Spirit Game

After Rain and his companions rendezvoused with General Varlox and the rest of the Ebizo, they set out towards Clockwork City.

Along the way, they met reinforcements: soldiers arriving from the Orc clans and Silverstone Oasis. In total, they had amassed 3,000 soldiers.

Meanwhile, waiting for them at Clockwork City were 10,000 elves and 2,000 Goliaths. Since the Orcs were fresh from a war with the Hobgoblins, their numbers didn't reach a thousand. Though Rain's forces were few, they were bolstered by the surviving Hobgoblin army, some mercenaries, and soldiers who had joined them in Port Town.

Overall, their numbers stood at about fifteen thousand. Rain wasn't sure if that was enough to breach Clockwork City, but he hoped it would suffice.

"There are some Lizardfolk here with us," Rain commented. "Is that alright, General Helliana?"

Rain was aware of the Lizardfolk's betrayal of General Helliana, and he was concerned about how she would feel about their presence.

Helliana looked straight ahead, her face a mask of composure. "Not all Lizardfolk betrayed my clan. Besides, this is war; we can't afford to be picky about our soldiers. We need all the help we can get to defeat Gorm."

Rain smiled. "You're really strong."

Helliana chuckled softly, a hint of tension underlying her words. "I'm just doing my best to hold it together. But never mind me. Are you sure General Varlox and his ten Ebizo troops are enough to penetrate the city?"

Rain's expression turned serious. "I hope so. General Varlox is incredibly strong, and his ten troops are formidable as well. They're unstoppable in the water. I can only trust they'll make it to the other side."

Helliana nodded. "Let's hope and pray to the spirits that everything will turn out well for us."

Santi's voice rang out, slicing through the air. "We'll be reaching the city soon. Everyone, prepare for combat."

Rain swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the impending battle settle in his chest.

As they advance, Rain felt the heavy tension thick in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of metal and blood. Dust swept with the wind, stinging his eyes and coating his tongue with grit.

When they reached the top of the hill, what he saw left his skin crawling with unease. Despite witnessing the battles with the Orcs and Hobgoblins, this scene was something else.

Thousands of Elves, Orcs, and Goliaths clashed fiercely against strange creatures he had never seen before. Their grotesque forms and uncanny movements were unnerving.

The Orcs, Elves, and Goliaths were locked in combat with strange creatures that appeared almost skeletal, shrouded in dark robes that fluttered eerily in the wind. They were a haunting combination of skeleton and ghost, commanding thousands of nearly bald skeletal wolves.

These creatures moved with a swiftness that made them nearly impossible for the naked eye to track, leaving trails of dust in their wake as they darted across the battlefield.

Rain gulped. "W-what are those?"

"Those are Shadowborn Legionnaires commanded by Draken," Santi whispered, pointing toward a malevolent presence dominating the battlefield.

Rain followed her gaze, his heart pounding as he witnessed a scene drenched in foreboding darkness. Draken, the Shadow Tactician, loomed ominously at the vanguard of his army, his eyes cold and calculating, surveying the chaos with a predatory gaze. His ebony armor seemed to devour the surrounding light, casting him as an imposing silhouette against the tumultuous backdrop of battle.

Behind Draken stretched a sea of Shadowborn Legionnaires, their dark armors and weapons cloaked in shadows. The eerie light glowing in their eyes betrayed a fierce loyalty to their commander and a relentless drive to annihilate their foes.

The very air was thicken with tension, pressing down on Rain and his companions as they faced the daunting might of their enemies. Draken's gaze bore into them, as if dissecting their every move, searching for any sign of weakness to exploit in his masterful stratagems.

"Where on earth did they come from? Are they creatures of this wasteland?" Rain asked, his voice edged with unease.

Santi shook her head. "No, they're summoned by Gorm, tasked with defending the castle while he prepares his rituals. These abominations are another reason we've been unable to breach the castle. Unlike us, they don't sleep or rest. They're undead, only vulnerable to fire or potent magic."

"Between those impregnable walls and these relentless creatures, we're constantly under siege, barely able to catch our breath," Helliana added grimly.

"What a nasty bunch of monsters," Golly remarked with a grimace. "Breaching the walls just got ten times harder."

As the gravity of their situation settled in, Rain steeled himself for the trials ahead, knowing that overcoming Draken and his legion would demand every ounce of their strength and resolve.

