Chapter 47: Wrath of the Red Sun

“Charge!”

“For the Chief!”

The battle cry tore through the air, carried on the wind like a drumbeat of war. The Red Sun Tribe surged forward, a tide of Oracnid-mounted warriors crashing into the chaos of the Blood Forge Village.

Orc riders, their powerful frames steady on their mounts, drew heavy longbows and let loose devastating volleys. Arrows rained down, cutting through the Wild Oracnids with deadly precision. Goblin riders circled the fray, their repeater crossbows and bows spitting projectiles in rapid succession.

“Kill them all!”

Nolen’s voice roared above the cacophony, an unyielding command that drove his warriors forward. He rode at the head of the charge, mounted atop an Oracnid General—a massive, elite beast born of the Oracnid Queen’s enhanced care. Its armored carapace glistened like obsidian, its pincers clicking with a predatory hunger.

Nolen’s presence was electrifying. His crimson eyes burned with raw power, and streaks of solar energy crackled across his body. Every swing of his weapon ignited the battlefield, carving through the Wild Oracnids like molten steel through ice.

The enemy horde, caught off guard by the Red Sun Tribe’s sudden assault, descended into chaos. The disorganized creatures faltered under the relentless onslaught.

“Push them back!”

“Charge!”

The Red Sun warriors pressed their advantage. Goblin riders darted along the flanks, their speed and precision making them deadly harriers. Orc riders thundered through the center, their arrows and war cries shaking the air. The overwhelming firepower of the tribe forced the Wild Oracnids to stagger, their exoskeletons riddled with projectiles.

Nolen saw the moment hesitation crept into the enemy ranks. Their movements grew sluggish, their cohesion splintering like cracked glass. He seized the opportunity.

“Charge!” His voice was a thunderclap.

The Oracnid General beneath him surged forward, responding to its master’s command with terrifying speed. Solar energy erupted from Nolen’s hands, carving glowing arcs through the air.

“Red Sun Tribe! Charge!”

The war cry reverberated through the battlefield as the tribe followed their chief’s lead. Orcs brandished axes, hammers, and blades, their strikes cleaving through thick carapaces. Goblins wielded spears, their poisoned tips finding gaps in the Wild Oracnids’ armor.

The clash of steel against exoskeleton was deafening, a chaotic symphony of war.

As the Red Sun Tribe tore through the enemy lines, the warriors of the Blood Forge Village finally joined the fray. Orc smiths and goblins, their faces etched with desperation, raised their weapons and struck back against their invaders.

Nolen was at the heart of the battle, a blur of fire and light. His every strike was precise, every movement calculated. The Wild Oracnids that dared to challenge him were torn apart, their shattered forms left in his wake.

To the Blood Forge warriors, he was a living embodiment of Gor’grak, the Orc God of War and Fire. His presence alone sent ripples of awe through their ranks.

But Nolen was far from divine. What he displayed was merely a fraction of his true strength, a glimpse of the power he had yet to fully recover. The solar energy that coursed through him wasn’t infinite—it was a tool, one he wielded with terrifying efficiency.

The Wild Oracnids buckled under the assault, their once-formidable ranks now in tatters. They couldn’t withstand the fury of the Red Sun Tribe, nor could they match the raw force of Nolen’s onslaught.

The battlefield was theirs for now.