Chapter 106: Varania’s Invasion [2]
The heavy, iron-reinforced doors of the frosty audience chamber didn’t just open.
They were violently thrown slammed back against the stone walls, scattering chips of jagged ice across the dark obsidian floor.
Norona’s high-ranking Troll advisor stumbled into the hall, his breath ragged, his eyes bloodshot and wide with unadulterated terror.
"Great King! Great King!" the Troll screamed.
He had completely abandoned his usual stately composure, his rich robes torn and stained with dark, fresh blood.
He scrambled toward the foot of the altar, his heavy legs trembling so violently he collapsed onto his knees before the four-meter-tall giant.
Razarak!
"What is this, Abumelon?" the Troll King questioned, staring down at his quivering advisor.
"Your Majesty! The eastern wall... the outer gates... they are gone!" the advisor shrieked, his voice cracking with pure panic as he pointed a trembling hand back toward the corridor.
"It’s the cursed beastmen!" he screamed.
"The Holy Kingdom of Varania has breached the city lines! They aren’t just invading..." his breath rasped as he continued "They are ruthlessly massacres our people! Our Orc divisions are being sliced to pieces by metal forged from Varanium!"
"They are burning the secondary streets with volatile oils! The Trolls... the Goblins... they are burning alive!"
"It’s a slaughterhouse out there!"
Despite the advisor’s frantic, horrified screams, the temperature in the chamber remained deathly still.
Standing before the altar, the two human knight-priests didn’t even flinch.
"Hmph, they came faster than we predicted"
Aradin merely scoffed, a cold, dark smirk playing on his pale lips, while Hector remained perfectly unbothered, his fathomless black eyes fixed entirely on the throne.
"Yes they did" Hector sighed, "What should we do? I don’t think the reinforcements would arrive until tomorrow"
They had predicted this.
The beastmen were arrogant, intoxicated by their newfound kingdom, and eager to strike before the wounds of the west could heal.
"Hmmm...."
High atop his throne, the Troll King Razarak remained absolutely calm.
The trembling of his hands from his previous encounter with Jarden Rome had vanished, replaced by the stoic, ruthless resolve of a monarch who had nothing left to lose.
He didn’t ask for a headcount.
He didn’t ask for details.
Slowly, his deep, rumbling voice vibrated through the stone vaults, executing a single, definitive order.
"This was within my expectation" Razarak gently stroked his chin, he laidback on his throne.
"Unleash the undead."
He commanded.
"Let’s purge those fragile beasts!"
***
The streets of Norona City was set ablaze, corpses piled together, the slaughter showed no discrimination.
Orcs, Ogres, Trolls and Goblins.
Women and children.
They were all butchered by the blades of Varania!
"Kill them all!!" a Sun Tiger-Man roared, the tall beastman swung down his Varanium steel battle axe.
Slicing through the hordes of charging Ogres, Rabbit-kin attacked from the shadows, due to their weak physique.
They could not fight against Orcs and Ogres.
Hyena-men tore through Norona’s forces with ease, auxiliary forces who had joined the military fought with fury.
They were all migrants who came from Yeren City, despite joining Varania’s Army voluntarily.
They were still considered auxiliary soldiers.
For them to be fully integrated into Varania’s Military, this invasion is what they truly needed.
They must prove themse against Orcs, Trolls, Ogres and Goblins.
A Wolf-man captain had just driven his Varanium broadsword through the chest of a desperate Orc when a sudden, unnatural shockwave of pure, localized necromantic mana rippled through the earth.
"What the hell was that?" a Fox-man asked.
Everyone felt it.
The ambient temperature didn’t just drop—it plummeted into an absolute, sub-zero freeze.
The roaring fires consuming the buildings flickered, turning a sickly, ghostly pale green.
GRAAAAAAAHHH—!!
From the subterranean catacombs and the hidden vaults beneath the Grand Sanctum, the ground shattered.
Thousands of undead frost mummies—the preserved, horrific remnants of Norona’s ancient reserves—rushed into the warzone like a devastating, blue-white tidal wave.
Their dried, linen-wrapped bodies were caked in thick, kinetic sheets of permafrost, their hollow eyes glowing with a mindless, voracious hunger for the living.
These weren’t soldiers meant to coordinate defensive formations; they were a cataclysmic plague of pure destruction.
The frost mummies careened into the battlefield with absolute, indiscriminate brutality.
A pack of them swarmed a frontline phalanx of Varanian Hyena-kin, their frozen, razor-sharp claws tearing through the heavy plates of alloyed armor, their icy mana instantly freezing the blood in the beastmen’s veins.
But they didn’t stop at the invaders.
A group of terrified, retreating Goblins and wounded Trolls cried out to the horde for salvation, but the mindless mummies descended upon them without a shred of hesitation.
A frost mummy jammed its frozen arm straight through the torso of a living Troll, tearing out its heart before stepping over the corpse to hunt down the next target.
Living Orcs were dragged down into the freezing mass alongside Wolf-kin skirmishers, their screams of betrayal and agony cut short as the mummies ruthlessly slaughtered both allies and enemies alike in a frenzied, chaotic bloodbath.
The strategic lines of the second invasion were completely thrown into absolute chaos as the icy, necrotic tide threatened to consume every living soul in Norona City.
"They’re finally here" his gentle voice echoed through the frosty landscape.
High above the chaotic, freezing meat-grinder of Norona City, General Trojan stood motionless at the apex of a towering, wind-swept sand dune.
The fierce desert wind whipped against his heavy dark-iron cloak, but his posture remained as rigid and unyielding as stone.
His sharp eyes tracked the rising pillars of black smoke and the sudden, sickly green flare of necrotic mana erupting across the western skyline.
Behind him, perfectly still and silent, stood four elite beastmen warriors.
These weren’t standard battalion captains; they were formidable Martial Masters, handpicked to serve as Trojan’s personal legion commanders and strategic council.
Their weapons were already unsheathed, their predatory instincts highly alert as they watched the horrifying tide of thousands of undead frost mummies flood the city streets.
"The Troll King has finally unleashed them huh?," one of the Martial Masters, Commander Maru, growled low in his throat, his hand tightening on the hilt of his Varanium broadsword.
The Hyena-man inhaled deeply, "He is slaughtering his own people just to slow our advance."
Trojan did not look back, his gaze completely fixed on the battlefield below.
He could see his frontline phalanxes shifting, adjusting their formations to handle the sudden, sub-zero assault of the horde.
There was no panic in his expression—only the cold, calculating mind of the supreme commander of Varania’s military.
"Let them unleash their dead," Trojan spoke, his voice deep, calm, and carrying an absolute authority that settled over his sub-commanders.
"A legacy built on corpses is already hollow." his lips curled faintly, "Every mummy they drag from the dirt will only taste Varanium steel."
He slowly rested his gloved hand on the pommel of his blade.
His majestic stature casting a long shadow over the crest of the dune as he prepared to orchestrate the next lethal phase of the invasion.
"Those humans are still within those walls right?" Commander Hyda, a migrant Hawk-kin, directl selected by General Trojan asked.
"Yes" General Trojan answered, "What about it?"
"Well nothing much" Commander Hyda smiled, "It’s just that those humans are Martial Lords"
"We can’t do anything to them..."
"What about the Dukes?" she asked, "When will they come?"
"When will they come huh?" General Trojan chuckled, his eyes flickered for a second, "That’s a stupid question to ask"
"After all...."
"They’re already here!"