Starting from Ainz Ooal Gown, simultaneously traveling through time

On the border of the orc kingdom, war rages.

The army of the Kingdom of Inberia, led by the king himself, met the invading orc army here.

"Archers, fire!"

The king's voice was steady and powerful, carrying across the entire battle line.

With a wave of the command flag, a dense series of whooshing sounds filled the air! A dark "cloud" rose up on the human position.

It was a deadly rain of countless arrows that descended upon the charging orc vanguard.

"Raise your shields—!" A roar echoed from the orc ranks.

However, the arrows shot by human archers, after being specially treated by the magic workshop, have extremely strong penetrating power.

Many arrows pierced through the gaps in the simple wooden shields and embedded themselves deeply into the orcs' flesh.

"Ugh—!"

"My eyes!"

"Scatter! Scatter now!"

A chorus of screams and curses erupted from the orc ranks, halting their charge.

However, some orcs with thick skin or better equipment continued to charge forward despite the rain of arrows, roaring furiously.

The king, with his keen eyes, seized the opportunity and ordered again: "Royal Guards, charge! Tear their lines apart!"

"For the King! For Inberia!"

With a deafening roar, the Royal Guards, who had been waiting in ambush, moved.

Eight hundred elite knights, clad in dark armor shimmering with unique wave patterns and wielding identical sharp longswords, surged into the orc army from the flank like a torrent of steel!

Their warhorses were also clad in specially made armor, resembling mobile steel fortresses.

"kill!"

Seeing the human cavalry charging towards them, the orcs were not afraid at all; instead, their ferocity was aroused. They brandished their battle axes and giant clubs and charged forward, their bloodthirsty eyes filled with brutality.

"Crush them!"

The battle intensified the moment they made contact.

The sounds of clashing metal, roars, and screams echoed across the battlefield.

Facing the charging werewolf-orc, a human knight calmly lowered his stance, a cold glint flashing in his longsword: "[Martial Skill - Thrust Slash]!"

The sword flashed like lightning, precisely piercing through the gap in the wolf-orc's claws and penetrating his chest.

The Valyrian steel sword was sharp enough to be displayed to its fullest extent at this moment, encountering almost no resistance.

"Awooo—!" Seeing his comrade perish, another wolf-beastman roared, leaping into the air, his claws glowing with a bloody red light: "[Martial Skill • Bone-Cracking Claw]!"

Its objective was clear: to take the knight's head.

The knight raised his sword to parry, but the werewolf cunningly changed tactics, its claws viciously clawing at the knight's breastplate!

"clang--!!"

A piercing clang of metal rang out, accompanied by the agonizing howl of the wolf-orc.

Its claws, powerful enough to tear through ordinary steel, were shattered and bled profusely the instant they touched the dark armor!

The knight merely swayed slightly, without leaving even a noticeable scratch on his breastplate.

"This... what kind of armor is this?!" The wolf-beastman's eyes showed shock for the first time.

The knight gave it no time to think, and with a backhand strike, ended its life.

Similar scenes are constantly playing out on the battlefield.

Valyrian steel-forged armor provided amazing protection, allowing knights to attack more boldly.

The sharpness and sturdiness of Valyrian steel swords allowed them to easily pierce through the orcs' tough hides and bones.

This combination of "spear and shield" amplified the combat effectiveness of this already elite force several times over.

"Damn it! We can't cut through their turtle shells!"

"Their swords are so weird! They even chipped my battle axe!"

"Where did these humans get so many treasures?!"

The orc warriors were both shocked and furious.

Their pride in their strength and physique proved insufficient against this heavily armed human force; instead, they suffered repeated losses due to their significant equipment disadvantage.

In terms of level, ordinary orc warriors are generally around level 10, while the most elite orc warriors can reach level 15 or higher.

These 800 Royal Guards were all originally at level 15 or higher.

Now, having consumed the Bloodline Evolution Potion, his strength has increased even further, making him considerably stronger than even the most elite orc warriors.

With the addition of his equipment, he is even stronger, and he is not afraid of orcs of the same level at all, and can kill them indiscriminately.

At the same time, the royal magic forces in the rear also began to exert their strength.

The Kingdom of Inberia is renowned for its magic, so naturally it would have its own magic team.

The king then personally led the expedition, bringing with him his royal magic army.