Clockwork City was an awe-inspiring marvel of engineering and artistry, a fortress of gleaming metal and intricate gears rising majestically from the barren wasteland. Its walls, crafted from polished steel and adorned with complex carvings of rune symbols, were an imposing sight, radiating an aura of indomitable strength.

The city was a testament to the gnomes' genius, each piece meticulously designed to fit perfectly into the grand puzzle of their fortified home.

Perched atop the towering battlements, cannons and ballistas stood sentinel, their cold, unfeeling muzzles poised to unleash devastation. As the Orcs, Elves, and Goliaths pressed forward, the defenders of Clockwork City responded with merciless barrage of magic and missiles.

The cannons roared, and the ballistas sang, raining fiery death upon the invaders. Explosions ripped through the ranks of the attackers, shattering their formations and leaving scorched earth in their wake. The ground quaked under the relentless barrage, and the sky filled with smoke and the acrid scent of metal and gunpowder.

The invaders could scarcely draw near the city's formidable defenses, their every advance met with a storm of destruction. The cannons' thunderous booms echoed across the battlefield, while the ballistas' arrows sliced through the air with deadly accuracy. The unyielding assault left the Orcs, Elves, and Goliaths reeling, struggling to find a foothold amidst the chaos.

Adding to their ordeal was the presence of Draken and his legion of dark creatures. The Shadowborn Legionnaires moved like phantoms across the battlefield, their skeletal forms cloaked in billowing black robes. The air around them chilled, and their eyes burned with an eerie, unnatural light.

Draken, the Shadow Tactician, orchestrated their movements, his commands unmerciful. His presence on the battlefield was a constant reminder of what they had to defeat to advance inside the Clockwork City.

The combined might of Clockwork City's defenses and Draken's dark legion created a seemingly insurmountable barrier. The invaders, despite their numbers and their courage, found themselves struggling to breach the city's impregnable walls. The ground beneath their feet was stained with the blood of the fallen, a testament to the fierce resistance they faced.

In the face of such overwhelming odds, the resolve of the Orcs, Elves, and Goliaths was tested, their determination to overcome the city's defenses and Draken's dark army growing with each passing moment.

Despite the palpable tension in the air, Thraigar felt a surge of exhilaration coursing through his veins. He stood tall, his massive frame casting a shadow over the others. As he watched his brethren clash with the undead forces of Draken, a fierce, toothy grin spread across his face, revealing sharp canines.

His blood pumped with excitement, the thrill of meeting his tribe igniting a fire within him that could not be extinguished.

"That's!" Thraigar roared, his voice cutting through the chaos. His eyes, blazing with fierce joy, locked onto familiar figures amidst the fray. "Thorgar and Valara! By the spirits, they're here!"

Amidst the chaos of the battlefield, two towering Goliaths stood out, their imposing figures cutting through the mayhem like a pair of living statues. At the sound of their names, they turned toward the hill where Thraigar's voice had come from. Recognition sparked in their eyes, and their faces lit up with unrestrained relief.

"Thraigar! You're alive!" Thorgar bellowed, his voice booming across the field.

"You fool!" Valara roared with a fierce grin, shaking her head in mock exasperation. "We thought you were dead!"

Thraigar's laughter echoed over the battlefield, a deep, joyous sound that cut through the chaos. He gestured enthusiastically at his tribe to Rain. "My friends! I'm finally home!"

Rain felt a mix of emotions watching Thraigar's exuberant reunion. Despite the dire circumstances surrounding them, he couldn't help but smile. "It's great that you're finally reunited with them," he said, his tone tinged with a bittersweet edge. "But I'm afraid we'll have to postpone the celebrations for now. There's still a war to win."

Thraigar nodded with a happy face, and Rain wondered if he really get it?

The clash of steel and the roar of cannons echoed in their ears as the battle continued.

Thraigar's heart swelled with pride as he witnessed the Goliaths fighting side by side, their differences cast aside in the face of a common enemy. Their battle cries mingled with the deafening booms of the city's defenses, creating a cacophony that fueled Thraigar's elation. He let out a mighty roar, his voice cutting through the din of battle, a rallying cry that spurred his comrades on.

Thraigar's eyes darted across the battlefield, taking in every detail. The skeletal forms of the Shadowborn Legionnaires moved fast, their dark robes billowing in the wind as they pressed the attack. But the sight of his brethren holding their ground, their weapons flashing in the sunlight as they fought with all their might, filled him with an emotion to join them in battle.