

"What in the hell?" Maximo sat up in his chair as he looked at the chaos unfolding on the screen. "What do we know about this... thing?" He pointed to the Black hole.

"Unfortunately, not much," Amelia admitted. "The dwarves don't have the technology to build something of this scale. We suspect it's a relic from the 1st Civilization Zone, far beyond what we understand. According to our Mana-Monitoring Satellite, the energy readings from that black hole exceeded 1,000,000 Magicules."

The room buzzed with murmurs of disbelief.

"For context," Amelia continued, "the combined power levels of the Grandlord and the Orc Warboss peaked at 400,000 by the end of their battle."

"What about the missile?" a general interjected. "We don't recall authorizing a nuclear strike on the Iron Kingdom."

"That wasn't us." Amelia's tone grew grim. "It was the Orcs."

The room erupted in shocked gasps.

"We've long known the Orcs create weapons that defy scientific logic, primitive yet absurdly effective. But how they managed to construct a nuclear-grade missile is a complete mystery."

Maximo exhaled sharply, collecting his thoughts. "And the battle's outcome? Who won?"

Amelia switched the screen to a new image, which was a massive crater, its edges still smoldering. At its center lay a headless corpse, clad in shattered dwarven armor.

The room went silent.

"It's him..." one voice whispered.

"Grandlord Hammerfall," Amelia confirmed. "In the end, the Orc Warboss claimed victory. And with no one strong enough to stop him, his rampage will continue across the Iron Kingdom."

"And their monarchy?" Maximo asked. "What happens now without their king?"

"They still have a queen," Amelia replied. "Though... rumors suggest she's resorting to 'desperate measures' to continue the bloodline. One of our agents reported seeing something traumatic enough to send him straight to a church, this, from someone who was staunchly agnostic."

Maximo sighed, a grim smile crossing his face. "At least it's their problem and not ours. And the good thing is that we got rid of one problem, and it's a good thing we didn't face them directly."

"Or else we'd probably have to waste some of our precious nuclear arsenal trying to put them down."

The room collectively nodded, feeling relief mingling with unease.