86 Chapter 86: How can there be no cumin for barbecue?

Lothar patted the young Bolvar on the shoulder. "Let's go. We'll talk about the details later. Since his Excellency Hua Jia was able to delay the orcs as promised, he must have a trick up his sleeve."

"A trick?" Bolvar's curiosity was overwhelming.

"Let's move!" Lothar commanded.

The Gryphon Legion and Bolvar's 300 cavalry rushed through a forest at the foot of the mountain before the orc army could charge down. They crossed a river with a low water level, using the floating and wooden bridges they had prepared on their way there.

Feeling the moist air of spring, Lothar looked down at the low water level, lost in thought.

The orcs had arrived.

As Lothar and the last warrior of the Gryphon Legion crossed the floating bridge and stepped onto the opposite bank, the already deafening roar of the orcs suddenly increased in volume. The piercing screams of the orcs stabbed at Lothar, Bolvar, and others' eardrums.

A more terrifying green wave than on the Redridge Mountains emerged from the small forest they had just passed through. Orcs wielding weapons emerged from every gap between the trees. There were far too many of them, and Lothar had to turn his head to take in the ever-expanding battle line of orcs.

The same indomitable momentum as before.

Bolvar didn't feel much, being young and inexperienced, but Lothar and Duke squinted their eyes, looking intently at the chaotic and ominous flags of the orcs, and their expressions changed again.

"Damn it, these green skins have reinforced!"

Although Lothar couldn't tell the difference too well, he instinctively felt that there were at least thirty percent more flags that he hadn't seen before. He exchanged a glance with Bolvar, and they knew what they had to do.

Whether by following the agreement or military common sense, they couldn't retreat anymore.

The Gryphon Legion once again executed the rear-guard mission.

One thousand five hundred soldiers formed three horizontal lines of five hundred people each, along the riverbank, just a short distance from the beach where they landed. The lightly injured soldiers struggled to climb down from the wagons, using them as crutches, and stood behind their comrades, forming a weak fourth line.

At this moment, Lothar suddenly noticed that Duke had drifted through the entire forest and was now standing lightly in front of him.

Lothar knew that this was the mage's Slow Fall spell, but he was amazed by how precisely it had been used. The mysterious mage before him was truly of unfathomable strength!

"Hello, your Excellency Hua Jia." Lothar greeted him proactively.

"Hello, Sir Lothar, it seems we have established some initial trust," Duke said, gesturing to the predetermined area where Lothar had organized his troops, slightly away from the riverbank. Duke spoke in a weathered voice, "Are you not worried I might turn on you now?"

"No worries, worst case scenario, I'll just lose my life again for the same reason," Lothar chuckled heartily. "And, I don't believe you'd betray me, after all, we're both humans."

"Right, because we're both humans," Duke agreed.

It was strange how these two people, who were at least twenty years apart in age, found common ground so easily.

"How did the battle with that spellcaster go?" Lothar grinned from ear to ear upon seeing Duke. The answer was a given, the question was how much they won by.

Duke didn't respond, instead, he tossed the warlock's staff, which emitted a sinister energy and was adorned with a skull, towards Lothar. The souls trapped within the staff seemed to have absorbed the blood of the savage beasts, making it less vicious, but still incredibly menacing.

"Take it back to the high priests of Stormwind to deal with. I think there will be people interested on your end," Duke instructed.

Lothar, Bolvar, and all present simultaneously sucked in a cold breath.

The war of spellcasters was indeed incredibly mysterious.

But everyone knew that defeating the enemy was one thing.

Killing the enemy was another.

Killing the enemy was more than twice as difficult as defeating them.

Now, this mysterious mage had managed to execute a mage version of capturing the flag, all while being watched by thousands of covetous orcs?

What incredible power!

Thinking back to how Duke almost singlehandedly suppressed two waves of orc attacks and saved the entire Gryphon Legion, coupled with this recent feat of taking down a powerful spellcaster on the battlefield, the three couldn't help but raise Duke's status in their minds.

However, Duke's performance was not yet over.

As they watched the fastest orc charge onto the riverbank and prepare to enter the water, Lothar and his comrades' hearts skipped a beat.

This river on the edge was not very deep, only waist-deep for humans, but for the tall and burly orcs, it only reached their thighs, and was not much of a challenge.

"If the orcs charge ahead, it won't take long before their vanguard crosses the river and clashes with the Gryphon Legion.

Sensing the gaze of the three military elites, Duke smirked and raised his right hand towards the orcs and began performing a long cast spell.

In the void, twenty-four mage hands appeared, mimicking Duke's right hand posture and all began to conjure balls of flame in front of them.

As time passed the small balls of flame began to coalesce in front of each hand. The whole process took six seconds.

A six-second incantation may seem lengthy, but in the midst of an army confrontation, it's just a fleeting moment.

In the eyes of Lothar and the others, twelve fireballs flew off in a crooked fashion, bursting into fireworks-like flames in the sky.

The other twelve shot into the opposite forest, instantly setting it ablaze

These twelve fireballs perfectly demonstrated the meaning of "overkill," as the flames spread instantly.

The orcs, who had drunk demon blood, were aggressive and fierce, but that doesn't mean they've become completely irrational berserkers. There are still many things that instinctively scare them, like flames.

In the blink of an eye, countless orcs turned into running torches

They either writhed in pain on the ground or, under the leadership of smarter ones, crazily rushed into the river to extinguish the flames on their bodies.

Lothar stared in awe at the scene before him, his mouth murmuring as she finally asked her question, "It's still spring, and when we passed by the forest earlier, it was still quite damp."

Duke sneered at Lothar, "I can temporarily turn miles of land into an icefield, why can't I dry out that little forest a bit?"

Whether it was Bolvar, or even Lothar, they were both dumbfounded.

What a terrifying amount of magical power!

Is this guy really human?

Yes, Duke is using Dasson's Hot Furnace. His magic is not enough to make the entire forest combust, but drying it out a bit is still achievable.

This is the greatest benefit of inheriting the Magical Circuit from the Sun King. Although he's not a true sky mage, three months of seclusion have given Duke a terrifying amount of magical power that surpasses most sky mages. In terms of magical power, Duke is not inferior to many Morning Star mages.

Duke's fiery strategy is certainly impressive, and it appears that at least two to three thousand orcs will die in the flames.

However, compared to Duke's previous flawless performance, watching thousands of orcs flee to the river to escape, Lothar couldn't help but twitch at the corner of his eye."