In the middle of the battle, two imposing warriors who had gone head-to-head were trying to push each other, but despite dozens of seconds passing, no result had been achieved yet. The mercenary, throwing his weight against his shield—which was larger than his body—with the support of the two people behind him, couldn't push back the orc warrior who had leaned his axe and shoulder against the shield.
Actually, this situation was the opportunity they wanted, the one they had been looking for but couldn't find, but a surprise awaited the soldiers who wanted to thrust their spears into the orc's body by reaching out from the third row. Let alone piercing the body of the orc warrior, whose intertwined muscles gleamed with a bronze color, they couldn't even leave a scratch.
"Are there any among the ten orcs who came with you who can use lineage power?"
Michelangelo, grasping the worn-out stones of the walls with his metallic arms, thought that the orc, who was untouchable against the blows he took from metal weapons, was using lineage power, but Bookworm would immediately clarify the matter.
"Unfortunately no; the ability used by number five is a technique belonging to the Holy Land Sect, one of the Hell Realm Sects of the Orc Military Academy. The one in front of you is one of the few who managed to learn the ability from among thousands of orc warriors whose bodies were covered in special ashes coming from that continent."
After listening to the explanations of the purple-robed orc, the young man swallowed so hard that his Adam's apple almost ripped through his skin and popped out. Bookworm hadn't just said that what they were seeing wasn't a lineage ability; his words harbored hidden meanings within them.
"Michelangelo, my young friend, you might have seen me as a cruel or even heartless person when I said this, but I request you to look at the situation not as a human but as if you were an orc. The Orc Empire is a place where strength dictates, and you are treated according to your strength.
This doesn't only apply to normal orcs; even if you are the firstborn son of an orc chief, if you don't have strength, you have no value."
Perhaps Bookworm didn't intend to open old wounds while giving this example, perhaps he had long forgotten what happened in the past, but Alyon's expression changed dramatically after what he heard. His son was aware of this too, but there was nothing he could do; everyone was responsible for carrying their own burden on their back.
"Do you know how many orcs are born every day? Thousands, tens of thousands of newborns become adults in a short time, and because they aren't the children of parents with lineage power, or because they can't obtain the limited number of potions, they start living as nobodies.
They become just anyone among billions of orcs; now I ask you, is it better to be someone who doesn't even have a name, or to die while chasing after power?"
After Bookworm's explanations made through the eyes of an orc, Master Leonardo's apprentice nodded his head, showing he understood what he meant. To understand different cultures, different societies, and different lives, one needed to approach events from entirely different perspectives.
At the same time, when the third row of the V-shaped formation was left helpless, the soldiers in the back broke formation and started to attack, and it didn't take them long to realize this was the biggest mistake they could make. They thought that if they kept cutting the orc standing tall like a mountain with his bronze skin with their weapons, he would eventually exceed his limit and fall, but they weren't taking into account the two orc warriors who had only been standing behind him observing the events up until that moment.
Those approaching number five from the left side encountered a shield with a mirror-like surface and an axe that was half the length of the axes used by the others, with its handle bent inwards.
The seventh orc met the spears pointed at him with his ancestors' blessing shield; the shield, as smooth as the surface of a still lake, pulled the weapons into itself without putting up any resistance, and a breath later, the other ends of the spears in their hands were entering their own heads.
The seventh orc, who didn't hold back from swinging the axe he held in his other hand, was left defenseless against the attacks of the two soldiers who managed to dodge his weapon. The mercenaries, catching such an opening in a life-or-death moment, moved to thrust their spears into his body protected by leather armor, but how could they have known that the weapon that had just passed by them was connected to the wrist of the orc in front of them with an energy chain?
It was a mistake anyone could make, a trap one could easily fall into; if the result hadn't been losing their heads, they might have been more careful next time. Unfortunately, they had learned the hard way that an orc could also fight using deceptive moves and his intelligence.
The person who stood against the soldier approaching number five by running from the right of the mercenary with the massive shield was number ten. He had raised his axe, the standard weapon of the orcs, above his head, and this stance was very familiar to those watching the battle from the walls.
"Isn't this, isn't this her combat ability?"
Hammerstriker and Bookworm were privy to the information of the orcs who would come with them, but since Alyon had surrendered himself to bouts of depression and devoted all his time to playing with little Mora, he didn't know that number ten used the same ability as Wind of Death.
"Yes, number ten fights in the exact same way as my sister. Of course, he isn't as expert as she is and wasn't specially trained by the creator of the technique, but this orc isn't without a trick of his own either!"
When Bookworm's words signaled that the astonishment created by the orc warrior using a shield and a strange axe just now would continue, all eyes turned to number ten, who lunged forward. Although he wasn't as burly as Wind of Death, when the warrior, bearing the majesty of the orc race, popped up right beside the soldiers running toward him, it was obvious the enemy hadn't expected such great speed from him.
The three people trying to raise their spears collapsed to the ground with cuts running all the way across their chests; the metal-plated armor over the leather they wore was torn, but judging by their writhing, they had managed not to die.
Even so, number ten didn't stop; stepping on the enemy he left wounded behind him, he advanced toward his new targets. Even his movement patterns, changes of direction, and using his kicks to inflict injury rather than just to distract were the same as Wind of Death, but the biggest difference was hidden in the destruction they created.
When the Commander-in-Chief of the Orc Empire Armies struck an enemy with her axe, death would come within seconds, whereas number ten was far from achieving this. It was very clear that his biggest shortcoming was strength, and his handicap in this regard allowed some of his enemies who fell to the ground to get up and attack from behind.
"He's getting deeper and deeper into the enemy. Is it possible for him to get out of there alive with that power level?"
Alyon's fingers had started twitching independently of each other; the blood of the orc warrior, who had been longing for battle for a long time, was boiling. While observing the situation number ten fell into, his body tensed like a bow, so much so that he looked like he was going to throw himself off the walls at any moment.
"You're right, dad, it's impossible for him to get out of the place he entered with that power level, but like I said at the beginning, this orc has a little trick of his own too!"
Number ten, surrounded by enemies on all four sides, slowed down as his room to maneuver was restricted, and as he slowed down, he was surrounded even more, and eventually, he entered almost into the attack range of the spears the mercenaries carried in their hands.
The enemy was at the door and death was a breath away, but there was no trace of worry on number ten's face. Just like he did at the beginning of his attack, he raised his axe above his head; it looked like he was going to start everything all over again.
Seeing that his technique only managed to wound, the soldiers didn't retreat; in their eyes, this move was nothing more than a huge bluff. Those who hadn't been attacked before moved to the front lines and took the risk of being wounded in a non-lethal way at most.
When number ten attacked and sliced the group of three soldiers horizontally across their chests, he maintained his speed from the beginning of the battle. He had comfortably reached the enemy, but the results of the move he made this time were going to be completely different.
The upper parts of the bodies of the soldiers, whose armor had only been shattered just a moment ago, were now leaving the rest behind. Number ten had managed to sever them from their roots like chopping down a tree, and without slowing down, he applied this method to the others surrounding him.
"Bookworm, what's going on here?"