As I am following the tall orc warrior, he suddenly stops. I halt as well. Then he turns and looks me in the eye. In the distance, we hear the thunderous roar of our forces clashing in battle.
He speaks, his voice low and probing, "Are you the reason the humans have become strong?"
The wind rustles the leaves around us as I respond, "Yes. I taught them how to fight and how to forge weapons."
He smirks. "When I look into your eyes, I can see you are not an ordinary human."
"Are you Commander Giserk?" I ask.
With the same unreadable expression, he nods. "Yes, I am Commander Giserk."
"I've heard of you—the strongest orc warrior from the Great Orc Village. Why did you flee when the Lizardmen attacked?"
His face darkens. Rage surges through his expression like a storm building on the horizon.
"There are situations where you must do things you never wish to do."
He unsheathes both massive blades. They pulse with a red aura, glowing like molten iron.
"Enough talking. Let's see what you're made of."
"I also don't like talking more than fighting," I reply, drawing my sword and raising my shield. My blade radiates a blue aura.
He charges. The first impact against my shield feels like a boulder slamming into me. I retaliate, swinging my sword, but he parries with his second blade. We exchange a flurry of blows—sword meeting sword, sparks flying, strength against strength.
"You're the first human to survive this many of my attacks," he growls.
"And you're the first orc not dead after this many of mine," I reply.
He laughs. "Enough fun. It ends now."
The red aura condenses around his blades into a thick, molten-like coating. He looks even more intimidating.
He charges again. I raise my shield, but the force of his blow sends me flying backward, sliding across the soil.
"What just happened..." I mutter.
He smirks darkly.
Meanwhile, on the battlefield…
Cortes faces Orc Warrior 3 in a brutal duel. Blades clash in a tempest of fury. The air vibrates with every strike. Cortes' golden aura flickers as he parries a heavy overhead swing.
"Do you have children, human?" the orc sneers.
"Why?"
"Because I like the taste of human children's flesh."
Cortes' eyes burn with rage.
"Bastard!"
He charges, his aura blazing. Steel crashes against steel as they dance across the battlefield—grunting, dodging, countering. Cortes delivers a fierce thrust to the orc's side, but it only grazes him. The orc counters with a vicious upward slash, ripping Cortes' shoulder armor.
The battle grows desperate. Cortes' breath is ragged, his movements slower. The orc laughs, relentless.
"You're tiring. Soon, you'll be meat."
Cortes lifts his spear one last time, but his aura fades. He stumbles.
The orc approaches, blade raised to behead him—
THUNK!
An arrow pierces the orc's forehead, glowing with vibrant energy. The orc staggers and collapses.
Cortes blinks in shock, then turns.
On the ridge, Aries stands, bow drawn.
"Are you okay, Vice Leader?"
Cortes smiles faintly, exhausted. "Yeah... thanks."
On the other side, Amelia engages Orc Warrior 1. Their swords sing through the air. She parries, ducks, and slashes with precision. He strikes like a beast, using brute force to break her stance.
She holds firm, her eyes sharp with vengeance.
"I'll kill you and cut you into a thousand pieces!"
He laughs, mocking. Their clash echoes across the battlefield. Amelia's aura surges with every step. She rolls under a strike, slices his thigh, but he retaliates by smashing her shield. She stumbles.
With a roar, he drives his blade through her shield, lifting and slamming her to the ground.
Pain surges through her body, but her eyes flash with resolve. As he prepares to finish her—
She throws her shield. It slams into his face. Startled, he raises his arms—
Too late.
She hurls her sword, glowing with blue aura. It spins and drives clean through his neck.
He chokes, gurgles… and falls.
The battlefield shifts. Human morale surges. War cries echo. Orcs begin to falter.
At the forest's edge, the scouts ambush Orc Warrior 2. They move like ghosts among trees. Arnis blades flash. One scout dives low, another high—striking in perfect unison. The orc roars, swinging wildly.
One blade slices his wrist, another pierces his leg. He stumbles, but still fights. A third scout lands a precise blow to his chest.
As Orc Warrior 2 grew frustrated, he began swinging his weapon wildly in every direction. The scouts had thought they could easily take him down, but his unpredictable strikes revealed his cunning. With each powerful swing, he cut down the surrounding trees, clearing the area and forcing the scouts to face him head-on.
He smirked as the last tree fell, revealing all the scouts now fully exposed.
"Now… it's time to crush you," he growled, his eyes gleaming with savage anticipation.
But to his surprise, the scouts smirked back.
In perfect coordination, they swiftly surrounded him, forming a precise circle.
"You think you can kill me just by surrounding me? Ha!" the orc scoffed arrogantly.
Metis stepped forward, eyes cold and focused.
"It's time to end this. Use Death Formation!"
"Now!"
All four attack him from all direction matching each other stricking as orc worrior 2 is not able to counter all four scouts as they all find orc worrior 2 weakness. Their blades pierce in a final coordinated strike.
He collapses, defeated.
Dries stands facing Orc Warrior 4. Blood drips from both. The orc sways, breathing heavily.
"Don't come near! Retreat! We can't win!"
Dries sees past him—orc children, elders, and wounded women peering from the forest.
"Why did you bring them here?"
"We already lost our home. We came here… to build a new one."
Dries narrows his eyes. "You wanted to kill and eat humans, right?"
"Not all orcs think that way. I believe in harmony. I never wanted this… but I couldn't stop them."
Dries lowers his sword.
"Surrender. And I will not kill you."
The orc looks up—conflicted, uncertain… but alive.