Chương 61: 61：Breaking the Colosseum

He casually snatched up an orcish double-edged battle axe.

"Over there!" Renn roared, having just snapped the necks of two orcs attempting to near the gate with his bare hands. He pointed toward a massive steel winch. The colosseum's half-meter-thick steel portcullis was locked tight by a chain as thick as a man's calf. Ordinary blades wouldn't even leave a scratch, let alone strike a spark against it. Soren stared coldly at the heavy chain. He didn't have the brute strength to chop through it.

Moving to the side of the winch, he precisely wedged the double-edged axe into the weakest gap between the teeth of the driving gears. Beside him, Renn frowned in confusion. How is that going to cut it?

"Leverage," Soren stated flatly. Without missing a beat, he delivered a savage kick to the locking latch securing the winch. CLANG! The latch shattered. Freed from its restraint, the massive gear violently spun in reverse, driven by the gravitational pull of the tens of thousands of pounds of the falling steel gate. The immense mechanical force of those crushing tons instantly bore down entirely onto the blade of the axe wedged between the gears. Creak... Magnified by the raw power of leverage—SNAP!

The seemingly uncuttable chain violently ruptured in two! RUMBLE! RUMBLE! Stripped of its final restraint, the towering, colossal main gate slammed halfway down before roaring outward, opening a glaring, light-filled avenue of escape!

"The gate is open!" The despairing prisoners of war erupted into throat-tearing roars. Renn shot Soren a profound look. This man was far beyond anything he could have imagined.

"Go!" Renn shouted, preparing to dash out of this living hell. But to his shock, Soren, who had already reached the threshold, abruptly skidded to a halt. He didn't step through the gates. Renn whipped his head back in utter disbelief. He watched as the blood-soaked madman pivoted and charged straight back toward the entrance of the underground death row.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Genuine disbelief finally cracked Renn's stoic expression.

"The gate is breached! Once those orcs realize there's no army waiting outside, they'll turn back and slaughter us! The way out is right here—run!"

"No time for bullshit," Soren threw back, not even turning his head as his figure disappeared into the dark, damp, subterranean corridor. CLANG! CLANG! With a series of brutal kicks, Soren shattered the cast-iron locks securing the cages. Inside the gloomy dungeon, the human prisoners of war were huddled in the corners, shivering in absolute despair. Soren's cold, unyielding face looked down from above at the stunned, statue-still inmates.

"If you don't want to rot into maggot food down here, get on your damn feet!" he roared.

"Follow me and run for your miserable lives!" The prisoners burst into tears. In this dark, dog-eat-dog era, no one—absolutely no one—would ever turn back when their own escape was guaranteed. No one would risk their life to plunge back into the depths of a hopeless dungeon, just to smash their chains and carve out a path of survival for them! Even if they were to die here today, following a leader like this into the jaws of death made their miserable lives worth living!

"Run! Keep up with the Lord! Move!" Supporting each other, their eyes locked onto that sturdy, unshakeable back, hot tears streaming down their grime-covered faces. A massive throng of over two hundred slaves, shielded by the thick, billowing smoke flooding back into the corridors, forced their way out of the subterranean tunnels! Just outside the main gates of the bloody colosseum.

The sixty-four elite infantrymen, having successfully transformed the perimeter into a fiery purgatory, spotted the familiar silhouette leading a massive tide of prisoners through the archway. Gary and Ein drew their weapons in sheer excitement. Ein's voice rang out, trembling with excitement yet anchored in discipline.

"The Lord has broken them out!"

"Form ranks! Fan out!" The sixty-four heavy-armored elites showcased their flawless discipline. Breaking into tight three-man halberdier squads, their armor clattered crisply as they seamlessly splintered apart. They spread across the chaotic terrain like a bristling hedgehog, interlocking their fields of defense in a perfect vanguard formation. Standing as the absolute rearguard at the exit, Soren threw one last look over his shoulder.

He cast a freezing glare at the Black Iron Orcs, who were still lingering in the distance, gripped by hesitation and paranoia. Even though the orcs were beginning to snap out of their daze, the thick smoke completely obscured the size of the "ambushing army" outside. Terrified of a trap, they remained stubbornly huddled in the spectator stands, not daring to send a single troop beyond the gates to pursue. This battle was an absolute crushing victory.

Soren had masterfully exploited the Black Iron Orcs' fatal weakness—their mandatory need to protect their nobles—to paralyze them completely.

