The Orc King rose from his crude throne, its massive frame casting a shadow over the battlefield. Towering at least three times Leo's height, its muscles were thick as steel cables, its dark green hide scarred from countless battles. A crown of jagged bone adorned its head, and in one monstrous hand, it gripped a colossal war axe, its edge stained with the blood of a hundred warriors.
Leo exhaled, steadying his grip on his sword. His vision blurred for a brief moment, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him like an iron shackle. His fingers trembled, slick with sweat and blood, barely able to keep hold of his weapon. Every breath burned, his ribs screaming in protest, but he forced himself to stay upright. He couldn't afford to falter—not now. Against an opponent like this, a single mistake meant death.
The Orc King spoke, its voice a guttural growl. "You fight well, human, but you are predictable. Did you think I would not notice your weakening stance? Your failing grip? Even now, your body betrays you."
Leo didn't respond. Words were meaningless now.
Then the monster moved.
The ground cracked beneath its weight as it lunged, swinging its axe in a deadly arc. Leo barely managed to evade, rolling to the side as the axe cleaved into the earth, sending a shockwave through the ruins. The force alone would have shattered his bones if it had connected.
He had no time to recover. The Orc King was relentless. It swung again, this time in a horizontal slash meant to bisect him. Leo ducked, feeling the wind of the strike whip past his head. He countered, stepping in close and slashing at the beast's exposed ribs.
His sword struck true.
But it hardly penetrated the thick hide. The cut was shallow, hardly more than a scratch. Leo swore. Power alone wouldn't fell this monster.
The Orc King chuckled, striking him with dreadful swiftness. The blow knocked Leo off his feet, slamming him into a shattered pillar. Pain burst through his ribs, blurring his vision for an instant.
Get up. Move.
Leo rolled just as the axe came crashing down, shattering the stone where he had lain seconds before. He staggered to his feet, wiping blood from his lips. He couldn't match the Orc King in strength. But strength wasn't the only path to victory.
He shifted his hold. His footing altered. No longer direct thrusts, he started to weave, moving about the Orc King's huge body, probing its responses. The beast swung wildly at him, its motions forceful but patterned. Leo dodged aside, riposted with swift cuts, going for joints, tendons—anywhere that would hinder the beast.
The Orc King snarled as cuts began to accumulate. They weren't deep, but they were taking a toll. Its movements became a fraction slower, its swings a little less precise. And Leo noticed something—every time it overextended, there was a brief opening. A moment where the beast's own power worked against it.
That was his chance.
Feigning a reckless charge, Leo sprinted forward. The Orc King roared in triumph, bringing its axe down in a brutal overhead strike. At the last second, Leo twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the blow as the weapon crashed into the earth. The impact sent cracks racing through the ground, but more importantly—it left the Orc King wide open.
Leo didn't hesitate.
He ran forward, shoving his blade into the softest part of the monster's armpit, where the skin was thinnest. There, this time, he plunged the sword in deep.
The Orc King let out a roar of rage and pain and swung an arm at him to crush him, but Leo was gone, rolling out of their way. The beast clutched its wound, dark blood spilling onto the ground.
But it wasn't over yet.
With a roar, the Orc King charged again, abandoning its axe in favor of raw, brute force. It swung its massive fists, each blow powerful enough to turn Leo into a paste. He dodged, barely, his speed the only thing keeping him alive. His lungs burned, and his muscles screamed. He couldn't keep this up forever.
Then—something snapped inside him.
A sudden, searing pain shot through his chest. His heart felt like it was being ripped apart, but at the same time, something was being formed within it. A pulse of energy, unlike anything he had ever felt before.
Mana.
Leo's first mana circle had awakened.
For an instant, time around him came to a halt. He felt the raw energy pumping through him, distinct from the aura that flowed from his gut. This was something else—something limitless yet barely restrained. Mana circles were uncommon, a sign of those who were meant for greatness—or ruin. Fewer than a dozen warriors in all history had ever activated one, and fewer still had lived through it.
The Orc King lunged, sensing weakness.
But Leo was no longer the same.
He focused, instinct guiding him, and whispered the chant.
"O lord of flame, grant me the strength to rise, the power to burn, and the fury to destroy my foe. Let the flames of war engulf this land, and may my enemies be reduced to ash by your unyielding fire. Let the inferno of my spirit consume them all, that I may forge victory from the flames themselves."
The chant echoed through the air, with the magic in him resonating. As soon as his words stopped, fire burst forth from Leo's palms, flowing outward in a sweeping arc. The battlefield was in flames, the blaze spreading outward in every direction. The Orc King bellowed, retreating, but Leo wasn't done.
The winds started to howl.
Leo held his sword aloft, focusing the energy of his aura. The wind around him began to howl, swirling into a fierce whirlpool as the flame combined with the gale. His aura and his mana, once independent powers, now started to merge into his final assault.
"Gale of the Infernal King!"
The union of fire and wind burst out in a killing blow, a vortex of flame and gusts that hit with the fury of a storm. The Orc King never had time to respond. The assault tore through the body of the beast, flames burning flesh as the wind tore its shape into fragments.
The blast left nothing but a smoldering crater, the charred remains of the Orc King scattered across the battle