Time passed.
Travel from midday to midnight, eating, then sleeping. Waking up, washing if there's a river nearby, eating again if there's left over food and hunting if there isn't. Like this, days passed, then weeks passed, and finally a little over a month passed.
It was another day of travel, like any other.
Mikhail was playing a card game with Mog, Yargol, Yatur, Yagnar, and another adult named Jukha. The sun had begun to set, and the nature outside began to quiet down. Before long it was dark, and a white shimmer began to flow in from the shutters above. The light of the Chasmosaurs.
"So, that book of yours, Uncle Yagnar… Is it some sort of historical book?"
Yagnar nodded. "Yes. It is about our mighty ancestor Shagar. He was a behemoth of a man that wielded two large battle axes at once. This book was written by a lover of his, or so the book claims. I can't tell you how accurate that is though, since this book is around five-thousand years old."
"Five-thousand years old!? That book looks way too good to be so old! Is it a copy?"
"That's right. The original is in the hands of the orc Shaman Wingloug."
"Crazy… What does the original look like these days?"
Yagnar chuckled.
"To tell you the truth, it looks crusty as shi-"
Suddenly, the guttural and cow-like cry of the Chasmosaurs rang out. The caravan had come to a halt.
CRASH!
The sound of wood breaking followed by the sound of feminine screams resounded out.
CRASH
And then the roof of the men's carriage caved in!
Four figures dropped in from above.
One was a human, one was an orc, but Mikhail did not know what the other two were called. One was covered in vibrant, fish-like scales, and the other was covered in plumage like that of a bird's.
The fish-man and bird-man were the most striking of that group to Mikhail. And he found it strange how the bird-man had a human face with a long beak replacing his mouth and nose. It felt a little uncanny to see.
And there was another thing about this group that was rather odd.
They all wore matching armor.
Under a sturdy looking gray leather vest with a strap going over either shoulder, a short-sleeve shirt made out of metallic beast scales could be seen. They wore gray leather wrist and shin guards, along with black leather boots.
Their pants were made of a comfortable looking black fabric.
And all of their equipment seemed strange. Pale-yellow and azure streaks looking almost like cracks ran all throughout their single-edged swords.
"Demon Clan!" Yagnar shouted angrily.
Immediately, all the adults in the carriage stood up, and weapons seemingly spawned out of thin air within their grasp. And at the same time, they suddenly became clad in armor. It made Mikhail do a double take due to how abrupt the appearance of those armaments had been.
Before anything else could be said, all of those individuals seemingly vanished.
Mikhail and everyone else in the carriage looked around, and then…
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
CRASH!
BOOM!
Everyone was flung into the walls of the carriage as several shockwaves spread out from the center of the carriage. And some seemed to be thrown to the side before one of the walls of the carriage burst apart, exploding outwards into the forest!
BOOM! BOOM!
The sounds of an intense fight could be heard as one shockwave after the other swept through the area. And soon, the sound of shockwaves grew more numerous and came faster and faster. And then, the orange light of fire began illuminating the carriage from outside…
Picking himself off the ground, Mikhail's vision seemed to be a blur. He and Mog were the first ones to get up and off the ground, and everyone else quickly followed. But regardless, they were all disoriented.
"Weapons… We need to arm ourselves!" Mikhail shouted as a semblance of clarity returned to him.
But before anyone could move, a lone figure dropped in through the broken roof of the carriage.
An orc wearing tattered gray leather armor had dropped in through the hole, and he carried a bloody saber in one of his hands. He was wearing a white mask with a spiky black star painted onto its surface.
The orc's eyes scanned the crowd slowly, who had all gotten into various fighting stances. Mikhail watched as the orc looked from one side of the carriage to the other.
And then, the intruder and Mikhail's gaze seemed to meet.
"...Oh? Well isn't this interesting?!"
The orc suddenly dashed forward, sliding through a barrage of attacks like a slippery eel. And then he swung his blade at Mikhail, who barely managed to duck under the horizontal swing.
'He's a refined mortal! I can do this!'
Yet rather than wind up for another slash like Mikhail expected, the orc kicked him, sending him flying out of the carriage.. The wind was knocked out of Mikhail's lungs, and he bounced back off a tree a little ways away from the carriage.
Another swing of the sword followed as he dropped to the ground, but Mikhail instinctively kicked forward while pushing himself off the tree, knocking the sinister looking orc away.
He saw how more enemies poured in through the roof of the carriage, but he was in no place to worry about others.
He fell to the ground as he dodged another swing of the orc's blade, and smacked his head against the rocky ground.
It hurt, but it was better than dying!
The orc slashed down at him, yet Mikhail dodged yet again by rolling.
The only thing keeping him alive right now were his enhanced reflexes and his mostly refined body...
He got up during the roll, and in a motion that surprised him, instinctively smacked the blade's side with the back of his hand in order to avoid another vertical slash.
The surprise of that action couldn't take residence in his mind for long, though.
"Come on! Where's your Fighting Spirit?! Do I have to knock some sense into you!?"
Mikhail's thoughts were a mess, only focused on getting to the armory carriage so he could fight back on even ground. There were others with similar thoughts, made evident by the rush of orcs flowing out of the carriage, all of them carrying wounds one way or another.
He ran from the scene of the battle, stumbling as he got up. He moved down the line of carts to the best of his abilities, yet the orc just didn't let up!
He began taking shallow cuts every so often, and when he got to the armory carriage, he found no opportunity to safely open the door!
As he ducked under a violent horizontal swing, and then narrowly side stepped another violent kick, a light of understanding dawned on his mind.
'An eye for an eye.'
He noticed how the orc kept him away from any nearby trees, circling him to avoid getting his blade caught in their thick lumber. And the same went for the armory carriage.
His opponent was far more skilled than he was, and if it weren't for the angry shouts, Mikhail would've believed that the orc had been toying with him this entire time.
Fighting with the intention of keeping himself safe would lead to him getting tired out as the fight dragged on. And if that happened, he'd be a dead man before he ever got the chance to pick up a spear!
The only way to survive was to trade blows!
As he dodged the attacks to the best of his ability, he seemed to get into a strange flow. He analyzed the positioning and movements of the orc with an unreal speed, and reacted accordingly.
His dodging skills were rapidly improving!
Yet, he still needed to trade blows. He couldn't find an opportunity to safely attack no matter how much he dodged, and he could feel faint traces of fatigue beginning to course through his body.
He bided his time for a good opportunity, one that wouldn't fuck him up too badly.
And his patience was rewarded.
His body was low to the ground after dodging one of the orc's horizontal slashes, and he saw how the orc was winding up for an overhead slash. Rather than dodge, he allowed the saber to slice off a chunk of his left shoulder.
The type of pain he felt was an unfamiliar kind…
But the torture in that stuffy prison cell was worse. He grit his teeth together so hard he felt his gums bleed.
Yet, he remained focused!
With all his strength, he threw a desperate uppercut filled with as much strength as he could muster, jumping up from his low position!
The uppercut shot straight into the center of the mask, causing its structure to crack all over, before sending him flying backwards. The orc let out a painful grunt, yet his body suddenly spun on itself, before seemingly halting in mid air.
"Got you, you slimy bastard!"
He pulled his foot back and then kicked forward, striking Mikhail in the face, sending him flying through the door of the armory carriage.
CRASH!
"Fuck… To think things would end so soon…" Mikhail said to himself.
In the darkness of the carriage, he could feel something piercing through his left kneecap. His left arm was out of commission, broken from the impact against the far wall, and he felt incredible pain all over his body.
The fight was over.
The orc walked inside slowly, his fierce anger revealed as orange light began pouring in from above.