75. The Racial Skill of a Dominance Orc
Morning came violently. I woke up to Irsha charging into my hut before the sun had even risen. She couldn't breathe to speak, she was panting so hard, so she dropped herself on top of me to wake me up.
It wasn't a good way to wake up. My heart just about jumped out of my chest: I thought I was being attacked. When I saw who it was, I rolled out from under her and took a step back.
“Hey, hey, calm down. Catch your breath so you can tell me what’s going on.”
Irsha’s tired arms shook as she raised herself onto her hands and knees. She promptly emptied the contents of her stomach on my floor.
Oi, seriously?! How long has she been running for, anyway?
Once the smallest amount of air flowed into her lungs, she started gasping out words.
“Please come East. Evolved Fomors. About to wipe us out.” She looked up at me with a begging expression and tears in her eyes. “Please, save us from extinction! Varoon is still there!”
Did she run from her village to here?! It looks like the Expansionist tribes are in a really bad situation. Based on her wording, Varoon must have told her that I’m the Orc Lord. I bet that’s what he was hiding from me earlier.
That means… This is destiny, right? I was born here to save the Orcs from extinction, and extinction is facing them now.
I'm afraid. Right now, my actions decide the lives and deaths of, what, hundreds? Thousands? My legs feel weak. My hands are cramping. I don't think I could hold a weapon properly right now. My heart won't slow down at all.
This feels like, back on Earth, that time I watched someone die. They were very sick. I called the ambulance because I didn't know what to do at all. How do you do mouth to mouth for someone that’s suffocating on their own body fluids? I couldn't do anything at all. I saw the moment when their eyes stopped focusing. I heard the wails of the family when they rushed over. It isn't anything at all like watching something passively on TV.
And in this world, I've killed someone with my bare hands. I was emotionally unstable, and I did it for almost no reason. I don't know how to deal with serious stuff like this. I want to look away, ignore it, run.
What would you do if it were your sister being attacked? A little voice in me chimed.
I don't know what I could do, but of course I would want to save her. The answer is obvious.
And Varoon is my brother. The Orcs are my people, my family. I want to help them. But can I really help in a crisis like this?
If not now, then when?
You're not some weak human anymore.
Isn't this the perfect moment to let loose?
Don't look at it like it’s not your problem.
Break through.
The decision is obvious; I'm just afraid to make it.
“I understand. Let me wake the village.”
I step outside my hut. Using
I repeat the announcement again in Goblin and Human language, so they understand what’s going on and aren't terrified by the loud noises. I cast
“You two should stay here. You'll likely die if you come.”
“I will fight.” Rudan gripped his sword stubbornly.
“I will cover him,” Elianora says simply.
“We’re up against Fomors and their evolved counterparts,” I frown seriously. I don't see any reason for them to want to go to war with a bunch of Orcs, but they refuse to let up.
I should have just tied them up and left them there. I'm too soft.
My blood is boiling. The terror known as war--no, the horror known as massacre is waiting ahead of here, and I'm about to run toward it. In the center is my precious family. I want to break through… and save them!
[[Conditions met. Full synchronization with
[[
I'm sure I'll need it.
“Let’s go. Keep Irsha’s pace!”
I run at the back to make sure we don't lose anybody. I repeatedly cast
Elianora can't keep up. It would waste too much Magic Power to keep healing her, so I'm carrying her on my back. My body considers this training. I can feel my muscles break and tear with every movement, and I can feel
But, I've never worried about the effects of
It's a skill that uses the energy from what I eat when it can. If additional energy is needed, it borrows some Magic Power from me. Normally, I have access to food when I'm in a position of injuring myself. This case is different. If I don't get to eat for a while and my magic power runs out…
For now, I can only do my best to conserve Magic Power, and hope things never reach that point.
Using hand signals, I’m able to engage in a telephone-style of communication with Irsha at the front. Simple questions like “How many enemies?” or “How enemy fight?” are easy enough to come up with by combining existing signals. The responses seem lackluster. Three enemies that use both magic and weapons to attack. From that alone, it doesn't feel threatening at all. But Irsha sends back, on her own initiative, that a party of six or more War Orcs would have trouble against one of these enemies.
