A vast void was suddenly torn into Teclos’s heart the moment he saw Gillard struck down like that.

For a brief second, everything else faded—the forest, the orcs, the chaos—and all that remained was that single image burned into his mind.

Rage surged up violently, dark mana spiraling around him as his vision dimmed at the edges and his eyes slowly turned darker. He nearly lost himself to it, nearly gave in to that raw, overwhelming hatred, ready to throw his life away just to reach the commander and tear him apart.

Then—

A wet cough broke through that haze.

Gillard spat out a thick chunk of blood, his chest rising unevenly as a broken, rasping breath forced its way out of him. The sound was horrible—wrong—but it meant one thing.

He was still alive.

"Gillard! Stay awake, man! I’ll come and help you!" Teclos shouted, his voice strained, desperate, but there was no reply—only that uneven breathing.

The commander’s gaze shifted toward Gillard for a moment before returning to Teclos, and a bone-chilling smile slowly crept across its face. It spoke something to its soldiers in that guttural tongue, then, to Teclos’s shock, turned its head fully toward him and forced out words in his language.

"Puny human... weak. You die today."

The voice was rough and sounded unnatural, as if it wasn’t meant to form those words in his language, but their meaning was clear.

Without another word, the commander vanished in a deafening blast of heat, the air distorting violently where it had stood. A moment later, it reappeared high above the forest, hovering for only a brief instant as it scanned the distance.

Then, as soon as it found what it was looking for, a sonic boom erupted, and it shot off in Ralph’s direction with terrifying speed.

"Shit! That bastard!" Teclos cursed, his body tensing as he instinctively wanted to give chase, but he couldn’t—he was too fast anyway, and Gillard needed him right now. His jaw clenched tightly as he forced himself to stay focused.

’I really hope you’re fast enough, Ralph...’

Turning back, his attention snapped to Gillard—and to the soldiers now slowly closing in.

One of the orcs stepped forward and stopped right in front of Gillard, lifting its massive cleaver and tapping him lightly on the head, almost casually, as if checking whether he was still alive.

Gillard responded with another weak cough, more blood spilling from his lips as his breathing became even more strained.

The orc let out a low, guttural laugh and said something to the others, and soon several of them joined in, their laughter carrying through the forest.

Teclos’s hands trembled with fury, but he didn’t move. He knew—knew—that if he rushed in blindly, he would die instantly. Each one of them was stronger than him, and he could feel it now more clearly than ever.

Their presence pressed down on him, their shadows heavier, larger, and deeper than his—something he had discovered during Axel’s training. He could somewhat distinguish how strong someone was based on the vastness of their shadow.

It was just a feeling, but so far, it had not been far off.

Still, he forced himself to think.

Even as two orcs suddenly broke from the group and charged him.

Teclos reacted immediately, twisting his body to avoid the first slash before ducking under a second strike aimed at his neck. A wind blade tore through the space behind him, cutting through the trees with ease.

He kept moving, barely staying ahead of their attacks. Then the ground shifted beneath his feet, forcing him to leap aside as it split open.

Another strike came immediately after, and he redirected himself mid-motion with a shadow tendril.

All this time, he didn’t stop thinking.

The orcs were coordinated—there were always at least two near Gillard, never leaving him unguarded. Trying to lure them away wouldn’t work, and going straight through them was suicide.

His mind raced for a solution that didn’t exist, even as he continued to dodge attack after attack.

After a while, something began to change, slowly but surely.

At first, every movement had been desperate, barely enough to keep him alive. But now there was a fraction more space, a fraction more time.

His body reacted faster, his mind sharpened, and his movements became cleaner.

He hadn’t realized it in the middle of all the chaos, but he was adapting. With each passing second, his movements became more precise, letting him slip through their attacks like a slippery cockroach that refused to die.

The orcs noticed this.

Smirks spread among them as they adjusted, recognizing that the human in front of them wasn’t just prey—he was fighting back.

Though brutal and aggressive, they valued strength, and Teclos, slowly but surely, was earning a measure of their respect.

But none of that mattered to him.

Because Gillard was dying.

Teclos could feel his mana draining rapidly now, desperation pushing him further as his movements grew more reckless. He began to counterattack, striking where he could, forcing the orcs to react, even if only for a moment.

"...cough..."

Gillard stirred weakly, blood spilling down his tunic as he forced out broken words. "...run... you idiot..."

Teclos’s eyes widened. "GILLARD!"

He leaned back just in time to avoid a cleaver that passed within a hair’s breadth of his face. Then he jumped and twisted mid-air as a battle axe swept beneath him, nearly taking his legs off. In the same motion, he extended his blade, forcing the orc in front of him to defend instead of attack.

