Chapter 91
The night sky shimmered with a silvery glow, the moon cascading its ethereal light upon the remnants of what had once been a vibrant entertainment district. Shadows danced among the ruins, where laughter and revelry had flourished only days before. Now, it was an arena for bloodshed
Ethan stood poised within this haunting twilight, clad in his new signature battle armor, which clung to him like a second skin. His upgraded retractable armguard sword whip glinted ominously at his side.
He could hear the echoes of chaos just beyond the barricaded city blocks: gunfire cracking through the air like thunderclaps, metal clashing against metal—a cacophony that underscored the urgency of his mission. Ethan's breath steadied as he absorbed every detail—the scent of charred flesh mingling with acrid smoke from nearby fires; the palpable fear wafting off enemy Orcs lurking in their darkened corners; and most importantly, the knowledge that he alone had turned their tide.
Forty of Grathok's strongest warriors lay dead on these very streets, victims of violence so precise it transcended mere brutality—it was artistry in carnage. Each strike Ethan delivered was calculated; each movement flowed seamlessly into another as if guided by an unseen hand. The remaining Orc horde trembled in uncertainty under his gaze—this human was unlike any they had faced before.
Grathok loomed behind them—a hulking figure whose rage threatened to ignite the very ground beneath him. The third horde leader struggled to comprehend how one mortal could wield such devastation without losing himself to madness or fatigue. He glanced at Rulgar, his second-in-command—a stalwart warrior who now appeared shaken and bewildered.
"Rulgar," Grathok growled through clenched teeth, "how can our arrows fail? They pierce even steel!"
"Perhaps…" Rulgar hesitated, eyes wide with realization as he watched Ethan move like liquid shadow amidst flickering moonlight. "It is not merely skill but… something else."
Ethan felt their eyes upon him—fueled by adrenaline and purpose as he readied himself for what came next. With two spells newly crafted during those precious five minutes spent waiting for nightfall's cover
the Blood Pursue spell surged through him like wildfire igniting a dry field.
As shadows enveloped him deeper beneath swirling clouds that momentarily obscured Luna's gaze above, Ethan activated Blood Pursue. A crimson hue lit up his vision; energy coalesced around him as targets materialized within a hundred-meter radius—an intricate map guiding his hunt through darkness and despair.
Inwardly grinning at how easily fate favored him tonight against those who sought dominion over this land even as more creatures streamed forth from an open portal rift hidden beneath rubble knew they were still unaware of what awaited them: death personified.
Silent Dash followed suit a surge propelled him forward faster than thought itself could catch up with reality; twenty seconds were reduced to ten mere heartbeats blurred together into instinctual motion. He became an enigma wrapped in flesh and fury a fleeting ghost striking terror into hearts hardened by years of warfare.
But it wasn't merely physical prowess driving fear into their ranks; it was also Ethan's mastery over blood magic that rendered foes powerless against assaults; no armor could protect them from the final act being unleashed when he conjured forth Blood Bullets:
solidified projectiles imbued with lethal precision slicing effortlessly through air toward unsuspecting adversaries.
One after another fell before him under relentless onslaught until cries echoed less frequently amid sporadic gunfire now fading further away; panic set deep within Orc minds, realizing too late they were not facing just any warrior; they confronted a sovereign born anew amongst mortals long forgotten by legends passed down generations ago!
Knight Commander Elandra watched from afar along with her team—all keenly aware this chaotic dance played out far beyond mere territorial claims or prideful skirmishes between species they witnessed something ancient stirring back to life!
"This cannot be ignored!" she declared sharply while assessing reports flooding her mind about ongoing incursions from lesser mythological beasts slithering through cracks left unsealed since portals opened carelessly unchecked across territories once deemed safe havens for humans dwelling here peacefully prior to conflicts erupting anew!
Standing next to her, Kellan was both frustrated and captivated by Ethan's ability to wreak havoc with ease as foes closed in on victory; they dared not think that there was any chance left! Knowing that a single human embodied power was superior to all calculations, even without using mana-infused spells that should have given Knights an advantage over raw force, hurt a great deal!
As the clouds abruptly parted, dazzling moonlight began to stream once more, illuminating red-hued battlefields and leaving grim reminders of fallen warriors' remains all over the ground beneath feet, drawing boundaries between realms that collided violently head-on without mercy or regret.
Ethan's breath caught as he realized that the moment was drawing to a close. He felt the urge to act quickly or risk letting the opportunity pass him by forever, drifting back into the shadows to await his next victim, not realizing that danger was lurking closer and closer with every heartbeat, growing restless and demanding release that had been denied for far too long.
