The stench of blood in the tunnel was thick and cloying, and the howls of the slave rats gradually weakened.
They charged over the bodies of their comrades again and again, but the greenskin shield wall was like a red-hot iron, firmly stuck in the cave entrance, and each impact only resulted in more bodies.
A few slave rats collapsed on the pile of corpses, their fangs gnashing, but they dared not move another step forward—the cold glint of spear tips and arrowheads ahead meant charging again would be suicide.
Skrittik stood behind the clanrats, the anxiety in his small eyes almost overflowing.
He could see the slave rats' morale collapsing—these low-grade goods only had this much ability; they were fine in a winning fight, but once a stalemate occurred, they immediately chickened out.
If this dragged on, not only would he fail to drag the greenskins back as reserve food , but all the subordinates he brought would be wiped out.
"Squeak squeak... I've got it!" Skrittik suddenly tilted his head, his sharp fangs biting his claws.
He glimpsed many scattered stones on both sides of the tunnel.
"Clanrats! Take the slave rats, pick up stones! Throw them! Throw them to death!" Skrittik shrieked, pointing his bronze scimitar at the greenskin shield wall, "Smash their broken wooden boards!"
More than twenty clanrats immediately reacted, kicking the slave rats beside them: "Squeak squeak! Pick up stones! Quickly pick them up!" A dozen or so slave rats, kicked and yelping, quickly crouched on the ground, clawing at shattered stones, picking them up, and throwing them at the greenskin shield wall.
"Whoosh whoosh whoosh!"
The shattered stones rained down on the greenskins .
Some stones hit the wooden boards, "Crack"ing into two halves; others slipped through the gaps in the boards, directly hitting the hobgoblins' heads.
"Ow!" A hobgoblin Boys was hit on the forehead by a stone, and blood instantly flowed down, obscuring his eyes.
The wooden board in his hand wavered, almost falling to the ground, and the Boyz next to him quickly supported him: "Damn it! Hold on!"
A hobgoblin spearmen's ear was hit by a stone, making him tremble, and his iron-plate spear almost went astray.
Several archers were also hit on the shoulder, unable to hold their bows steady.
But this move, killing a thousand enemies at the cost of eight hundred of one's own—the tunnel was too crowded, and many of the stones thrown by the slave rats hit their own people.
A slave rat had just picked up a stone when he was hit on the head by a shattered Kurzadh thrown from behind, instantly falling to the ground motionless; several clanrats were hit on the back by stones, yelping in pain, but dared not make a sound.
"Damn it! These rats dare to play dirty!" Kurzadh's arm was hit by a shattered stone, making him grimace in pain.
But the anger in his eyes burned even brighter—greenskins hated others playing dirty the most! Only greenskins could play dirty!
"Greenskins ! Kill them for me!" Kurzadh roared, suddenly raising the iron axe in his hand, striking the wooden board with the back of the axe, a loud "Clang" resonating, rousing the surrounding hobgoblins.
The greenskins , with bloodied heads, were completely enraged.
Once the greenskin's wildness was ignited, only madness remained.
[Trigger Effect: Fight to the Death]
[Unless the boss dies, the Boyz will fight to the death! Waaagh!]
The hobgoblin Boys with blood flowing from his forehead wiped the blood from his face, holding up the wooden board and pushing forward fiercely, knocking a slave rat that was trying to squeeze through a gap flying backward; the spearmen whose ear was hit roared, his iron-plate spear stabbing quickly and fiercely, each strike able to kill a slave rat; the archers also stopped shooting arrows, picking up stones from the ground and throwing them back at the ratmen crowd—though their aim was poor, their force was great, and hitting the ratmen always made them yelp in pain.
Skrittik watched as the greenskins not only didn't collapse but became even crazier, and his heart sank.
He suddenly felt something was wrong—these greenskins were different from the tribe that was wiped out yesterday; they had morale, tactics, and they weren't afraid of death! If they kept fighting, he would truly be doomed here.
