Chapter 302: The Dark Tide - Part 2

In truth, orcs and ogres had quite a few differences, but amidst that green tide, they all felt the same.

The Bloodsail Buccaneers only saw the green tide surging across every marsh with water, trampling every inch of grass, and shattering everything in its path.

Perhaps beneath the orcs' feet, multicolored snakes and insects were fleeing from the swamp. However, everything was crushed.

Pits, hills, swamps - as far as the eye could see, the land erupted with green-skinned orcs. As the sun struggled to climb higher in the sky, more ships appeared on land.

To avoid having their transport ships destroyed by the humans who held naval superiority, the orcs employed a more straightforward and brutal method to protect their vessels—these dozens of tons transport ships were placed onshore, where ship cannons couldn't reach.

When the orcs prepared for their grand assault, orc laborers carried the ships into the water.

The heavy, clumsy, but visibly mobile transport ships formed enormous waves that slowly crept across the ground towards the coast.

Watching this fleet sailing on land approaching them, the Bloodsail Buccaneers remained silent, observing everything with awe.

Duke Fairwind had spent his entire life at sea, but he had never seen anything like the countless orcs covering the entire area's surface. With their sturdy bodies, explosive muscles, massive mouths full of tusks, blood-red eyes, and green skin, they wove a world-class blanket that covered every corner the sunlight reached.

Duke Fairwind regretted it deeply, knowing full well that if this terrifying force were transported across the northern landmass, humanity's downfall would likely begin its countdown.

However, right beside him, an orc Blademaster showed no respect as he wiped his blade.

This was a cold-blooded, powerful fighter. Over a dozen of the duke's best sailors tried to charge at him, but none could approach within two meters of him before being cut to pieces.

Watching the transport ships thrown onto the water's surface with a roar, Duke Fairwind glanced at his daughter Jessi's flagship fifty meters away.

Jessi gave him a gesture that only he could understand.

"All ships, heed my command! Weigh anchor! Set sail! Our target—the damned Kul Tiran fleet!" Duke Fairwind shouted.

Ten minutes later, with the dawn's gleaming light, the entire Bloodsail fleet formed a curved line and shot straight towards the open sea. They were about to sail north from the Baradin Bay, crossing the ocean that separated the two landmasses, and attack the Kul Tiran fleet waiting on the sea.

The moist scent of early spring mixed with the wind, brushing past Orgrim's nose.

The undulating tide of orcs perfectly connected with the rolling waves on the vast sea. Orgrim, riding a massive white war wolf, stood proudly on a hill by the shore. At first glance, he seemed to be standing atop the crest of the waves.

Gazing at the gleaming horizon, Orgrim couldn't help but feel a surge of pride, pointing towards the distance: "Once we cross this sea, the warriors of the Horde can crush any resistance from any world, any living being!"

"Yes!" The famous Grommash Hellscream, carrying his equally notorious axe, approached Orgrim: "Although I always believed that races other than orcs are unreliable, and I don't like your attitude towards other races, I do appreciate your ability to solve problems."

Orgrim didn't care about Grommash's complaints. His enormous warhammer gently touched the surface of Gorehowl's axe. The two renowned weapons emitted a dull thud from their collision.

"The strongest human kingdom is Lordaeron; we'll meet them in Lordaeron," Orgrim bared his teeth.

"See you in Lordaeron!" Grommash shouted as he strode away without looking back, leaving a trail of deep footprints and a radiant silhouette.

The orc transport fleet continued to load troops, and the Bloodsail fleet, which had set sail earlier, encountered the enemy at around 10 in the morning.

A sleek elven-style scout ship appeared on the horizon, followed by the shadow of sails as the Bloodsail fleet sounded the alarm.

Duke Faravel frowned.

It was too early. The entire fleet hadn't fully sailed out of Baradin Bay yet, and they had already run into the entire Kul Tiran fleet. It seemed that the Alliance navy was determined to annihilate the Bloodsail and orc main fleet here, regaining control of the seas.

What happened?!

Duke Faravel couldn't help but glance half a mile to his right, where his daughter's flagship was.

However, since they had encountered each other, they would fight!

"Send orders! The entire fleet turns right 40 degrees. We must seize the windward direction as much as possible."

The Duke's orders were met with ruthless opposition. An orc fluent in the common language slammed his battle axe on the railing.

"No need for complications. Attack directly!"

"Damn it! Seizing the windward direction is common sense!"

"The great Horde doesn't need your so-called common sense! Just get close enough to the enemy ships. The Burning Blade Clan warriors will solve everything," the orc declared in a deep voice.

Duke Faravel had heard stories of a particular orc chieftain single-handedly dismantling several Kul Tiran ships with just his axe, but he hadn't expected the orcs to rely on such a simple and violent approach to solve everything.

This approach overturned all naval warfare common sense.

No! It wasn't just common sense.

Faravel clearly felt the orcs' distrust.

The wicked Warchief would rather have his Bloodsail fleet and the human fleet annihilate each other so that the orc transport ships could sail safely through every sea in the world.

"Damn!"

However, the situation was more powerful than he had hoped. The Duke waved his hand sharply, and within seconds, a blood-red emblem flag fluttered in the wind on his flagship.

This ridiculously foolish order was met with multiple confirmations from the command ships.

Gritting his teeth, he confirmed.

And so, the entire Bloodsail and orc joint fleet formed two columns, charging forward like fools.

In contrast, the more 'rational' Alliance fleet resembled a menacing crab, spreading out like pincers and forming an encircling stance within half an hour.

At 10:45 in the morning, the famous 'Battle of Baradin Bay' began!

...