Drakthor and Morzog, still pinned by Kargoth's iron grip, were at the epicenter of the devastation. Their eyes widened in terror as the energy engulfed them, and their screams were lost in the cacophony of destruction.
The power of [Cataclysmic Fury] reduced them to ashes in an instant, their bodies disintegrating in the blinding light.
Helliana, now safely distanced from the blast thanks to Thorgar's swift retreat, felt the shockwave pass over her. She shielded her eyes from the searing light, her heart aching with the knowledge of her father's sacrifice.
As the light faded and the battlefield fell silent, she looked back to see a massive, smoking crater where her father and the Hobgoblin Generals had stood.
Warchief Kargoth's final act had turned the tide of battle, eliminating the enemy's leadership and scattering their forces. The Orc warriors, inspired by their Warchief's ultimate sacrifice, have tears in their eyes as they retreated.
The battlefield lay in ruins, the aftermath of Warchief Kargoth's cataclysmic fury evident in the charred earth and the twisted, broken bodies strewn across the ground.
The air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and the metallic tang of blood. Where once there had been a seething mass of Hobgoblins, now there was only desolation.
The ranks of the Hobgoblin army had been decimated, their numbers drastically reduced by the sheer force of Kargoth's final attack.
Among the wreckage, King Kraggul staggered to his feet, his body battered and bloodied. He had barely escaped the blast, his quick reflexes and sheer luck sparing him from the worst of it.
But he was not unscathed. Deep gashes and burns marred his flesh, and pain radiated from every movement.
Yet, it was not the physical injuries that pained him the most; it was the loss of Generals Morzog and Drakthor, his trusted companions since childhood.
They had grown up together, escaped slavery together, and fought countless battles side by side. Their deaths left a gaping wound in his heart, a void that no amount of vengeance could fill.
"Damn you, Kargoth!" Kraggul roared, his voice a thunderous boom that echoed across the battlefield. His eyes, narrowed with rage, blazed with a fiery intensity as he scanned the horizon, seeking any sign of the fleeing Orcs.
He could still see the remnants of the Warchief's power lingering in the air, a testament to the ferocity of the final blow. He had underestimated Kargoth, not realizing the Warchief possessed such devastating skill.
"Hobgoblins, to me!" he bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. "We ride and eliminate every last one of those Orcs!"
The surviving Hobgoblins, though battered and weary, rallied to their king's call. They gathered around Kraggul, their numbers reduced to a mere fraction of what they had been at the start of the battle.
General Vargash, the only remaining general, limped to his side, his face etched with pain and exhaustion. He too had suffered injuries, deep cuts, and burns that had sapped his strength.
Despite their wounds and the overwhelming sense of loss, the Hobgoblins' resolve hardened. They had lost much in this battle, but their desire for vengeance burned hotter than ever.
Kraggul's rage fueled their own, and they were determined to avenge their fallen comrades no matter what.
"Your orders, my king?" Vargash asked, his voice strained.
"We pursue them," Kraggul replied, his voice a low growl. "We will not rest until every last Orc lies dead at our feet."
The Hobgoblins moved with grim determination, mounting their war-beasts and preparing for the hunt. Their forces had been decimated, reduced to a mere twenty thousand from the once-mighty horde.
Vargash fought by his side, his spells weaving through the melee. Despite his injuries, the general's resolve was unbreakable, his loyalty to King Kraggul and their shared cause driving him forward.
The Orcs, though outnumbered and weary, fought with a desperation born of survival. They knew that retreat was their only chance, and they fought fiercely to protect their kin.
But the Hobgoblins were relentless, their fury an unstoppable force that pressed the Orcs back with each passing moment.
Kraggul's eyes locked onto Helliana, the daughter of Kargoth, as she fought valiantly amidst her retreating warriors. His rage intensified at the sight of her, the last remaining link to the Warchief who had taken so much from him.
"She is mine," Kraggul growled, pushing through the fray with single-minded determination to kill her.
Helliana sensed the imminent threat, and turned to face Kraggul, her eyes filled with anger and sorrow.
"Kargoth!" she hissed through gritted teeth, but Thorgar warned her.
"Don't, General! Focus on escaping! Remember the Warchief and the others' sacrifice!"
General Helliana contained her fury and burning desire for revenge. She had already disobeyed her father, which had cost Amber and her father's lives.
She couldn't die now, or all their sacrifices would be in vain.
Sensing that they couldn't lose Kraggul and the Hobgoblins, Thorgar made a fateful decision. He would split their forces, stopping the pursuers while convincing Helliana to escape.
The night was thick with the scent of dry earth and the distant echoes of battle. The Hobgoblin troops, weary but resolute, moved through the wasteland, their breaths ragged and eyes wide with the strain of relentless pursuit.
Thorgar could feel the enemy closing in. He turned to General Helliana, her face a mask of rage and grief, her eyes burning with an unquenchable fire.
"General," he said, his voice a low, urgent growl. "We can't lose the Hobgoblins like this. We need to split. I'll hold them off while you escape."
Helliana's eyes widened, her anger momentarily flickering with uncertainty. "General Thorgar, not you too. We've already lost too much. I can't lose you too right now."
Thorgar gripped her shoulder, his eyes fierce. "Listen to me, General. You're the last hope we have. If you die here, everything we've fought for dies with you. Your father's sacrifice, everyone's life, all in vain. You need to live to honor them.
You need to live to led our people."
Helliana's jaw clenched, the words cutting deep. She nodded reluctantly, swallowing her fury. "You better not die, Thorgar. Or I'll drag you back from hell just to kill you myself."
Thorgar allowed a grim smile. "Wouldn't expect anything less from you, General Helliana."
He then turned to his troops, his voice rising with commanding authority. "Alright, listen up! We're splitting forces. My troops and I will stay behind and buy you time. The rest of you follow General Helliana and protect her with your lives. She is our future!"
The Orcs nodded and set off, their pace accelerating under Helliana's command. Thorgar, alongside the remnants of their weary forces, watched them vanish into the shadowy hills, his heart weighed down yet his resolve solid as iron.
Drawing his weapon with a steely determination, he turned to face the approaching Hobgoblins. The night was his battlefield, a canvas of darkness where his fury would paint its story. He vowed to fight until his last breath, determined to safeguard Helliana and secure the future of the Orcs.