"Squeak squeak... Retreat! Quickly retreat!" Skrittik turned and wanted to run deeper into the cave.
He didn't want to die for a bunch of greenskins ; as long as there's life, there's hope!
But just then, a loud "Clank"!
Kurzadh actually held up a wooden board and forcefully knocked away the slave rats in front of him!
The wooden board was held against his chest like a crude shield; the few slave rats in front were hit so hard their ribs broke, screaming as they flew backward, crashing into the ratmen crowd behind, instantly throwing them into chaos.
"Greenskin Boyz! Charge with me!" Kurzadh roared, charging forward with the wooden board.
His greenskin was covered in blood and mud, and his eyes glowed like two balls of fire.
"Waaagh! Charge!" The fifty hobgoblin Boys, having been cooped up for too long, raised their wooden clubs and Kurzadh sticks, following Kurzadh like a pack of mad dogs, charging into the ratmen crowd.
"Spearmen! Level your spears! Push!" Wreelx saw Kurzadh charge out and immediately reacted, roaring as he raised his iron spear.
Thirty hobgoblin spearmen uniformly leveled their iron-plate spears, their tips pointing at the ratmen, pushing forward with the hobgoblin Boys.
"Archers! Throw! Throw to death!" The remaining archers also picked up stones, following behind the spearmen, fiercely throwing them at the ratmen's heads.
The greenskin formation instantly changed from defense to offense!
The ratmen were completely stunned.
They were already planning to retreat, and now the greenskins suddenly charged out; the slave rats in front wanted to retreat, but the ratmen behind hadn't reacted yet and were still pushing forward, instantly colliding into a chaotic mass.
Some slave rats were pushed and fell to the ground, instantly trampled into pulp by their companions behind; some clanrats tried to command but were knocked off balance by the chaotic ratmen, unable to shout out.
"Squeak squeak! Get out of the way! Quickly get out of the way!" Skrittik's path was blocked by the chaotic ratmen, and he was so anxious his fangs were almost ground to dust.
He waved his bronze scimitar, trying to cut a path, but there were too many slave rats; killing one only brought a swarm of others.
Kurzadh led the hobgoblin Boys, crashing through the ratmen crowd.
He held up the wooden board, knocking away the slave rats in front, and his iron axe swung out from time to time—one axe struck a slave rat's neck, and the slave rat's head immediately fell off, blood gushing out like a fountain; another axe split a clanrat's back, and the clanrat screamed as it fell to the ground, its head smashed by a club from a hobgoblin Boys behind.
"Dead rat! You damn well don't run!" Kurzadh spotted Skrittik scurrying through the ratmen crowd and roared, charging towards him.
Skrittik was scared out of his wits; he could see how crazy this greenskin Chieftain was—his eyes were bloodshot, his wounds were bleeding, yet he acted as if nothing was wrong, each step carrying a ruthless determination to take down his opponent.
He wanted to run, but he was surrounded by chaotic ratmen and couldn't move.
"Squeak squeak! Stop him! Quickly stop him!" Skrittik shrieked at the clanrats beside him.
Two clanrats gritted their teeth and charged at Kurzadh with their short spears.
"Get lost!" Kurzadh didn't dodge at all, charging directly with the wooden board.
One clanrat was hit so hard its chest caved in, and its short spear fell to the ground; the other clanrat's short spear pierced Kurzadh's arm, but Kurzadh acted as if he felt nothing, swinging his axe back at its head—the clanrat's head was split in two, red and white splattering everywhere.
In a blink of an eye, Kurzadh was in front of Skrittik.
"Squeak squeak! I'll fight you to the death!" Skrittik knew he couldn't escape, so he raised his bronze scimitar and slashed at Kurzadh's neck.
His speed was very fast, and the scimitar whistled through the air, clearly indicating he was an experienced fighter.
Kurzadh dodged to the side, and the scimitar grazed his neck, cutting a little skin.
