CHAPTER 56: ORC SHOWDOWN [4]

In a dark cave, a crimson-furred bear lay, his body slumped on the ground by the cracked wall behind him.

His eyes were closed, and his head hung low.

Blood pooled around his body.

Then, his eyes snapped open.

W—what happened?

The memory of what happened came almost immediately.

My liege p-punched me?

He recalled the punch, but he didn’t understand the reason. But even now, dazed and stunned, he never doubted.

He must have had a reason. He must have...

Bearlo trusted his liege.

A sound of orc roars reached his ears.

He raised his head slowly.

There he was, his liege, surrounded, battered... yet still grinning like always.

Still standing.

Still alone.

In comparison, Bearlo’s body was relatively unhurt. Even the blood at his feet wasn’t his own blood. He could feel a liquid pouring out of the cloak on his back in small amounts.

Why are you fighting all by yourself, my liege?

Am I that unreliable? That weak? That you need to send me to the back?

Why are you so benevolent to a mere beast like me?

A storm of shame and confusion welled inside him.

Once, he had been Alpha. Once, others had looked to him for strength. But that confidence had shattered the day he died.

But somewhere in his heart, he felt he was strong enough to be of help to his liege. To his savior who brought him back from despair.

...And yet as he looked in front, he couldn’t help but blame his own weakness.

This man—his liege—who bore no fur, no fangs, and yet carried the weight of kings on his back without flinching.

You saved me.

You gave me purpose.

And I... I...

His gaze flicked forward.

There, just a few meters away from him, near the entrance, stood an orc unlike the rest. Smaller. Thinner. Wearing a rusted bone crown. And beside it stood four bodyguards focusing forward, ready to provide backup.

It was completely ignoring Bearlo and was focused on roaring orders to the orcs attacking his liege.

Bearlo recognised it immediately.

The orc, my liege ordered me to kill.

Bearlo understood immediately what had to be done.

The orc was the leader of the horde. The brain of the beast.

And now, it stood with its back turned to Bearlo.

Completely exposed.

Completely... dismissive.

Bearlo’s body twitched. He tried to rise.

The cloak on his back fluttered, then separated from him completely as if having something else to do.

Bearlo stood as the cloak fluttered beside him, before a vial of a shimmering blue liquid was dropped out of it.

A healing potion?

Bearlo caught it immediately before gulping it down without hesitation. A warmth spread throughout his body as his body healed rapidly.

Then, without a warning, the cloak flew at blinding speed before wrapping itself around the face of the Orc leader.

"SKRREEEEEEEHH!!!"

The Orc Chieftain let out a strangled shriek, thrashing as it tried to pull the fabric around his face.

But even with its early E-rank strength, it failed to do anything as the cloak was wrapped too tightly.

The other orcs panicked, trying to tear the fabric away.

Bearlo’s eyes narrowed.

You wanted me away from the battle so I’d survive.

But survival means nothing... if I’m not fighting beside you.

With those thoughts, he vanished with a burst of speed using [Voidsteps].

He reappeared like a crimson reaper before the blinded Orc chieftain.

His fist pulled back.

With a thunderous roar, Bearlo drove his punch forward with every ounce of his strength, frustration and loyalty behind it.

The impact was cataclysmic.

CRACK!

At that exact moment, the cloak unraveled, fluttering away into thin air before returning to its rightful master—Rael.

The orc leader’s massive body flew backward like a broken puppet, slamming into the cave wall with enough force to crack stone.

The remaining orcs stared at Bearlo in frozen disbelief.

Their leader—their commander—had fallen with a single strike.

But Bearlo didn’t give them time to process the shift in power.

With a growl, he lunged forward. One swift slash tore through a stunned orc’s throat, sending its head rolling across the dirt.

The other three barely snapped out of their stupor before he was already moving again.

He kicked out, hard.

BOOM.

Mana flared from his foot in a burst, the same way it did when he used [Voidsteps

].

One orc was flung backward like a ragdoll, crashing into the cave wall with a crunch that echoed through the cave.

