Chapter 303: The Battle of Baradin Bay - Part 1

Historians unanimously agreed on the significance of the Battle of Baradin Bay.

Of course, this wasn't a traditional naval battle.

The clash of two distinct ideologies made this battle rather peculiar.

The traditional human navy adhered to the doctrine of battleships and large cannons.

In contrast, the orcish navy focused on close-quarters combat.

In some ways, this suited the orcs well. In the era before Duke's arrival, cannons could shoot tens of kilometers, even battleships during World War II couldn't shoot as far. Their primitive rifling-less solid shot cannons had a range of less than a kilometer.

For the orcish Blademasters skilled in evasive maneuvers, this was not a problem.

Grommash Hellscream once dismantled a mech with his bare hands. Oh, it was actually Gorehowl dismantling a warship, which served as an inspiration for the orcs. The orcish warships were not afraid of headwinds. Their cannons were primarily for decoration, and ultimately, the ships were just large, mobile transport vessels.

Once they entered within two nautical miles, numerous small boats were launched from the massive garbage ships. Workers paddled these modified, sealed small turtle-shell boats directly towards the Kul Tiran warships.

Human cannons were useful against ships, but less effective against these small boats. Not to mention, there were a dozen completely unscientific, wave-riding orcish Blademasters.

Admiral Daelin watched the orc's tactics unfold as expected, and heaved a sigh of relief.

Dozens of meters below the surface of the sea, a sudden bright blue-white magical light illuminated the depths.

This light was so dense that no orc, save for the Blademasters, even noticed it.

The next moment, a rain of ice ascended from the ocean floor towards the sky.

Dazzling, beautiful, unnatural, and accompanied by death.

The Ice Bolt spell from the Murloc Sages was notoriously weak in terms of damage, but it was more than capable of puncturing the bottom of the small boats. The unique Murloc talent allowed the seawater to open a path for the Ice Bolt, accurately piercing through the vulnerable underside of the boats.

"Hahaha! Kill them all!" Watching the fast-paddling small boats suddenly stall and sink, Admiral Daelin let out a hearty laugh.

The wave-riding orcish Blademasters had considered dealing with the annoying Murlocs. However, underwater combat was not their forte, and there were stronger adversaries to face.

The Murloc Prophet Morgl, Naga Leader Vara, and Spineshell Naga Sefiriss, along with many other Naga priests, were all present.

"Gaga oh la—" Chanting an incomprehensible incantation, Morgl suddenly unleashed his ultimate ability.

In the ocean, Murlocs and Naga received a natural magical boost.

Not to mention, this was a battlefield that had been prepared in advance. Beneath the water, inconspicuous seashells, clams sunken tens of meters deep, or even the most unremarkable dead corals suddenly emitted the unique glow of magic.

Connecting the dots, the lines formed patterns. It was then that the orcish Blademasters above the clear water realized that a massive magic circle spanning over a hundred square meters had appeared on the ocean floor.

"Wala la la—" With his three fingers on each hand convulsing, Morgl's eyes rolled back, and his face took on a crazed expression.

In an instant, the sea level within a radius of three hundred meters suddenly dropped by over thirty meters.

A massive whirlpool formed rapidly.

On the sidelines, the hundred-meter-high waves caused by the magic easily swept everything within the whirlpool down to the depths of the ocean.

The Blademasters of the Blackrock Clan were indeed formidable, but they were not suited for underwater combat!

.

Underwater, it was the domain of marine life.

Within the magic circle, countless tentacles like those of jellyfish emerged, pulling the orcish Blademasters deeper into the ocean depths. The Blademasters held their breath, exerting great effort to cut the jellyfish tentacles in the water where resistance was immense. However, for every tentacle they cut down, two or three more would take its place.

This bizarre tactic was formidable; even a large ship might struggle to withstand it, let alone the Blademasters.

No victory, no survival!

Not a single orc showed fear on their faces. More orcish speedboats attempted to bypass the whirlpool by paddling quickly, aiming to attack the Kul Tiran fleet.

Aboard the flagship, Daelin held a curved blade in his right hand and a short-barreled firearm in his left, silently watching the scene unfold.

A calm smile appeared on his face: "It's time for you to choose, my old friend. But before that..."

A green phantom approached at breakneck speed, moving so swiftly that the splashes it created left a long, white trail on the water's surface.

No ranged weapon could hit this elusive figure.

In a flash, it crossed the gap between the sea and the ship, appearing on the deck.

The lesser crew members couldn't catch a glimpse of the figure.

But the one to greet it was a warhammer imbued with a divine golden radiance.

With a clang, the orcish Blademaster and the newcomer engaged in a straightforward clash.

"I am the paladin Tirion Fordring. State your name, orc!" Tirion, whom countless players before Duke's arrival referred to as "Old Man Fordring," was at the peak of his strength.

The sea breeze ruffled his hair, making this young knight seem even more imposing.

"Grom Hellscream!" The orcish Blademaster simply spat out this name before charging at the Old Man, entangling him in battle.

But that wasn't all the orcs had in store.

To capture the ringleader, one must first defeat the underlings. The orcs knew this tactic as well.

A cold glint of a blade appeared behind Daelin, and no one on the ship noticed where it had come from—except for Daelin himself!

With a clang, an unconventional curved blade parried the lethal strike that was meant to pierce Daelin's chest.

Almost simultaneously, two gunshots rang out.

The attacker, having failed in his attempt, was instead struck by a shot.

This was no ordinary single-barreled firearm.

As a weapon fit for a king, it couldn't be of low quality.

Though it was a trigger-activated firearm, a brilliant magic circle appeared on the barrel, with intricate and mysterious blue runes surfacing right before the shot was fired. Despite being a single-barreled firearm, it astonishingly fired two consecutive shots under the influence of magic.

An orcish Blademaster with a red flag on his back, a string of large white beads around his neck, and a single-edged blade in hand grunted and retreated three steps, revealing himself.

"Despicable!" he spat in perfect Common.

Daelin's handsome face, weathered by the sea breeze, broke into a smug grin. "Heh! I don't want to be called despicable by an orc who only knows how to sneak attack from behind! We're merely on the same level... don't you agree, Samuro?"

That's right; it was the orcish hero Blademaster, Samuro.

With a cold snort, Samuro immediately brandished his blade and lunged forward.