Chapter 191
Chapter 191
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 191
Chapter Title: Ten Thousand Slaughter (2)
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Dwarf versus Orc.
Orc versus Dwarf.
Their battles carried quite a thrilling intensity.
The Orcs had shamans fulfilling the role of mages and archers delivering devastating single strikes, while the Dwarves had priests devoted to the Earth God and ranged attackers drawing steel bows. Yet their fights were almost always decided by the outcome of close-quarters combat.
Both races were specialized in warriors, with inherently aggressive temperaments that made them prefer settling things in melee.
They could employ traps or tactics, but direct clashes of brute strength were the norm.
Those who stuck to spells and ranged attacks until the end were mostly users, for one.
This battle followed a similar pattern.
“Kill them!”
“Kekeke, another brawl? Works for me!”
Dwarves and Orcs tangled together like a single mass, launching into a fierce fight where neither side held a clear edge.
The spellcasters on both sides focused less on direct attacks and more on creating space for their warriors to fight freely—neutralizing enemy spells and projectiles or shielding their allies, pouring most of their efforts into defense.
“Damn it, how am I supposed to farm like this?”
Unsurprisingly, grumbles echoed nonstop from the user lines.
Even in a local skirmish with hundreds clashing, they’d figured sniping from the rear would net easy kills. But with enemy counters nullifying shots, successful hits happened maybe once or twice out of ten.
Sure, spamming ranged attacks nonstop might snag a few kills and assists, but at that point, hunting monsters would’ve been smarter.
The alternative? Close in fast and strike before getting intercepted. But that was no easy feat amid the enemy’s relentless pressure.
Frontline collapses were common, with spellcasters mid-cast crumpling dead.
“Block them! Hold the line!”
“Fuck, how with masters mixed in... Gah!”
Melee classes didn’t have it any easier, though.
The enemy ranks were mostly filled with Expert-level of the same classes, but Masters were sprinkled in here and there.
Breaches that formed and quickly refilled? Usually when those Masters unleashed their skills.
These were veteran soldiers from both sides, hardened by countless battles, so user control often fell short.
You had to embrace death just to break even.
The quest rewards were the only thing keeping them grinding it out. Without them, they’d have bailed for other hunting grounds long ago.
A few deaths and a piece or two of dropped gear could be recovered if the payout was right.
The brutal back-and-forth raged on when dust suddenly billowed from the Orc rear. Something was charging straight through hundreds at full gallop.
“What the hell is that?!”
“High Master? Even a Dwarf High Master?!”
“Nah, it’s a human—and pretty far from the human lines.”
“Cross-race coordination? Doesn’t look like...”
Bowling. Users battling Orcs immediately thought of bowling pins. Just one horse barreling in, and famed powerhouses like Orcs went flying, smashing into the dirt. Heads-only corpses weren’t uncommon.
“Rokan! It’s Rokan!”
“Crazy, what’s he doing out there?”
Cleaving through layered Orcs without slowing a step, he closed in—and someone yelled it out.
Dwarf users and Orc users alike froze in shock, momentarily forgetting the fight.
“Scatter! Run!”
“Push hard! Don’t let ’em escape!”
“Charge! This is a sure win!”
“Hell yeah, free ride!”
The deadlock flipped in an instant.
Orcs blocking him got massacred, sure, and the frontline was still fierce—but Orc users panicked at his name, backpedaling, and the tide fully turned.
Dwarf users, sensing victory, surged forward. Outnumbered and outmatched in morale, the Orcs started getting steamrolled.
“Whirl Wind!”
Bam-bam-bam!
Even the Masters joining the fray got tied down by Rokan—not just stalled, but pushed to the brink of death—widening the gap further.
Rokan could now steamroll Masters without Berserk or Avatar of the Mad Wind, so over a hundred troops focused solely on stopping him.
“Kraaaaaah!”
And even that failed.
One mad roar from Rokan, and they stiffened up, helpless to do anything but eat hits. Halting him was a pipe dream.
“Urgh, Berserk!”
Resistance wasn’t zero, though. True to their belligerent nature, plenty of Orcs had picked Berserker classes.
Red-eyed monsters sprouted everywhere in seconds.
“These punks, who you glaring at?”
Wrong matchup.
Half-feral, blood-starved beasts meant nothing before the real monster, the true predator.
Rokan exuded thick madness without activating Berserk himself, resuming the slaughter.
“Counter. Rapid Acceleration.”
Parried their wild swings, dodged, countered—ripping flesh. Shattering bones, cleaving souls.
