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Jimmy's heavy blade was impossible to miss.
That weapon alone made him stand out on the battlefield.
But why would he charge out alone?
There were too many orcs. Even monsters would tire eventually.
Raw bravery meant very little against overwhelming numbers.
Did he really believe one man could hold the Lonely Mountain by himself?
"Kill them."
The first strike came from the spinning axe ballista.
Bolts screamed through the air, rotating violently like a steel net.
Three razor-edged cables stretched between the blades.
Boom!
The moment they hit the ground, an entire section of orcs was erased.
Whirr! Whirr! Whirr!
Another volley followed.
Then came the thunder.
Jimmy charged straight into the enemy formation.
His blade tore through flesh and armor alike, carving a bloody corridor through the horde as if he were cutting through straw.
Ogres, Veteran orcs, Elite troops.
None of it mattered.
Every enemy was just another swing away from death.
Jimmy glanced briefly at the rapidly climbing experience bar, then shut everything else out.
Now there was only killing.
He fought with both hands on the blade, ignoring the spears, swords, and axes crashing against him.
No defense.
Only forward momentum.
Attack after attack.
Relentless pressure.
"Roar."
The sight of a single warrior tearing through the battlefield sent a surge of adrenaline through every defender watching.
Thoom! Thoom! Thoom!
From the walls, Bard's massive ballista began picking off ogres one by one.
These ogres were wrong.
Twisted by Sauron's corruption, they could move in daylight.
The sun was muted by thick fog, but that alone should not have been enough.
Boom! Boom!
Two violent explosions echoed from the city wall, followed by screams.
Jimmy turned his head.
In the distance, several ogres carried crude siege launchers on their backs, hurling massive stones toward the fortifications.
They were doing too much damage.
Priority target.
Jimmy changed direction instantly.
The orcs noticed his intent just as quickly.
A unit of warg riders surged forward to intercept him, led by a massive orc mounted on a great panther.
A commander.
Just below Azog himself.
Intercept him?
Against a charging Jimmy?
One strike.
"Mighty Cleave."
Jimmy accelerated in a sudden burst of speed, cleaving straight through both rider and beast.
Four pieces hit the ground.
The kill was almost insulting.
They never expected him to get faster.
Now moving at full speed, Jimmy realized his blade was starting to resist against heavy armor.
He dismissed it into the Horadric Cube without hesitation.
Wolf claws extended.
Slash! Slash! Slash!
Afterimages filled the battlefield as Jimmy ricocheted between wargs and orcs like a living projectile.
Every impact meant at least one death.
When he finally stood before the ogres operating the siege weapons, drenched in blood, even their dull minds hesitated.
One step back.
"Fuck....off!!"
Jimmy lunged.
His claw blades sliced through ogre necks as easily as cutting soft fruit.
The entire siege unit was wiped out in seconds.
The orcs likely believed the Lonely Mountain was already ruined by Smaug.
They never expected to need heavy siege weapons, which was why there were so few.
Thankfully.
Because the hastily repaired walls would never have survived sustained bombardment.
With the siege unit destroyed, Jimmy turned back toward the main orc army.
Experience was waiting.
And he intended to collect every last drop.
…
Slaughter.
Endless slaughter.
Jimmy no longer had time to pay attention to the battle around the Lonely Mountain.
After everything that had been prepared, if the battle was still lost, then the outcome would no longer be something Jimmy could control.
At this point, Jimmy was deep in the killing trance.
Wherever orcs gathered, he went there.
Wherever ogres appeared, he followed.
Where Jimmy passed, chaos followed.
So much so that the orcs had begun avoiding him altogether.
…
"Charge!"
The dwarven goat riders finally surged forward.
The elves loosed their final volleys, emptying their quivers before drawing curved blades and raising shields as they advanced.
Humans followed close behind.
The counterattack had begun.
A full-scale counterattack.
The sound of the charge horn snapped Jimmy out of his blood haze.
He looked up toward the mountain ridge, where the enemy commander directed the battle.
A single moon hung high in the sky.
The fighting had already lasted a full day and most of the night.
Thankfully, Jimmy's priorities had been clear.
The ogres had been dealt with early.
If they were still alive now, empowered by darkness, their thick hides would have made them nearly impossible to kill.
"Since the charge horn has sounded," Jimmy muttered, "this battle should be ending."
A deep, guttural roar answered him.
A fresh unit of cave orcs burst onto the field, crashing straight into the advancing goat riders and slowing their momentum.
Cavalry that lost speed was nothing more than moving targets.
Jimmy immediately changed direction, cutting toward them to carve an opening.
When the orcs saw him coming, instinct told them to retreat.
But their orders were to stop the charge.
They hesitated.
That single moment of indecision was enough.
The goat riders smashed through.
"Fall back. Fall back now."
Under Jimmy's cover, the riders disengaged and pulled back safely.
Jimmy retreated with them to the breach in the outer city.
At that moment, everyone shared the same thought.
Lure them in.
Finish them inside the ruins.
Out on the open ground, surrounded on all sides, individual strength meant nothing.
Inside the broken city, narrow streets and tight alleys favored the defenders.
Short, compact spaces were made for dwarves.
They were death traps for tall, heavily built orcs.
Use your strengths.
Exploit the enemy's weaknesses.
When Jimmy pulled back, the orcs mistook it for weakness.
With reinforcements arriving, they surged forward, charging straight into the outer city of Erebor.
…
Hidden arrows.
Spears from blind corners.
Blades striking from the shadows.
The orcs were slaughtered.
After a night of brutal fighting, the enemy finally realized the truth.
The outer city was a trap.
They withdrew, regrouping outside the gates, preparing to reorganize and push through with sheer numbers.
"This won't work," Thorin said, stumbling toward Jimmy, breathing heavily. "Jimmy, we have to kill Azog. If he lives, the orc army won't collapse."
Jimmy stood there, armor soaked completely red.
Each step he took left a blood-soaked footprint behind him.
This was not a figure of speech.
He had truly fought bathed in blood.
"I know," Jimmy replied grimly. "But every time I try to push toward Azog, he disappears. He never gives me a chance."
Azog was cautious. Too cautious.
He used the army to contain Jimmy, even deploying chains specifically designed to restrain him.
Whenever Jimmy appeared, chains filled the air.
It forced Jimmy to stay mobile, never holding ground, never staying in one place too long.
It didn't slow the experience gain.
But it was a constant nuisance.
Worse still, the moment Jimmy charged toward Azog, the orc leader would quietly retreat, reappearing far from Jimmy to resume command.
The dwarves and elves were exhausted.
Losses were heavy.
Even Jimmy wanted this battle to end.
But Azog was infuriatingly difficult to kill.
An orc warlord who knew when to run.
That alone felt wrong.
Very wrong.
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