Chapter 180: Ironskin Hand Grenades

For two consecutive days, the eastern and northern walls of Stormwind City were filled with the deafening sounds of battle. However, the people of the Kingdom of Stormwind could never have imagined that such an intense and terrifying conflict was merely a probing attack from the Horde.

That's right! Merely a probe.

During the absence of Duke and Anduin, Bolvar was in charge of the defense. Although he knew that the Horde had only dispatched thousands of troops in all directions to probe, Bolvar had no choice but to go all out to fight.

The gap in individual combat strength was too apparent.

With moats, barbicans, walls, arrow towers, and towering hills equipped with trebuchets, this three-dimensional defense system merely mitigated the disadvantage humans had against orcs in single combat.

The battle was still extremely difficult.

This was because the 5-meter-high walls were too short for the large and outrageously agile orcs.

Orgrim provided Blackhand with a plan that was both simple and effective, leaving Bolvar at a loss.

Filling the moat and ramping up against the walls.

Orc laborers, seen as diminutive by the Horde warriors but viewed as burly and strong by humans, carried large rocks under a deadly rain of spears, dumped the stones into the moat, and retreated. This was repeated over and over.

In just one day, almost a third of the hastily excavated moat had been filled.

Duke Bolvar could not imagine the horror of humans fighting these green-skinned monsters in alley combat without the advantage of terrain.

However, the greatest consolation was the return of the Duke.

His power alone was equivalent to more than half of the Royal Mage Corps.

"You really won't make a move?" On an arrow tower, Lothar asked the Duke.

The Duke shook his head: "No, my not intervening is more advantageous for us."

"Why?"

"Because our main opponent is Orgrim, the Warchief's second-in-command, not the Warchief himself."

Lothar recalled what Garona had said about the characteristics of the Horde chiefs and notable figures. He remembered Garona saying that Orgrim was more intelligent than other orcs, 'a powerful orc warrior with shaman wisdom.'

The Duke explained, "If I were to save the day from the beginning, Orgrim would quickly determine the weaknesses in our defenses. In fact, my final defense position isn't here; you will always have to rely on yourselves for this side."

Lothar played with an iron lump with a palm-sized wooden handle in his hand: "Are you sure we can hold out for ten days with this thing?"

The Duke said with absolute certainty, "I'm sure."

"Alright, I trust you."

The walls near the mountains were filled with the thundering sounds of Horde war drums.

Old Dem was a porter.

Other than his strength, he had nothing else going for him. At over fifty years old, he volunteered for the militia solely because it could secure an early boat ticket for his daughter and grandson.

Crouching behind the crenelations, Old Dem supported a dented helmet that had clearly been taken from a dead man's head, trembling as he looked out.

Beside him was his old neighbor Karna, a baker. Karna kept asking in a low voice, "Are they here yet? Are they here yet?"

As Old Dem watched the countless enormous green figures surge towards the moat like a tidal wave, his heart pounded, "Wait, not yet."

Gazing at the terrifying faces and long fangs of the green giants, Old Dem's heart trembled.

At that moment, the Kingdom soldier in charge of supervising them suddenly shouted, "Militia, prepare to throw those things. Before I give the order, do not open the cover below!" Old Dedm and Karna were immediately nervous.

"Stay calm—stay calm! Wait for those damned greenskins to attack..." Watching the signal flags on the command tower behind the city wall, the moment the red flag fell, all the Kingdom soldiers shouted in unison, "Now!" Old Dedm, following the steps he had been taught earlier, hurriedly opened the cover under the wooden handle.

Immediately, a "crackle" sound of ignition came from the end of the handle. Most of the people were illiterate and didn't know it was called a fuse. "Throw it with force!" The commander's roar caused many to fumble, directly throwing those strange wooden sticks with iron bumps into the moat below. Even more clumsy fools dropped them onto the battlements.

The soldiers supervising them quickly grabbed the items and swung them across to the other side of the moat. A few seconds later, as the terrifying greenskins carrying large stones reached the edge of the moat. "Bang, bang, bang—boom!" A series of continuous explosions left both the humans and orcs dumbfounded.

On this day, at this moment, history was made. For the first time in Azeroth's history, a firearm had emerged. Though it was an unreliable goblin product, the "Iron Hand Grenade" would forever be recorded in the annals of history.

Dodging, resisting—against this era-surpassing weapon, the struggles of the orc laborers were meaningless. The orc laborers behind them could only watch helplessly as their comrades suffered devastating attacks. "Boom!"

With the continuous explosions, the iron fragments propelled by the powerful explosives caused terrible secondary damage to the laborers, who wore thin clothes or were bare-chested.

Even those nearly ten meters away from the explosion were killed by flying shrapnel that slashed their throats. The first batch of Iron Hand Grenades not only instantly wiped out the lives of all orc laborers by the riverbank but also sent water columns soaring into the sky when some of the grenades exploded underwater.

Faced with such terrifying and inexplicable power, the orc laborers began to waver. They abandoned their duties, forgot the presence of the taskmasters not far behind them, dropped the stones that should have been thrown into the moat, and turned to run.

However, most of them didn't make it far before being cut down like vegetables by the sweeping orc taskmasters. "What is that thing!?" Orgrim exclaimed in shock. "Send in the second wave!" Warchief Blackhand ordered recklessly.

The second group of laborers, screaming and crying, were forced forward by the axe-wielding orc soldiers. However, the green formation crumbled once again when another batch of strange wooden bumps was thrown from the city wall and exploded.

The laborers collapsed even faster than their fallen comrades. Almost the moment the explosions sounded, the last group started to run back.

In order to escape the death brought by the taskmasters, they even swung the giant stones in their hands in an attempt to resist. Of course, they were inevitably cut down in pools of blood. "What the hell is that!?" Orgrim roared. (To be continued)