Necromancer, summoning 055? What the heck?

Chapter 354 White Waves Clash in a Bloodbath to Return to Righteousness
The Phantom Flame River is a super-long river that originates from the Dragon's Spine Mountains, which run from north to south across the continent.

It surged southeastward, passing through the magnificent territory of the Xiyue Dynasty, traversing the temple-filled and chanting-filled Misty Moon Divine Court, and finally creating the vast and fertile White Deer Plain between the Orc Wasteland and the continuous Flag Mountains.

However, this land has been cursed since ancient times, filled with endless cycles of conquest.

Unlike the human kingdoms in the central region that seized control of their territories from the elves, the White Deer Plains were originally a breeding ground for the goblin race.

At its peak, goblins roamed this land in dense, bustling crowds, their footprints covering every corner of the plains, and even venturing beyond Flag Mountain on several occasions. Then, the White Deer Plains welcomed their second master, the rising orc race.

Since they couldn't defeat the goblins, they naturally became lower in the food chain.

To this day, a large number of goblins and goblins are still active in certain hidden hiding places and even in the shallow underground of the White Deer Plain. Areas that the orcs do not have actual control over are their roaming space.

The goblins and wild beasts in the mountains and marshes competed for limited resources for survival, leaving the orcs to have the main battleground.

Then, the White Deer Plains welcomed the human conquest team.

Those human pioneer knights swept across the plains like a hurricane, almost wiping out all the races on the plains.

Driven to the brink, the orcs were even forced to humble themselves and form a fragile alliance with the goblins they once considered food—which is why many goblin tribes now worship ogres, the best combination that survived the era of alliances.

But no matter how they joined forces, the human race, this efficient "race crusher," still mercilessly crushed all obstacles in its path. No matter how powerful the ogres and orc archers were, they could not stop the human heavy infantry's mountain-like advance, nor the flames and frost that the mages behind them tore through the sky.

The human race became the third masters of the White Deer Plain, and after several moves, they established the White Deer Kingdom there.

Then, the orcs arrived!

Rolling in from the northern wilderness, they used battle axes and fangs to reclaim the plains once more.

The humans, the masters of the previous era, have become slaves of this one.

The entire Bailu Plain is a history of being conquered and then conquered again, in a never-ending cycle. The earlier the conquest, the lower the conquest is!
Now, more than two hundred years later, the human race has returned.

On this land soaked in the blood of countless races, the battle between orcs and humans is destined to be re-determined!
At this moment, to the north of the sea tribe's landing point, the army of the "Cracked Claw" tribe is advancing south at full speed along the ancient waterway. Banners fill the sky, and a murderous aura pervades the air; their target is the White Wave Beach.

As one of the major orc tribes on the north bank of the Fantasy Flame River, the "Crack Claw" tribe is mainly composed of bear-type orcs, which are undoubtedly a superior predator group.

Wild boars are mainly herbivores, but bears are not!
The "Cracked Claw" orcs are physically strong, with excellent offense and defense. Their speed is also among the average for orcs. Despite having heard that the boar tribe had been crushed by the suddenly appearing humans, the "Cracked Claw" tribe still swaggered south.

The boar-men's failure only proves their incompetence.

According to the original plan of the Orcish Alliance, the major tribes were supposed to gather on the north bank of the Fantasy Flame River and wait for the main force that had gone south for the "autumn hunt" to return before launching a pincer attack on the human forces from the north and south.

The vanguard of the "Cracked Claw" that marched south this time numbered about 15,000. About one-third of them were the true elite of the "Cracked Claw" headquarters, while the rest were composed of warriors from small and medium-sized tribes such as gnolls and lizardmen who were affiliated with them, as well as some auxiliary soldiers and slaves.

Commander of this army is Rag, one of the fiercest generals under Chief Crackclaw, known as Bloodscar.

At this moment, this guy was riding on the back of a burly kodo beast, his armor casually open, revealing his dark gray chest covered with thick fur, and the crisscrossing scars on his body like mountain ravines.

The most noticeable scar starts from the left side of Rag's neck, runs diagonally across his chest, and extends to his waist.

