Anahita froze in place.
For several seconds, she stared at the towering two-headed orc without moving. Her eyes sparkled, her lips parted slightly, and a thin line of drool slipped from the corner of her mouth. The golden light radiating from her body grew brighter with each passing second, as if her excitement could no longer be contained.
In a long, hungry drawl, she said,
"Ooooooh… so this is where the real treasure was…"
She clasped her hands together and floated a little closer, her gaze never leaving the orc, a playful giggle escaping her lips.
"Tonight, I can finally eat as much meat as I want… and drink as much wine as I like. Tonight… I'm having a true royal feast."
The two-headed orc lumbered toward the wolves' carcasses, as if it intended to start eating right there. The other orcs, sensing the weight of its presence, stepped aside without protest, clearing a path.
Suddenly—
A figure dropped from the sky like a bolt of lightning.
With a strike too fast for the eye to follow, the heads of two orcs standing to the left of the two-headed one were severed in an instant.
The two-headed orc sensed the presence of an unknown being. Both heads snapped to the left at the same time.
Blood burst from the necks of its fallen subordinates, their severed heads rolling across the ground with dull thuds. A moment later, their bodies collapsed lifelessly onto the earth.
As the corpses fell, a red-haired man stepped into view from behind them—his sword slick with blood, his cold, emotionless gaze fixed on the two-headed orc.
His lips parted slightly.
And in a voice as cold as ice, he said:
"I finally found you…"
The two-headed orc stared at Lioran in confusion. Everything had happened so fast, it hadn't even had time to react.
One of its heads turned toward the fallen bodies. At the sight of the lifeless corpses, it was as if it had only just come back to its senses. A furious growl tore from its throat.
"Bastard! How dare you kill my men?!"
Then, filled with rage, it barked the order:
"Kill him!"
The four remaining orcs charged at Lioran with savage cries, raising their massive swords as they rushed forward.
One of the heads snarled with hatred:
"You're finished, filthy human! I'll rip those cold eyes out of your skull and eat them myself!"
Lioran paid no attention to the threat. With a calm, icy expression, he watched the four orcs closing in, their roars echoing through the forest.
Then he raised a hand toward them and said in a bored voice:
"Stop making so much noise…"
Suddenly, a massive flame burst from his palm and surged toward them.
The orcs didn't even have time to react. The moment the fire engulfed them, piercing screams tore through the air. Their bodies burned within the flames—until the screams faded into weak, dying groans.
One by one, they collapsed to the ground…
And lay still.
Suddenly, a heavy punch landed on Lioran's head, and Anahita's furious voice rang out:
"You crazy idiot! How many times do I have to tell you—just cut off their heads?! What if you burn their mana cores?!"
Lioran shot her an angry glare. This time, he didn't hold back—he struck her on the head in return.
"Useless spirit. I told you not to interfere with my work. And stop hitting my head… or you won't get any food. Ever."
For a moment, Anahita froze, staring into his cold, furious eyes. She knew he meant it—if she pushed any further, he really would stop giving her food.
So she backed down… but not without bitterness.
"Do whatever you want, jerk… you know what? You're a heartless, brainless, stupid demon."
With a sharp motion, she vanished back into his body.
Lioran's gaze shifted back to the two-headed orc. Under his breath, he muttered:
"One day… I'm going to kill that damned spirit myself…"
The two-headed orc stood frozen, staring at the charred corpses of his men. He still couldn't believe it—how a massive blaze had erupted from Lioran's hand and wiped them out in a single attack.
Fear was clear in all four of his eyes.
One of the heads roared in rage:
"This… this is impossible!"
The other head, calmer but filled with anger, fixed its gaze on Lioran's cold eyes and growled:
"You were a swordsman, bastard… how are you using magic? That's impossible."
Lioran answered in a cold, indifferent voice:
"Someone who's about to die doesn't need to understand."
The two-headed orc stared at him, stunned—four eyes locked onto him. Confusion crept into his voice as he spoke:
"You… you understand the language of monsters? Aren't you human?"
Lioran replied in the same cold tone:
"I told you… someone who's about to die doesn't need to understand."
Hearing Lioran's answer, both faces of the two-headed orc twisted. The veins in his neck bulged as he drew all four swords with his four hands. Rage poured from his voice as one head snarled.
"If you won't talk willingly, I'll rip the answer out of you myself!"
He leapt heavily toward Lioran, and the other head shouted.
"For talking, your tongue is enough… so I can cut off your arms and legs!"
With a furious roar, the two-headed orc brought all four swords crashing down at once.
But the instant the blades neared Lioran's face—
They stopped.
The orc froze, staring at his weapons in disbelief.
Only then did he realize.
All four massive blades had been caught by a single sword… Lioran's sword.
And there they hung, locked in place.
"What…?"
"That's impossible… how can you have this much power?"
Cold sweat ran down both faces.
And then—through the tangle of blades—he saw Lioran's eyes.
Cold.
Empty.
In that exact moment, a shiver ran down his spine.
Without thinking, he leapt back, stumbling several steps away.
The two-headed orc stared at Lioran with a feeling he had never known before. Sweat dripped from both foreheads as his thoughts spiraled in turmoil.
'This… what was that feeling?'
'Why… why did I feel like I had to run?'
Lioran stared at the two-headed orc before him with tired, emotionless eyes. His gaze held no threat, no anger—yet its calmness was deeply unsettling.
The orc stood tall, his body strong and uninjured. No wounds marked his green skin, no sign of weakness showed. And yet, something twisted inside his chest—a strange pressure he couldn't understand, like something that didn't belong within his mind.
Lioran spoke in a cold, even tone:
"What's wrong? Why did you pull back?"
The wind stirred through the trees. Leaves rustled—
But the orc gave no answer.
A heavy, suffocating silence settled between them.
Lioran let out a faint sigh and stepped forward. The sound of his boot against the ground was quiet, almost insignificant—yet that single step made the orc shift his weight unconsciously.
He didn't even realize he had moved.
Lioran continued:
"If you're not coming to me…"
He took another step.
"…then I'll come to you."