He was fighting like a madman now, his reflexes honed to their limit, his body moving without hesitation. His entire focus narrowed to a single thought—save Gillard.

"...cough... I said... run..."

The orc standing above Gillard looked down at him, then back at Teclos, and a cruel smile spread across its face as it slowly lifted its sword, preparing to pierce him.

"NO!"

Teclos unleashed everything he had.

Darkness exploded outward as tendrils surged from the ground, wrapping around all six warriors at once, tightening around limbs, torsos, even necks as they strained to hold them in place. For a brief moment, the bindings held, threatening to even snap their bones under the pressure.

Still... it wasn’t enough. That would at most hold them for a few seconds.

Using that small window of opportunity, he drove his blade into the nearest orc’s eye in a swift, decisive motion.

The orc collapsed—dead, but the others were already breaking free from his bindings, cutting through the tendrils with just their brute force.

And worst of all, the sword above Gillard was already coming down.

Teclos launched himself forward, shadow steps carrying him across the distance as tendrils latched onto nearby trees and pulled him faster, faster still—

The blade descended, and Gillard’s leather armor gave way.

The steel pierced through his chest, driving straight through his heart and body, embedding itself into the splintered tree behind him.

Teclos was still mid-air, feeling helpless and frozen.

Unable to reach him in time.

Gillard’s body went still, his final breath leaving him as the pain finally ended.

The orc lifted the sword, with Gillard’s body still impaled on it, then shook it violently, throwing the lifeless corpse aside.

His body hit the ground heavily and lay there, unmoving.

Gillard was dead.

—

Just as all of this began, deeper within the forest, a small camp had been set up.

Tessa and Pierce sat by a modest fire, the flames crackling softly as a pot of simple porridge simmered above it. The smell was plain, almost comforting, a quiet contrast to the tension slowly building in the woods around them.

Pierce stirred it lazily, glancing around with a faint frown. "Nothing yet... this is promising to be a slow and uneventful day," he muttered, clearly dissatisfied.

Tessa gave a small shrug, trying to keep things light. "We’ll get there. The day has just started, no?"

"Well, I hope so, little missy," Pierce replied, scratching his white goatee thoughtfully. "It’s just that there aren’t many beasts around today... actually, I haven’t even seen one yet." His gaze lingered on the treeline a moment longer than usual, his gut telling him that something was off.

"Maybe yesterday’s hunting team cleared the beasts in this area?" Tessa offered.

"Crill and Tony?" Pierce scoffed, shaking his head. "Hah, those drunkards are barely keeping their licenses afloat. They only hunt minimal, small game."

Then—

A loud boom echoed through the forest.

Both of them turned their heads at once as a flare lit up the sky in the distance.

"Huh," Pierce muttered, already standing up. "Guess someone bit off more than they could chew... all right, let’s go help." He moved quickly now, grabbing his gear and kicking dirt over the fire to extinguish it.

Tessa looked at the pot with clear disappointment. "Oooh... but the food... we were just about to eat."

"Don’t worry, lass, we’ll eat once we—"

Boom. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

Another explosion.

Another flare.

Pierce froze.

Two flares?

His gut twisted violently this time, alarm bells ringing loud and clear in his mind.

"Missy," he said, his tone shifting completely, "just in case... stick very close to me. Two flares in rapid succession... something isn’t right."

Tessa nodded immediately, her earlier lightness gone as unease took over.

They gathered their gear and left the camp at a run, heading straight toward the flares. The forest blurred past them, branches snapping underfoot as they pushed forward—but then something shifted in the bushes to their side.

Pierce didn’t miss it.

"Hold, lass!"

He stopped instantly, slamming his foot into the ground as a rock wall surged upward in front of them.

A second later—

Two fireballs crashed into it.

The wall shattered violently, stone exploding outward as debris rained down on them, forcing both of them to brace against the impact.

And then they saw them.

Orcs.

Dozens of them.

Pierce felt it through the ground, the sheer number pressing down on him like an inescapable net.

"Run!" he shouted without hesitation. "I’ll stall them—run, lass!"

Tessa didn’t argue.

She turned and fled.

That was when lightning struck.

A blinding flash tore through the clearing, slamming down where Pierce had stood just a heartbeat before.

From that crackling impact point, a towering figure emerged—an orc clad in black armor, the left side of his face marked by a jagged tribal tattoo. His head was shaved clean, and a thick white beard was braided tightly down his chest. Arcs of energy danced across his armor, as if the metal could barely contain the power within.

A massive greatsword rested on its back.

Pierce died instantly, flattened by him, his spine crushed into nothing more than a paste of mush before he even had time to react.

The orc lifted its arm lazily, almost bored—

And a massive bolt of lightning tore through the air and struck Tessa mid-run, engulfing her completely. Her body seized for a single instant before collapsing, burned beyond recognition.

