Chapter 137: Blood Fer Da Blood God

Chapter 137: Blood Fer Da Blood God

The trebuchets kept their rhythm.

Boom. Crack. Flames.

The sky was painted orange as spiked fireballs smashed against the battlements. Soldiers ducked under crude stone shields, their bodies tensed with a silent prayer that the next one wouldn’t be theirs. The injured were dragged down from the upper wall, groaning, missing limbs, their armor peeled off with knives so it could be reused. Some didn’t even scream anymore, their throats too raw from a hundred battles.

"Get those wounded down! Don’t let ’em clog the stairs!" a commander’s voice roared.

"Surgeon! We need a surgeon here, damn it—his leg’s gone!"

"Brace the line! Replace the dead!"

Ruhk, the young recruit, stumbled aside as two stretcher-bearers ran past him, their cargo a soldier with half his torso charred black, coughing up black smoke and blood. The boy’s wide eyes met his for an instant, then glazed over as his head lolled to the side. The boy was gone before the stretcher-bearers were. Others were silent, their bodies stacked near the pits below to be buried when the siege quieted.

Ruhk stared with wide eyes, a cold knot in his stomach. His first day on the wall, and already he was ankle-deep in blood. But behind the horror was something else—something grim, almost sacred. These men and women weren’t dying for gold or for politics. They were dying to protect everyone behind the wall, while the rest of the region bickered about pride and grudges.

He swallowed hard when he saw a squad of quartermasters strip the armor from three dead soldiers. Tunics, boots, even belts—torn off, washed in barrels, then hung on racks. Later, new recruits like him would wear them. His own uniform smelled of smoke and blood, probably worn by a dozen others before him. How long has this wall endured, he wondered? And with so little help?

His answer came in the faces around him. Hardened. Empty. The veterans didn’t flinch at the blood. They didn’t cry when comrades fell. On the parapet, two veterans crouched side by side, arrows notched but waiting. One spoke through clenched teeth.

"Gods, I hate this part. The waiting. Always the waiting."

"Shut it," the other grunted, his gaze fixed on the churning fog below. "Better waiting than gutted by a pig-axe."

Then came the sickening crunch as a fireball landed directly on a trio of soldiers ten paces away. One veteran shielded his face from the heat, then spat blood. "Damn it! That’s the fifth one this morning!"

The other just shook his head. "Keep count if you want, but you’ll run out of numbers."

Another recruit near Ruhk laughed and cried at the same time, his mind cracking from the strain. He screamed his friend’s name until a veteran cuffed him hard and ordered him dragged to the cells below. It wasn’t punishment. It was precaution. Broken minds killed faster than any orc blade. Life on the wall wasn’t life at all. It was a gamble, every sunrise. The only thing that mattered was holding it until nightfall.

"Oi, fresh meat!" a scarred veteran bellowed, pointing a clawed finger at him. "You, with the shaking hands! Man the wall! Replace the dead! The orcs march soon! Spears at the ready! You see a ladder hook, you stab it until it lets go!"

The shout snapped Ruhk out of his daze. "Yes, sir!" He clutched his spear and ran, ducking low as another fireball smashed into the battlements. Three soldiers screamed, their bodies crushed and torn, their blood hot against his cheek. His hands trembled, but he didn’t stop.

Mother... sister...

At the top, a sergeant barked, "You, recruit! Take—" He never finished. A fireball obliterated the tower roof above him, crushing him instantly. Ruhk froze, horrified, until a rough hand yanked him back.

"Are you crazy, boy?!" a veteran roared. "Don’t just stand there! Fill the ranks left side!"

"Yes, sir!" Ruhk stammered, running to the gap.

He joined a cluster of trembling recruits clutching spears like children with sticks. His heart hammered, but then—he saw her.

Down below, Yulena Silverfury was a blur of motion, hurling flaming projectiles back at the orcs with her bare hands. Every throw was a miracle, a defiance of physics, and every soldier who saw it felt their spine stiffen. If a noblewoman could stand out there, a one-woman catapult, then maybe—just maybe—the wall wouldn’t fall today.

Ruhk heard two captains arguing beside him, their voices low but sharp.

