Chapter 58: Slapped The Head Off

Lancelote frowned. Judging from the guards and priests outside, it didn't seem like the dragon had left. Moreover, he believed that since Timmah had spent ten years preparing and investigating, if he said the dragon should be here, then it absolutely should be here.

"Where's the dragon? Come out!" Stog once again swung his massive axe, creating a whooshing sound. This completely unexpected situation had turned his fighting spirit and fervor into anger—not just the anger of a warrior, but also the fear of the unknown. He had no idea what was going on.

"Come out—" Before he could finish his roar, Stog's head suddenly shattered. Fragments of bone, brain matter, and blood scattered everywhere. His two bull horns, however, remained intact, spinning in the air for a moment before falling to the ground.

The battle in Othello was far from over; in fact, it was growing more intense.

The minotaur warriors were no longer just guarding Shaman Timmah on the platform. They had all taken up their axes and charged at the dark elves, clashing fiercely with the lizard riders.

Axes hacked into the bodies of the giant lizards, while the lances of the dark elf riders pierced the vital points of the minotaur warriors. The lizards' massive jaws tore off chunks of flesh with each bite. Amid the deafening roars and sprays of blood, neither side fell. Instead, they pressed forward, hacking, stabbing, and biting with even greater ferocity. The giant lizards' vitality was astonishing, and the minotaurs' endurance was equally formidable, especially in their semi-frenzied state. Often, it wasn't until the lizards were reduced to pulp, their riders dragged down and slaughtered, and the minotaur warriors riddled with holes like sieves, that both sides finally collapsed.

These two powerful melee units had once caused great suffering to human armies in battles against Alrasia. Now, locked in combat with each other, they were like two meat grinders churning against one another.

The floating evil eyes and harpies in the air no longer held a significant advantage. The dark elves' powerful bows and crossbows could also harm them. The massive bolts fired from ballistae turned the slow-moving evil eyes into easy targets, popping them like balloons with each shot. The medusas had also joined the fray. Though slow-moving, their archery was incredibly accurate, and harpies fell from the sky in droves. The minotaur warriors, however, were hesitant to engage these ranged attackers in close combat. At close range, the medusas' gaze could petrify or paralyze even the robust minotaurs.

Magic was no longer the sole domain of Shaman Timmah. Fireballs, ice arrows, poison, and walls of fire flew in all directions. Large-scale spells like bloodlust, curses, and weakness lit up the battlefield. Minotaur priests and dark elf priests engaged in a dazzling display of spellcasting, targeting each other's troops. The ruins of Othello, spanning several miles, had now fully transformed into a battlefield, filled with the sounds of battle cries and screams.

Shaman Timmah stood on the platform, looking down at the chaotic scene below. His expression was grim.

Matriarch Trihana lay at his feet, her limbs broken.

"Damn it! Where did things go wrong?" Timmah roared.

"How should I know? You said your plan was foolproof!" Chief Lorelei was equally furious. All of her tribesmen had joined this battle, and as she watched harpies fall from the sky, pierced by medusa arrows, she felt like biting Timmah.

Beside them floated an evil eye. This evil eye was much larger than the others, with not just one central eye capable of emitting scorching rays, but also several smaller eyes surrounding it. This was the leader of all evil eyes. Though it had a massive mouth beneath its central eye, it couldn't speak. This creature communicated telepathically, and the waves of disgust emanating from it made it clear that it, too, was dissatisfied with the current situation.

What had turned the battle into a stalemate wasn't the Othello forces, which had been half-dead from the initial magical bombardment, but the dark elf and medusa reinforcements that had arrived from all directions. The Othello forces, compared to the full might of the minotaur army, were no match. Though they had tried to break through, they were quickly crushed by the prepared minotaur troops. Even Matriarch Trihana had been captured. The dark elf scouts sent to seek help had all been intercepted. Timmah, who had planned this for ten years, had naturally anticipated this. Despite the scouts' advanced stealth skills, they were no match for the evil eyes stationed at key points.

