Necromancer, summoning 055? What the heck?

Chapter 188 Thunderclap Breaks the Fire in the Camp
The deafening roar of the explosion rolled in like continuous muffled thunder, as if a grand percussion performance was unfolding within a radius of tens of kilometers.

The sound waves surged forward in layers, vibrating the eardrums of the cat-like beastmen outwards and pounding into the hearts of the otter-like beastmen inwards.

Thick black smoke mixed with dust rose into the sky above the "Rotten Swamp" camp, forming a huge, churning, and expanding murky cloud that obscured the rising sun, leaving only a pale orange hue.

"Is it... is it magic?"

The white-bearded man looked pale and, with some difficulty, glanced at the shaman beside him and asked a question.

To enhance the team's mobility, the white-bearded man was accompanied by a young shaman whose facial hair had not yet completely disappeared. This shaman also looked puzzled, squinting his eyes and flaring his nostrils as if he were sniffing something in the air.

After a moment, the young shaman shook his head firmly: "There is no spiritual energy fluctuation, not even a trace."

Orcs do not know this type of offensive magic, and they don't even understand the principles behind offensive magic.

However, to use a common saying in the Starry Continent, if you haven't been beaten by magic, haven't you seen the light of magic?
Even among the orcs, who are known as "muscle sticks," most members have at least seen or heard of magic, not to mention that many orcs have actually been beaten by magic.

So when Bai Xu saw this scene, he immediately thought of the magic that had ripped through the sky and crashed to the ground when he participated in the attack on the human race.

However, since one's own shaman can sense spiritual energy, if he says there isn't any, then there definitely isn't any.

Without a doubt, there was no trace of magic in that battlefield where fireworks seemed to be rising.

The little shaman's answer plunged the white-bearded man into even greater confusion.

The various races on the Starry Continent each have their own unique ways of applying psionic energy.

The human race, which considers itself the spirit of all races, is indeed capable of applying any kind of magic, ranking third or second among all the races in the universe, and calling itself the number one!

Humans have created all sorts of enchantments on items, spellcasting, support magic, attack magic, and even a large number of non-combat magic spells, all of which have been used in creative ways.

While they may not be able to surpass certain races with specialized talents in individual areas, their overall abilities undoubtedly overwhelm the entire field, and they were once known as "the race closest to gods".

This refers not only to their extensive and profound application of psychic energy, but also perhaps to their insatiable greed for psychic energy, much like that of gods.

The other major ethnic groups each have their own unique characteristics.

The race with the strongest application of psionic energy, and whose offensive and defensive magic is near its peak, is naturally the dragon race, which has already retired to the mountains.

It is said that the spells cast by a single adult dragon are comparable to those cast by a human legion of mages.

The dwarves' specialty is to solidify psionic effects onto objects, which is commonly known as enchanting.

The continent's top enchanting masters were once known for their long beards and iron aprons, seven out of ten of them. Even now, with the dwarves largely in decline, some of Frostwind's dwarf masters are still highly revered by enchanters.

According to some human bards, who are also the largest group of rumor-mongers on the continent, dwarves are mainly short-legged, with their bodies and heads close to the ground, so they are more intimate with Mother Earth and can better enhance the psionic effects of various minerals taken from the earth.

Serious scholars believe this is undoubtedly nonsense. Dwarfs are shorter than dwarves, so why don't they produce enchanting masters?
The bards retorted decisively: "How could there not be? Dwarves' talent is in crafting steel, while gnomes' talent is in hoarding gold and silver! Those precious metals seem to have legs, burrowing into the gnomes' pockets. Isn't that obvious enough?"

You know what, there's actually some truth to that.

The elves' greatest talent is attached spellcasting, which means attaching magical effects to arrows, plants, or animals. Examples include [Armor Piercing Strike], which allows arrows to pierce through heavy armor; [Resilient Vines], which attaches to green plants; and [Eye of the Forest Eagle], which allows them to share vision with birds of prey.

The various magical materials that humans need to use for spellcasting were originally learned from the research results of the elves.

As for the Orcs... they can't enchant, they can't attack, and all their psionic abilities are applied to the shaman's tattoos; they are purely support spellcasting teams.

Its core function is to increase the strength, speed, surface toughness, and flexibility of one's own muscular physique, etc.

In short, the goal is to make friendly forces more capable and more resilient.

Without the aid of certain special magical items, orc shamans cannot even cast a small fireball.

So neither Whitebeard nor their own shamans expected to see such a scene, resembling a magical barrage, during the Orcish civil war.