Combat rooted in flawless fundamentals.
Rokan didn’t have a ton of skills to begin with, but it proved his class all the same.
Expert, Master, madman, calculator—none could match him.
They lunged, only to be shredded and broken, piling up as cold corpses before him.
“Urgh, retreat! Fall back!”
Bwoooo.
At last, the rare retreat horn blared from the Orc side.
The magical horn blared repeatedly, boosting retreating allies’ speed while slowing the enemy.
“Where you going!”
Kablooey!
Rokan wasn’t letting them off easy. Every extra kill boosted rewards and whittled their forces.
Leaf Attack dropped him smack in their retreat path, while merciless barrages hammered their backs.
“Wooo!”
“We won!”
“Jackpot—repair voucher drop!”
“Hit a hundred kills! Pure honey!”
After carving through over a hundred Orcs, Rokan let them flee beyond a safe distance, ignoring the chaos, and resummoned his heavenly steed.
He galloped off in search of the next local skirmish.
“Follow him! Rokan ride means bus!”
Users reacted sharp.
Stick with Rokan, and any fight was basically a free win. They piled on fast.
Movement skills flashed nonstop; those with spare mana summoned skeleton horses to keep up.
Distances would stretch due to speed gaps, but if they didn’t lose him, they could tag in for scraps.
Thud-thud-thud.
Unintentionally, Rokan now led a growing band roving the battlefield.
And their numbers swelled with every fight.
[Pls Rokan, stay out...][Author: Warbo]
This is bullshit... Rokan’s too much. Why crash the kids’ party and wreck the ecosystem? He shows up, fight’s over!
What are our guilds even doing?!
Hence the homepage roast fest aimed at Rokan.
Every battlefield he hit, they got curbstomped no contest, so Orc users turned into paranoid scouts—bolting or swapping hunt zones the second he appeared.
└Keke: Lol, next loser incoming.
└Gearhead: But yeah, it’s brutal lol. Like adult vs. kids. Masters shouldn’t gap *that* hard. Of course I’m slurping honey off Rokan. Let’s go.
└Pons: Enemy side bitching? Lol, salty? Train your own super-user then. Lol.
└Noct: Listen to these scrubs. You’d think they raised Rokan. Punks who got neck-grabbed and dragged talk big.
Public opinion stayed ice-cold.
Black Dragon Legion users—especially Orcs—raged bloody murder, but the profiting Golden Lion side trolled them nonstop. Inevitably, blame turned to the Orc top guilds.
Not that they were any different.
No desire whatsoever to tangle with Rokan, who smashed High Masters when their top users had barely hit 290, let alone Master level.
Instead, they started raiding Rokan-free battlefields.
Greedy users flocked to the Dwarves en masse, leaving other fronts empty for sweeping exp and loot grabs.
Fighting wasn’t limited to the frontline—victories and defeats piled up endlessly across disputed zones.
“What a mess.”
Rokan, rampaging alongside the Dwarves, occasionally checked the homepage for updates and summed it up in one line.
He’d crushed the troll horde and swept every local fight for the Dwarves, giving the Golden Lion frontline the edge—but with users mobbing here, defeats outnumbered wins elsewhere.
Top guilds held outposts and scored sporadic victories, but ironically, the overall vibe favored Black Dragon Legion.
‘Time to force a decisive battle...’
Even the Dwarf frontline victories were tapering off. Orcs flat-out avoided the unbeatable foe.
Aggressive race or not, they wouldn’t just charge to pointless defeat, and fights were drying up.
At this rate, he’d miss the fun and watch other spots fall first.
‘What’s their game?’
It made him curious about the Dwarf lord’s thinking.
If it were him, he’d leverage the gathered users for a siege by now—but the guy sat heavy-assed in his castle, barely budging.
Rokan was even pondering shifting battlefields himself.
Trolls had gone quiet post-smash, so sticking around was viable for now, but endless stalling meant chasing gains elsewhere.
“It’s here. Knew it.”
Right on cue, the awaited quest popped.
[Tchilraman Conquest][Quest]
Conquer the Orc frontline stronghold, Tchilraman Fortress!
-Success Condition: Secure Tchilraman upon completion
-Success Rewards: +1 Level, Rare-grade Weapon (Random), Massive EXP, Massive Fame
-Special Reward: Unique-grade Weapon for top 10 contributors upon conquest success
-EXP Gain x1.3 during quest
Stronghold conquest quest.
The Dwarves had finally drawn their blades against the Orcs.