Almost all the hair in the scar area had fallen out, revealing a dark red fleshy protrusion that, at first glance, looked as if Rag had been cleaved in two, adding to his already ferocious appearance with a touch of malevolence.

While listening to the report from the front, the kodo beast paused for a moment, sniffing around on the ground. The withered vegetation of this season made the gluttonous beast a little unhappy. It anxiously scratched at the white sand on the ground with its paws, its long tongue curling back and forth, occasionally dripping a few drops of sticky saliva.

The kodo beast glanced at the scout captain in front of it with ill intent, and the orc captain couldn't help but shudder and take half a step back.

He knew this big guy's habits all too well—its saliva contained a special paralyzing toxin, and its favorite thing to do was to paralyze living creatures before swallowing them whole.

According to some particularly "lucky" companions who were rescued from the stomach of a kodo beast, it was a truly hellish and unbearable experience.

Rag tugged hard on the kodo's reins, pulling its restless head back, and asked, "Can you confirm the number of those guys blocking the way?"

"Reporting to the commander, the reconnaissance troops cannot get close, but judging from their appearance, there are at least several thousand men, but it should not be a full-scale 10,000-man unit!"

"So you've confirmed they're the enemy, right?"

"Yes, Commander! Our scouts approached carrying the tribe's battle flag and were immediately attacked! They are definitely the enemy!"

Rag frowned and scratched at the scars on his body with his large claws.

"Can you determine which enemy force it is?"

"Reporting to the Commander, the reconnaissance team suspects that it is either a detachment that attacked the 'Longtooth' tribe orcs, or it is the human servant army that was originally in the 'Longtooth' tribe. Judging from the equipment and methods of the enemy scouts, the style of the orcs is very obvious, and it is more likely that they are defecting servants!"

The news of the humans' defection was no secret. The "Longtooth" tribe's earth-transmitting drum had been continuously transmitting intelligence to the outside world, and the scattered wild boar orcs who had escaped from Blackmane Ridge had also confirmed the news.

Rag scratched even more frantically, seemingly because the scar was intensely itchy.

"Are they those ungrateful traitors?"

Licking his slightly chapped lips, the orc commander revealed his gleaming white teeth: "Then, send the children to tear them apart!"

He suddenly raised his right hand, which was covered in a glove, and swung it forward fiercely, his roar echoing throughout the old road!
"I want to see the enemy's blood, to stain every grain of sand on White Wave Beach red! I want everyone on White Deer Plain to know the consequences of betraying the orcs!"

[Given that the average marching speed of the "Claw" tribe is 40 kilometers per hour, and the average marching speed of the Tide Naga is 26 kilometers per hour, if they march towards each other at a distance of 54 kilometers, what is the distance from the White Wave Beach where the Naga tribe started when they meet?]

The Battle of Bailangtan was the first battle fought by the sea creatures as they returned to land. It not only appears in directly related courses such as history, geography, language, and political ideology, but will also appear in children's math textbooks in the form of the aforementioned word problems, constantly reminding future generations to remember this fateful encounter.

At this moment, Liu Zaiyue, as the commander of the front line, didn't care about any of this.

He strictly followed the tactical manual and commanded the troops to advance in an orderly manner. The giants of the deep sea and the land collided head-on without any fancy moves.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

This was a battle that required absolutely no skill.

With the support of the Sky Eye system and the super long range of the Elf Composite Bow, the troops of the Vast Ocean Territory basically blocked the enemy's reconnaissance. It wasn't until they came into each other's view that the Crack Claw tribe realized that their opponent had changed from humans to sea creatures.

The orc general stood on a hillside at the forefront of the battlefield, staring wide-eyed at the unbelievable scene before him. "What... what kind of monster is that?!"

A snake-like half-beast?
Or is it the offspring of a dragon mating with some kind of fish?

The concept of the "Crack Claw" orcs contains absolutely no information about the Naga race. They have never seen or even heard of such a creature!
Of course, on the other hand, the Naga race also lacked understanding of the orcs on the land.

