"An orc with human hostages? What? How many are we talking about? Are they an actual threat to the base, or why do I need to deal with this?" Thalion blurted out.
He had just powered up, and if those orcs wanted to ss with him, they were all dead. He didn’t care for their lives and nothing would survive after trying to cross him.
"No, no, that’s not the problem," Evelyn shook her head quickly. "There are only about seventy orcs. The problem is that they have four level-twenty-five humans as hostages. Their leader says he’ll kill them if you don’t duel him. It’s almost impossible to rescue them because the orcs are standing so close. The only way in would be from below, but the ground inside the base is hardened so much that even Jakob can’t burrow through it. He’s now tunneling in a wide arc from the far side where the orcs can’t see him, but it’ll take ti." Thıs content belongs to nοvelfire
Annoying… but manageable. If the orc wanted a duel, he’d get one.
ssages from Kaldrek and the others flooded in about the situation.
"Then let’s get up there," Thalion said flatly, before bolting up the stairs. He avoided using Mistform, it risked burning half the place down just by passing through. Instead, he tried a telekinetic dash to land on a nearby rooftop. That was the plan, at least. In reality, the skill launched him over fifty ters high, shooting right past his intended landing point. He hadn’t realized the move could be buffed to such absurd levels and he hadn’t even poured much power into it.
He landed on another rooftop and sprinted toward the front gate. The streets below were crowded, many faces turning to watch him race along the roofs toward the outer wall. Fighters were already lining the battlents, bracing for whatever waited beyond. One final leap put him atop the wall, others stepping aside to give him room.
"Good you’re here. I don’t know how much longer we could have stalled that orc..." Kaldrek began, but Thalion brushed past him the instant he saw the hostages.
Bound to four wooden poles was his first party. They’d been separated after an orc ambush, right after he’d taken the forms of the Shadowstalker and the Glowhorn. Now they stood beaten and bloodied, open wounds across their bodies, and not one of them above level twenty-five.
mories hit him hard, the battle with the grasshoppers, Lucas and Jas shield-bashing while he hurled fireballs into the swarm. Rage boiled in his veins. These orcs would pay, and afterward, he’d personally make sure his first party got a good solid level push. If there was a record on how fast you could powerlevel soone, he would breack it.
He dropped to the ground in front of the enemy as the orc chieftain addressed him. What was his na again?
"Haha! I finally found the last human. I told you that you wouldn’t be safe. Now Brakor of the Iron Jaws will show you what real power is! You haven’t even evolved, but it doesn’t matter, prey is prey, even when it slacks off." Brakor’s laughter was deep and mocking. The orc had bulked up, easily putting on another hundred kilos of muscle. In one hand he held his weapon, a heavy staff topped with a human skull.
"Yeah, cut the crap and co over here so we can finish this," Thalion hissed. He wanted this done, then it would be open hunting season on orcs.
"Oh, no, no, no," Brakor wagged a clawed finger. "Don’t you want to speak to your forr party mbers first? After enough… persuasion, they told all about you. You’re just a shapeshifter, and I am a powerful mage. Why not have a nice little reunion before I kill you?"
The grin widened and then, without warning, Brakor gave a subtle signal.
The orcs behind the wooden poles stepped forward and, in one swift motion, killed all four of Thalion’s party mbers. They’d been so underleveled that even a single punch could have ended them. Thalion’s gaze locked with Mike’s for one final, agonizing instant. The man’s broken body slumping against the ropes that still held him upright.
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"Hahaha..." Brakor’s gloating laugh was cut short as a crimson thorn lodged halfway through his chest. The laugh twisted into a high, strangled shriek.
Thalion’s aura burst outward like a tidal wave, and an inferno roared to life around him. The flas were unlike anything seen before, hungrier, deadlier. Even without invoking fear magic, his re presence silenced the field. The only sounds were the crackle of burning and Brakor’s ragged breathing.
When Thalion spoke, his voice carried across the battlefield without mana amplification — dark, cold, and dripping with malice. No one doubted his words. No one even dared to breathe wrong.
"Capture every single orc alive. I have plans for them."
It took only a mont before scout vessels filled with fighters roared overhead, and guards leapt from the wall to attack the orcs.
Thalion stood in the middle of the inferno, still staring at the corpses of the first four people he had t in this tutorial. He had liked them. Now, they were gone.
mories flashed by, how they were hiding in the trees that first night, experinting with their new skills. Thalion forced himself to rein in his monstrous killing intent. The flas around him had risen instantly to over twenty ters high, the heat so intense that the scout vessels had to fly around it.
Brakor sat on the ground, clutching at the thorn jutting from his chest, staring at Thalion with wide, panicked eyes. At first, the shock and rage had nearly frozen Thalion in place. Now, he held himself back for one reason: if he attacked the orcs in his current state, he would definitely kill them, several at once. Every skill he had was stronger now, and he was in no mood to restrain himself.
He wanted them all dead. No rcy. They would all et their end in the Fear Pillar. He would charge that black monolith with more force than anyone ever had before.
The orcs were heavily outnumbered. Thousands of fighters sward them, and they had no chance at all. The only reason it had taken this long was that no one dared to kill an orc under Thalion’s watch. It wasn’t that he would punish them, but the fighters didn’t know that. His earlier words had been enough to plant the fear. No one wanted to find out what would happen if an orc died in front of him.
The flas around Thalion dimd as he took control of the thorn in Brakor’s chest, forcing it to grow through the bone, twisting upward. The orc’s screams, mingled with the wet cracks of bone splitting open, were almost lodic to Thalion.
When he had himself fully under control, a vine snaked from his body, connecting to the thorn in Brakor’s leg. With a sudden jerk, the vine lifted the orc into the air by the mangled limb. Blood should have poured freely from the wound, but the Sanguis Impera drank it all, greedily absorbing every drop.
"I’m going to kill you!" Brakor roared in pain and fury, trying to point his staff at Thalion.
Thalion didn’t answer. The vine snapped down like a whip, slamming the orc into the ground with a sickening crunch. Bones tore through the skin of his leg at unnatural angles. The impact knocked the staff from his grasp, sending it rolling out of reach, not that it mattered anymore.
Now fully in control, Thalion drew back his aura. The inferno faded, leaving only scorched earth and drifting ash. Without another glance at Brakor, he left him to the Sanguis Impera. The plant knew its prey wouldn’t die just yet.
Thalion walked slowly to the four wooden poles where the bodies of his forr teammates hung.
"I’m sorry," he said quietly. Then, using his bloodline, he set the poles and their bodies alight.
He had never been to a funeral in his life, but wasn’t this how the Jedi said goodbye to their dead? If he rembered right, Qui-Gon had been burned, too.
He poured mana into the flas until they reached forty ters high. Then he knelt before the pyre, grief pressing down on him, watching until even the bones disintegrated into ash under the searing heat.
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