"Anytime now," one said, his gaze fixed on the creaking siege towers emerging from the fog. "They’re getting close."

"Yeah," the other muttered, chewing a strip of dried meat like it was his last meal. "Same as last week. Rope ’em, pull ’em, burn ’em. Routine."

"Routine, huh?" the first captain snorted, glancing at the terrified recruits. "Look at them. They’re shitting themselves."

"Then they’ll learn fast or die faster." The older man spat over the wall. "Either way, we get fewer mouths to feed."

They both glanced at the barrels lined up behind them. Thick, black sludge sloshed inside.

"That stuff really came from Black Lake?" one asked, his voice full of disbelief.

"Yeah," the other confirmed. "Smells like a corpse’s ass, but it sticks. Pour it on, light it, and the pigs squeal louder than a festival hog."

Ruhk’s stomach churned as he overheard them. He wasn’t sure if it was fear—or the casual, practiced way they spoke about death. Further down the wall, another argument broke out.

"We should take the fight to them!" a younger captain snapped. "Siege their camps, burn their supplies!"

"Don’t be an idiot," a scarred veteran shot back. "Scouts say there’s more camps than we can count. You step one foot out that valley and you drown in orcs. You want that on your conscience?"

"But Baron Silverfury said—"

"Baron Silverfury ain’t here holding this wall, is he?" the veteran cut him off, his voice laced with bitterness. "It’s us. And this wall. That’s it. Nobles talk, us soldiers do the heavy lifting. We’ve been tooth and nail on this wall, for years. I say fuck em."

Silence followed, broken only by the groaning creak of siege towers in the fog. Ruhk listened in silence, gripping his spear tighter, his chest burning. The veteran was right. They had been left alone to bleed for generations. But the Baron and his wife were here now.

Hope. And despair. Both clawed at him, as the next flaming volley whistled overhead.

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The ground trembled as the orcish horde crept through the fog, war drums pounding in a rhythm that rattled bones. Siege towers groaned forward, pushed by slaves and chained brutes. Behind them, trebuchets hurled their flaming spike-balls in an endless rhythm.

Atop a crude wooden platform, an orc captain with half his face burned barked through his tusks.

"Steady, steady! Load da arms, keep da fires hot! Da wall-breakers be ready!"

A younger orc at his side squinted across the fogged valley. "Boss... somethin’s wrong. Look dere!"

The burned captain turned, just in time to see one of their own flaming spike-balls — the size of a wagon — come sailing back through the air. It smashed into the ranks below with a thunderous crack, impaling half a dozen shield-bearers before exploding in fire and shards.

The shockwave knocked him off his feet. When he scrambled up, his good eye widened. "By da Blood Gods... dey trowin’ it back! Who be strong enough fer dat?"

Another captain snarled, gripping his axe. "Dat ain’t no normal beastie up dere. Dat be da lion-bear witch! Saw her glowin’ like storm-fire! She’ll tear da line apart if we don’t chain her down!"

The burned captain spat a wad of black phlegm. "Fine den. Release da Breaker."

Chains rattled as a hulking silhouette lumbered forward — a mutated orc the size of 5 orcs, its head encased in jagged bone plating, red eyes glowing like coals. Slaves screamed as handlers prodded it with barbed spears, forcing it toward the wall.

"Dat one’ll keep da witch busy," the captain growled. "Da rest o’ you — ladders! Test da wall! Make da softskins bleed!"

Horns bellowed. Dozens of raiding ladders slammed down against the stone wall with a rattling crash. Orcs swarmed, snarling and howling, climbing like ants with axes clenched in their teeth.

Below, shield-bearers slammed their crude boards together and pushed forward under the rain of arrows. Behind them, the trebuchets groaned again, hurling another volley of flaming spikes.

The burned captain raised his axe and roared, his voice echoing across the valley.

"Dis be da first wave! Break da wall! Spill dere guts! DA BLOOD GOD WATCHES!"

The horde answered with a deafening roar, a chorus of madness and hunger, as the mutated Breaker lurched forward — its massive fists dragging furrows into the earth, each step shaking the ground.

