The battle around Ashar had turned into a blur of chaos. His arms ached from the relentless combat, his body soaked with sweat and blood—both his own and the Orcs'—but there was no time to rest. He had struck Drogath, wounded him, but the warlord was still standing. The fight was far from over.
Drogath's laughter rang through the battlefield, dark and mocking. "You think you can defeat me, human? I am the might of the Orcs! I've crushed entire armies, and you—" He spat out blood, his eyes burning with rage. "You will be nothing more than a stain beneath my boot."
Ashar's heart raced. He was tired, exhausted, and his soldiers were struggling to hold the line. But he couldn't back down. This was his moment—this was the battle that would decide everything. He couldn't let the Orcs win. Not after everything they had been through.
The Orc warlord raised his axe, and the sheer size of the weapon sent a chill down Ashar's spine. But he was no stranger to fear. He had faced it before—on the day he had led his people to escape the Orcs' clutches. He had felt that same dread when the war drums had sounded, but now, he was prepared.
The sound of clashing steel filled the air as Ashar stepped forward, ducking under Drogath's deadly swing. His muscles screamed in protest, but he pressed on, his mind focused on the fight. Every strike, every movement was calculated. He could feel the power of the battle surge through him, the adrenaline pushing him beyond his limits.
But Drogath was a monster—a true beast of war. His strikes were brutal, his speed terrifying. Ashar's sword scraped against the warlord's armor as he blocked another blow, the sheer force of the impact rattling his bones. The Orc's strength was immense, and Ashar knew that if he didn't find a way to end this fight soon, he would be overwhelmed.
The clash of steel continued, but Ashar's mind was working faster now, searching for an opening. He needed to find a weakness. Drogath was stronger, but Ashar was quicker. He had to use his agility and his knowledge of the battlefield to outmaneuver the warlord.
Suddenly, it clicked.
Ashar's eyes darted to Drogath's unprotected side—the wound he had inflicted earlier was still bleeding, and the Orc warlord's movements had become sluggish. Ashar knew this was his chance. With a roar, he lunged forward, using every ounce of strength left in him.
The battleaxe swung down in a final, desperate arc, but Ashar was ready. He sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the blow, and with a swift motion, his sword sliced through the gap in Drogath's armor. The warlord howled in pain, his blood splattering across the ground.
Ashar didn't hesitate. He drove the blade deeper, aiming for the Orc's heart. Drogath's eyes widened, and for a moment, the battle seemed to freeze. The mighty warlord, who had crushed so many before, finally crumbled before Ashar's will.
With a final, agonized scream, Drogath fell to the ground.
***
Ashar stood over the fallen warlord, his chest heaving as the adrenaline began to fade. The battle was still raging around him, but for a brief moment, everything felt still. The air was thick with the scent of blood and smoke, and the cries of the wounded filled his ears. But Drogath was dead. The Orcs would have to face the reality of their loss.
"Is he... dead?" Rylah's voice broke through his thoughts, and Ashar turned to see her approaching, her face grim.
"Yes," he said, his voice hoarse. "But the fight isn't over. We need to push them back."
Rylah nodded, but her eyes flicked nervously to the rest of the battlefield. The Orcs had lost their leader, but their numbers were still overwhelming. Ashar could see the fear in his soldiers' eyes as they fought to hold their ground.
"We're not done yet," he said, clapping her on the shoulder. "Gather the archers. We'll need everything we've got."
Rylah hesitated, glancing back at the chaos. "We can't keep this up much longer, Ashar. We're losing ground."
Ashar's mind raced. He couldn't afford to lose here—not after everything they had fought for. The stronghold was their last line of defense. If it fell, they would be slaughtered, and everything they had built would be destroyed.
But he wasn't ready to give up. Not yet.
He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. "We need to buy time. If we can hold them off for just a little longer, we can regroup and strike back."
Rylah nodded, determination flashing in her eyes. "I'll rally the troops."
As she turned to leave, Ashar's eyes followed her, his thoughts heavy. He knew the odds were stacked against them. But they had made it this far. They couldn't stop now.
***
The battle had reached a fever pitch. The gates of the stronghold were shattered, and the Orcs were swarming through the breach, their war cries filling the air. Ashar's soldiers fought with every ounce of strength they had, but it wasn't enough. The Orcs were relentless, their numbers overwhelming.
Ashar moved through the battlefield, barking orders to his men, trying to keep the line intact. His sword was a blur, cutting down Orcs as he went. But he knew it wouldn't be enough. His warriors were tired, and the Orcs were pushing harder with each passing minute.
He needed something more. A strategy. A plan.
Suddenly, it hit him. The underground refuge—the one he had been preparing for months, though few knew about it. It was their last chance. If they could retreat to the underground stronghold, they could regroup and come up with a new plan. They had built it for a reason—to survive a siege like this.
Ashar sprinted toward the command post, where Rylah and the other officers were coordinating their defense.
"We fall back!" he shouted as he reached them. "To the underground refuge. We can hold them there."
Rylah's eyes widened. "Ashar, we can't—"
"We don't have a choice," he cut her off. "If we stay here, we'll be overrun. We need to survive."
Without waiting for a response, Ashar turned and ran toward the entrance to the underground stronghold, shouting for his soldiers to follow.
The retreat was chaotic, but it was their only chance. The Orcs were close on their heels, but Ashar led the way, moving quickly, determined not to let them fall into the Orcs' hands.
***
The Underground Refuge,
As Ashar and his soldiers descended into the underground refuge, the tension in his chest eased, just slightly. They had made it. But he knew this was only a temporary reprieve. The Orcs wouldn't stop until they had wiped out every last one of them.
He turned to face his people, his expression resolute. "We're not done yet," he said, his voice steady. "We'll rebuild. We'll fight. And we will win."
His people looked at him with hope in their eyes, but there was fear there too. They had come so far, but the battle was far from over.
Ashar looked out at the faces of the survivors—his warriors, his people—and he knew this was just the beginning. The war wasn't over. But they had a chance now. And that was all they needed.