She couldn’t even scream.

—

Elsewhere in the forest, around the same time, another team moved silently through the undergrowth.

Kross followed closely behind Gerath, their steps careful as they tracked a dire wolf through its territory.

"Keep quiet, boy," Gerath muttered, raising a hand in front of his lips. "We’re in its territory."

Kross rolled his eyes behind him, barely containing his irritation. ’Just a few more weeks and I can get rid of this demented fool,’ he thought bitterly.

The anticipation of that moment had been the only thing keeping him sane. Gerath’s compulsions were unbearable—everything had to be perfect, clean, precise. How to walk, how to hunt, where to stand, how to hold a blade—it was endless.

Kross felt like he was losing his mind.

’Honestly... I could just stab him right now,’ he thought, almost wistfully. ’Ooh, how nice that would feel...’

He let out a silent sigh. ’Just a few more weeks...’

"Now crouch," Gerath instructed, oblivious. "Keep your sword in your hand so it doesn’t scrape the ground."

’For the love of—’

He really wanted to stab him.

But something beat him to it.

In a single instant, an earth spike erupted from the ground and impaled Gerath cleanly, punching through his body before either of them could react.

Gerath coughed up blood as something rose from the ground beneath him.

An orc.

Its appearance was grotesque. Long black hair hung wild and tangled around its face, while a bushy, untrimmed beard framed a twisted grin. Three deep scars ran down its face, and its eyes were wide and unhinged with something close to madness. Its black armor was stained and filthy, and in its hand, it carried a long spear.

It leaned forward—

And bit Gerath’s head clean off.

Kross froze.

For one horrifying second, his mind went blank.

Then sheer terror hit him like a tidal wave, and he turned and ran.

Behind him, the orc chewed thoughtfully for a moment before spitting the remains out with a sour expression.

"Bleh! Kurna’k kwee! Bleh!"

Then it lifted its spear casually and threw it.

The weapon tore through the air with devastating force, piercing straight through Kross’s head and ripping it clean from his body before embedding itself deep into the ground with a thunderous crack. The earth split outward from the impact in a spiderweb of fractures.

The orc chuckled to itself, prancing over to retrieve its weapon.

"Mmm... huh huh huh... Sharakka!"

It yanked the spear free, took another bite from the new head—this time savoring it—then sank back into the ground, disappearing as if it had never been there.

Farther north, another team moved along a patrol route.

Sammara walked beside Obin, clearly flustered.

"I’m telling you, if you say one word to him, I’m going to stab you in your sleep!"

Obin laughed loudly, clearly enjoying himself. "Haha! A headstrong lass, being shy about liking a boy."

"Obin! Stop!"

"Come on, you should tell him," he continued, grinning. "That boy has nothing but training on his mind. Some tender company would do him good—and besides, you’d get what you wished for."

"I swear to god, if you don’t drop it, I’m going to tell the guild master you stole wine from the guild’s cellar!"

Obin froze mid-step. "Woah, woah there, missy... that ain’t fair. It was just a lapse of judgment. You can’t tell him that—I’ll be suspended for more than a month!"

"Then shut up about Teclos!"

"Hah! Sure, sure, I’ll—"

Boom.

A flare exploded in the distance.

Both of them turned instantly.

"All right, playtime’s over," Obin said, his tone shifting completely. "Let’s go see what’s up."

They were already moving when a second flare lit the sky.

That made them exchange a quick glance—and pick up the pace even more.

Obin caught something in the corner of his eye and looked up.

A deep, crushing dread settled over him.

"Duck!"

He slammed his hand into the ground, a rock wall surging upward in front of them as he began forming a golem around himself—

But it didn’t matter.

A massive arrow tore straight through the wall as if it were nothing, punching clean through the stone and into his chest. The force carried it through his heart and pinned him in place instantly.

The arrow was enormous—nearly as large as he was—and infused with roaring wind mana.

"Obin!" Sammara screamed, her voice breaking as she looked up.

Above the canopy, an orcess hovered in the air.

Her presence was overwhelming.

Her long black hair was woven into a tight braid, her black armor gleaming faintly in the sunlight breaking through the trees. The bow in her hands was massive, nearly as large as her own body, and the arrow she drew matched it in size.

Wind spiraled violently around her, gathering with terrifying intensity as her muscles coiled and pulled the string back once more.

Sammara tried to move, summoning water beneath her feet as she attempted to glide away—

But it was useless.

As the arrow released.

It didn’t even take a second to reach her.

A deafening sonic boom tore through the forest as the projectile crossed the distance instantly, piercing straight through Sammara’s chest and killing her on the spot.

Her body was pinned lifelessly to the ground.