He took the opportunity to step forward, grabbing Skrittik's arm with his left hand and fiercely bringing his iron axe down on its head with his right!
Skrittik desperately tried to block with his other hand.
With a "Crack," his claw was chopped off, bone fragments mixed with blood falling to the ground.
He screamed, ramming his head into Kurzadh's chest.
Kurzadh was knocked back a step, the wound on his arm reopened, and blood gushed out even more fiercely.
But he held onto Skrittik's arm tightly, not letting him escape.
"Damn it! Die for me!" Kurzadh roared, using all his strength to bring the iron axe down on Skrittik's head again!
This time, Skrittik didn't dodge.
The iron axe split into his head from the top, all the way to his chin, cleaving his head in two.
Black blood and brain matter splattered all over Kurzadh's face, and Skrittik's body twitched twice before falling still.
"Boss is awesome!" The hobgoblin Boys who had charged over cheered at the sight, swinging their wooden clubs and Kurzadh sticks even more fiercely.
The clanrats, having lost their leader, completely collapsed.
They wanted to run, but the greenskins had already surrounded them.
The hobgoblin spearmen's iron-plate spears were like venomous snakes, constantly stabbing at their vital points; the hobgoblin Boys surrounded them, striking wildly, using wooden clubs, Kurzadh sticks, and even teeth and fists; the archers also rushed up, picking up broken spears from the ground and thrusting them into the clanrats' bodies.
One clanrat was simultaneously pierced by three iron-plate spears, its body hanging on the spear tips like a broken sack; another clanrat bit through a hobgoblin Boys' neck, but he himself was pierced through the stomach by a spear from an archer behind; several other clanrats tried to run deeper into the cave but were stopped by Kurzadh, who chopped them down one by one with his axe.
In the melee, many greenskins also paid a price.
A hobgoblin Boys was bitten in the throat by a slave rat and died on the spot; a hobgoblin spearmen was tackled to the ground by several slave rats and instantly gnawed down to bones; several archers were pierced by clanrat short spears, falling to the ground, barely alive.
Blood stained the entire tunnel, and the ground was piled high with bodies—greenskin, slave rat, clanrat, some cut in half, some smashed to pulp, some gnawed down to bones, making it impossible to tell who was who.
After an unknown period, the chaos gradually subsided.
The remaining slave rats, seeing the unfavorable situation, ran frantically deeper into the cave.
They trampled over the bodies of their companions, disappearing into the darkness, quickly vanishing from sight.
The greenskins wanted to pursue, but they were too exhausted, covered in wounds, and could only watch them escape.
Kurzadh leaned on his iron axe, standing amidst the pile of corpses, gasping for breath.
His arm was pierced, his chest ached from the impact, and his face was covered in blood and brain matter, looking like a monster that had crawled out of a blood pool. But he was not dead; he was still standing.
The surrounding greenskins also collapsed to the ground, some coughing, some licking their wounds, some cursing the escaped ratmen.
In the snowy area at the cave entrance, the goblins cautiously peered inside; seeing no movement, they dared to carefully walk in, poking the ratmen corpses on the ground with branches, confirming they were thoroughly dead.
Just then, a cold voice suddenly echoed in Kurzadh's mind:
[Congratulations, host, on completing the campaign: Hard-won Victory]
[System upgrading...]
Kurzadh was stunned for a moment, then grinned.
He didn't know what the system upgrade would be for, but he knew that the Blackrock Clan had won.
Although it was a brutal victory, with many Boyz dead, they had driven off the ratmen and defended their territory.
The greenskin's life was fought for in blood.
He leaned on his iron axe, slowly straightened up, and looked into the darkness deep within the cave.
There were still escaped ratmen there, and perhaps even more monsters hidden.
As long as he was still standing, the Blackrock Clan would not fall.
Snow was still falling, the sunlight at the cave entrance was obscured by dark clouds, and the tunnel became pitch dark.
Only the blood on the ground was still slowly flowing, reflecting the greenskins' tired but fierce faces.
"Waaagh!"