CHAPTER 54: ORC SHOWDOWN [2]

Bearlo had just defeated the monster. But there was no triumph in his heart.

Why am I still so weak?

His mind echoed with the bitter thought.

Why can’t I be of help to my liege?

The orc had been at the same rank as him. And yet... He couldn’t finish it alone. His liege had to step in.

It had only been a few days since he swore his loyalty. Since then, his liege had grown stronger, faster and sharper.

But Bearlo? Still the same.

He clenched his fists.

If I fought him now... he would defeat me. Not even needing a trap.

He was aware of his weakness. And that made it even worse.

Just then, his ears twitched as he felt vibrations around him.

He turned toward the entrance and froze.

Not one.

Not two.

Fourteen.

Fourteen orcs, slicing through the dense white mist, coming towards the entrance of the cave.

"My liege..." His voice trembled slightly as he called his master.

But his resolve didn’t waver. A calm washed over him.

If it meant keeping his liege alive,

He was ready to die.

After all,

He only lived because of that man in the first place.

He wasn’t immune to the fear of death, but an undying flame of loyalty burned even brighter. Not with courage. But with purpose.

He had known his liege for merely a few days.

And yet he understood him more than most would ever.

No matter what happened, his liege never let the smile on his face go down.

No matter the weight he carried, he still stood tall for others.

Even now as he stood looking at those fourteen orcs, he wasn’t shocked... neither was he afraid. Instead a smile was curled upon his lips as if he wasn’t slightly concerned about survival.

Bearlo’s fists clenched.

You won’t use me as a shield. I know that.

You’d rather die than sacrifice someone who trusts you.

But that was the exact reason...

I will make sure you survive, my liege. Even if it means I don’t.

—

[Rael’s POV]

As a storm of green-coloured overgrown pigs stormed towards the only entrance to the cave... I could only have one thought.

Screw you, fate.

I will definitely keep a rusty pole reserved for you once I get there.

Then there was my stupid flaw. Even in this situation my lips curled up into a grin.

My mind started racing, thinking of a way out.

The entrance was approximately five metres away from me, and the orcs were just around that.

Should I just use Bearlo as a meatshield and run away?

No, that would be too inefficient.

I would lose a valuable card I could play in a truly desperate situation...

... and even if I did sacrifice him here, the chances of me being able to run are too low.

I recalled all the details about orcs.

My mind was working beyond its limits to find any loopholes or easter eggs.

Naturally, I didn’t remember anything so small from the novel.

But I did design this monster in my game with lore from the novel, and while designing everything, I made sure to add some easter eggs from the novel.

Orcs, orcs, orcs...

But just as I was busy thinking, I saw it.

The one leading the charge.

A hulking orc with less muscle than the others, but wearing a rusted, jagged crown

Orc Chieftain.

That’s it.

My eyes widened. Not because I was impressed. But because I was reminded of something.

Orcs were generally a low-level monster with intelligence lower than children’s. But the orc chieftain was different. Its body wasn’t strong but it was born with high intelligence.

And in an orc settlement... that’s both a blessing and a curse.

Because unlike wild orcs—who acted purely on instinct, attacking whatever pissed them off first—tribe orcs followed structure.

A hierarchy.

One voice.

The Chieftain’s voice.

They were completely dependent on their leaders. And in turn weaker than wild orcs.

These orcs didn’t follow the strongest. They followed the one who told them who to kill.

That explains why those two green freaks Bearlo and I dealt with earlier were so easy.

So, if I could take that brain away. A chaos would spread.

The smirk on my face deepened as a plan formed in my mind.

—

Meanwhile, deep within the Second Layer of the Forest of Unmasked, where no sunlight reached and even shadows feared to tread, something ancient... stirred.

A ripple passed through the air.

Then—

Eyes opened.

Two orbs of calm, cerulean blue flickered to life within the heart of the void. They pierced the darkness.

Its form was barely visible, but a deep voice echoed within the forest, disturbing the eerie calm.

"A... s-successor?"

The word cracked the silence wrapped in reverence, disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.

Around the forest, the mist thickened.

—

Back in Noxvalen Academy Principal’s Office, Morvana frowned as she felt a ripple within the ambient mana.

As the Principal of Noxvalen, a Demoness of ancient lineage and wielder of the blood of Kings, she had felt nearly every fluctuation this world had to offer.

But this? This was new.

And old. Far too old.

Something she couldn’t name.

Her crimson nails tapped once against the polished blackwood desk.

"...The forest," she murmured. "It breathes differently."

Her violet eyes narrowed, piercing through the stone walls as if trying to see the truth buried in the mist beyond. But even her strength being at SS-Rank couldn’t breach that unnatural fog.

But she knew, whatever it was... it had stirred.

And it was watching.

Morvana rose from her seat in one fluid motion, her long cloak trailing behind her.

The decision was made almost instantly.

The test had to be halted.

But before she could take even a single step forward, her body froze for a moment.

And in that moment of stillness... he was there.

Seated in the chair across from her desk casually as if he had been there all along.

She hadn’t seen him enter.

She hadn’t felt his presence.

Not even her senses had registered the shift.

A young man who looked no older than twenty in appearance with flowing white hair that and blood-red eyes, deeper than any abyss.

But what stood out the most were the two perfectly curved obsidian horns on his head.

Her body moved before her mind did.

She kneeled, lowering her head without hesitation, her voice reverent.

"I greet the Demon King."

But the man—the Demon King—just let out a playful smile.

"The test must go on, Morvana."

A cold shiver ran down her spine.

Despite his calm tone, despite the absence of rage or threat in his expression...

She felt it.

And she understood:

The test was no longer in her hands.

Something far greater had taken interest.