Veteran Orc, Kidnapped by a MILF?!
"Huff... haah!"
I kept shoving through the undergrowth, pushing deeper. The fear of the unknown was starting to get its claws into me.
What do I mean by that? It was suffocating. It was terrifying.
Until now, I had only ever walked roads I already knew. Places I'd seen a hundred times in the game. This was nothing like that. Everything was alien. Not a single landmark felt familiar, and even the hidden piece I'd lucked into had dropped from a completely different sequence than the one I remembered.
On top of that, there were monsters in the area, so I had to keep fighting. Regeneration meant the fatigue didn't stack as fast as it should have, but still.
Regen isn't a cheat code. Grind hard enough to outpace it and I'm still fucked, right?
"Kieeeng!"
I put down a gnoll that came flying at me out of the air and sucked in a breath. A look around the clearing turned up ten corpses rolling in the dirt. They dissolved into light a moment later and vanished.
Thank god for regeneration. Without it, the wounds and the exhaustion would've stacked until I was dead already.
I decided to move more carefully from here. I'd try to find a path if I could; if I couldn't, I'd stick to ground with plenty of cover. In a situation like this, concealment was the only ally I had.
I dumped more points into my stats, too. Strength, Technique, and Stamina, mostly. Intelligence just measured mana and ki reserves, so it barely mattered. Trait was a skill-damage stat, which mattered even less. Luck was sitting at zero to begin with, so raising it was a coin flip I couldn't afford. Level 28. I'd push it that far, at least.
I'd broken past 25, but my Force Heart hadn't grown. That came down to conditions.
Anyone else might be different, but for me to hit Runner Late, I need one specific item. The level's in a safe range, sure — but I still need something to burn for the circle advancement.
It had to be Noble-grade or higher, at minimum. I barely had any items as it was, and burning what I did have was out of the question.
"Huh? A river?"
I stumbled onto running water and drank like a dying man. Clean water sliding down my throat made the world feel almost livable again. Damn. When did water start tasting this sweet?
If I follow this river long enough, I might hit a hillside path. Come on. Keep moving.
I let myself hope. And right on cue, Isis spoke up.
I'm fine. If anything, I should be apologizing.
Even her surprise was cute.
The goddess traveling with me is a viewer, if we're being precise about it. I wanted to show my viewer something hotter. Something more fun. I don't think I've managed that.
I chalked it up to my own lack of ability. If I'd had real talent, how much better would this have gone? Isis smiled, mature and knowing, and tried to tease at my heart with that insinuating tone of hers.
My mood shot through the roof. That wasn't just anyone talking. That was a goddess. And not just any goddess — a goddess with a body that was off the charts, a face that pretty, and a tight, springy little pussy to match.
I took the confidence and pressed on. Slowly, too. Might as well give regeneration time to catch up.
Time, unfortunately, did not appear to be on my side.
"Tch."
A little farther on, the hillside path finally came into view. The road I'd been hunting for this whole time — and an orc was standing right in front of it. Blocking the way, of all things. Or was he coming down from above?
Why here? Why heeeere?!
I went on guard. A Veteran Orc closed in with a shield in one hand and a battle axe in the other. Time to start the mind games.
"You look old and sick. Why even bother fighting?"
"Shut it. Words are wasted!"
WHOOSH!
The orc closed the gap with startling agility and swung. He moved like what he was — a combat race. Every step, every cut, carried the residue of hundreds of hours of practice.
Stay sharp.
I slipped the blow and drove my sword forward.
THUD!
The orc caught it on his shield without a flicker of panic, then whipped the axe around in a loose, fluid arc and fired a counter out of nowhere. I gave ground. One thing was already clear.
He's slow, yeah — he's old. But you can feel the mileage on him. Orcs are E-rank monsters, same as goblins, and yet...
I settled into a proper stance. Isis was practically vibrating.
I think I need to make you believe in your protagonist.
Watch closely. Watch how your apostle fights. Watch how the protagonist you're sponsoring actually throws down.
In other words: showtime.
I pressed forward like I meant to shove him off the road. The moment he moved to answer, I was already a half-beat ahead, sword punching out. Nameless Thrust again. He tried the same answer as before — block, then counter.
I kept thrusting. Thrust after thrust after thrust. I slipped the axe and stepped inside his reach, planted a foot on his, and cracked him with the pommel. He caught it on an elbow and rammed me back with the shield, then tried to follow through and smash me with the rim itself.
I juked left, then right, ducked under, and cut upward from below. He stacked the axe against the shield and took it clean. An iron wall. The attack failed — but I'd thrown enough different patterns at him to start mapping the shape of the fight. The orc sneered.
"Weak, human. And short, besides — your attack angles are inefficient, are they not?"
"Didn't you just say words were wasted? For an orc, your mouth sure runs loose. That's why your own blood abandoned you."
Orcs did not travel alone. Not unless their personal circumstances or temperament had gone completely off the rails. Most of them stayed with the clan they were born into until they died. They were a more social species than goblins or gnolls. An aging orc wandering around by himself like this could only mean one thing: he'd been cast out.
The Veteran Orc didn't take the bait. He just shoved me with his body, calm as a stone, and the instant my stance broke, the axe-blade came screaming in, a streak of cold blue steel.
He uses that axe loose and flexible — but he's not fast. Not even close.
