"Mercenaries, do they always have to be like this?"
The bulky orc woman standing proudly next to her father continued to speak to push the buttons of the man whose identity she understood from the camouflage on him.
"While I have come across the warrior princess of orcs, what is wrong with my wanting to enjoy this?"
Dragan's face was worse than the armors worn by orc warriors; his skin turned into leather didn't show even the slightest abnormality, let alone blushing.
He hadn't come to this rank by showing excesses or heroism; he was just gaining a little time to use his mind, which was his most important capital. Especially after wearing the armor he received from the high architect, thoughts in his head were spurting from everywhere like flowers blooming in spring.
"All of you have at least one plan in your mind when you encounter me, but all of these can last until taking the first blow!"
Wind of Death, rushing forward with an unexpected agility from her waist as thick as an adult tree, would land her first blow that would come from a weird angle on the Commander-in-Chief of the Army of Four Civilizations.
Thus, the heavy cannons of both sides had taken their places on the stage; the struggle couldn't escape rising to a completely different level anymore.
The Elite Ten, after killing Special Unit members who couldn't escape from their hands, didn't interfere in the duel of commanders; these warriors would dive into relatively stronger enemies whose numbers exceeded one hundred thousand.
No matter what, what happened was still the war of two gigantic armies; while people with abnormal power levels dealt with each other, they had to destroy as many enemies as they could.
"Sir, won't you intervene in the situation?"
When Hank heard the voice of one of his apprentices he brought with him to the war, he was watching the battlefield at the peak of calmness as always. The one speaking was none other than Hans, who was the most promising person among his students; the excited young man couldn't control himself with the effect of blood, sweat, and struggle.
"Waiting doesn't come from helplessness; calculating the right time instead of rushing to make a show of force is the greatest skill of an architect!"
The civilization sending him here as the youngest architect in history would of course consider all kinds of setbacks; the yellow-haired man was in no hurry to spend the trump cards in his bag.
Of course, not everyone was of the same opinion as him; Severo, the commander who first stepped on the soil turning red with spilled blood, wasn't refraining from pushing the limits to kill the weird orc standing against him.
"I guess I overrated you; you are a big loser just like those in your clan!"
Bookworm's son wasn't thinking for a second while uttering words exceeding his stature; what was really weird was that he did this constantly while fleeing.
After attacks he blocked using daggers in his hand, he was retreating rapidly, and meanwhile, he couldn't help speaking to hit the enemy's weak points.
"You are finished the moment I get my hands on you!"
The only thought in the mind of the Number Two of the Black Lilies, constantly increasing the soul power he poured into his sword, was to split the half-orc in two. Every time he escaped from his hand, he got angrier, and as he got angry, he made his attacks more violent.
"His type improved a little due to his mother, but unfortunately, he took all his deviltry from his father!"
Nafız was watching the war of her student's son a little more carefully than others. Apart from the arrogance given by that power specific to orcs, this child seemed to win her appreciation with his unique fighting style.
Apart from Nafız, another person's eye was on the half-orc; Bookworm, fighting with Maria de León who was a disciple of the Lands of Light, was looking out for his son on the one hand.
"It is not a gentlemanly move at all for you to give your attention elsewhere while fighting with me!"
The beautiful woman, gathering the soul power she turned into a spear ten meters tall at the tip of her staff, would swing it toward the orc lost inside his purple robe.
"If you really decided to fight, I can accompany you with pleasure!"
When purple fog rushing from his sleeve ends tangled with each other in the air and formed two gigantic teeth, Bookworm answered the beautiful woman calmly. When the attack resembling the front teeth of a snake collided with the spear of light, the real struggle between the duo was starting.
"Run let's see, I wonder very much where you will go?"
The third struggle was the last one to start, but as if rebelling against its turn, it would also be the most violent one. Wind of Death, making acrobatic movements with the giant hammer in her hand, was reaping the fruits of her two years she spent every day on battlefields.
"Very little remained, a little more!"
Although Dragan didn't care at first, he was bored of being constantly humiliated by the orc woman in front of the entire army. Although he could trust his armor increasing defense powers, he also knew very well that he couldn't reach a result without performing an attack.
He just needed to endure a little more; he might not be as rich as other commanders, but he wasn't likely to come here empty-handed either.
"Open!"
With the middle-aged man's order, an energy field three steps by three steps in size would appear where his enemy took her step. This structure, taking Wind of Death inside, was completed in the blink of an eye.
After the developing situation, Dragan would stop fleeing and set about observing the woman he succeeded in imprisoning in his trap like a wild animal.
"Energy prison, and apparently one of the expensive ones!"
The expectation of the Mercenary was that his opponent would panic upon falling into the trap. When he saw the woman probing the edges of the field lightly with her hammer, it would be as if he was experiencing these feelings himself.
"Stop acting, you are done!"
"Even if it cannot harm, this energy cage is more than enough to imprison you until the war ends!"
Dragan was shouting excitedly as if wanting to scatter the weird darkness covering his inside; he was like a small child thinking what he said would come true the louder he shouted.
"Did you say more than enough?"
Unlike him, Alyon's daughter's face had taken an ugly state. She looked as if she was upset not about the trap she fell into but about the words her enemy uttered.
"I guess the time has come for us to dance, but let me warn you from the start, dancing with me is the last chance!"
Wind of Death, raising her giant hammer above her head, closed her eyes peacefully when she completed her speech; she was acting as if it was her enemy who was in a difficult situation, not herself.
The Orc woman, thrown forward as if she would fall the next moment, would rush forward like a bullet the moment her head almost hit the ground. When a piercing movement, behind which she put the weight of her entire body, hit the wall of the energy cage, Dragan's eyes had opened enough to pop out of their sockets.
"Impossible!"
The mercenary could utter only a single word; his opponent, whom he thought he imprisoned until the end of the war, had escaped from the trap he set in one move. Wind of Death wasn't stopping with this either; increasing her speed even more, she was descending like a nightmare on the Commander-in-Chief of the Army of Four Civilizations thinking himself untouchable inside his black armor.
"Sir, Soul Formation active! We await your order!"
Severo had given an order to his subordinates he left behind at moments he rushed to the battlefield with ambition, and now one of the twenty men with grey robes was telling him via sound transmission that they were ready.
"Start!"
The Number Two of the Black Lilies, whose nerves were jumped by the half-orc escaping from his hand like a slippery fish, wouldn't think even for a second; he was releasing one of the formation techniques of his clan.
"Open, Soul Dungeon!"
The parchment laid in the middle of the circle had caught fire from its two ends; this precious artifact burned by grey flames was burning slowly together with the decrease of souls rushing out of it.
The leader of the Black Lily Clan had fallen into a very difficult situation after the failure experienced on the Wild Swamp continent. The formation on the eve of becoming a sect would have to show that it did its best to fix this.
The sect sheikh, forced to send his own son to war, had created the Soul Dungeon Parchment by spending valuable materials and a large soul power source.
When the magical item harboring one million captive souls inside disappeared a short time later, the sky above it would be covered with grey clouds.