For the ogre army who waged war numerous times with other tribes, this was a kind of sport for them. In this forty five thousand strong army, you wouldn't find even a single ogre who stopped their rush after seeing the one next to them fall down after getting injured.
On the contrary, the expression the black ogre army had on their face was that of pure joy and exhilaration. It was as if they did not know the meaning of pain or fear as they rushed even while bleeding from their bodies.
The three divisions led by the three Gir brothers paraded through the Blackfield and soon met with the wall that was erected with magic by the orcs.
Manning the wall and behind it, was the orc army ready to intercept those that passed through. Berigard and his army were manning the left side of the wall.