The time had come when everything would be irrevocably changed, etched forevermore in history written ink stains fresh upon pages, souls intertwined fates sealed boundless horizons stretching endlessly beyond sight, beckoning forth untold destinies waiting patiently awaken once again, reclaiming rightful place amidst stars shining brightly overhead, guiding paths traversed unknown realms forged anew, battling darkness threatening to engulf everything cherished and held dear.
The moon hung high above the desolate expanse of the battlefield, a pale sentinel watching over a world on the brink of annihilation. Its silver light illuminated collapsing walls—once grand fortifications now reduced to ruins by ages of conflict and deceit. In this twilight between despair and hope, Ethan stood poised at the edge of oblivion, his heart thundering like war drums in his chest.
He leaped forward, letting off waves of anger that flowed through him like electricity. He moved among shadows created by illusions that cascaded phantoms that were put up to protect ignorance from the harsh glare of truth; each stride was a deliberate disobedience against fate itself.
These lies were falling apart all around him, exposing secrets hidden behind masks of fear and neglect. He sensed energies growing stronger and reawakening old powers with each step, responding to his rage. They would eat everything that was left if they weren't stopped now.
As he sprinted toward the remaining fifty Orc soldiers, who loomed on the horizon like ominous specters, Ethan's thoughts were racing. Having been taught the art of warfare and stealth by his father since he was a little boy, he naturally developed a low profile known as the Crouch Run, which enabled him to quickly close distances while surprising adversaries.
His education had been unrelenting, with each session containing lessons of wisdom encased in heartbreaking tales the same stories that were only whispered by winds bearing old warnings.
Adrenaline sharpened Ethan's senses to an almost supernatural clarity as he got closer to his targets. Like a cat pursuing its prey, he carefully mapped out a hunting trail among the shadows and rubble; stillness surrounded him like armor made of will and despair.
The occasion demanded clarity created of turmoil, and he had no time for indecision or regret. Ethan delivered deadly and quick attacks with surgical accuracy that had been refined over years of practice, a blur in the midst of mayhem where death waited with ravenous jaws.
His retractable whip swords glinted in the moonlight as they arched toward their targets: necks cut clean from bodies too slow to realize they were dead; chests pierced before screams could reach dry throats, all without hesitation or even a single breath was wasted on his killing strike.
Unbeknownst to him, military-grade high-definition focus tracking cameras installed at safe intervals along the battlefield's perimeter were situated far from this intense ballet. Marcus's cameras recorded every flicker, the flaring muscles beneath tense skin with each stroke; beads of sweat merging with blood midair as life perished within moments, in contrast to ordinary handhelds or mounted devices that take only glimpses of reality filtered via human perspective.
Ethan was a natural born hunter; he was killing not out of hate nor anger but out of duty. He understands that these creatures are also bound to kill him, and if he fails to kill them first, more innocent lives will be lost . Time and time again Ethan will recall the words of his father.
"The act of killing is based on survival, not pleasure. Remember that, son." And with those words echoing in his mind, Ethan continued on his path as a protector of the innocent, knowing that sometimes blood must be shed to preserve life. "
Though the weight of his duty sometimes weighed heavy on his soul, Ethan found solace in the knowledge that he was making the world a safer place for those who could not protect themselves. With each kill, he felt a sense of purpose and fulfillment, knowing that he was upholding his father's legacy and protecting the innocent from harm.
So the Orcs that were waiting for the right moment to attack already lost the opportunity as many of them had succumbed to the embrace of death , their plans thwarted by Ethan's unwavering devotion to his mission. As he ran silently among the enemies without remorse nor hesitation, Ethan knew that his actions were necessary to maintain peace and justice in a world filled with darkness. The weight of his duty never faltered; death was the only answer, as these creatures will never back down nor compromise their own beliefs.
For the horde it honor or death, Ethan aka the Vermilion Sovereign, gave them the reason to tremble in fear. As the tenth Orc fell dead, cowering under the blacking of the night the smell of their blood was filling the air. Grathok was sure the enemy was already hunting them as the smell of his kind was now lingering all over the place his breather was supposed to be hiding in.
The only option now was to fight. Grathok moved from his hiding spot and let out a powerful roar imbued with mana. The roar echoed through the night, sending shivers down the spines of other knights and military personnel. Grathok knew he needed to use his only trump card. The third orc leader took out an old scroll and activated it by dripping his own blood to summon their hordes secret weapon; a massive thirty foot rock golem began to form . As it used all the material in the area as its new body,
Ethan was just able to eliminate fourteen hiding orcs when the rock golem emerged. And because this is the horde that were hiding among scattered huge debris from broken human machines and building parts. The forming golem exposed what Ethan, aka the Vermilion Sovereign, was doing as the dead Orc bodies were finally exposed.