But that doesn't matter, we'll know everything after we fight a battle.

The Naga Royal Guard began summoning sea elementals.

This is a unique talent of the high-ranking members of the sea race. As the royal guards, a top-tier warrior class, they also possess special summoning abilities, enabling them to summon powerful sea elements to aid them in battle through an agreement between the Starry Sea God and the Lord of Elements.

These massive creatures, nearly five meters tall, dark blue in color, and resembling crystals, appeared one after another in the center of the battlefield. They slightly twisted their thick yet streamlined bodies and began to sway and advance towards the orcs.

On the orc side, Rag, though fierce, was by no means stupid. Faced with this illogical scene, alarm bells rang in his mind. But with the arrow already on the bowstring and the enemy at hand, there was no time to make any adjustments. Relying on the orcs' numerical advantage, Rag decisively donned his armor, tightened his belt, and led his troops in an attack.

"For the glory of Cracked Claws! Crush them!"

The two sides immediately created the effect of a meteorite collision.

The dull thuds of armor, bones, and flesh colliding, the booming of weapons clashing, and the warriors' furious roars intertwined into a stirring symphony at this moment!

An orc raider wielded a heavy double-bladed battle axe, using the momentum of his charge to spin around halfway, before slamming it down hard on the waist of a sea elemental. The axe embedded itself deeply, almost cleaving it in two.

However, the orcs were clearly unaware of the characteristics of elemental creatures. These creatures, which are purely composed of elemental energy, can almost ignore damage to their physical form and maintain their full fighting posture until their core energy is exhausted.

Blue light flowed through the huge gap, and elemental energy healed the wound almost instantly, as if it had never been attacked.

At the same time, the sea elemental's arms, made of solidified water, extended into icicle-like limbs that pierced heavily into the orc raider's armor.

A dent, a stumble—nothing breached. The orc raider was overjoyed. Then, the Naga royal guards' weapons gleamed with a chilling light.

The seemingly clumsy trident was incredibly fast, deflecting the battle axe at a remarkably precise angle. The trident tip then thrust forward, like a hot knife cutting through rotten wood, easily piercing the orc's armor and the taut muscles beneath, creating a large bulge on its back.

The Naga royal guard flicked his arm, sending the still-convulsing orc corpse flying and crashing into the orc horde behind him.

In the initial clash, the orcs suffered a minor loss, but in a battlefield where tens of thousands of warriors clashed, this small loss was negligible, and the second wave of orcs immediately rushed in with roars.

On the hillside behind them, a dozen orc shamans waved their staffs adorned with bone ornaments, the red light of Bloodlust enveloping group after group of orc warriors. Meanwhile, the Naga sirens behind the royal guards were constantly unleashing various attack spells such as water walls, wind tornadoes, and giant ice spikes, cutting through the orcs' dense formation.

Both sides suffered rapidly increasing casualties. In contrast, the casualties on the sea tribe's side were mostly from orc centurions and above, as well as elites with multiple shamanic auras. On the other hand, the orcs were being ruthlessly crushed by the sea tribe in terms of average combat strength.

Those large royal guards could even use their tridents to suppress the orc cavalry, along with their dire wolves and weapons, sometimes cleaving them into pieces, sometimes smashing them into heaps.

Rag was enraged! He raised his battle axe, mounted his kodo beast, and prepared to personally enter the battlefield.

Just then, the tribal shaman, who had been following him like a shadow and was draped in a black feather cloak, grabbed the reins of the kodo with his withered hand.

The old man, his body hunched over, had a pair of dark eyes, deep in wrinkles, that swept across the chaotic battlefield before finally settling on the left flank of the sea tribe's army.

“Those long-tailed snakes are tough, sir. You need to focus on the front and send men to attack their left flank. The humans there can’t be as resilient as these monsters.”

"Break those humans apart and drive them into the center. Panic will spread like a plague. Once their formation is disrupted, we can start turning the millstone of death and grind them to pieces!"

Rag followed the witch doctor's advice, and with banners waving and horns blaring, the wolf riders began to trot.

