The roar of a new round of artillery fire echoed across the grassland. Shrapnel exploded above the heads of the fleeing orc soldiers, iron pellets rained down below, and solid shot slicing through the dense crowd, a single shot capable of piercing the bodies of more than ten men.
Before the orc army could regroup, it was once again routed by the Aldor army's ruthless firepower.
Accompanied by a dense drumbeat, the Ausser Army infantry advanced in orderly steps, stopping every fifty paces to fire a volley. The Type 98 rifles emitted a crisp clanging sound as bullets whistled out, hitting the target almost every time within a hundred paces.
Any orc general who attempted to rally resistance would be shot dead on the ground by several bullets the moment he showed himself.
"Clear that low-lying area!"
"Suppress that assembled enemy!"
"Maintain social distancing in the central area and proceed steadily!"
As orders were passed down, the Ausser Army, like a precisely operating war machine, swept across the battlefield, pushing chaos, fear, and death step by step toward the orcs' last stronghold with absolute discipline and firepower.
The battle flags of the Steppe Royal Tent fell one after another, and the once towering waves were now just piles of mud. Many brave but desperate orc warriors charged alone at the bayonets of the Ausser Army, just for a quick death.
With the Ausser Army continuing its pressure, the remaining nearly 100,000 troops of the Steppe Royal Tent finally could not hold on any longer.
Clearly, this hastily assembled army was far less disciplined than Abar's previous forces; they were not retreating, but rather collapsing completely.
Each tribe and clan fought their own battles, even trampling each other. Some went north, some went east, and groups of warriors threw down their weapons, knelt in the mud, and raised their hands to beg for surrender.
Dust billowed across the plains, and howls of agony filled the air. The once invincible orc army was now scattered like dark clouds torn apart by a hurricane.
Paul did not order a full-scale pursuit. His forces totaled more than 30,000 men, and if they were divided too much, they would be vulnerable to a counterattack by the remaining enemy. So he used flag signals to give the order: "Hold on to Abar! Leave some men to clear the battlefield!"
The two cavalry regiments led by Derrick Heller and Garrett Duke Ferdinand sped forward like arrows, with three thousand elite cavalry pursuing the largest orc army whose banners were still in flight—the remnants of the White Wolf Clan personally led by Abar.
Although the army had been routed, it still maintained its last vestiges of order. The clan banner was still being held tightly by a tall orc standard-bearer, and Abar himself, wearing a blood-stained cloak, lay on his horse, constantly turning back and roaring, trying to rally the scattered and fleeing soldiers.
His eyes burned with resentment and rage. 150,000 troops, while the enemy had only a little over 30,000, yet his side had been wiped out in a single day!
"We can't let him escape!" Derrick spurred his horse, urging the cavalrymen around him on.
The Ausser Army cavalry split into two flanks, charging forward while firing carbines in bursts. Bullets whistled past, and orc guards were constantly being hit and falling from their horses. Garrett personally led his troops to break into the enemy's rear, cutting off their retreat. The remaining orcs fought desperately, but their morale had been lost, and they were only making a last-ditch effort. In a short while, they were overwhelmed and scattered.
Seeing the human cavalry about to approach, Abar suddenly reined in his horse, turned around, and raised his battle axe for a final desperate attempt.
But just then—"Bang!"
A crisp gunshot rang out; it was Derrick's carbine firing. The bullet sliced through the air, precisely piercing Abar's left chest, penetrating his heart, and trailing a cloud of blood from his back.
Abar's body jolted violently, and the fierce light in his eyes dimmed abruptly. He looked down at the bloody hole in his chest, as if he couldn't believe that he would die from a tiny bullet.
His battle axe slipped from his hand and fell to the ground with a dull thud. The next instant, the "Bloody Hand" Great Chieftain, who had once kept Aldor awake at night, slowly slid off his horse and crashed heavily onto the cracked yellow earth with a muffled thud.
The White Wolf Clan flag crashed to the ground.
Derrick and Garrett led their cavalry in triumph. Abar's body, wrapped in a white cloth, lay across an abandoned warhorse, his head bowed, his wolf-skin cloak swaying gently in the wind.
As they charged into the Ausser Army's makeshift camp, the entire army erupted in thunderous cheers. Soldiers removed their caps and raised them high in the air, firing their firearms into the sky. Smoke mingled with the clamor of victory, soaring straight into the heavens.
Paul and Schroeder, along with other generals, were already standing before the central command tent. After verifying that the body was indeed Abar's, the usually stern Chief of Staff couldn't help but burst into laughter: " The soul of the Royal Tent is finally gone!"
Paul turned and ordered, "Each member of the cavalry will be awarded one hundred silver shields, and in addition..." His gaze swept over the adjutant, whose face was flushed with excitement, "Was it you who pulled the trigger that ended Abaddon's life?"
The adjutant straightened his back, his voice trembling slightly but firm: "Yes, sir!"
"Alright." Paul nodded. "You'll get another hundred silver shields, and from today onwards you're a captain."
The entire army cheered again. The young adjutant could hardly believe his ears, and with slightly reddened eyes, he said, "Thank you, sir!"
After a brief reorganization, Aldor's army gathered its forces and advanced toward Blackstone Fortress in formation.
Interrogating prisoners revealed that there were still over ten thousand orc remnants in the city, and there was likely even more who had fled back.
When the Ausser Army arrived at the city gates, the soldiers inside still tried to resist by relying on the city walls, and they didn't believe that Abar's body was real.
Paul was furious and ordered the engineers to clear the obstruction.
Under the cover of Ausser Army guns and trenches, the engineers approached the city wall, placed boxes of explosives at the base of the main gate on the east side and under the load-bearing columns of the two towers, then lit the fuses and retreated to a safe distance.
"boom--!!!"
Three deafening explosions followed one after another, causing the earth to tremble as if struck by a heavy hammer. The massive city wall, built of black stone, collapsed like a flaky pastry under the power of the bitter acid, sending up huge plumes of dust and flying debris hundreds of paces away.
A large section of the Blackstone Fortress wall collapsed inwards, revealing the panicked orcs fleeing inside.
"Charge!" The Ausser Army's bugle sounded, and human soldiers surged into the breach like a tidal wave, gunfire erupting in a deafening roar.
Abar was dead, and the orcs in the city were already demoralized. Now that their last hope, the city walls, had been destroyed, their fighting spirit was completely extinguished. The Ausser Army encountered no major resistance wherever it went.
In less than three hours, Blackstone Fortress was completely cleared out.
When the generals entered the city, night had already fallen. The Ausser Army's flag fluttered on the ruined city walls. The wounded were carried to the rear, and prisoners were chained together and escorted to a temporary camp.
Paul stood before the city gate, overwhelmed with emotion. This city, which had once symbolized Abar's ambition, had finally fallen into human hands.
He addressed the crowd, saying, " Blackstone Fortress needs a name change. From tomorrow onwards, let's call this place [Naturalization Fortress]!"