Grathok and even Rulgar with his force, saw what their enemy was doing. He was holding an orc head casually as the broken car that smashed along side a ten-story commercial building flew up and released the dead orc hiding inside the ruined ground floor store. The Vermilion Sovereign's ruthless tactics were now on full display, sending a chilling message to his enemies. Grathok and Rulgar exchanged a knowing glance, realizing the true extent of the danger they faced in this formidable foe.
The ground shook as the rock golem slowly emerged; its body parts were made from the earthly scattered and broken materials all over the battleground; broken concrete and metal pipes that came from the ground were glinting in the moonlight as it let out a deafening roar of its own. Grathok knew this battle was far from over, but he was ready to face whatever their clan leader would say , as he ordered the rest of his warriors to retreat as the entire area shook and trembled from the rock golems slowly towering above their heads. The hotel casino was the first building to gain significant damage. Thirty feet might be considered mediocre compared to the massive human made structure, but Ethan wasn't about to forget his main task.
The enemy assumes that he will abandon his hunt and focus on the summoned golem. Grathok assumptions were dead wrong as the rest of the orc warriors that move out and run toward the direction of the construction site. The smaller building inside the barricaded enclosure still had people hiding inside it. They had no choice but to risk everything and remained where they were. Lucky for the Orcs that came out of the portal, their first plan was to commemorate their secret and hidden arrival to commemorate their coming-of-age ceremony of their new warriors .
This tradition was supposed to evaluate their skill in hunting humans unseen to the public eye until they proved their worth as hunters. The horde saw humans as weak and frail; even if they saw some mortals were able to awaken their powers and abilities, their war mage assured them that these humans were just as strong as their younglings. The horde underestimated
As Grathok and the other orcs barreled back toward their stronghold, the weight of defeat pressed heavily on their shoulders. Pride and ego, once hallmarks of their fierce and unyielding nature, dissolved into the gnawing instinct to survive.
Every heartbeat echoed with the realization that they needed to fight another day, their ambitions temporarily overshadowed by the urgent requirement to escape the chaos that had enveloped them. Yet, in their hasty retreat, a grave mistake lingered in the air. By turning their backs on the battlefield, they unwittingly exposed themselves to the very dangers they sought to evade.
Haruk, racing alongside his companion, felt the grim specter of death loom larger with every stride. The sight of lifeless bodies strewn across the ground haunted him, each one a testament to the brutality they had witnessed. His gaze fixated on a particularly grisly scene: an orc who once fought valiantly lay sprawled on the earth, a deep slash marking its throat, the cruel cut almost severing its head from its body.
The macabre tableau was underscored by twin knife wounds that punctured the orc's neck and chest, painting a stark reminder of the ferocity of the battle they had just fled. Tarvak's sweat mingled with the cold air, a chilling reminder of their vulnerability, the fear palpable in every ragged breath they took. In this moment, the orcs learned a harsh lesson: pride can be a costly luxury on the battlefield, where survival takes precedence over all else.
But Tarvak's fear became real as his arm flew away from his body; the other Orcs that were a head of them never looked back; they never saw what was happening behind them. Blood gush out from Tarvak's severed arm; as long, sharp metallic whip was following his movements, the pain was excruciating. The other orcs continued their retreat, unaware of the danger lurking behind them as Tarvak's screams echoed through as his right leg got cut and his body fell forward, the metallic whip wrapping around his waist and cutting in half. Tarvak' saw his lower half separating from his body, and before closing his eyes, he was able to see what happened to Haruk as his body was also torn to pieces.
Tarvak could only see a shadowy figure running past them in a split second before everything went dark. The screams of pain were heard, and the orcs in front of them soon felt death was following them, and they were not wrong. Grathok was at the forefront of the escaping horde. The shadowy figure moved swiftly, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Grathok knew they were no match for whatever force was pursuing them, and he quickened his pace, determined to survive at all costs.
From the 50 remaining main attack forces under the command of the third tribe leader, Grathok was now getting cut down one by one. They all felt the cold chill of death reaching out toward each of them, but Grathok refused to let fear consume him. With a fierce determination, he led his comrades onward, pushing through the darkness with unwavering resolve. The only thought in his mind was to escape and live to fight another day. But because of this reluctance to stand his ground a five Orcs that managed to run next beside him were the only ones that were able to reach the front gate of their new stronghold. As they all turned around, what they saw made all six returning orcs fall down to their knees .
The orc made a defensive wall and gate was on their back, and in front of them was the trail going down, which looked like a hill. The thirty foot tall rock golem was finally whole, but the dead bodies laying the steep hill going up the human-unfinished structure were overwhelming the remaining six; the numerous bodies were like slices and ripe apart, their heads separated from their bodies and scattered all over the street; some were rolling down the hill , and their facial expression upon their death was filled with pain and suffering.
