The End of the Orc Tribal War
Between the Great Forest and the Aslan Empire stretched vast plains to the east and west, a region boasting a width rivaling the empire itself. The orcs dominated this land. Their sacred ground, Bator, lay to the north of the plains adjacent to the hilly terrain, while the front lines of the raging tribal war snaked north-south along the Aslan western border.
Among them, the fiercest battlefield was north of the Luden River in the southwest region. The main forces of the Five-Tribe Alliance, led by the Black Rhino tribe, clashed head-on with the main forces of the Three-Tribe Alliance spearheaded by the Red Boar tribe.
"Ancestral spirits watch over us!"
"Seize honor!"
"For the tribe!"
Boom!
"Argh!"
Crash!
"Grahhh!"
Crack!
"Urk!"
With tens of thousands of orc warriors from both sides colliding for a full month, mountains of corpses piled up on the plains. The blood flowing from them dyed the midstream of the Luden River—which fed into the empire—crimson.
This great war had already claimed over a hundred thousand lives combined. It was a bloodbath rare even in orc history, where life itself was struggle, and a catastrophe born of the orc virtue that forbade retreat in battle.
To the west, Batar, the de facto leader of the Three-Tribe Alliance, gazed heavily at the two chieftains beside him.
"Even without Nergui and his thousand Black Rhino elites, we can't turn the tide?"
"...Our response was too late from the start, Batar."
Tenger, chieftain of the Blue Lion tribe—a lanky shaman with blue tattoos etched on his face and a 6th-stage spellcaster—replied with a gloomy expression.
"Indeed. When we sensed Nergui's schemes, we should have prepared alongside them."
Nudar, chieftain of the Red Lizard tribe—a Challenger-grade warrior known despite his modest 180cm stature for an orc—added wearily, his exhaustion plain.
"Above all, those humans are filling Nergui's void with bizarre tactics. Deploying masses to strike only the weak points—what cowardly strategy is this? They're defiling our orc battlefield!"
At the outburst, Batar closed his eyes, soothing his boiling frustration.
Of course, he didn't fully agree with Nudar. Targeting weak points in formations was basic tactics—simple troop deployment, hardly deserving the name "strategy." The issue was how unusually well the valiant orc warriors, who prized challenging the strong, obeyed those humans.
...Light Knight, Tiny. Was trusting that human a mistake?
Right after easing vigilance upon assurances of no imperial meddling, war erupted. His thoughts inevitably turned there.
But Batar quickly realized he was escaping reality.
...No. If it wasn't the empire's scheme, we could've handled Nergui easily. My fault.
Blaming others now changed nothing. Moreover...
That friend is heading to Harharin with the Great Warrior, they say? That's why Nergui vanished. He wouldn't dare touch the Great Warrior. How long until they arrive...?
"Sir Tiny seemed utterly convinced."
The wise orc Batar recalled the words of his tribe's patrol captain, Narn, who had brought the news. He opened his eyes and faced the two chieftains again.
Then...
Hope remained.
"So, how long can your tribes hold?"
"Holding? What's the problem with that?"
"Same for us. It's a shame we can't annihilate them, but if we dig in, we can defend forever!"
These orc pups, bluffing even now...
Batar ground his teeth inwardly, mustering patience once more.
"We've lost 20,000 elites, with 10,000 more combat-ineffective. Effectively 30% strength left. If they launch a full assault, maybe two weeks at best. Be honest, both chieftains."
"...Same for us."
"Ours is worse—about 40% remaining."
Batar finally let out a long sigh.
The Five-Tribe Alliance's losses were at most 10-20%. Eight of the strongest orc tribes fought (excluding Direwolf), all suffering heavy blows, but their larger forces made them far less disadvantaged.
"The key is when the Great Warrior arrives."
"Chieftain Batar, what do you mean?"
"The Great Warrior?"
Realizing he hadn't explained, Batar briefed them.
Then...
"Uahaha! Then we hold somehow!"
"Of course. Light at last's end. That Nergui bastard's schemes!"
The chieftains seemed optimistic, but Batar couldn't join their laughter.
How long can we truly hold?
30% ineffective was annihilation or defeat for humans. Armies deemed unable to fight normally at that point.
But not for orcs.
In orc wars, annihilation meant every warrior dead; surrendering chieftains were branded cowards. That hindered new Orc Lords uniting tribes.
Yet...
...We can hold the tribe for now. But if over half die, surrender might be better for the clansfolk.
The wise orc, having shed much of his primal nature, hid his dark gaze.
Three days later.
After massive sacrifices, the front—thought quiet for a while—stirred again. The Five-Tribe Alliance rushed out ill-rested warriors.
"Charge!"