But the ten-year plan had inexplicably gone awry. The forces from the other four dark elf cities had simultaneously detected Timmah's movements and sent reinforcements. Though they couldn't save Othello, they had caught the minotaur coalition forces, which were preparing to regroup and march on another city, off guard.

What worried Timmah the most was that there had been no news from the temple knights.

"May the Shadow Dragon curse your souls to inhabit the bodies of maggots, rolling in troglodyte dung for eternity!" Matriarch Trihana, lying on the ground, continued to curse in a hoarse voice.

"No need to pray to the Shadow Dragon. They're about to bring me Moriel's head," Timmah said, stomping on Trihana's foot. She let out a sharp scream. There was no sound of bones breaking—under the minotaur's immense weight and hooves, the dark elf's delicate bones were no sturdier than biscuits, crushed silently.

After gasping and moaning for a while, Trihana, surprisingly, hadn't passed out. Struggling, she asked, "Was it you who broke the seal on the great Moriel over ten years ago?"

"Who else would dare enter that dragon's lair but you dark elves? I just took advantage of it. I know Moriel hasn't been comfortable these past ten years," Timmah said with a smile.

"Was it you who persuaded Moriel's envoy to leave Nigen? Even we only had a few elders who knew about this. If Moriel's envoy were still here, you wouldn't have dared to do this…"

"No more 'ifs.' There are no 'ifs' in this world," Timmah said, his hoof landing on Trihana's head. He didn't use much force—just enough to knock her out.

The battle was slowly turning in the minotaurs' favor. They had the advantage in numbers and combat strength, and reinforcements from the rear were arriving. Though the victory was costly, it seemed inevitable.

Timmah looked at the harpies and the evil eye. "Though there have been some hiccups, we still have the upper hand. I've sent for troglodyte slaves. Once we finish here, we'll head straight for the dark elf and medusa strongholds. As for Moriel, there's no need to worry. The temple knights are more than enough to handle him. Those seven are the church's elite. As long as they and Moriel take each other out, we'll be the ulTimmahte winners. Whether it's unifying Nigen or facing a weakened church when we emerge on the surface, we'll come out on top."

"How do you know they'll destroy each other? Neither side is foolish, and neither is someone we can handle," Lorelei asked, half-doubting.

"I have my ways. They're just pawns on my chessboard," Timmah said with a smile, resembling a stone golem.

"You sent fifty of your best warriors with them. Are you just going to sacrifice them?"

"To gain something, you must be willing to sacrifice. To take out the church's seven most valuable pieces, sacrificing fifty or sixty warriors is a small price. Even if they were my own sons, it would be the same," Timmah said, his smile more human than minotaur.

"Screech!" The evil eye suddenly twisted its body, its head-sized central eye focusing on a nearby rock wall. It had been swaying its strange form, as if searching for something, and had finally found it.

Lorelei and Timmah were startled, their gazes following the evil eye's.

The smaller eyes around the evil eye's central eye lit up, their beams converging on the rock wall. In the overlapping light, a figure appeared where the wall had been.

Seeing that it was a person, Lorelei and Timmah were first surprised, then horrified as they recognized him as one of the seven temple knights. But when they saw what he was holding, especially when Timmah sensed the magical energy emanating from it, they were utterly terrified.

"Stop him! Stop him!" Timmah screamed, much like Matriarch Trihana had earlier.

Stog was the commander of the Satyr Temple guards, a position only the greatest warrior among the minotaurs could hold. Though his intelligence, like that of most minotaurs, wasn't remarkable, his combat prowess was beyond question. In battles against Alrasia and the church, his massive axe had even decapitated temple knights.

Even Lancelote had to admit that, in a straight fight, it would take him several minutes to defeat this minotaur. But now, in the blink of an eye, the greatest warrior among the minotaurs had lost his head. Stog's headless body swayed for a moment, his massive steel axe still in hand as if he wanted to swing it one last time, but ultimately, he collapsed with a thunderous crash.

His massive bull head had been slapped off by a single hand.