Page 299

However, things did not develop as he had anticipated.

The human youth coldly snorted, saying arrogantly, "I have no need to answer your question, because you are already… dead."

As his words fell, his figure appeared behind the bear-man, a gush of grayish blood spurting from the orc general's shoulder, spreading to the opposite waist, and then the orc split in half, falling onto the deck.

"Whether orcs or human traitors, you all deserve to die… No, even in death, I won't let you off." A flicker of grief and hatred crossed the human youth's face. Suddenly, he opened his left hand, and a gray, deathly aura swirled as a wide, ferocious lead-gray greatsword appeared in his hand. The sword was asymmetrical, one side smooth and sharp like a crescent moon, the other jagged and eerily irregular. Ancient and desolate inscriptions were cast on the blade, reading—"Forged in the name of the gods, absolving slaughter of guilt." It was the famous national demonic sword of the former Viking Empire, "Frost Grief."

The youth gently stroked the blade, a green light flashing in his eyes as he coldly recited, "By the snows of Finger Nether Mountain as witness, in the name of the heir of sorrow, I borrow the source of death, and lock the hands of time back to the origin—the lament of returning souls!"

The ancient inscriptions on the blade of "Frost Grief" lit up one by one, accompanied by eerie and mournful howls. Streaks of grayish-blue light flew out from the corpses on the deck, converging into the lead-gray greatsword. At the same time, from the cabin below the deck, screams continued to sound, as more streams of gray light representing the souls of the dead pierced through the deck and gathered into the demonic sword.

"Reverse Wheel Force—Ghost Ship Summoning!" With the youth's voice, he inverted the demonic sword, stabbing the blade into the deck. Immediately, the deck turned into a withered, dark hue, spreading outwards. In just a few moments, a large ship less than ten years old became a decaying wreck that seemed to have weathered thousands of years. A closer look at the ship's decaying hull revealed a faint, eerie phosphorescence—the luster of "Death Soul Wood" blessed by the power of the death god. This material rendered the ship completely immune to fire and made it far more durable than ordinary wood, approaching the hardness of rock. The only issue was that this death-infused warship was not something ordinary beings could board. Without sufficiently deep battle aura or magical protection, ordinary people would quickly turn into dried corpses.

Of course, the youth had not forgotten the need for sailors on the warship. Streaks of greenish light shot out from "Frost Grief" again, carrying the over hundred souls that had been absorbed into the demonic sword. At this moment, they were ten times larger and much brighter than before, finding their former bodies and climbing back in. Soon, over a hundred corpses, including those of dead orcs, staggered back to their feet. Thick gray smoke continuously poured out from their bodies, gradually forming a mist covering a sea area of one square mile, while the dried corpses left behind became shriveled husks.

"From now on, you shall wander this sea forever, attacking all passing ships, increasing your numbers and strength without end." The human youth said coldly, "This is the curse of Death Knight Hades Haan upon all my enemies."

Moments later, a black beast over ten meters long, with a pair of fleshy wings, burst out from the thick fog, carrying the young "Death Knight" into the approaching storm.

---

The Tagula Pass was the only major route connecting the eastern and western human worlds on the Mainland, witnessing countless travelers between two regions of vastly different cultures. It had once been a bustling trade hub with large towns and fortresses.

However, when orc armies conquered much of the west, it became one of the frontlines between the orc forces and the eastern legions led by Sacred Dragon Mountain. After repeated battles, the once-thriving market had been reduced to ruins, now replaced by orc camps and military flags. After years of relentless conflict, both sides were now exhausted. The orcs, needing to consolidate civil and military governance in the occupied areas and pacify human resistance, were spread thin. Meanwhile, the eastern front of Sacred Dragon Mountain, being far from the two major eastern empires, faced logistical difficulties and had to gradually consolidate their forces, leading to a stalemate.

Yet, neither side dared to relax, each secretly planning to crush the other, with military actions never ceasing.

On a clear summer night, two moons shone as the vast starry river carried countless stars across the sky, brilliant and dreamlike.

The orc frontline camp here was not heavily guarded, only a warning force, consisting of a thousand well-trained half-orc troops and two thousand human battalions. After years of fighting, the Fountainebleau Half-Orc Legion had earned a reputation. No one dared underestimate these green-skinned warriors. Impervious to weapons, immensely strong, loyal, and brave, with minimal logistical needs, they were the ideal light infantry units.

The position of human troops within the orc army was more awkward. Composed of captured soldiers and forcibly conscripted human youth, these troops, while not as strong as orcs on average, greatly supplemented the orc forces in terms of numbers. Most of their families lived in orc-occupied territories, and under the orcs' strict control, they feared rebellion. The orcs incorporated them into their forces not only to leverage their numbers and reduce orc casualties but also to deplete human resistance forces by drafting human youth. However, to other humans, these human forces, whether willingly or forcibly siding with the orcs, were often seen as more traitorous than the orcs themselves, frequently referred to as "human-orc armies."

At that moment, a dozen half-orc warriors stood guard at the camp entrance. Unlike the lazy and cowardly half-orcs of legend, these warriors were alert and loyal, standing watch with unwavering dedication.