Hamon, who had been watching closely from the sidelines, was paying close attention to the situation on the field. He knew the level of the orcs, but the sea creatures had clearly far exceeded Hamon's most optimistic expectations.

What powerful weapons! What overwhelming power!

Then he saw the orc wolf riders rushing towards him.

Hamon squinted.

We are likely to win this battle on the main battlefield, but it is also a test for our temporarily formed unit. If we don't do well, we may be eliminated!
let's hit!

"Hold on! Spearmen forward! Shields!" Hamon raised the battle flag and roared at the top of his lungs.

"Throw spears! Throw all the spears in your hands!"

Just like the orcs, the javelins exploded in the path of the orc wolf riders' charge, accompanied by several shrill wolf howls and orc screams, but compared to the massive enemy force, this blocking effect was negligible.

Even more deadly was that, seeing the wolf riders baring their fangs and their eyes flashing green light, and seeing the long swords in their hands that were still dripping blood, the human soldiers who had recently switched sides began to waver involuntarily.

The fear of being ruled and enslaved by orcs for hundreds of years is like a brand etched into their genes, becoming an unforgettable psychological shadow hanging over the heads of the Plains People.

They had been beaten by the orcs for so long that they had almost forgotten that the swords in their hands could be used not only to suppress their foolish compatriots, but also to fight enemies like the orcs.

At the critical moment, it was Brin, who had a deep-seated hatred for the orcs, who stepped up to the challenge.

"No retreat! Those who retreat will die!"

With a furious roar, Brin led his cavalry squad, which had survived the previous battle, forward without hesitation, attempting to buy time for the infantry to regroup.

The cavalry charged, and instantly men and horses fell, blood splattering everywhere!
With his saber slashing left and right, and relying on his ruthless and reckless fighting style, Brin managed to cut down several wolf riders in succession.

But Brin himself was quickly surrounded by several dire wolves and the orc knights on their backs. In the blink of an eye, several deep, bone-revealing wounds appeared on his body, putting him in grave danger!

Hamon looked back at the general reserve force that was pressed behind the battlefield, motionless, and even vaguely pointing their guns in his direction. He ripped off his cumbersome cloak and raised his longsword.

We can't wait any longer; he has to fight this battle himself!
He kicked the horse hard in the belly, and the warhorse reared up, letting out a loud neigh.

"follow me!"

"Kill them!"

Hamon was, after all, a peak fourth-tier swordsman with extremely skilled personal combat techniques. At this moment, he attacked in anger, his longsword dancing across the battlefield, leaving streaks of silver light as he killed two orc centurions in succession, temporarily stabilizing the crumbling defense line on the left flank.

The general personally led the charge, instantly boosting the morale of this former vassal army. They forcefully pushed back the crumbling defensive line, withstanding the fiercest second wave of attacks from the orc wolf riders.

The third wave, the fourth wave... came rushing in from behind.

The reserve team remained inactive.

This can only be blamed on Lao Niu. Commander Liu Zaiyue's tactical deployment plan, to put it nicely, was strictly implemented; to put it bluntly, it was mechanical and dogmatic. According to the battle plan, the reserves would never be deployed to the battlefield until the defensive formations in any direction were completely broken up.

In the end, Hamon managed to hold onto this bottom line, but at a high price.

Harmon himself was covered in wounds, with a deep, bone-revealing gash in his ribs;

Brin, who bravely charged ahead, was seriously injured and fell into a coma. He was rescued by his personal guards, and his fate is unknown.

The entire left wing suffered over 30% casualties, with corpses strewn across the battlefield;

The cavalry squadron that had been acting as the spearhead and launched the interception was almost completely wiped out, leaving only ownerless warhorses wandering and neighing on the battlefield.

Of course, sacrifices will inevitably bring rewards.

This original orc servant army, now the Provisional First Regiment, after proving its will and strength, received a special commendation from the official authorities of the Vast Ocean Territory, was granted formal status, and was given a name full of symbolic meaning—

"The Guiyi Army!"
This tribe, which was originally "unreturnable," now finally has a way home.

(End of this chapter)