Chapter 11: Choose Your Enemy, Part 3
Projectiles from the greenskin weapons exploded before Taylor as he crouched behind sandbags, firing erratically into the dim distance. Without lifting his head, he gripped his favored laser pistol with one hand, discharging into the chaos—a small gesture of defiance, a thread of life's pulse.
The orcs launched wave after wave of rapid assaults, but this mushroom-green horde had fatally misread the situation.
Their tactic: swift surprise attacks to cripple command, overwhelm the defenders, wear down the Imperial Guard.
It might have worked against untrained local militias.
But these were veterans, skilled and resolute.
At the first volley, nearly every soldier took cover, countering with practiced efficiency.
After repeated assaults faltered, doubt seeped into the greenskins' ranks.
Even unruly orc morale was not infinite.
The Imperial Guards weathered assault after assault until Taylor, exhausted and furious, finally stood.
How badly did the orcs want him dead?
Eyes scanning warily, heart pounding, he feared these sneaky fiends would strike him from any shadow.
He thumped his chest, stomped the ground in frustration—with every sign of a commander hungry for victory.
To his comrades, it was the hunger for blood, the fire of a true hero.
"This lord isn't content yet," one soldier said, awestruck. "He craves the barbarians' blood. Never seen such command in all my service!"
"Gods above, Taylor's worthy of legend. Even the greatest Knights struggle to match him."
The men awaited his orders breathlessly.
Those who once doubted Taylor's intentions, suspecting a ploy for Lady Freeblade's approval, were now speechless.
He was the Empire's living will, a Regicide Chess Master on the battlefield.
Amazing.
They hung on Taylor's every command—willing to follow him into death, for he was their hero.
Taylor shouted, "Fall back! Abandon this camp! Withdraw swiftly toward the fortress!"
Confusion rippled through the lines. To abandon this ground meant letting orcs into the rear, threatening Freeblade's flank and collapsing the front.
Yet no man hesitated; for Taylor, their captain, was their bulwark.
But Taylor's mind churned—he needed to escape before the orcs tore them apart.
Far off, the orc horde clustered.
Mad Doctor Snake, a hulking green-skinned abomination, wielded a disc saw with manic delight, stitching limbs and crushing bones.
His healing was brutal—more pain than mercy.
Captured orcs grimaced at his butchery more than death.
Nearby, the war boss paced—a towering brute, 2-3 meters tall, cloaked in camouflage paint.
His long-bladed knife, heavy revolver, and rugged armor bespoke cunning and brutality.
He growled, "My plan's been found out—there's a clever human at that camp."
"That red Mec is ours, Snake. I need that nail pulled." He growled angrily. "Heal the boys. Send more warriors. Kill every human this side of the world!"
"Blue Face fights Xiami's knights—I can't lose!"
Snake chuckled darkly. "Pax, those humans are done for."
"Done?" The leader's disbelief echoed.
"Impossible. He's the sharpest, most tenacious human I've seen."
Scratching his scalp, the orc pondered.
"The Empty City Strategy. Learned it from ancient human texts. He faked retreat, drew us near the red Mech, then ambushed."
"He's as cunning as any greenskin."
Snake's grin faded. "But no conspiracy. He took everything."
The leader cursed. "Have we fought a coward all along?"
"He's smart and deadly—just like Go Mao said."
Suddenly, realization dawned.
"Behead them! Strike all at once! The horde cannot defeat them—but I can."
"Me, the best special warfare orc of this age!"
His triumphant roar shook the forest.
"Waaagh!"
"WAAAAAGH!"
The earth trembled beneath the greenskins' war cries—and Taylor woke with a start in his carriage.
The huge green moon stared down cold.
His unease deepened.
The convoy retreated, supplies in tow; the night wind chilled his soaked clothes.
"I don't like this," Taylor said quietly. "Roland, any bombs left?"
"Half a box, boss. The last half."
Taylor inhaled deeply, serious.
"Remember, brothers—last bullet's mine. Better to die than fall to aliens."
"If you don't want a life worse than death—stripped of all dignity..."