CHAPTER 55: ORC SHOWDOWN [3]

As the horde of the orcs started coming closer, a plan started forming in my head.

Most of the green bastards were late F-rank, with just the orc leader and one other orc—the one just beside the leader, wearing rough leather armor—being in early E-rank. Probably the orc warrior.

I looked at Bearlo, who had stepped in front of me, wide-shouldered and silent, already in full meat shield mode.

"Bearlo," I said, my voice calm. "Do you trust me?"

That was the only thing I asked without any context or explanation.

Bearlo didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even turn to look at me.

"Yes, my liege."

Good bear.

My cloak, the drama queen that it was, detached from my back on its own and wrapped itself around Bearlo’s. I didn’t need to say a word. It knew what I wanted. It always did.

Bearlo didn’t react.

"I see, then I will place my trust in you as well." I said, pointing directly at the orc chieftain leading the charge. "Whatever happens next... don’t look back. Don’t worry about me. Just kill that one."

Bearlo followed my gaze and nodded without any hesitation.

Of course he didn’t. He was loyal to a fault, maybe even fatally so.

Honestly, there would have been a higher chance of survival if I just used Bearlo as a meat shield and run the hell away.

But I am greedy. I always have been.

I don’t like losing potential power pieces on my board to some low-tier cannon fodder. That’s inefficient. Wasteful... and humiliating.

And, most importantly... Where’s the fun in that?

I wasn’t some brain-dead anime protagonist with plot armor thicker than their personality, jumping into lava with a friendship speech and expecting to walk out with power-ups and a tan.

Nah. I knew myself better than that.

There was a very real chance I could die here.

A dumb misstep. A swing too slow and boom—Rael stew.

But hey... in a world crawling with eldritch demigods who can erase you from existence just by exhaling wrong—

When was there ever not a chance of dying?

That didn’t mean I was throwing my life away. If push came to shove, I had all the plans to just use Bearlo as a meat shield and make my escape.

But for now, I decided to gamble it all for a chance of survival without losing anything.

This was a risky gamble.

But a jester is supposed to be a gambler, right?

And I was about to place all my chips in chaos.

I saw the orcs enter through the entrance, and without a moment of waste, I turned on my heel and punched the fluffy bear—Bearlo—right in his guts with my voidpulse fist.

He didn’t even see it coming.

His eyes widened momentarily—not from pain but from confusion.

He didn’t make a sound as he flew back like a ragdoll, the cloak on his back fluttering wildly as he smashed into the wall just beside the entrance with a loud boom.

BOOM!!!

His body slumped as I saw blood pooling around his body.

Perfect.

The orcs didn’t spare Bearlo a glance, except for the leader. And even the leader lost interest within seconds.

Orcs weren’t beasts, they were monsters.

Unlike beasts, which could be reasoned with or even tamed, monsters were coded to hate any intelligent creature. Especially handsome ones like me.

So, naturally, all their focus was on me rather than some random beast on death’s door.

Just like I wanted.

For them, Bearlo was just a beast. One that was injured with a single punch from me.

So, I was a bigger threat.

And let’s be honest, orcs couldn’t sense mana cores. For them, strength was a visible performance, and I had just put on a one-man show.

In their thick skulls, the one who dominates is the one who leads.

"GRUAHHH!!!"

The orc leader roared like a war general as if ordering its minions: "Get that handsome human."

Except for keeping four F-Ranks by his side like some royal guard, the other nine green pigs surged toward me.

They were slow... too slow.

Except for that E-rank bastard. The so-called orc warrior.

His oversized wooden club came crashing toward my head like it had a personal grudge against my skull.

I smiled.

And right as it was about to kiss my face passionately, I vanished with a burst of [Voidsteps] beneath my feet.

The ground cracked as I was thrown midair, directly above an F-rank orc that had been trailing behind.

Before it even blinked, I dropped my foot down, mana pulsing through it.

It connected straight with its head.

CRACK!

Its skull popped like an overripe watermelon and its body dropped to the ground lifelessly.

One down, eight remaining.

