Magic? My Iron Torrent will sweep it all away!

Chapter 158 The Reactions of the Orcs and the Holy Humans

Just as the royal city was engulfed in revelry, the atmosphere inside the orc delegation's encampment was strange.

A burly werewolf scout was carefully rolling up a piece of intelligence he had just obtained from inside the city and stuffing it into a specially made leather tube.

"Boss, this news...it's terrifying," another Minotaur warrior said in a muffled voice.

"Those elves with their skinny arms actually managed to beat the demons so badly they were running for their lives?"

"They are not elves, but visitors from another world called 'Great Xia People'."

The leader of the orcs was a burly old werewolf named Greymane, whose gray eyes gleamed with a sharp light.

The ceramic cup in his hand shattered with a crash, and rough shards pierced his palm, but he was completely unaware.

"Their weapons changed everything."

Greymane listened to the distant cheers of the elves, which sounded incredibly jarring at that moment.

"The elves have become stronger, while we..." His voice was bitter.

"We have lost our fertile forests and grasslands, and we are still fighting each other, even nearly turning against each other over disagreements about surrendering."

The encampment was deathly silent, and all the orcs lowered their heads in silence.

"We can't just sit here and wait to die!" Greymane jumped up and grabbed the leather tube from the scout's hand.

"We must send this message back to the tribe immediately!"

"Tell the clan chief that we also need to make contact with these Great Xia people."

"We can use those weapons called technology too!"

"We, too, can win!"

Greymane turned his gaze to the distant horizon beyond the royal city.

The orc race struggles to survive on this land.

In terms of systems, it must be admitted that they are not as good as other races, resulting in a lack of resilience in war and a disorganized state.

Now, he saw an opportunity, an opportunity to reignite the fighting spirit of the orc race, to take up arms, and to stand tall again!

……

Beneath the dome of the Cathedral of Holy Light, the atmosphere was solemn and dignified.

The Pope sat on a throne made of pure gold, holding a battle report from the front lines.

His fingers rubbed together, as if savoring the great victories of the past years.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice echoing in the empty hall:

"Knight Commander Kane, an ordinary soldier, can unleash Tier 1 combat power just by wielding a 'rifle'?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." Kane stepped forward, his expression respectful.

"If a mage bestows various blessings upon the ammunition, its power can be increased by another level."

"Their efficiency in killing low-level demons is revolutionary."

"And what about the tanks?" the Pope continued.

"Your Majesty, a fourth-tier knight can drive a tank." Kane recalled that scene, his voice brimming with excitement.

"With the blessing of holy light, its defense is strong enough to withstand attacks from a sixth-tier demon!"

"The main cannon, blessed, can severely injure a fifth-tier demon!"

"It's a mobile fortress that only requires one fourth-tier knight to operate!"

"Fortress..." the Pope repeated, a sharp glint in his eyes.

What does this mean?

This means that the 300,000 logistics troops of the Holy Human Race now have the potential to become combat forces!

This means that tens of thousands of low-level warriors will be able to unleash destructive power far exceeding their own level!

This is a revolution that could overturn the war, no, it could overturn the power structure of the Terra continent!

"The elves launched their campaign around the same time as us, and according to reports from our scouts, they also achieved a remarkable victory." The Pope's tone became meaningful.

"Presumably, the queen of Avinor is making the same decision as us at this moment."

The atmosphere inside the hall instantly became somewhat subtle.

A new factor has emerged that can shift the balance of power. Whoever can seize more of it will have a greater say in the future of Terra.

"Furthermore..." the Pope changed the subject, looking at Reno.

"That 'human-powered engine' tactic was very inspiring."

"Since our knights can push with their own strength, we don't need their kind of fuel called 'diesel' anymore."

Renault and Kane exchanged a glance, both seeing the obvious agreement in each other's eyes.

Yes, we, the Holy Human Race, have plenty of strength!

We know better than the Bactrians how to use these weapons!

This fuel cost could be saved and used to buy more weapons!

"Issue my decree!"

The Pope rose from his throne, his scepter striking the ground with a sharp, resounding thud.

"Order Archmage Kyle to immediately negotiate with the Great Xia people!"

"Tell them that the Holy Humans are willing to buy more weapons."

"Guns, tanks, artillery, ammunition... everything! All technological weapons, we want them all!"

"The more the better!"

The Pope gazed towards the entrance of the palace, his eyes seemingly piercing through space to reach the distant City of Emerald Leaves, and murmured:

"Kyle..."

"I don't care what methods you use, even if it means exposing the Holy Son's flattery!"

"We also need to find a way to get those weapons back for me!"

Meanwhile, the people of the City of Holy Light were experiencing a similar fervor to those in the Elf King's City.

Countless people spread the news, celebrating as if it were a festival.

Inside the dwarf "Steelbeard Blacksmith Shop".

"Clang! Clang! Clang!"

Thorin Steelbeard, shirtless, seemed to be having a somber conversation with the earth beneath his feet with each swing of his heavy hammer.

Sparks flew, illuminating his bronze skin and muscles that were as taut as the roots of an old tree.

Beads of sweat glistened on his signature, three-stranded, fiery red beard.

However, the rhythmic sound of blacksmithing today is constantly interrupted by the increasingly loud noise coming from the city.

"For victory!"

"By the Holy Light! We have driven back the demon's minions!"

"Bravour Commander Kane! Bravour General Reno!"

Cheers crashed against the blacksmith's shop door like waves.

Frustrated, Thorin stopped what he was doing and plunged the scalding hot sword blank into the quenching tank with a "sizzle," sending up a cloud of white steam.

"It's so noisy! What's wrong with these long-legged humans now?"

He grabbed a wooden goblet, almost as thick as his forearm, from the table next to him, and downed the rest of the ale in one gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing as he made gurgling sounds.

"Boss," a young dwarf apprentice poked his head out from the back room, his face beaming with barely concealed excitement.

"I just went out and overheard something, and my goodness, it sounds like they won a major victory at the front! A truly incredible triumph!"

"We won, so what's the big deal?" Thorin slammed his glass down on the table with a loud thud.

"They're just using a fallacy of deception, exaggerating minor, localized victories into massive triumphs!"

"Besides, when we dwarves win a battle, we just open bigger barrels of wine, instead of chattering on and on like those!"