The spectacle unfolding in front of Mr. Thomas and the knights of the association was nothing short of catastrophic. The thirty-foot rock golem, an imposing figure of raw power, appeared diminished against the towering skyscrapers that flanked the smooth rock path. These buildings loomed overhead like ancient sentinels, their surfaces sleek with modern design yet tainted with the weight of the grim reality beneath them. Shadows fell thickly over the scene below, a dark shroud that painted the ground in shades of sorrow, where the lifeless bodies of orcs lay tangled among the remnants of destruction. The eerie silence persisted, a heavy atmosphere that draped the city in an unnatural stillness, as if it were collectively holding its breath in fear of the impending climax of this tragic conflict.
As Mr. Thomas surveyed the chaos, a wave of unease washed over him. The Vermilion Sovereign's actions had ignited a firestorm of brutality, turning what was once a peaceful park into a gruesome battleground. The smell of blood and earth mingled, rising like a miasma to greet the onlookers who had gathered in the distance—thousands of eyes locked onto the scene, some filled with horror, others with morbid fascination. The park seemed to pulse with the energy of the dying, the ground littered with far more orc corpses than humans, a tragic testament to the brutal efficiency of the rock golem's rampage. It moved with a single-minded fury, ignoring the collateral damage it wrought, and as buildings of concrete and steel stood firm in their resilience, they became the only reminder of civilization amidst the carnage.
In the midst of the chaos, Ethan pressed forward, his mission driving him through the debris. He felt the oppressive weight of the aura that surrounded the golem, nearly tangible in its malevolence. The orc that had returned, buttressed by exhaustion, stumbled across the uneven ground. Although the distance between them and their enemy was a mere seventy meters, the oppressive energy radiating from the golem was suffocating, draining their resolve with every breath. Fear coursed through their veins—a palpable, almost paralyzing dread.
The Vermilion Sovereign was seen standing where the dead bodies of their orc breatheren lay on the human road. The remaining six knew this was part of the enemy's plan to locate their main base, and they were too scared of dying to realize this, but Ethan already knew this information. It wasn't that hard to determine this fact; the issue with the other knights and military personnel was that they were too preoccupied with their own fight.
The abandoned construction site was the logical place to establish a base. But this wasn't part of his plan; with the use of his Blood Pursuit location skill, he saw that the Horde base only has a single humanoid looking being in the underground foundation. Creatures from the other realm were crossing the portal but these were not a huge treat. The one remaining under the unfinished underground parking area was the one that maybe sustains the portal's energy to remain open.
Nobody arrived despite the fact that killing he was killing the Orcs like farm chickens, so he decided to investigate further because the other six should have warned their main leader. Ethan was well-versed in military strategies, and there was no sign that the orcs had come to fight humanity. They were either too conceited and haughty, believing that people were easily subdued. In comparison to the deaths on the Orcs side, the human death toll wasn't so high. Ethan claimed 93 orcs in his hands alone, with seven presumably still standing in front of him. It's possible that about thirty humans were spotted and identified as having perished at the hands of the orc.
Grathok stood amidst the chaos, his remaining warriors rallying around him, the air thick with anticipation and the smell of blood. They were determined to launch a coordinated attack on The Vermilion Sovereign, a strategy that could turn the tide of their war. Yet, before a single battle cry could echo through the valley, a dazzling flicker caught Grathok's attention. In an instant, Ethan, the fierce and cunning combatant by his side, unleashed his whip sword with a precision that left no room for hesitation. Five of Grathok's orc brethren fell before they even realized what had happened.
Ethan refused to play the waiting game, knowing that in the art of war, the first strike often determines the victor. His instincts were sharp, honed by countless battles, understanding that the element of surprise was key to dismantling their adversaries. With a fierce battle cry that reverberated through his very core, Grathok charged forward, fueled by retaliation and a thirst for conquest. But fate had other plans in store for him; as he surged ahead, the scene morphed into a nightmare. In a flash, Grathok felt a jarring blow, and in that split second, he became an unwilling witness to his own demise, his body crumpling to the ground while his severed head rolled away, a grim testament to Ethan's devastating efficacy.
Ethan's swiftness and decisiveness had irrevocably shifted the balance of power, carving a path of chaos through the enemy ranks. The battlefield transformed into a tumult of screams and clashing steel as Grathok's demise resonated through the hearts of the orc warriors. They were now left to grapple with loss and uncertainty, as Ethan stood amidst the chaos, bloodied and resolute.
"Now let's end this ," he declared, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "