CHAPTER 227: THE ENDLESS CAMPAIGN

Deep within the glowing blue liquid of Tank 001, the towering, eight-foot garrison commander, known among his brethren as Khor’zul, opened his eyes to a sky torn open in crimson flame. Selected to lead the thirteen-thousand-strong Castle Guard Army left behind to secure Castle Precipice, Khor’zul now commanded the dreamscape battlefield. Before him stretched an infinite plain of scorched black ash, churning under the stomping feet of a horde of abyssal horrors. Horned chimeras, multi-limbed shadow beasts, and skeletal titan-crawlers surged across the horizon in an endless, shrieking wave. In the wild past, the greenskins would have broken ranks, thrashing blindly and throwing themselves into the teeth of the swarm in a suicidal frenzy of blood and bone.

Not anymore. Even in stasis, the sovereign’s imprinted codex governed every breath.

Khor’zul stood atop a jagged crag of volcanic basalt, his heavy black iron plate armor gleaming red under the dream-sky, his massive broadsword resting over one armored shoulder. He drew his blade, his voice erupting from his throat, a harsh, gravel-caked roar that sounded like grindstones crushing boulders.

"SQUARES ONE TO TWENTY, FORM PHALANX!" Khor’zul growled, his voice deep, guttural, and laced with absolute, iron command. "INTERLOCK SHIELDS! PIKES LOWERED, LEVEL THREE! MOVE, YOU BRUTES!"

Below him, thousands of massive orc titans snapped into position like a single, colossal iron mechanism. Towering rectangular shields slammed together with a deafening, metallic CLANG, forming an unbroken, seamless wall of black alloy. Between the shield gaps, three rows of long hoplite pikes thrust outward in perfect unison, creating an impenetrable forest of glinting tips.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"BRACE!" Khor’zul barked, his sharp, yellowed eyes calculating the momentum of the incoming horde with cold, ruthless precision. "HOLD THE LINE, KHRRR, HOLD IT!"

The monstrous wave crashed against the shield wall with the force of a falling mountain. Claws scraped uselessly against mithril; acid-spitting maws gnawed at the interlocking plates. The garrison phalanx did not yield an inch.

"THRUST!"

In flawless, mechanical synchronization, the front rank drove their heavy pikes forward in tight, rhythmic thrusts. Black beast-blood sprayed across the ash as scores of abyssal monsters were impaled, lifted, and tossed backward onto their crawling brethren.

"SQUARES TWENTY-ONE TO THIRTY, FLANK MANEUVER, RIGHT WHEEL!"

Khor’zul bellowed, his guttural roar rattling his officers' ears as he swung his blade down in a sweeping arc. "SMASH THEM!"

From the flank, secondary heavy infantry squares wheeled in a crisp, right-angle maneuver, slamming their shields directly into the exposed side of the monster swarm, crushing the beasts in a brutal crossfire of cold iron and iron-clad boots.

Standing amidst the thunderous roar of endless slaughter, Khor’zul felt a deep, feral euphoria surging through his veins. There were no permanent deaths, no crippling exhaustion, and no shortage of enemies before them. Under the sovereign’s sacred tactical codex, they were no longer brainless brutes, they were the immovable shield of Castle Precipice, commanding the field of absolute war until the day their tanks were opened.

A vicious, tusked grin carved across Khor’zul’s face as another million monstrosities crested the distant ridge. He tightened his grip on his broadsword, letting out a deep, rolling guttural laugh that shook the red dirt beneath his boots.

"GRAAAAH! ADVANCE!" Khor’zul roared into the endless crimson sky, leading his phalanx forward into the glorious, infinite march. "FOR THE SOVEREIGN!"