The wind howled across the jagged edges of Mount Ironcliff, carrying with it the scent of blood and ash. Snow clung to the mountain like a dying beast, patches of white broken by dark stone and trails of melted ice where energy rounds had scorched the terrain. High above the war-torn plains, three human soldiers advanced with calculated precision, their eyes scanning every shadow.

Commander Darius Holt led the team. Clad in reinforced composite armor and wielding a massive pulse rifle across his back, he was a figure of strength and resolve. Yet behind his stern eyes was a fierce loyalty to the men under his command. Beside him strode Kael, the sharpshooter, eyes hidden behind a visor that fed targeting data directly into his optic nerve. And trailing slightly behind, his knuckles wrapped in reinforced gauntlets, was Brok, the brawler—a mountain of a man who refused to carry a firearm.

"I hate this place," Brok muttered, flexing his hands. "Too quiet. Too cold."

"You'll be warm soon enough if something charges us," Kael replied dryly, sweeping his rifle in a slow arc across the horizon. "Movement, two clicks to the east. Heat signatures."

Darius stopped. "Can you confirm species?"

Kael adjusted his scope. "Broad bodies. Uneven gait. Crude metal armor. Orcs."

Brok spat into the snow. "Savages. Always crawling over what isn't theirs."

Darius nodded. "Ironcliff is the key to holding this sector. If they're here, they're planning something big. We can't let them report back."

The trio advanced through narrow passes and steep ridges, where snowbanks concealed rust-colored blood and broken bones. The first ambush came fast—five orcs armed with jagged cleavers and bone-forged shields lunged from behind boulders.

Kael was the first to react. Two silenced shots rang out, and two orcs dropped, gurgling. Brok met the charge head-on, a blur of fists and fury. He smashed an orc's jaw clean off and ducked another's swing before delivering a killing blow with a brutal elbow to the temple.

Darius covered the rear, his rifle humming with deadly precision. The fight lasted less than a minute. Snow drank the green blood.
"We're getting closer," Darius said. "Expect more."

They pressed on. As the sun dipped behind the peaks, shadows grew long and deceptive. The second attack came at dusk. This time, the orcs used primitive handheld catapults, flinging spiked iron orbs from a distance. One exploded against a rock near Kael, sending him tumbling. He rolled into cover and returned fire, but the orcs were smarter this time, using terrain and numbers.

Kael managed to take down three more, but as he stood to reposition, an orc spear impaled him from behind. Darius reached him too late, gunning down the attacker.

Kael's last words were a whisper. "Watch the ridgeline... more coming."

The snow covered him soon after.

Brok roared in rage. "We finish this. For Kael."

"We finish this for all of us," Darius replied.

As night fell, they found the final orc encampment—a makeshift fortress carved into the rock face near the summit. Darius counted six orcs still moving. Brok grinned.

"Six's a good number."

"Good if you have enough guns and ammo” Darius replied with a serious voice, while securing another clip of bullets in his weapon.
“I don’t need guns” Brok replied, clenching his fists.

They struck like thunder. Darius laid down suppressing fire while Brok leapt from a ridge into the midst of the enemy. He moved like a beast, breaking bones with precision and rage. But even a titan can bleed. A rusted blade found its way beneath Brok's armor, and three more orcs overwhelmed him.

He fought until the end.

When the last orc fell beneath Brok's fist, he looked up at Darius and grinned through blood. "Told you I don't need guns."
Darius caught him before he hit the ground.

Alone now, the commander reloaded his rifle and advanced into the heart of the camp. The final battle was a blur of gunfire, blood, and burning muscle. The orcs fought like animals cornered, but Darius fought like a man with nothing left to lose.

When the dust settled, the mountain was quiet.

Darius stood at the summit, wind tearing at his cloak. Beneath him lay the bodies of his enemies... and the bodies of his brothers.
He activated his comm. "Ironcliff is secure. But it cost us everything."

A pause.

"Make their names known. Holt out."

He knelt by Kael and Brok, silent for a long time.

The stars blinked cold above.

And the mountain stood eternal.