28. The Test is a Total Bluff
"Shh."
The cold sharpness, like a blade's edge, returned to the fairy's face, lost in thought. True to her role, she signaled the party to hold position.
[That's the signal to stop.]
Of course, the Hero, clueless about adventurer guild hand signals, nearly trolled us, but I quickly reined her in. Even after centuries, the signals hadn't changed beyond recognition.
"Wait."
Whispering low, Leila slipped into the underbrush. Playing her ranger role to the hilt, she was scouting the enemy camp before the real fight. Sure, there'd been some mood-killing hiccups, but we'd rested plenty—her condition was perfect.
Leila darted between trees, surveying the orc camp thoroughly. Meanwhile, the rest of us checked our gear.
Soon, fully battle-ready, we waited a bit longer until Leila returned.
"I'll start the fire first. You charge in and draw their attention. Like always, got it?"
The warrior nodded reliably. Leila glanced at the Hero, then shook her head with a sigh.
"You... just do whatever. Don't screw it up."
We were total third wheels, being a duo originally. I grumbled internally, but the Hero seemed unfazed. She rolled up her sleeves and prepared her chant.
"Alright then."
With elven swiftness, Leila vanished from sight once more. Soon, acrid smoke began rising from spots throughout the forest.
"Kweeeek!"
"Charak! Charak!"
"I'll head out first."
The camp erupted in chaos. Taka glanced back at us once, then strode boldly toward the orc village. It looked suicidal at first glance. But with each step, magical armor plates assembled over his body. Soon, he was a full-on ironclad tank charging ahead.
"Uryaaah!"
His roar drowned out the orcs' cries, echoing thunderously. As their eyes locked on him, Leila hurled glass bottles into buildings everywhere. They shattered, soaking the structures in liquid. When it met the sacred flames she'd ignited, a firestorm swept the entire camp.
It looked like oil at a glance, but the faint unpleasant vibe gave it away—Solar Holy Water.
Taka's armor glowed with red runes, blocking the heat. Overkill for Silver-rank adventurers. No wonder I wondered how two could take an orc camp solo.
[Smells fishy.]
The warrior wasn't top-tier skilled, but his gear was elite. The fairy had absurd holy power output for her control level. Something to puzzle over later.
As those two rampaged, the Hero rolled up her sleeves and joined the fray.
"Hm?"
The adventurers noticed the anomaly first. They'd been wild before, but now they thrashed like fish in water amid the flames. You know those days? When you're inexplicably in top form—mind sharp, games on point. Coincidentally, it hit them now.
"Hup."
The Hero flipped her open palm with a short breath, summoning a fierce wind that blew the flames elsewhere. Now the camp's interior burned too.
"Ahahaha! Yeah, burn, all of you!"
Her initial stealth forgotten, the hyped-up fairy vented her slave-meeting frustrations with reckless fury at the orcs. The heat and firepower were so intense even the flame-resistant armored warrior hesitated to approach.
Some orcs chucked stones at her, but none connected.
"Leila!"
"Ahahahaha!"
Melee couldn't reach, and the Hero blocked ranged attacks, but diving that deep alone was risky. The Hero was versatile, but magic wasn't omnipotent. It bent natural laws—tweaking conditions or summoning winds—but couldn't outright ignore physics. If a strong orc hurling a boulder? Even the Hero couldn't save her.
The warrior scrambled after the fairy, but too late.
"Guhk!"
Flailing wildly, spreading flames even to the orc females and young's area deep in camp, the fairy's body suddenly flew through the air. From the camp's heart, something emerged.
A giant a head taller than average orcs. The warrior who caught her gaped.
"Orc Shaman?"
Orc society was primitive tribal. Warriors hunted beasts and repelled foes under the chieftain; elders guarded with females. Orc shamans were outliers, unbound by tribes. Rumored to rival human intellect, they wandered wilds, "selecting" promising young orcs.
Shamans crafted totems—shamanic symbols infusing intellect and tribal bonds. Only the chosen could form tribes.
Naturally, orc shamans were freakishly strong, hard to call kin.
"Damn it all, why's a shaman holed up in a village?"
Not just the massive build—tattoos covered it. But the huge totem on its back confirmed it. I peeked behind the shaman: a sizable orc, not quite as big, lay beaten and groaning.
No wonder the chieftain hadn't shown in the crisis. But shaman vs. chieftain? Why?
[Hairless two-legged beasts dare such insolence.]
"Hah, you lot, unable to curb your lusts, are the real beasts!"
[I won't deny it. Yet, inferior and barbaric as they are... they are my kin...]
The shaman's telepathy emanated from the totem. Baring fangs in a growl, it slammed the totem down.
[I cannot let you live.]
An otherworldly vibration spread—not mere physics. Splattered orc blood twitched everywhere.
It surged into the air like living things, splatting onto stone floors, half-collapsed tents, burning warehouse walls...
"Come at me, monster!"
Taka, who'd played the fool, now raged seriously, but even a veteran couldn't stop this. It was shamanism.
A power apart from martial arts, magic, faith. Martial honed body and spirit; magic petitioned nature's spirits; faith drew from heavenly gods. Shamanism borrowed from netherworld demons.
Hard to learn, needing rigorous prep and rites like martial arts. Affected tangible and intangible like magic. Yet defied worldly laws like faith.
Orc blood sprawled, shrank, etching grotesque runes—letters? Pictures? Incantations, shamanism's trigger.
[I hear the ancestors' drums—!]
The Hero held back; warrior's blade couldn't sever blood; fairy's fire arrows couldn't burn the ritual ring. A scream-like chant completed it.
"Wh-what?"
Air thickened. Alien energy warped reality; world-bound life felt instinctive revulsion. Netherworld shadows loomed.
Shamanism borrowed "demons'" power, overlaying their laws. This shaman wasn't elder-lich level—just unease. Masters could swap reality for netherworld via influence alone.
"Grraaah..."
"Gaaah!"
But for Silver-rankers, it packed punch. Dead orcs staggered up—beheaded, bloodied, burned. Screaming, crying, laughing, hating faces sang a deathly chorus uncontrolled.
"Taka..."
"Don't fear, Leila. They're just corpses!"
Taka's voice had changed, urging her. Not wrong. Threatening visually, but sans soul/memory, revived flesh was mere meat balloons.
Warrior's sword and fairy's flames toppled them like leaves. But dozens littered camp; blades and fire couldn't touch the ritual's source shaman.
[What now, Hero? Gonna watch?]?
Pre-ritual, maybe. Post-completion, worldly powers weakened—martial, holy, even magic. Hero full-throttle could crush it easy, but promotion quest fails.
Other ways existed, though.
"Which?"
Ah, right—she reads my mind. Annoying sometimes. Even swords deserve privacy, no?
"Shut up... the method..."
Sigh, no choice. I hate drawn-out "holding back" drama too. By my will, the Hero doffed mask and robe.
Mid-battle frenzy, Taka and Leila gawked at us. Stripped of disguise, she was in usual garb—I still hung at her waist.
Thus, I spoke.
[Hey, examiners.]
Think about it. Promotion quests come with absurd conditions. How's the guild verify compliance? They dispatch secret "examiners" without telling the adventurer—to monitor rule adherence.
With my tenure, guild backroom dealings are old hat. No tails on us or Hero's senses? Obvious.
[This proves our Hero's got teamwork in spades, right?]
Overgeared duo punching above Silver weight. One nosy busybody, one bitchy as hell. Clashing personalities grating each other. Guild forcing outsiders on a solid party? Lame excuse.
[Still not enough proof? Or wait till you drop dead?]
I sneered at the stunned examiners.