The run is exhausting. We would have lost more than half of our fighting force if I wasn't regularly rejuvenating them with magic. It’s amazing that Irsha made it on her own without any self-recovery skills.
Anyway, after several hours pass, I start to be able to sense the enemy in the distance. It isn't
I travel to the front of the pack to speak with Irsha.
“I sense Demonic energy up ahead.”
“Of course,” Irsha nodded. “Fomors can only evolve into Small Baphomets after acquiring the Demonic attribute. The purpose of their summer tribute is to call evil spirits to them to initiate that process. There’s usually only one born every few years.”
Ah, so being hit by three of those things at once must have really come as a shock.
It's been about twelve hours since Irsha left here to come find me. If I think about it realistically, it would be insane to think the Orcs are still holding out. A part of me genuinely thought we would arrive and there would be no one left alive but us to take on whatever Fomors are left. However, I was mistaken. Not only are there still Orcs alive and fighting, but there are many of them.
“There are ten Allied tribes,” Irsha explained to me. “They've all gathered to fight.”
In the village was a somewhat sturdy building where injured or tired Orcs were able to rest a bit. We went there to learn about the current situation.
It seems like five Small Baphomets appeared in all, and the ten Expansionist tribes gathered to fight them. Currently, after twelve hours, there were four Small Baphomets remaining, and seven villages worth of Orcs. What makes things worse is that there’s Fomors mixed in with the Small Baphomets. There were around six villages worth of those in the beginning, and three now.
I have a hundred Orcs with me. Durghan, momma, and Fiara are all strong. There’s about seven hundred cooperating Orcs from the Expansionist tribes. Against us are four Small Baphomets and three hundred Fomors.
I consider myself reasonably powerful, but number games like this make me hesitate to run wild.
“Alright,” I address my troops, “nearly all of you will be contributing to thinning out the Fomors. Myself, Durghan, momma, Fiara, and Irsha will travel as a group to target the nearest Small Baphomet. We’ll have a feast if we survive this, so do your best not to get killed.”
I was never all that good at strategy games. I'm only capable of thinking two moves ahead at most. I don't know if my orders are going to help us save these people, or if they’ll get me and my tribe killed.
“We outnumber the enemy. Work together to take them down.”
The information from the recovering Orcs and War Orcs tells me that the nearest living Small Baphomet is about fifteen minutes North of here. If we run at top speed, we can make it in three. We decide the positions on the way. I'll be spearheading the assault. Momma and Durghan will be supporting me. Irsha is using a different weapon than the war hammer she practiced with, so she’ll be mainly in charge of guarding Fiara, who will be attacking and supporting from the rear.
Of course, I've never fought a Small Baphomet before. If this formation doesn't work, we might have to improvise. Above all, I don't want anyone dying.
I don't have much time to train with it, but I activate
[[
What? A technique to draw enemy aggro?
Spirits, what is classified as an enemy under the synergistic effect of
[[Information is accessible. The opposing side in war is considered the enemy. This definition is overwritten if the enemy general is within range, in which case, the enemy general is seen as the only enemy of importance.]]
Then, this should help me keep the attention of the Small Baphomet on myself, right? I'm not really sure if that’s a good thing.
As I was worrying, a flash of white light appeared from behind the trees. It engulfed my vision, turning everything around me into a photonegative scene. I suddenly felt very hot, and my consciousness became fuzzy. I thought I heard a loud boom last of all.
Then I came to, standing where I had been. The area around me completely turned to ash. The others seem to have avoided the attack, and I seem to have survived, but the spirits sent me this message:
[[
Instant, my blood turned to ice in my veins, death?
That attack I couldn't even see to avoid, that clearly eradicated me from this world, was that from a Small Baphomet?!
Fear of death started clouding my consciousness. Without Fiara’s encouragement, I think I would have given up there.
“Chief, it can't use that magic consecutively.”
“I see.”
The others look amazed; like I'm some sort of God for surviving that attack unscathed. I think only Fiara and I understand that I was just a coin flip away from death.
“Let’s quickly get close enough to return fire,” I order.
I think I might throw up from all this stress.