The horns blared again. From the mist came the pounding of thousands of feet. Orc shield-bearers at the front lifted their thick boards, forming a crude wall. Arrows rained down from the battlements, bouncing and splintering against the wooden bulwark.

"Loose! Loose again!" a kobold captain barked. Bows twanged. More arrows hissed into the fog. A few found gaps, dropping an orc with a howl, but most thudded uselessly against the shields.

"Shields high! Keep marchin’!" an orc sergeant bellowed from below, slamming his club on the backs of the shield-bearers to force them forward. Behind the wall, orcs raised jagged bows and hurled javelins upward. Shafts whistled over the wall, thudding into bodies with sickening cracks. A ramari recruit screamed as a javelin punched clean through his chest, tossing him backward into the dirt.

Rukh flinched, his knuckles white around his spear. Then came the crash.

"LADDERS!" someone screamed.

Dozens of wooden ladders slammed against the stone. Iron hooks bit into the battlements.

Rukh’s heart nearly burst. Orcs were already scrambling up, snarling with tusks bared, their greasy hair whipping in the wind. His legs froze. His hands shook. The weight of the spear almost felt too heavy.

"Recruit!" a scarred veteran shoved him. "Push it down, damn you! PUSH!"

Rukh stumbled, pressed his shoulder against the ladder. Orc fingers clawed over the top, black nails scraping the stone. He screamed, shoved with all his weight. For a heartbeat it didn’t move—then the ladder tipped.

The orcs clinging to it howled as the whole thing crashed backward, bodies crunching when it hit the ground below.

Rukh gasped for air, chest heaving. Blood sprayed across his face from somewhere else. He wiped it, then froze as another ladder slammed just two steps down. More orcs clambered up like spiders.

"Hold the line!" the veteran beside him swung his axe, cleaving into the first orc’s skull as it reached the top. Another orc leapt forward, roaring, only to be met with a spear in the gut from the soldier next to Rukh.

The wall shook under the chaos.

On the ground outside the wall, Yulena had already met the Breaker.

The mutated orc roared, its massive fists smashing down where she had stood a second before. The earth cracked and dust exploded. Yulena rolled aside, mane sparking blue, then darted forward with surprising speed for her massive frame. Her claws flashed, raking across the beast’s plated chest. Sparks flew. Blood sprayed dark and thick.

The Breaker bellowed in rage, swinging a tree-trunk arm. Yulena ducked under it and drove a fist into its ribs. The shockwave cracked bone. The monster staggered back, but did not fall.

"Strong..." she muttered, baring her fangs. Her eyes burned with challenge.

The Breaker slammed its fists into the ground, then ripped up a chunk of stone and hurled it at her like a boulder. Yulena braced, claws tearing into the rock midair, splitting it apart. Shards blasted against her hide, drawing streaks of blood, but she barely flinched.

With a roar, she leapt high, her mane blazing with electric light. The Breaker raised its arms to block, but Yulena crashed down on its shoulders, claws digging deep. The monster howled, flailing, trying to rip her off. She sank her teeth into its neck, blood spraying like a fountain.

The Breaker spun, slamming into the wall, trying to crush her. Soldiers on the battlements stumbled as the impact rattled the stone.

"Gods above," one gasped, watching her cling on.

Back at Rukh’s position, another ladder toppled, but more replaced it. Orcs swarmed up, snarling and spitting curses in their guttural tongue.

"Krash dem walls! Rip dere guts!"

"Bleed, softskins! Bleed fer da Blood God!"

Rukh stabbed his spear forward, catching an orc in the throat as it crested the battlement. Hot blood sprayed across his arm. His stomach churned, but he pulled the spear free, hands shaking.

"Good lad!" the veteran roared, hacking down another.

But more came. Always more.

Below, Yulena and the Breaker traded blow for blow, sparks and blood spraying with every impact. She ducked a crushing fist, slashed open its thigh, then rolled free as it stomped down hard enough to crater the earth. The monster bellowed, headbutting her hard enough to rattle her teeth, sending her skidding back across the dirt.

She spat blood, then smirked. "That all you got?"

Her claws lit up blue. She lunged again.