Orcs were purely physical monsters. Sure, they had corrupted mana in their bodies but they didn’t know how to use it. That’s why their ranks were so low.

And their mana resistance was even more pitiful. That’s why the poor bastard’s head exploded so easily. It being the same rank as me didn’t help either.

The other orcs froze for a moment.

But the chieftain roared again, snapping them out of their surprise and instructing them how to attack.

That was the difference between instinct and command.

A wild orc would’ve hesitated after being overwhelmed by its survival instinct. But these freaks were trained to trust the voice shouting at them more than their own fear.

And that made them more dangerous.

The next attack came immediately.

Another F-rank lunged forward, swinging its club in a low arc, aiming for my legs.

Definitely a coordinated call from the chieftain.

I jumped, narrowly clearing the sweep, but just then, the real threat came from the side.

The E-Rank warrior again.

His club arced horizontally toward me mid-air, targeting my very handsome face.

Tsk.

Too late to dodge.

And there was nothing I could do mid-air.

I twisted as much as I could, throwing up my arm in a hasty block.

THWACK!

The impact rang out as I was flung sideways, slamming into the cave wall with enough force to make the stone crack.

Dust fell around me.

My vision shook.

But more than that, I was still grinning.

I reached for my finger and pulled off one of my less-flashy trump cards—a dull black ring etched with faint runes.

Then I flicked it to the ground like trash.

A soft light pulsed out as it shattered on contact before fading.

A single-use protective ring that reduced seventy percent of the impact.

Still hurts like a bitch, though.

I had one on every finger, and ten more unrefined ones sitting comfortably in my storage ring.

Because obviously, I wasn’t about to stroll into a death forest with just my good looks and winning personality.

Artifacts like these were rare—hell, even borderline illegal if too high-rank—but I somehow got together twenty with my father’s help. Could have gotten even more if I had more time.

Sure, Noxvalen only allows two outside artifacts per student. To maintain a fair environment. But I wasn’t a student. Not officially yet.

But once the academy starts, I would have to throw away all my outside artifacts except two.

Which is also why I didn’t bring something stupid like a high-ranked artifact. It would have been a waste.

But these low-ranked artifacts were my throwaways for my protection and were cheap enough to be discarded anytime I want.

I even had two short teleportation charms with me, but I knew better than to use them in this forest where mana was twisted and distorted.

I didn’t know where they would teleport me to. Because dealing with orcs was much easier than some other creatures within this forest. But I wouldn’t hesitate to use them if my life was truly at risk.

Just then, another F-rank orc swung its club at me.

Tsk, heartless bastards.

But I was ready. I had sensed it already.

I twisted my torso sideways, my spine bending unnaturally. It should’ve been painful and impossible.

But thanks to my [Flexible Frame], I didn’t feel anything.

The club whooshed past, missing my head by inches and smashing into the wall behind me with a crack.

Too slow, buddy.

My hand shot to the ground, fingers curling around something jagged—a splintered bone spike, likely from whatever poor bastard they had for dinner last night.

Before the orc could process his blunder, I stabbed the bone straight into his throat without any wasted movement.

With a wet and choking gurgle, the orc fell.

Two down, seven remaining.

Before I could feel smug, that warrior bastard was already here.

Obviously, I had no intention to engage with that bastard just yet.

So I vanished with another [Voidstep], appearing in front of another clueless F-rank orc, fist pulled back and ready to paint the floor with his brain cells...

... and then my instinct screamed.

Time slowed.

I didn’t hesitate.

Another [Voidstep], and I was gone before the thought was fully formed.

WHOOSH—THWACK!

An orc’s club slammed down right where I had been a moment ago.

Tch.

They were forming groups now. Pairs of two, covering each other’s blind spots.

Smart move... for green pigs.

And that bastard warrior was running solo, using their formation to keep me cornered.

I glanced toward the entrance.

And there he was, the orc chieftain barking orders like he owned the cave, which he probably did.

He wasn’t just decoration after all.

But then my gaze went past him, to the bear still slumped onto the ground looking lifeless.

Tsk, how much longer are you planning to nap, Bearlo?

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