Bearlo blinked.

That hadn’t been just a kick.

It had moved like [Voidsteps].

But... not on the ground.

His breathing slowed.

A flicker of understanding sparked in his eyes.

Why did I always use [Voidsteps] through my feet on the ground?

What was stopping me from kicking and releasing it through that?

The thought was so simple, it almost felt stupid. But the truth was rarely complicated.

In that moment, Bearlo realized something he never had before.

[Voidsteps] wasn’t just a footwork technique.

It was a kicking technique in its purest form.

After all, every [Voidstep] began with a single action: a kick to the ground.

He still didn’t understand the technique or the mana flow, but through his sheer instinct, he understood a new application of the existing technique.

The two remaining orcs roared and lunged toward him. One swung its crude club like a hammer, and the other lunged with a wild punch.

To Bearlo... They moved too slowly.

His vision narrowed. Time didn’t slow down, he was just that much faster than them.

He dropped low, muscles coiling like springs and in one seamless move,

He ducked and slashed.

The edge of his claws tore through the gut of the club-swinging orc with ease. Blood splattered across the cave floor as the creature fell down to its knees.

The second orc’s punch was already coming.

But Bearlo didn’t dodge.

He kicked.

The kick connected, and with a shockwave, the head of the orc burst like a watermelon.

—

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Bearlo or even Rael, something was happening with the injured body of the orc leader.

Its rusted base, once resting loosely atop the cracked head of the orc leader, began to change. It twisted like roots hungry for soil.

Tiny thorns grew inward, drilling into the tough flesh and then deeper... into bone.

With a sickening sound, the crown fused to its host.

A low, wet gurgle echoed in the orc’s throat. Its limbs twitched. Not in pain. But in ecstasy.

The orc’s body jerked upright like a puppet controlled by tangled strings. Its spine cracked back into position but not naturally. It was as if something was pulling it from the inside.

The eyes snapped open.

They no longer belonged to the chieftain.

Twin orbs of red burned like fire. Its eyes scanned the surroundings before resting on a crimson bear standing atop corpses of four orcs.

And then the thing that had once been the chieftain moved.

With a sickening crack of limbs bending the wrong way, the body dropped to all fours, its spine bent unnaturally.

The crown pulsed once as if giving permission.

Then boom.

A burst of corrupted mana. The ground cracked beneath its limbs as it shot forward.

—

As Bearlo stood beside the four orcs he had just defeated, he didn’t feel triumph.

He felt focused.

His eyes locked toward the center of the cave, toward his liege, still dancing with death.

I’m coming, my liege.

But then, his instincts screamed.

And in the very next moment, he heard it.

"BEARLO, LOOK OUT!"

The voice of his liege.

But before he could react,

CRACK!

Something slammed into him. His vision spun as his body was hurled across the cave.

BOOM!

He wasn’t hurt much. At the last instant, he had managed to channel his mana across his skin like armor, cushioning the blow.

Still, it took him a second to rise.

And when he did...

He froze.

Standing where he’d been moments ago was the orc chieftain.

Or... something that used to be.

Its rusted crown had dug into its skull like twisting roots, veins of dark mana were pulsing from the cracks.

Its once-fierce eyes were now entirely red, glowing with unfiltered madness.

It no longer roared orders.

It howled like a beast that had forgotten it was ever born of flesh.

And then...

With both claws, it grabbed one of the fallen orcs nearby—

CRUNCH.

It bit through bone and meat, blood drenching its face as it chewed with slow movement.

One by one, it turned to the other orc corpses, devouring them, feeding on its own kin.

Bearlo stared in frozen silence.

This wasn’t just a leader anymore. It was something else. Something entirely wrong.

Looking at the beast, his body trembled slightly, and his instincts screamed at him to run away for a moment.

And deep in his chest, he felt a tremor of fear.

—

Meanwhile, standing just a few meters from the crowned horror, Rael muttered the only thing that made sense.

"Oh, hell no. Fuck you, fate."