Adalia didn't know what to expect at first, but when the destruction played out before her eyes, the simple minded girl recoiled in fright. There was no degree of preparation that could have possibly prepared her for the devastation she had just witnessed.
With her mouth hung open, she watched in shock as Xzavier wroth his destruction on the thoughtless creatures in the valley below. When she did finally manage to tear her eyes away from the horrifying scene beneath her, she swallowed hard as she looked at Xzavier.
She hadn't expected him to be so powerful!
Adalia had a new found respect for the stranger who hadn't only saved her life, but had single handedly taken on an entire tribe of orcs in the most unconventional way.
"Who is this man?? How is it that he possesses this much power?!" Adalia thought to herself.
Either Xzavier missed her worshipful stare on purpose, or he simply didn't know her eyes were fixated on him. Xzavier had gone into battle mode, and his full attention was on his prey beneath him.
Despite the encompassing chaos all around, the leader of the orcs had somehow managed to determine the location from which the attack had come.
As the other orcs scampered about like lost puppies, the leader rose to his full height and cocked his ugly head towards the very cliff on which Xzavier had camped. His full glare rested on the very spot where Xzavier and Adalia were.
Although he couldn't see anything, he was sure that his attacker(s) were stationed there.
Xzavier didn't know whether to be impressed or not. This was some next level thinking demonstrated by the leader. This was a clear pointer to the fact that he definitely hadn't become the leader of this tribe because of his size.
He appeared to have the enviable character trait of discernment. But determining the source of the attack was one thing, acting on this knowledge to produce results was a different thing entirely.
As leader glared at his unknown attacker, the cries of his fellow orcs rose above the carnage, saturating the air with the bitterness of defeat. The chief orc realized on the spot that playing defense would only equal in more casualties. Besides, he wasn't ashamed to admit that he and his kind completely sucked at long range attacks.
Their strength was in their numbers. The leader of the orcs scanned the immediate terrain but he couldn't see any signs of a terrifying army, so this gave him some hope that he could use numbers to squash the unknown enemy.
He lifted up the weathered and beat down buffalo horn that was hanging by his loin cloth and blew it as hard as he could. It wasn't just for show, it was a summoning tool that was instrumental in the rounding up of orcs to battle.
As soon as every orc in the valley heard the summon for battle, the fear that had gripped their minds and paralyzed their bodies seemed to disappear completely. Those who were in hiding stepped out confidently and headed towards the location of their leader.
The change in the mood in the valley below was as dramatic and it had been instantaneous. The orcs had complete faith in their leader.
So when the signal for the attack came, they responded like a bunch of automatons or zombies who aimlessly followed orders blindly. They descended in large numbers upon the steep hillside of the cliff.
In the blink of an eye, their strong unwavering belief in their leader replaced their fear. In the place where terror had been only a few minutes ago, a quiet confidence began to take root and, slowly began to spread its branches in them like a network, until every single one of the orcs were connected to the shadowy quiet confidence of their overwhelming numbers.
The closer they got to the cliff, the more their confidence swelled.
They were well aware of their vast numbers. And just like their leader, they noticed that there was no trace of any overbearing army. This only augmented their confidence in themselves. Presumptuously, they began to think in their hearts;
"Maybe the enemies aren't that strong…maybe the mages responsible for this attack had run out of strength, thus leaving themselves vulnerable to counter attacks…"
These were the audacious thoughts coursing through their minds.
Adalia began to panic as she saw that the tide of the battle had changed completely. The poor beauty didn't want to die. She looked at Xzavier frantically, but his face was as immovable as a rock. Even as the band of orcs poured down the hill in the direction of Xzavier and Adalia, the young man remained stiff as a corpse.
When Xzavier finally decided to make his move, Adalia finally understood why he had been so calm about their encroaching numbers.
It turned out that this was all part of Xzavier's plan. He had anticipated that the orcs would hone in on his location and try to ambush him like a swarm of bees.
In fact, he had been counting on this very gambit in order for his next stage of his plans to be fulfilled.
Xzavier pulled out his next weapon of destruction; his Gatling. For many reasons, Xzavier had chosen this particular weapon for this next stage.
Conventional weapons like the sniper rifle and the RPG were only effective under the right conditions and in specific situations. Right now, he had already exhausted those options, so it was time for him to play big.
This time, the Gatling was the most appropriate weapon given the orcs' renewed vitality and new found resolve. With this Gatling, Xzavier would not only launch a destructive attack, he would end up levelling the plain field in terms of reducing the humongous numbers of these creatures.
With every minute that passed, Xzavier became more and more convinced that he had chosen the right weapon. Only the Gatling could provide the amount of destructive power he currently needed to wipe out a whole ton of vengeful orcs.
Stumbling through the dark, unaware of the fact that they were heading towards their death with confidence, the orcs trudged on expectantly.
As soon as they came into the full range of the Gatling, the Gatling unleashed an obscene torrent of shots that ravaged through the hillsides, completely obliterating everything in its sight. The poor orcs were no match for the rage of the Gatling.
Once again, the unfortunate creatures found themselves in a very precarious position.
The first batch of the orcs closest to the forefront were wasted by the rippling bullets.
The automatic machine gun roared through the black night like an avenging angel of death. The orcs were well within its full range, so they were more than fair game for the weapon of destruction.
This second wave of destruction wroth more death and casualties than both of Xzavier's initial attacks. The situation was akin to that of a shepherd lining up his sheep in close quarters, and letting loose a submachine gun in the small confinement.
The deathly cries of the orcs were swallowed by the shrill mechanic thumping of the Gatling as it tore through the orcs' ranks, completely rupturing the flesh, bones and organs of the cocky orcs.
The not so confident creatures didn't have to opportunity to scream or run. The only thing was seen and heard was the steady roaring of the Gatling and the flashes of golden light from the rapid discharge of the weapon.
It was a massacre of the bloodiest kind. The Gatling rang through the air, dropping dismembered bodies in its wake. Corpses piled on as more and more orcs dropped by the second under the assault of rapid shots.
Under two minutes, the Gatling had managed to devour half of the orcs who had answered the call to battle.
The leader of the orcs was petrified! Like a sick joke, like a nightmare, the invisible enemy had somehow managed to obliterate half of his entire forces within a very short while.
A wave of terror washed over him again as he began to come to the terms with the fact that there was no way he and his fellow orcs could stand this assault. With every passing second, the evidence of this truth established itself in stone right before his eyes.
Walking, breathing, live cakes- that was just how he saw he and his horde before the might of the mysterious enemy's strange magic.