The conviction locked in. He was not fast. His speed lagged well behind mine. What he had was flexibility. He could answer any situation with that same fluid economy, and even the path his weapon traveled was elastic, never committed until the last instant.
Fine. Counter it like this, then.
Huff — CRACK!
I snapped a surprise front kick into him. He got the shield up in time and was already lifting the axe again — and in that window I jumped. My foot smashed down across the wrist of the hand holding the axe.
PAH! Clack!
The orc lost the axe. I carved a diagonal cut at him as it fell. He got the shield up, then ripped a straight sword free and drove it at my chest.
Power's only worth a damn if you can let it slide past!
I shivered the blade and bled the thrust off-line. The orc wasn't about to waste the opening — he swung the shield at my head like a club.
CRACK!
It caught me across the side of the face. The pain was secondary. For a second I saw stars. And in the instant I was driven back, a murderous pressure bloomed at the base of my skull.
He was already swinging the straight sword again.
A moment of life or death.
...This is as far as I had it calculated.
I fired Branch Pruning off one hand. Accuracy and power dropped, but the speed climbed to compensate — and against an opponent who had traded mobility for flexibility, that was the perfect trade.
TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TANG! SHING-SHING-SHING!
I drove the sword like a madman. The load on a single arm was monstrous, but I swung with everything I had left. If I couldn't even scratch him here, I lost. If I lost, I died.
"GRAAAH!"
The charging orc took cuts across the eyes and the nose. He got the shield up a beat too late. The damage was already ugly.
At the same time, my right arm went slack. Nothing left in it. No strength at all.
"Guh... How, when you're just a human—!"
The orc howled. I slammed a foot into the dirt and launched myself at him. My chest was still shaking — not with fear. With thrill. A fight with a life on the line. The place the shield had hit still throbbed, and the orc was still resetting, still trying to lock sword and shield into something solid for the next exchange.
My right arm had gone silent. It would not answer. I wrapped my left hand around the hilt anyway, both hands on the sword, and wound up the killing blow I was going to put through him.
I closed the distance and raised the blade. Then I brought it down as if every step between the wind-up and the cut had simply been deleted.
KR-KRAK, SHUNK!
Even then, the orc got the shield up on instinct alone. But his stance was broken, and the shield was old. I split him in half right through it. Blood sprayed in every direction, and that massive body went down.
"Hahh..."
I let out a huge breath and sat down hard. Then I screamed.
"Nngh—!"
The load on my left arm was catastrophic. The Leonhart Absolute Sword Style was built around cuts that would shear through anything. And White Thunderbolt, among those techniques, was the most basic — and the one that demanded the most mastery. Land it clean, with enough strength behind it, and it was a one-hit kill. The cost was a monstrous strain on both arms.
I had fired it with one. The load that should have split across two arms had dumped entirely into the left.
It hurt like the limb was about to tear off. I gritted through it. I had regeneration.
Hurts like a bitch. But it was a one-hit kill. Splitting his attention with Branch Pruning did most of the work.
A grin tugged at my mouth. Winning never stopped being a rush.
"I'm honored, Goddess."
I looted the orc before the corpse could vanish. Nothing useful in the way of gear, but I pocketed thirty gold. Then a small pouch turned up.
Huh. A weird little find. It'd be useful against anything with invisibility, or spirit-type monsters. Or for sniffing out hidden pieces.
I stuffed the orc's straight sword and battle axe into the storage ring. Then, just in case, I cut off the head and took that too.
Sell it later, or break it down for enhancement material.
I staggered forward. All I had to do now was climb that hillside path.
I can make it back to the territory.
I hauled myself up, gasping. Had I rolled too hard in that fight? Strength kept leaking out of my limbs. My vision was going soft around the edges.
If I run into a monster like this, I'm done. I've been force-marching without a single break.
I pushed anyway. Regeneration or not, once the fatigue started canceling it out, I was in real danger. Just get past this stretch. Just this. A little farther and I'd be on home ground. I clenched my teeth and kept climbing — and then.
Thud. Slither. Rumble-rumble-CRASH!
"Wh— wait, what?!"
The instant my foot came down, a section of the hillside path sheared away. Sky and earth swapped places.
"AAAAAGH, FUCK!"
I fell, limp, with nothing left to catch myself. No — not with the territory right there in front of me. Below, nothing but forest. If my luck was really that rotten, I could drop straight onto a monster that was sitting there waiting.
Isis's cry was the last thing I heard before the lights went out. Was this how I died?
Crunch. Crunch.
Someone was lying on a patch of ground thicker with moss than the rest of the forest floor. It was Lashu. And a shadow was drifting toward him.
"Oh my. Now what kind of treasure is this?"
The voice was light rather than mature, familiar rather than seductive. Its owner stepped into view and reached for him.
She had a glamorous figure a shabby two-piece couldn't begin to hide — D-cup breasts, nipples whose piercings showed plainly through the fabric, and a pair of supple, flexible hips. She stroked his hair, slow and unhurried, and her green eyes caught the light.
"Leaving you like this would be dangerous. Whatever shall I do? Lucky for you... I happen to have a method.♥"
She licked her lips, slow and sticky-sweet. Then, as if she'd made up her mind, she gathered the limp Lashu into her arms and carried him off without another moment's hesitation.