Chapter 105: Massacre! A mysterious young orc?

Just then, a series of urgent horn blasts and chaotic shouts suddenly erupted from outside the tent.

"Enemy attack! Enemies are charging in!"

Grom's expression shifted, and he stood up abruptly from his beast-hide chair.

"What?"

He grabbed the massive battle axe beside him—which was taller than he was—and roared.

"Gather all warriors! Follow me out to see which blind fool dares to provoke our Bloodclaw Tribe!"

He led his orc warriors, charging out of the main tent with a menacing air.

The moment he stepped out, he witnessed a scene that made his eyes split with rage.

He saw that a massive gap had been smashed into the wooden wall on the tribe's perimeter.

Dozens of human knights clad in dark-gold armor were like tigers entering a flock of sheep, frantically slaughtering his tribesmen.

The longswords in the hands of those human knights were incomparably sharp; every swing claimed the life of an orc warrior.

And his own people—those orc warriors who were usually so fierce—appeared so fragile and vulnerable before these well-equipped human knights.

Their stone axes and bone clubs struck the enemy's armor, producing only weak, muffled thuds.

Yet the enemy's longswords easily pierced their flesh and even their bones.

"Bastards!"

Grom let out a heaven-shaking roar, his eyes turning blood-red in an instant.

"Kill these damned humans for me!"

He held his giant axe high and was the first to charge toward the group of human knights.

The hundreds of orc warriors behind him also shouted and followed closely.

However, it seemed to be of no use.

Before the one hundred Storm Knights equipped with new armor and weapons,

a few hundred orc warriors were nothing.

"Hold the line! Do not retreat!"

Hart roared, his longsword transforming into streaks of sharp, cold light, continuously reaping the lives of the charging orcs.

His body was already stained with the dark green blood of the orcs.

Just then, an even more intense sound of battle cries erupted from the left flank of the tribe.

The thirty Storm Knights led by Falco, like divine soldiers descending from the heavens,

slaughtered their way out from the side and rear of the orc tribe.

They were like a red-hot branding iron searing into butter.

The orc tribe's already chaotic formation was instantly torn open by a massive gap.

"Kill!"

Falco roared excitedly, his longsword acting like the scythe of death, mercilessly reaping orc lives.

The knights behind him also vied to be the first, killing the orcs until they were wailing and their ranks were in total disarray.

"What is happening?"

Grom felt a jolt of shock upon seeing the enemies suddenly appear on his flank.

He had not expected these cunning humans to have kept a reserve force.

"Kazi, take some men and block the enemies on the flank!"

He hurriedly ordered the grey-skinned Shaman beside him.

"The rest of you, follow me to continue attacking the enemies in front! Tear them to shreds for me!"

However, before his voice had even faded,

a flame sword-gang—more condensed, hotter, and more dazzling than any before—suddenly descended from the sky.

That flame sword-gang was crimson red and crystal clear, with countless tiny flame runes seemingly flowing within it.

It radiated a terrifying, heart-palpitating heat that seemed capable of burning the very soul to ash.

"【Great Sun Blazing Slash · Flame Slash】!"

Accompanied by a cold, low shout, Roko's figure suddenly appeared before Grom.

The obsidian gold longsword in his hand had, at this moment, transformed into a fire dragon waiting to devour its prey.

Grom felt the terrifying heat rushing toward him, as well as the extreme destructive power contained within that flame sword-gang, and his pupils contracted sharply.

Without a second thought, he immediately raised his giant axe, attempting to parry.

"Boom!"

The flame sword-gang and the giant axe collided violently.

A deafening roar erupted.

Grom felt an irresistible, overwhelming force surge from the axe handle.

The giant axe in his hand was actually cleaved by that seemingly not-so-thick flame sword-gang, leaving a crack deep enough to see the bone.

His entire body was also shaken, forcing him to retreat repeatedly; the webbing between his thumb and forefinger split, and blood flowed freely.

"Pfft!"

A mouthful of scalding blood sprayed from his mouth.

He felt as if his internal organs had been displaced; the pain was excruciating.

"How is this possible?"

He looked in disbelief at this human knight who was excessively young.

He was an orc at the initial stage of the Bronze Rank Warrior realm!

Could it be that this human before him was even stronger than he was?

Roko had succeeded with one strike, but he did not pause in the slightest.

His figure transformed into a blur once again, pressing the attack.

The obsidian gold longsword in his hand, carrying an unstoppable momentum, slashed toward Grom again.

"The Flame Slash at the Great Accomplishment Realm truly did not disappoint me."

A thought of satisfaction flashed through Roko's mind.

He could clearly feel that his application of flame power had reached a brand-new height—the sword moved with his will, and the fire was born from his heart.

This feeling of controlling everything made him incomparably intoxicated.

Grom looked at the flame longsword attacking again, carrying an aura of destruction, and finally, fear appeared in his eyes.

He wanted to dodge, but Roko's speed was simply too fast.

He could only watch helplessly as the longsword, burning with raging flames, grew larger and larger in his pupils.

"No!"

He let out a desperate roar.

"!"

The sharp blade cut through his tough skin without resistance, severed his bones, and pierced his heart.

The scorching flame Battle Qi raged madly within his body, instantly burning his internal organs into charred remains.

The expression on Grom's face froze at that very instant.

His eyes were filled with unwillingness, fear, and a trace of bewilderment.

He could not understand why he, the dignified leader of the Bloodclaw Tribe and a powerhouse at the initial stage of the Bronze Rank Warrior realm, would die so easily at the hands of an unknown human brat.

Roko pulled out his longsword with a blank expression.

Grom's tall and burly body collapsed with a crash, splashing up a cloud of dust.

On his body, charred black marks from being burned by the flames remained, emitting a pungent, burnt odor.

"Leader!"

"The leader is dead!"

Seeing Grom killed by Roko with a single sword strike, the surrounding orc warriors instantly fell into a state of massive panic.

They let out desperate howls, no longer caring about the battle, and turned to flee in all directions.

Even their most powerful leader had been killed so easily by the enemy.

How could they, these ordinary orc warriors, possibly be the opponents of these terrifying human knights?

"Want to run?"

A cold light flashed in Roko's eyes, and he let out a cold snort.

"Leave none alive!"

His cold voice clearly reached the ears of every Storm Knight.

"Kill!"

The Storm Knights roared in unison, and like hungry wolves pouncing on prey, they launched a ruthless pursuit of the fleeing orcs.

Fula's figure, like a ghost in the dark night, moved flexibly across the chaotic battlefield.

Every time the thin sword in her hand flashed, it precisely pierced the throat of an orc.

Her movements were elegant yet lethal.

It was as if she were not killing, but dancing a dance of death.

Mike also mustered his remaining courage, chasing down an orc attempting to escape.

The longsword in his hand was still a bit clumsy, but it was filled with strength.

The battle soon drew to a close.

Under the pursuit of the Storm Knights, of the more than five hundred orcs of the Bloodclaw Tribe, except for a few who luckily escaped into the deep mountains and old forests, the rest were all slaughtered on the spot.

The entire valley was shrouded in a thick, bloody stench.

Everywhere were the incomplete corpses of orcs.

The afterglow of the setting sun sprinkled over this field of slaughter, plating the dark green blood with a strange, dark red hue.

Roko stood at the highest point of the valley, overlooking this land stained red with blood, his face devoid of any expression.

In his heart, there was not a shred of pity.

In this world where the strong prey upon the weak, mercy is the greatest cruelty to oneself.

"Falco, take men to guard the surroundings, to prevent any fish that slipped through the net or orcs from other tribes from coming to investigate."

"Yes, Master!"

Hart and Falco received their orders and left.

Mike stood somewhat distractedly beside an orc corpse, the longsword in his hand still trembling slightly.

His face and body were covered in orc blood.

Looking at this bloody scene before him, his heart was filled with complex emotions.

There was fear, there was disgust, but also a trace of inexplicable excitement and a sense of accomplishment—from today on, he was no longer that pampered, spoiled son in the Earl Adrian mansion.

He was a true knight who had experienced the test of blood and fire.

Fula walked to Roko's side and gently tugged at the corner of his clothes.

"Master, we won."

Her voice carried a trace of imperceptible joy.

Roko turned his head, looked at Fula's pair of pure, heterochromatic pupils, and a gentle smile appeared on his face.

"Mm, we won."

He reached out and gently rubbed Fula's pair of soft cat ears.

Fula squinted her eyes comfortably, letting out a satisfied "meow."

Just then, a knight responsible for clearing the battlefield suddenly let out an exclamation.

"Master! Come and look! There is something strange here!"

Roko raised an eyebrow slightly and, taking Fula and Mike, walked toward the direction of that knight.

He saw that amidst a pile of burned debris, a small thing wrapped in tattered beast hide was wriggling slightly.

That knight carefully pushed aside the beast hide.

What was revealed was actually a young orc, looking only the size of a human infant, with skin presenting a strange, dark red color.

This young orc was significantly different from those ordinary green-skinned orcs or red-skinned orcs; on its forehead, it had two small, curved horns like those of an antelope.

Its skin was covered in fine, scale-like patterns.

A pair of eyes were tightly closed, and long eyelashes trembled slightly.

Its breathing was very weak, as if it could stop at any moment.

But Roko could clearly feel a unique, strange energy fluctuation full of potential emanating from its body.

"This is..." A look of surprise flashed in Roko's eyes.

He could feel that within the body of this young orc, there seemed to be some kind of very special bloodline power.

This power was different from any orc bloodline he knew of.

"Master, this is also an orc cub; should we deal with it directly?"

That knight requested instructions.

In his view, orcs, regardless of size, were enemies and deserved to die.

Hart glanced at the dying young orc, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Master, this thing..."

His words carried a hint of inquiry, the meaning self-evident.

Orcs, regardless of size, were potential threats.

Especially here in the Orc Wasteland, any mercy toward orcs could bring disaster upon oneself.

The Storm Knight who discovered the young beast also spoke up: "Master, this little thing doesn't look like it will live long."

"..."

"How about we just..."

He made a throat-slitting gesture.

Mike looked at the young orc curled up in the tattered beast hide, its body trembling uncontrollably, and a sense of unbearable pity arose in his heart.

It was too small; it looked just like an infant born not long ago.

Its skin was a strange dark red, and on its forehead were two small, lamb-like curved horns.

On its tightly closed eyes, long eyelashes trembled slightly, as if it were enduring immense pain.

"It, it is still just a child."

Mike couldn't help but whisper.

Although he knew orcs were enemies and the great enemy of the Black Kingdom.

Yet this little life before him was simply too fragile, so fragile that he couldn't muster any killing intent.

Fula also squatted down, curiously extending a finger to gently touch the young beast's cold little face.

"Meow..."

She let out an almost inaudible hum, seemingly also feeling that this little thing was somewhat pitiful.

Roko did not make a decision immediately.

He quietly observed this strange young orc.

Its life force was indeed very weak, like a candle in the wind, which could be extinguished at any time.

But Roko felt a unique energy fluctuation from it.

It was a very obscure, yet strange power full of potential.

It was completely different from the green-skinned orcs and red-skinned orcs he had killed before.

"【Probe】."

Roko muttered in his heart.

A pale blue light screen, visible only to him, instantly appeared above the young orc.

【Name: Unknown (Can be named)】

【Race:??? (Ancient Bloodline Variant Orc)】

【Level: Juvenile Stage (Dying)】

【Talent: S+ (Unawakened)】

【Status: Life force extremely exhausted, bloodline power dormant】

【Favorability: 0】

【Loyalty: 0】

When he saw the two golden characters "S+" displayed in the talent column, Roko's pupils contracted sharply.

An S+ grade talent!

This was the same level of existence as his subordinate Guardian Knight Falco and the Minotaur Talos.

A dying young orc actually possessed such astonishing potential.

This was simply inconceivable.

"Ancient Bloodline Variant Orc?"

Roko's brow raised slightly, his heart filled with curiosity and surprise.

He had never seen this race name in any classic. ===== CHAPTER 106 =====