This is a powerful magical group. Everyone in the unit can use magic of the second rank or above. Although the number of people is small, they are the elite of the elite.

"Magic array, cover attack—release!"

At the commander's command, dozens of magic chanters dressed in uniform robes chanted in unison, and various magic circles lit up in front of them, causing the elements to fluctuate violently.

Fireballs, chains of lightning, ice storms, spikes... all sorts of low- to mid-level destructive spells, like celebratory fireworks, fell with the howling of death upon the densest areas of the orc formation.

Boom! Sizzle! Pfft!

The effects of explosion, electric shock, puncture, and freezing occur simultaneously.

The orc forces, already in disarray due to the Royal Guard's charge, suffered even greater losses, with their formation completely collapsing.

"An opportunity!" Ares, the commander of the Royal Guard, saw the situation clearly from his horse and pointed his longsword forward: "All troops, charge! Rout them!"

"kill--!!"

The eight hundred guards were in high spirits and launched an even fiercer offensive.

The infantry legions that followed also began to exert their strength, using the guard legions as spears to charge at the orc army.

The guards formed a tight charging formation, cutting and trampling through the orcish ranks in disarray.

The infantry legions acted like a slowly advancing city wall, blocking the orcs' path and increasingly limiting their attacks.

Orcs began to fall in droves, their will to resist melting away like ice and snow under the sun.

"I can't hold on any longer!"

"Retreat! Retreat now!"

"Send the order to retreat!"

The proud orcs could no longer withstand the unequal blow and heavy casualties. The survivors roared in despair and began to flee in disarray.

"Pursue! But don't stray too far from the front lines!" Ares ordered, controlling the pace of the pursuit.

The speed advantage of cavalry was demonstrated when pursuing fleeing troops.

Although individual orcs were not slow runners, the chaos and exhaustion of their rout prevented them from effectively escaping the cavalry's pursuit.

More and more orcs were cut down from behind.

Of course, some of the fierce orcs tried to turn back and fight back, or were scattered and fled into the mountains and forests. The soldiers did not pursue them too far and withdrew in an orderly manner after achieving enough results.

The fighting gradually subsided.

Eight hundred Royal Guards returned to their base.

Apart from a few people having some dents and white marks on their armor from the impact, and a few people suffering minor injuries from the impact, they were almost completely unharmed.

In coordination with the magic troops and infantry legions, they routed tens of thousands of orc troops, killing over five thousand in battle – undoubtedly a resounding victory.

There are no prisoners on the battlefield—this is the norm in border conflicts between humans and orcs, both sides are well aware that it is a matter of life and death for each other.

Ares, the commander of the Royal Guard, dismounted and strode to the king, kneeling on one knee, his armor clanging: "Your Majesty! I have fulfilled my mission; the enemy has been routed!"

The king personally helped him up, his face beaming with satisfaction: "Well done, Ares! You and your lads have brought glory to Inbelia!"

Ares rose, stroking the sturdy armor on his chest, and sighed, "Without the divine weapons and this armor bestowed by His Majesty, even if our army could have won, it would never have been so easy and with such minimal casualties."

He knew that today's miracle was largely due to this outfit.

The king nodded, his gaze sweeping over the guards who, despite the fierce battle, still stood tall and high in morale.

What he was thinking about was his son, Leilin, who was always unfathomable.

These armors and swords, known as "Valerian steel," were the first batch of finished products he had shamelessly "negotiated" with Leylin.

The results... far exceeded expectations.

It's like a leap from infantry to tanks.

"Even the finest armor needs a brave warrior to wield it," the king said, patting Ares on the shoulder.

"It is your and your soldiers' bravery that has made this steel worthwhile. The credit for this battle belongs primarily to you."

Ares bowed respectfully: "We will certainly live up to Your Majesty's high expectations and ensure that these powerful weapons do not fall into disrepair!"

The king nodded with a smile, but his mind was racing: "That kid Leylin mentioned before that he seems to have tens of thousands of sets of this equipment? This time there are only a few hundred sets. If we could use all those tens of thousands of sets to equip the kingdom's elite legions..."

The king's eyes burned with fervor as he contemplated the scene.

As for whether it would be embarrassing to ask my son for more equipment?

Well, for the sake of the kingdom's prosperity, this old face can be put aside for now.