Ashar stood at the edge of the eastern battlements, his eyes scanning the chaos below. The battle had raged for hours, and the stronghold walls were becoming a battleground of their own. Despite their best efforts, the Orcs were slowly grinding their way through the defenses. The human forces, already exhausted, fought with everything they had, but the odds were stacked against them.
The warlord, a towering behemoth of muscle and rage, had been at the heart of the assault, cutting through their forces with brutal efficiency. His massive sword cleaved through men like they were nothing more than fragile reeds. Ashar knew that this was no ordinary fight—it was a war of attrition, a test of endurance. And right now, the Orcs seemed to have the advantage.
"Garik, how are the defenses holding up?" Ashar asked through the communicator, his voice tense.
"We're losing ground," Garik replied, the strain evident in his voice. "They've breached the outer wall, and the reinforcements are closing in. We need you to pull back your forces. We can't keep this up much longer."
Ashar's stomach twisted. Retreat wasn't an option. They couldn't afford to lose this battle—not when they had come so far.
"We're not retreating," Ashar said firmly, gripping the hilt of his sword. "Hold your position. We've trained for this. We fight until the last breath."
Rylah appeared beside him, her armor stained with dirt and blood. Her expression was hard, her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the scene below. She had fought valiantly, but even she could see the toll this battle was taking on their forces.
"We can't keep this up forever, Ashar," she said, her voice quieter now, almost pained. "The Orcs have the advantage. We need to make a decision."
Ashar turned to her, his expression grim. "I know. But I'm not giving up now."
He looked out over the battlefield once more, his mind racing. They needed something—anything—that could tip the balance in their favor. The Orcs were relentless, but they weren't invincible. The problem wasn't just their strength. It was their numbers.
Then it hit him.
The warlord.
If they could take him down, it would shake the Orcs' morale to the core. If they could eliminate their strongest warrior, perhaps the Orcs would falter.
Ashar met Rylah's gaze, and without a word, she nodded. They both knew what needed to be done.
"We'll take out the warlord," Ashar said, his voice steely. "The Orcs are relying too heavily on him. If we kill him, we break their will."
Rylah nodded again, her hand gripping her weapon tightly. "Let's make it happen."
***
They moved quickly, slipping through the chaos of the battlefield. Their soldiers fought with all their might to hold back the Orcs, but Ashar and Rylah knew they had to move fast. They couldn't afford to waste any time.
The warlord was at the center of the Orcs' forces, his massive form cutting through the human ranks like a whirlwind of death. His huge sword swung with terrifying force, and each blow sent men flying through the air. Ashar's heart hammered in his chest as he watched the destruction unfold.
"We need to distract him," Rylah said quietly, her eyes scanning the area. "Give us a window of opportunity."
Ashar looked around, his mind calculating the odds. "We'll use the smoke from the fire barrels. It'll give us cover."
Rylah nodded. "I'll set the barrels. You get ready to strike."
With a quick motion, Rylah disappeared into the smoke-filled battlefield, and Ashar followed, making his way closer to the warlord. His heart pounded in his chest, but his focus was unshakable. He couldn't afford to hesitate now.
As Rylah set the barrels in place, Ashar moved toward the warlord, his grip tightening on his sword. He knew this would be dangerous. The warlord wasn't just strong—he was a seasoned fighter. But Ashar had trained for this. He had trained for moments like this, where everything came down to a single, decisive action.
The smoke began to billow from the fire barrels, and Ashar could see the warlord momentarily distracted as the Orcs around him began to panic. This was their chance.
Ashar leapt forward, moving with deadly intent. He raised his sword, aiming for the warlord's side, but just as he was about to strike, the warlord turned, his eyes locking onto Ashar with a ferocious glare.
"You think you can kill me, human?" the warlord bellowed, his voice a thunderous roar. He swung his massive sword with terrifying speed, forcing Ashar to leap back just in time to avoid being cleaved in half.
Ashar's heart raced, adrenaline flooding his veins. He was fast, but the warlord was faster.
Rylah was already behind the warlord, using the smoke to hide her movements. Ashar could see her preparing to strike, but she needed a clear opening.
The warlord turned his attention to her, his eyes narrowing with anger. "You think you can sneak up on me, little girl?" he snarled, swinging his sword toward Rylah.
Ashar knew he couldn't let this happen. In a flash, he darted forward, striking the warlord's sword with his own in a clash of steel. The shock of the impact sent a jolt up his arm, but he held his ground.
"Rylah!" Ashar shouted. "Now!"
Rylah didn't hesitate. She leapt, her blade flashing through the smoke as she aimed for the warlord's unprotected side. The warlord's eyes widened in shock, but it was too late.
With a sickening thud, Rylah's sword drove deep into the warlord's ribs, and with a final, pained roar, the warlord crumpled to the ground, his massive body falling to the earth with a thunderous crash.
The battlefield fell silent for a moment as both Orcs and humans took in the sight of their fallen leader. The shock of losing their warlord was evident in the Orcs' eyes as they hesitated for a brief moment.
That hesitation was all Ashar needed.
"Now, attack!" Ashar yelled, his voice ringing out across the battlefield.
His forces surged forward, rallying behind their fallen leader. With the warlord dead, the Orcs faltered. They had lost their greatest warrior, and the morale of their entire army had been shattered. The humans, fueled by newfound hope, fought with everything they had.
It wasn't over yet. The battle still raged on, but for the first time in hours, Ashar felt a glimmer of hope.
The tide was turning.