Of course, the orcs of the "Rotten Swamp" would never have imagined this.

The timing of the Han Hai Territory's mobilization was very strategic, precisely at the stroke of midnight, a time when the humans were already up and preparing for work, but most of the orc leaders were still resting.

Smelling black mud a lot improves sleep quality!

For the otter-boar orcs in the camp, the disaster came without warning.

The orc stronghold is actually divided into inner and outer cities. The main target of this attack is the inner city, where the chieftains, elders, shamans and elite warriors of the Otter orcs are concentrated.

At the center of the "Rotten Swamp" camp, atop a tall flagpole supported by massive crossbeams, stood a huge tribal banner—a battle flag made of tanned skin from some kind of swamp giant lizard and painted with ferocious red and black patterns—which was precisely struck on the top by a loitering munition.

The flag was instantly torn into hundreds of sparks, like a colorful red rain falling from the sky, thus beginning the war.

As missiles rained down one after another, the seemingly sturdy strongholds in the inner city were riddled with holes in the first salvo, leaving behind large areas of twisted and burning debris.

The orc, whose backside was on fire, had barely begun to roar in panic when a second and third wave of precise attacks followed.

The chieftain's tent of the "Rotten Swamp" otter orcs is a primary target.

At least one Guardian and four Hidden Arrows were fired at the tallest building in the entire stronghold. The shockwave from the explosion nearly leveled the entire Chieftain's Manor.

Smoke filled the entire area, making it impossible to tell whether there were any living creatures inside.

The barracks in the orc stronghold enjoy the same treatment as the chieftain's manor.

It is true that the orcs have a system where everyone is a soldier, but this also means that the vast majority of orcs perform civilian jobs in peacetime and are only brought out to fight in times of war, much like the reserve force of a modern country.

The true elite troops are the standing soldiers in the tribe's barracks.

These guys naturally received special attention. Not only were they given plenty of loitering munitions and missiles, but more than 40% of the grenade firepower, with its range extended by magic arrays, also covered the area.

When the first explosion rang out, several hoarse shouts from orc officers could be heard from the camp.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"

However, the orc warriors quickly lost their focus and, under continuous attacks, the orcs rapidly disorganized, and the chaos instantly escalated into complete collapse.

The camp has been wrecked!

They were like a swarm of cockroaches hiding under a greasy kitchen counter, or a swarm of flies gathered under a rotting corpse, bursting apart with a bang.

The otter-boar orc warriors howled in agony amidst the shrapnel, the impact, and the flames. Those still able to move frantically abandoned everything and instinctively rushed towards the nearest camp exit. But where was the exit in this camp?

The gate was crammed with orc soldiers trying to escape. They pushed, trampled, cursed, and bit each other. Most of them had injuries, some minor and some serious. Some had just been cut by shrapnel or collapsed buildings, while others had lost a quarter or even a third of their weight.

In this situation, orcs kept falling down along the way, becoming lumps of obstacles on the ground, and continuing to trip up one teammate after another.

Until the arrival of high-ranking warriors, who parted the orcs like road-clearing tanks, their ferocious charges and trampling carved a bloody path through the orcs.

The ground of the barracks was already covered with a thick liquid that reached above the ankles. It wasn't water, but blood mixed with mud.

With one step, red waves splashed.

In addition to the chieftain's tent and stronghold barracks, the Vast Ocean Territory also precisely targeted the armory, mount stables, shaman temple, beast god hall, and inner city gates...

All of this detailed location information was provided by Amu, a human laborer who escaped.

Contrary to expectations, the caravan that entered the Otterbeastman camp did not provide much valuable information. After all, it was fine for caravan members to wander around taverns and restaurants, but it was absolutely impossible for them to enter the inner city.

But Amu was different. He had lived under the command of the otter-boar beastmen for nearly twenty years. Most of the buildings in the inner city were built stone by stone by these human slaves, or repaired every few years.

Where the chieftain enjoys his pleasures, where the warriors gather, where weapons are stored, and where the temples are... Amu could draw it all with his eyes closed.

With just a little identification on the satellite imagery spread out on the vast ocean, the crucial identification and location required for the attack operation can be completed.

This indiscriminate, high-intensity bombing also brought about a consequence that even the entire Han Hai Territory had not fully anticipated.

Because the orcs loved this unique smell, they piled up large amounts of "black mud" in the inner city. It was a black, viscous, semi-solid substance that seeped from the depths of the swamp and intoxicated the orcs.