"Fall back!" Soren barked, sweeping his cloak aside. Shielded by the sixty-four elite infantrymen, Renn and the over two hundred newly liberated prisoners vanished openly and triumphantly into the impenetrable miasma and thick smoke. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The dense, suffocating miasma gradually swallowed the blazing inferno and the enraged, blood-curdling roars of the orcs left behind.

Deep within the muddy swamps, over two hundred ragged, dirt-caked figures trudged forward, their feet sinking and dragging through the muck. Renn the Monk walked near the vanguard. His eyes were glued to the man in the torn linen tunic marching ahead of them. Waves of profound shock still crashed through his mind. As an ascetic monk who had spent years forging his physical body to the absolute limit, Renn believed there were very few in the realm of hand-to-hand combat who could ever force him to bow his head.

But today, what had transpired on those blood-soaked yellow sands had utterly pulverized his pride. That man had relied on nothing but his flesh and blood. In under two minutes, going blow-for-blow against the monstrous strength of the orcs, he had used his bare hands to lock joints, dislocate bones, and literally rip out throats—slaughtering four elite orc guards right on the spot! Yet, what truly sent shivers down Renn's spine and won his absolute submission wasn't just the man's terrifying martial prowess.

It was his terrifying intellect. Savage... absolutely savage, Renn thought, unable to stop replaying the battle in his mind as he walked. Storming a heavily guarded colosseum to rescue prisoners was, to any sane person, an act of sheer suicidal madness. But this man had never intended to fight a war of attrition against hundreds of fully armed orc guards from the very beginning. He had pinpointed the absolute crux of the siege: the exalted orc nobility sitting in the spectator stands.

By threatening them, he had completely paralyzed the hundreds of heavy-armored orcs. The garrison commander would rather shoulder the blame of letting prisoners escape than risk unleashing magic or heavy crossbow volleys. The sheer terror of accidentally wounding a noble and facing mass execution kept them from firing a single shot—or even daring to pursue. Striking at the enemy's absolute vulnerability to force their hand. To weave such a flawless tactical web in a split-second filled Renn with boundless awe.

After crossing a shallow creek, the convoy finally called for a brief halt. The exhausted prisoners collapsed into the tall reeds along the banks, greedily gulping down the fresh water. Soren scrubbed the grime and dried blood off his face with the creek water, revealing a sharp, chiseled jawline. He walked directly up to Renn.

"You've got iron bones and a heavy punch," Soren said.

"Back in that death ward, I told you I'd carve a path out for us alive. Now, honor your end of the bargain. Swear your allegiance to me. Train my men, and slaughter orcs in my name!" Renn stood up. Looking closely at the face before him, it suddenly hit him just how shockingly young this leader was. He took a deep breath and spoke with solemn conviction.

"I, Renn, only follow the truly strong. You kept your word, so this life of mine is yours to command. But... I realize I still don't even know my commander's name." Soren turned his gaze toward the direction of Greywater Village, softly uttering a single name:"Soren."

"Soren?" The moment the name registered, Renn's eyes blew wide open. To the prisoners rotting in the underground death row, that name was like a thunderclap from the heavens! Over the past month, every new face tossed into the cells—whether they were military officers from the Holy Halycon Empire or shadow-sentries from the Silvermoon Kingdom—had whispered the exact same mysterious rumor. Here, in the misty swamps occupied by Warchief Blackstone's hundred-thousand-strong army, a mysterious human had surfaced!

A man who had poisoned over a hundred Blacksteel Orcs. A man who had fought out of a death-trap to slay a Son of Titan and its impregnable rock shield. A man who had moved like a ghost in the dead of night to raid Bonebreaker Pass, the absolute lifeline of the orc supply routes! With every single battle, he was shattering the myth of the Orc Alliance's invincibility.

He had violently ripped open a sliver of hope in an era of absolute despair, allowing all captive humans to smell something they never thought possible: the scent of the orcs' own fear.

"It was you... It was actually you!" Renn's breathing grew ragged, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned white.

"If we follow you, we really can use those greenskins' skulls as wine goblets!" Without a sliver of hesitation, Renn dropped to one knee, splashing into the muddy creek. He slammed his right fist over his heart.

"I, Renn the Monk, swear upon the stars! I will sweep away every last one of your enemies!" Soren reached out, gripping Renn's shoulder with an iron clasp, and hauled him right back up from the mud.

"I don't believe in gods. I only believe in the soldiers under my command. Fall in." Soren turned, his gaze sweeping across the two hundred-plus prisoners resting along the banks. After a brief round of interrogation, he quickly pieced together the backgrounds of his newest recruits.