The situation turned chaotic as 600 greenskins and humans alike fought on the hills. Corpses piled up and intermingled on the ground, painting the grassy land red with fresh blood.

The sharp smell of iron mixed with a symphony of clashing blades, accompanied by battle cries and screams echoing all over the plains.

It looks less like a battle, and more like a slaughter. Everything looked so one-sided in favor of the humans 4 to 1, but one figure on the orcs' side stood out from the rest, slaughtering humans left and right to tip the battle in the orcs' favor.

A white-haired elf slashed all around, decimating every single opponent who dared to stand against him. With each swing of his massive blade, screams of agony followed.

Said elf was not only faster and stronger than other opponents, he also held a superior weapon that could crush and cut its opponents easily.

Splat!

The blade sliced the air, sending limbs flying and painting the clothes of those clashing with shades of red before their corpses joined the sea of blood and flesh trampled beneath their feet.

It was a bloodbath.

None of the barbarians could hold a candle against the elf named Tristan. He kept on slashing, each fallen enemy becoming the fuel to set the flames of his excitement ablaze. In his trance, he was undefeatable.

In the middle of this carnage, half a dozen blue tattooed warriors charged at him at the same time. With one coordinated movement, they jumped up and brought down their weapons, trying to overwhelm Tristan with sheer numbers.

But Tristan was not himself, the excitement and urges mixed together and trapped him in a trance of madness and slaughter.

"Who wants to go first?!" He shouted with a wicked smile

Right as the words left his mouth, Tristan slashed to the right, splitting one of the blue-tattooed warriors right at the waist and left him to die with eyes wide open. Another was kicked hard enough to shatter bones and thrown like a ragdoll next to the fallen one.

The other three tried again, this time they jumped to attack him from the back.

Tristan let out a chilling, amused laugh in response.

"Ah, such a classic attack."

Tristan was not fast enough to dodge all three of them, he chose and one of the attackers pierced his shoulder with their barbarian sword. As expected, the attack missed his vital organs.

Splat! Blood splattered to the side of his opponent's face and Tristan's cheeks.

The blue-tattooed warrior smiled in joy, seeing his efforts to hurt the elf had paid off and he managed to wound Tristan. But, the smile was wiped off his face the moment Tristan gripped his sword arm and squeezed it hard, until the cracking of shattered bones could be heard.

Aaaaaaarrrrrgggghhh!

Tristan pulled out the sword and the blue-tattooed warrior with it, and slammed his opponent to the ground before stabbing the barbarian's head with the weight of his massive sword.

His scream was partly due to the pain, but the excitement overpowered him, making the pain invisible and showing the opponents a creepy grin splattered with blood instead.

The other four previously fearless blue-tattooed warriors were shaken. They were unable to believe such a monstrous elf existed.

They froze for a split second due to hesitation, but that time was enough to spell their doom. Tristan charged forward in the blink of an eye and swung down his large sword, bisecting another two warriors and left them to die with eyes wide open.

Watching their powerful blue-tattooed warriors getting massacred one after another, the other barbarians started to unconsciously take a few steps back.

The barbarians' fear was the orcs' excitement. The battle slowly but surely swung in their favor.

Cchiiiwiilkkl!! Chwiiwiikk!!

What was left of the green-skinned orcs on the right side started to get up and shout with renewed morale. Their strength seemed to return, and one after another, they started to push back against the shaken barbarians.

Tristan was lost in the haze of his excitement, to the point he no longer cared about blood extraction.

Kill…

Kill…

Kill more, slaughter more, drink in the despair of his enemies.

Tristan decided to move out to the center, where the female orc was busy fighting.

With every step he took, one barbarian died beneath his feet, creating a trail of dead bodies with their faces trampled. After carving the path, Tristan saw a particular barbarian standing at the back of the lines, waiting while accompanied by strong-looking barbarians.

The barbarian wore metallic braiding on the chest, with chains made of gold adorning his shoulder.

Tristan could clearly tell from the way the barbarian carried himself and the guards all around that he was their leader.

Tristan flashed a mischievous smile and used his sword to carve the way through the enemy's shield wall, attempting to pave a way and slaughter the leader to lower the barbarians' morale.

Splaaattt! Splatttt!

While Tristan was busy taking his time to slaughter the enemies, a loud sound drew everyone's attention, be it barbarians and orcs alike.

Thhhooeeetttttt!

Even with their difference in communication, everyone could tell the horn was blown not to commence battle, but to retreat. The long, almost sorrowful vibration in the air was a cue for the barbarians to pull their weapons and retreat.

Of course, the orcs and Tristan would not just let their enemies go that easily. Seeing no downside in chasing them, Tristan decided to dash towards the retreating enemies and cut them all down with the regard of someone mowing an overgrown, dirty lawn.

The cries of circling crows in the air and the color of blood mixing with the reddened skies of the setting sun marked the end of the first battle.

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