After being stored for a long time, these crude oil residues, after the light components have completely evaporated, can definitely be considered excellent combustibles.

The humans on the outskirts dared not hoard these things, firstly because they were not so addicted to the smell, and secondly because the humans' simple and densely packed huts, combined with this kind of natural asphalt, would turn Mars into a large-scale barbecue site.

However, most of the buildings of the inner city orcs are made of earth and stone, so they dare to store these "fragrant" little things at the base of walls, along roads, and even in their backyards without any restraint.

At that moment, these "treasures" were set ablaze by the explosion.

The fire spread almost instantly, with red light shooting into the sky, greedily licking at everything that could burn, including the orcs who couldn't escape in time.

A strange odor began to fill the air, a mixture of burnt hair, flesh, wood, and that distinctive smell of tar.

Red illuminated most of the sky.

While the inner city suffered a severe blow, the humans in the outer city had already begun their work.

Those who are laborers and slaves, are they allowed to sleep in late? Even the working class on Earth doesn't have that kind of life!

While the orc leaders, big and small, were still licking the fur off their beds in their sleep, the humans and the lower-ranking orcs had already begun their busy work.

The slaves lit fires, carried water, prepared animal feed, and repaired farm tools; the laborers, on the other hand, were able to prepare a hot meal to replenish their carbohydrates after a day of physical labor, and thin wisps of smoke drifted into the air, rising straight into the sky.

Then, an explosion shattered the silence.

In the brief moment the tremors began, there were a few minutes of terror in the outer city. The deafening explosions and earth-shaking tremors threw the entire slave labor settlement in the outer city into chaos.

The low, dilapidated shack shook violently, dust falling from the roof. People huddled together in terror, children cried out, young people desperately called for their families, and the elderly knelt on the ground, praying to all the gods they knew.

Ultimately, some quick-thinking individuals were the first to shout out.

"Clan Wars! Clan Wars have started!"

"Gods... this fire... is it only attacking the orc lord?"

"Don't move! Don't move! Don't even think about running away. Wait for the orc lords... or the new orc lords to make arrangements!"

As they gradually confirmed that the fires and explosions were mostly concentrated in the orcs' inner city, with sporadic explosions landing at the outposts on the outer edge of the stronghold, the vast, crowded labor labor settlements in the middle were almost unaffected. The obedience cultivated over decades or even centuries was on full display at this moment.

The human slaves readily crouched down with their hands behind their heads, while the orc laborers lay down on the spot, exposing their chests and abdomens and remaining motionless.

This is their way of expressing harmlessness and submission in the face of tribal wars, passed down from generation to generation.

As long as they don't run away or rebel, once the new orc lord takes control, these slaves will eventually be needed to farm, work, and create value for them—it's just a matter of changing masters and using a different kind of whip.

The houses in the inner city need to be renovated again...

Most people's fear gradually turned into numbness, while a small number of quick-thinking individuals were filled with anticipation.

"I wonder which orc force has arrived this time? They're making such a big fuss!"

"Keep a close eye on what color the flag will be, so you don't hang the wrong one."

Yes, orcs are actually very sensitive to color, obsessively so.

Because a significant portion of orcs are born with a certain type of color blindness due to their genes, they can only recognize a subset of colors.

For example, most cats, dogs, rabbits, and mice inherited their bichromatic or total color blindness from their ancient beast ancestors. If they were to cross a traffic light on Earth, it would be no different from gambling with their lives.

Even Chen Mo, who had received higher education, was misled by the absurd knowledge that had been circulating outside for a long time. After accepting the old bull, he carefully inquired whether the color red would make the minotaur race feel uneasy.

As a result, cattle are born red-green colorblind and cannot distinguish what red is at all.

Therefore, the main banners raised by orc tribes are mostly the colors that are most easily recognizable to them. The human slaves and orc laborers on the White Deer Plains have also learned that when they see what color the other side is raising, they quickly get a piece of cloth, a wooden board, or even a stone painted with a similar color and raise it up. This is a gesture of submission to the new master as quickly as possible.

"With a new master coming in, those previous overseers are going to be in trouble!"

"If we could have joined them earlier, we might have been able to become foremen, and I could have whipped those bastards!"

"Pah! Aren't you just a spineless coward who gets whipped every day? And you want to be the supervisor?"

"So what if I'm a scoundrel? I want to taste what it's like to beat someone up too!"

"..."

With the planned three rounds of fire coverage completed, the ground assault forces of the Han Hai Territory began their operation.

(End of this chapter)