The roars of dying orcs still echoed behind them as the hounds raced through the burning village, their boots slapping against ash-strewn dirt. Smoke curled into the sky like dark fingers clawing at the moon.
"Where is he?!" one of the knights barked, ducking beneath a collapsing beam as flames licked the rooftops.
"Dead, probably," another spat, though his eyes darted with unease.
"No one survives a frontal charge that long."
The captain said nothing—his jaw tight, blade drawn, heart pounding like a war drum.
Then they saw it.
A clearing torn through the battlefield, corpses strewn like discarded dolls. And at the heart of the carnage… Aden Vasco, barely standing, shoulders heaving, sword dripping with black orc blood.
Behind him towered the High Orc.
It was a creature carved by war, a grotesque monument to savagery. Bone plating covered its chest like armor, and its weapon, no its executioner's slab—gleamed red beneath the moonlight. A beast whose very breath reeked of carnage.
Aden's breath hitched as the High Orc loomed over him, exuding rage and raw killing intent. His mind raced, not with fear—but calculation.
This thing… it's built for war. Tough hide. Dense muscle. Faster than it looks. But not invincible.
He tightened his grip on the sword.
The creature's massive frame loomed over him, its bone-plated chest seeming to absorb the flickering torchlight. Aden's grip on his sword tightened, his mind racing with the calculations of the battle to come.
The High Orc charged, its slab-like blade swinging in a wide, deadly arc. Aden dodged to the side, avoiding the blow by mere inches. The force of the swing sent him stumbling backward, his feet scraping against the dry earth.
"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" the High Orc bellowed, its voice like thunder in the night.
Aden regained his footing, his sword flashing in the dim light. He struck at the High Orc's exposed flank, but the creature's thick hide deflected the blow. The High Orc countered with a swift kick, sending Aden crashing into a nearby hut.
Wood splintered, and Aden stumbled out, his sword arm trembling. The High Orc pressed its advantage, its blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. Aden leapt to the side, avoiding the blow, but the High Orc's follow-up attack sent him stumbling backward.
"Aaah!" Aden cried out, his back slamming into the earth.
The High Orc raised its blade for the killing blow, its eyes blazing with a feral light. Aden's vision blurred, his mind racing with desperation. He remembered the Vasco Memoir's words:
"Flow not like a stream, but crash like the wave."
With a surge of adrenaline, Aden rolled to the side, avoiding the High Orc's blow by a hair's breadth. He countered with a swift slash, aiming for the creature's knee. The High Orc howled in pain as Aden's sword bit deep into its flesh.
The battle raged on, the two combatants exchanging blows in a deadly dance. Aden's sword flashed in the dim light, striking true again and again. But the High Orc refused to fall, its massive frame absorbing the blows like a living, breathing tank.
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHR!" the High Orc bellowed, its voice growing louder, more frenzied.
Aden's breath came in ragged gasps, his body screaming in exhaustion. But he refused to yield, his mind fixed on the goal of survival.
That plating on its chest—it's thicker. Aim for the joints, under the arm, behind the knees...
Another attack came—a downward smash meant to split him in two. He sidestepped, barely in time. Sparks lit up the night as the blade slammed into stone. He swung up, aiming for the beast's elbow, but it twisted unnaturally and knocked him back with a backhand swipe.
He hit the ground hard, skidding through ash. Pain flashed behind his eyes.
"Dammit!" one of the Hounds shouted from the edge of the battlefield. "He's gonna get himself killed at this rate!"
Another added, voice taut with panic, "We can't keep watching this! We need to help him!"
"No," the captain said sharply. "Look again."
They did—and saw it.