"Hold the line!!"
"Ancestral spirits watch!"
Tens of thousands formed a long human wall north of the Luden River and collided.
Thud!
"Raaah!"
Fierce close-quarters combat from a race scorning ranged weapons as cowardice. Elites upfront activated tribal tattoos, summoning massive beast phantoms to crash together.
Kaboom!
Black-and-white rhinos, red-and-blue raptors, blue hippos bore orc warriors charging fiercely.
Whoom!
"Keeeh!"
Red Boar, Blue Lion, Red Lizard riders countered without hesitation, exploding on impact.
Kyaaak!
"Kill!!!"
Lowest infantry followed, plunging into slaughter.
Behind, shamans spewed multicolored beams, empowering warriors—a dazzling sight.
The lines held evenly for a time, until a hole tore in the Three-Tribe center, collapsing balance.
"Hold!"
"East flank crumbling!"
"Charge!"
Warriors' efforts futile; the tide wouldn't turn, leading to helpless retreat.
Of course.
"Grahhh!"
"Fight!"
"Ancestral spirits watch!"
Orc warriors swung to the end amid defeat. True valor in action.
But valor alone couldn't reverse fate.
"Damn it."
Crack!
Batar split a charging foe vertically, cursing roughly.
This is why I urged pure defense.
He couldn't fully sway hot-blooded orcs. How did those humans command theirs?
Stray thoughts fled as he bit his lip, raising the Red Boar banner from his back.
"Retreat! Fortify! Hold, and we win!!"
Red Boar warriors, anticipating this, responded swiftly.
"Chieftain's will!"
"Fall back!"
"Not defeat—hold! Everyone back!"
Officers reined in excited juniors, withdrawing neatly. But the other tribes faltered.
"Never retreat!"
"Honor to ancestral spirits!"
"Fall back, idiots!!"
Battle-mad, few obeyed despite chieftains' urgings recalling Batar's pact.
Result: Red Boar withdrawing first from center accelerated the Three-Tribe collapse.
The miserable sight stabbed at Batar’s eyes.
We're done!
Should he have beaten sense into them for defense? Division then, but now...
One choice left.
"Slow retreat!! Aid the other tribes!!"
Bigger sacrifices, but better than axes shattering.
"What?"
"Chieftain!?"
Ignoring aides, Batar charged foes first.
Then.
Cease the war!
A colossal roar from the north swallowed battlefield din. Those clinging to sanity turned, beholding a massive silver wolf phantom rising in the northern sky.
Symbol of the era's orc Great Warrior, Warlord Zerik.
And more.
This war defies the laws!
Slaughtering foes halted one by one at the declarations.
"Laws?"
"Defies?"
"Impossible!"
"Then this battle!? My dead brothers!?"
Confused gazes shifted north, spotting a massive orc approaching with a few humans.
Overwhelming presence, silver mana strands dominating the sky—all fighting ceased as if illusion.
And.
"Chieftain Nergui of the Black Rhino conspired with demon worshippers! Orcs, end the war and purge internal foes!"
As Zerik's axe pointed at Black Rhino lines.
"N-No way."
"Impossible!"
"Why our tribe!?"
"Great Warrior's mad!!"
"Don't fall for it!"
Black Rhino warriors protested vehemently, but.
"Our tribe follows the Great Warrior!"
"We heed the honorable Great Warrior!"
"For orc honor!"
As if prior fury feigned, all weapons turned on Black Rhino.
Forced to drop arms, grinding teeth. Yet.
"Fight! Fight, damn it!!"
Behind, three Challenger-grade warriors—commanding sans absent chieftain to Harharin—raged, urging battle.
Are they sane? Suicidal?
Even brutish orcs saw abnormality. Farther back, a dozen humans fled westward on horses.
"Tribe's human advisors?"
"No way...?"
Even aggrieved Black Rhinos grasped truth.
Then, a human with Zerik rode a massive silver wolf westward like lightning.
Whoosh!
Horses crawled by comparison. White bone club in hand.
Kaboom!
One swing pulverized half the fleeing humans—not orc weapons.
Zerik's thunderous roar followed.
"On Great Warrior's honor! We were deceived! Demon worshippers dirtied our honor!"
Gazes locked on soaring silver wolf.
"War ends! All orcs henceforth hunt demon worshipper traces and tear them apart!! For our honor!"
Warlord Zerik's voice inflamed orc eyes with new fury.
Fields flowing blood-river, Luden River red anew—proof of orc devastation.
But all a plot?
No doubt. Great Warrior staked honor—who dared demand proof?
"For our honor!!!"
Roars shook plains unison.
Battle race orcs: sullied honorable struggle history stirred all emotions sufficiently.