Ironclaw's axe swung down with a mighty roar, aiming to cleave Ashar in half. The air crackled with the force of his attack, and Ashar dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow. The ground where the axe struck cracked, sending dust and debris into the air. He could feel the heat of the impact even from the distance he'd managed to put between himself and the warlord.
"Move!" Rylah's voice rang out, sharp with urgency. She was already at his side, her sword flashing as she struck at Ironclaw's exposed flank. The blow landed, but the thick armor of the orc warlord absorbed most of the force. Ironclaw didn't even flinch.
Ashar's heart raced as he looked up at the towering figure before him. Ironclaw was a monster—his sheer size, strength, and endurance seemed almost unnatural. But Ashar knew one thing: no beast, no matter how strong, could take on the combined will of humanity when they had nothing left to lose.
"I'll get his attention," Ashar said, eyes narrowing. He adjusted his grip on his sword and stepped forward, positioning himself between Ironclaw and Rylah. "You find a weak spot. I'll keep him busy."
Rylah didn't hesitate. She nodded, her face set with determination. "I'll find it. Just don't get yourself killed."
Ashar grinned grimly. "No promises."
Ironclaw's bloodshot eyes locked onto Ashar. With a guttural growl, he swung his battle axe in a wide arc. Ashar dodged just in time, his boots skidding against the dirt as he rolled to the side. The force of the attack split the earth, sending shockwaves through the battlefield.
"Foolish human!" Ironclaw boomed, swinging again. "You will die like the rest."
Ashar's mind raced. The warlord was a force of nature—unpredictable and brutal. But that was also his weakness. Ironclaw's swings were powerful but lacked precision. If Ashar could keep him distracted, tire him out, perhaps they could find a way to strike him down.
Ashar moved again, weaving between Ironclaw's swings, staying just out of reach. Every time the warlord's massive weapon came close, Ashar ducked, his heart pounding with the rush of adrenaline. He was fast, but Ironclaw was far too strong. One mistake, one misstep, and it would be the end of him.
Rylah was moving around the battlefield, her eyes scanning the warlord for any weakness. She darted in and out of his reach, taking small, calculated strikes that left Ironclaw momentarily off balance. Each time she landed a blow, the beast roared in frustration, but it didn't seem to phase him.
Ashar gritted his teeth. They couldn't keep this up forever. Ironclaw was an animal in battle, driven by pure rage, while they were trying to outthink him. Their speed and agility could only buy them so much time.
A sudden thought struck Ashar. The traps. They had placed traps all around the battlefield, and Ironclaw had already shown that he was too reckless to notice them until it was too late. If they could lure him into one of them…
"Ashar, move!" Rylah's shout snapped him back to reality. He barely managed to dodge another overhead swing from Ironclaw, but this time, the warlord's momentum carried him forward, leaving him momentarily exposed.
"Ashar! The trap!" Rylah's voice rang out again, urgent this time.
Ashar didn't hesitate. He saw the glint of metal in the dirt—a hidden spike trap just ahead, covered by a thin layer of dirt and grass. The trap was set to spring when a heavy force stepped on it.
With a battle cry, Ashar dashed toward the trap, moving faster than he'd ever run. His feet pounded against the earth as he sprinted toward Ironclaw, daring the warlord to follow.
Ironclaw's massive frame lurched forward, his axe raised high as he let out a deafening roar of rage. The ground trembled as he charged, intent on crushing Ashar beneath his weapon.
Just as the warlord's foot came down where Ashar had been standing, the trap triggered. Ironclaw's foot pierced the earth, and a series of thick, sharp spikes erupted from the ground, impaling the warlord's leg. He bellowed in pain, stumbling forward, throwing his weight against the force of the spikes.
Ashar took the opportunity. He darted forward, launching himself toward Ironclaw's unprotected side. His sword flashed, cutting through the thick armor at the joints. Ironclaw howled in rage and swung his axe wildly, but Ashar was already rolling out of the way, narrowly avoiding the brutal attack.
Rylah was there in an instant, moving like a shadow. She thrust her blade into the exposed joint of Ironclaw's armor, a precise strike aimed at the soft flesh beneath. The warlord's roar turned into a guttural growl of pain, but he wasn't done yet.
Ironclaw swung his axe one last time, this time aiming at Rylah. She managed to parry the strike, but the force sent her flying backward, crashing into the ground.
"Ashar!" Rylah gasped, struggling to get up. She was dazed, but she wasn't out yet.
Ironclaw turned to face her, his eyes burning with fury. "You'll all die here!" he snarled, raising his axe for the final blow.
Ashar couldn't let that happen. He charged forward, his heart pounding in his chest as he pushed every last ounce of strength into his legs. His sword was raised, ready to end this once and for all.
With a battle cry that echoed across the battlefield, Ashar lunged forward, plunging his sword deep into the crack in Ironclaw's armor. The warlord's eyes widened in shock as the blade pierced his heart. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Then, with a deafening crash, Ironclaw's axe fell to the ground as his massive frame collapsed.
Ashar fell to his knees, his breath ragged and his body shaking with exhaustion. He had done it. He had killed Ironclaw.
Rylah limped over, her face filled with relief. "You did it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "We did it."
Ashar couldn't speak. His mind was spinning, and his body was ached beyond belief, but there was one feeling that rose above the rest—the battle was over. For now.
The battlefield fell silent, the only sounds the distant cries of the wounded and the occasional clash of weapons. Ashar stood, surveying the damage. The Orcs had retreated, their morale shattered with the death of their warlord. But Ashar knew this victory was only temporary. Ironclaw's death was a blow, but the war was far from over.
"Prepare for the next fight," Ashar said, his voice hoarse but strong. "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."
Rylah nodded. "But tonight, we rest. You've earned it."
Ashar glanced at the horizon, his thoughts already on the future. The Orcs would regroup. They would come again, and this time, they would be angrier.
But Ashar would be ready. The Beast of Ironclaw had fallen, but there would be more to face in the battles to come.