Time rewound several hours earlier.
Southeast of Gundrak City, on a high plateau formed by rocky hills,
The biting cold wind lashed against the allied soldiers arrayed there.
Toka stood at the edge of the high ground, the cold rock firm beneath his feet.
He pulled his fur cloak tighter, his gaze piercing through the howling wind and snow, looking down at Gundrak, the ancient Ice Troll capital, surrounded by walls and trenches.
Behind him were over two thousand silent warriors.
Besides the Ital'ruk detachment he brought, there were more warriors from Lukare and several other smaller tribes who had agreed to submit to Ital'ruk but had not yet fully integrated.
Their equipment was far inferior to the main Ital'ruk force, and their morale was somewhat low from the long march and bitter cold, with a heavy, oppressive atmosphere hanging in the air.
Toka's mission was clear: to coordinate with the main force's offensive in the southwest, exert pressure on Gundrak from the southeast, and seize the opportunity to breach the city gates.
Intelligence provided by Ms. Zukora indicated that the southeastern defenses were relatively weak.
"Prepare to attack," Toka's voice wasn't particularly loud, but it was enough for the several chiefs and leaders around him to hear clearly.
His young face appeared exceptionally calm, only an occasional, unconscious touch to the divine emblem on his chest betrayed a hint of deep-seated unease.
Heavy war drums beat, mixed with the low blare of horns.
The allied forces began to advance towards the city walls below the high ground.
Arrows and javelins were the first to cut through the wind and snow, flying towards the city walls.
However, Gundrak's heavy city gates unexpectedly opened slowly as the allied forces approached the trench.
What emerged were not ordinary Frostmane Clan warriors, but squads of extremely well-equipped Troll warriors.
They wore ornate enchanted armor and wielded finely crafted steel weapons—they were the Frostmane Clan's proud Loa guards!
But Toka's eyes narrowed.
Something was wrong.
The eyes of these personal guards were terrifyingly vacant, their faces devoid of any expression, like puppets with their souls extracted.
Their movements were stiff and slow, lacking the sharp vigor expected of elites.
Even more bizarrely, behind them, clearly Frostmane Clan overseers were wielding whips and weapons, roughly driving these former "Divine Warriors" out of the city gates and towards the allied forces!
They were pushed and shoved, numbly crossing the drawbridge, walking towards the waiting allied forces, like livestock being herded to a slaughterhouse.
Once he understood the situation, Toka's breath caught in his throat.
This scene instantly touched the darkest corners of his memory.
That night, controlled by the whispers of the Old Gods, he was just like this, his body completely not his own.
His consciousness was trapped in a dark cage, watching helplessly as his own arms wielded a weapon, striking down comrades who fought by his side. That helplessness and despair, that cold numbness of having his soul forcibly stripped and reduced to a tool—although the situation was somewhat different, that sense of powerlessness and numbness was the same.
A chill instantly pierced Toka's entire body, more biting than the cold wind of this place.
Cold sweat seeped into his palms; he could barely grip the weapon at his waist.
"Lord Toka?" A warrior leader from the Lukare tribe beside him looked at him questioningly, awaiting the order to attack.
Toka snapped back to reality, forcefully suppressing the surging memories and that suffocating feeling.
"Suppress… suppressive fire! Drive them back!"
The command burst out, yet his voice carried a noticeable tremor.
Though confused, the allied soldiers still executed the order.
The direction of the arrow rain and javelins shifted, aiming more at shields and the ground ahead, attempting to hinder rather than annihilate.
Toka silently cursed himself: "Damn it! What are you doing? Pitying the enemy?"
But looking at those empty, numb eyes, he felt as if he saw his former self, and he simply couldn't give the command for a full-force attack.
His compassion, or rather, the inescapable shadow of the past, made the allied forces' offensive hesitant.
Even like walking corpses, the Loa guards, relying on their superior equipment and numbers, slowly advanced against the allied forces' suppressive fire.
Driven by the overseers, their steps were slow but firm.
In this way, they stubbornly dragged the allied forces into the quagmire of close combat in front of the city gates.
Precious attack time was wasted.
By the time Toka finally gritted his teeth, ready to order an all-out assault regardless of cost, it was already too late.
On Gundrak's city walls, a sharp whistle suddenly sounded!
From behind the previously silent battlements on both sides, a large number of Frost Howl archers suddenly appeared!
Even more deadly, from behind the snow hills on both flanks, which allied scouts had deemed safe, the ambushing forces poured out!
Two teams of well-equipped, fierce-eyed Frost Howl elite warriors charged out like beasts, their target directly the exposed flanks of the allied forces!
A trap!
Toka's face instantly turned pale.
He immediately understood Frost Howl's venomous scheme:
Use these former personal guards, whose hearts were dead after losing the Loa's protection, as bait and cannon fodder to draw the main allied force to gather in front of the city gates,
Then unleash the ambushers and encircle them in one fell swoop!
"Retreat! Quickly! Retreat to the rear! Maintain formation!" Toka's roar carried an unprecedented urgency, even cracking his voice.
The allied forces instantly fell into chaos.
The front lines were tightly entangled by those numb personal guards, while both flanks and the rear were fiercely assaulted by the Frost Howl ambushers!
Screams, the clash of weapons, and the death throes instantly drowned out the sound of the wind.
The formation collapsed at a visible speed, and soldiers fell like mown wheat.
"Hold them! Buy time for the retreat!" Toka's eyes were bloodshot; he knew that if they didn't cut off their tail to survive immediately, the entire allied force would be annihilated here.
"You go support the flanks!" Toka first gave the order to the Lukare warrior leader.
Then, he suddenly drew his weapon, turned, and shouted to his personal guards behind him: "Follow me! Block the city gate's drawbridge! Cover the main force's retreat!"
Without hesitation, this small team roared, charging back towards the drawbridge suspended over the trench, facing the incoming Frost Howl soldiers!
They would use their flesh and blood to create an opportunity for the allied forces' retreat!
Toka charged at the very front.
His weapon hacked and parried fiercely.
On the narrow drawbridge, every clash splattered blood.
Warriors beside him fell one after another, pierced by spears, cut down by battle-axes.
Blood stained the snow below the bridge, then quickly froze into dark red ice.
Toka felt a sharp pain in his ribs; a cold arrow had pierced his leather armor.
Immediately after, a heavy hammer blow struck his shoulder, and his bones made a cracking sound.
He fell to his knees, a metallic taste filled his mouth, and his vision began to blur.
He used his last ounce of strength to thrust his weapon into an enemy's chest.
Then, he finally couldn't hold on any longer and fell heavily backward.
Toka fell from the drawbridge, landing on the cold, dark red snowy ground.
In his blurring vision, the gray sky still sprinkled snowflakes, and in his ears, disorganized footsteps and the painful groans of dying Trolls intertwined.
Intense pain and blood loss rapidly blurred his consciousness.
Instinctively, with the hand he could still move, he desperately clutched the cold divine emblem on his chest, like a drowning man grasping at a last straw.
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