The Blood Soul Induction Art
The technique was one of the Blood Cult’s secret arts.
“Hold position.”
The voice slipped through the wind and reached only the squad. Haken, Morris, and Delph exchanged puzzled glances. The orcs below the ridge were not fully on alert.
In fact, their internal discontent had left their discipline in tatters. If there was ever a perfect moment for a surprise attack, this was it.
Yet none of the three guides spoke. Veterans who had survived long on the front lines knew the rule: when a superior ordered them to wait, they waited. Their role, after all, was simply to guide. He must have something in mind.
Haken lowered his body deeper into the snow and held his breath. Morris and Delph did the same. There was no need to speak of Leina and Wulfran; when their lord commanded them to wait, they waited.
Leina tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword. Wulfran stared down at the orc camp with empty eyes, his glaive held steady.
Kyle slowly removed his gloves. The faint chill bit into his bare skin, but he paid it no mind. At his fingertips, a blood-red energy flickered for the briefest instant.
Sssssss…
Within the hazy white of the blizzard, that crimson hue stood out with grotesque clarity. But the energy did not linger. It unraveled into threads thinner than hair and melted into the wind and snow.
A secret technique from his previous life as leader of the Blood Cult. It was used during wartime to sow discord and collapse enemy ranks from within. It did not grant perfect puppet-like control. Kyle’s current body and internal energy were still far too weak for such precision.
No need to aim for complete domination anyway.
The Blood Soul Induction Art seeped into blood. It twisted the heartbeat, rose to the brain, and inflated fear, doubt, and rage.
In terms from his previous world, it was like over-activating the amygdala while disrupting the rational control of the prefrontal cortex.
Deeply buried resentment. Suspicions normally swallowed in silence. Anger that fear had kept bottled up. All of it swelled into reckless, irrational impulses.
Kyle’s gaze was fixed on one particular orc. The young warrior who, only moments ago, had grumbled about being used as bait alongside the old orcs and possibly thrown away to die.
He clutched a crude axe. His eyes darted with unease, and his ragged breaths carried the stench of hunger and terror. He was in the perfect state for the technique to take root.
The energy, now reduced to powder, burrowed beneath his skin.
“……!”
The orc sitting near the campfire suddenly stiffened. His heart hammered wildly. Blood surged to his head. The vessels in his eyes bulged as if they would burst, turning both eyes a violent red.
“Gr, grrrrk…!”
His lips trembled. The hand gripping the axe tightened until the knuckles turned bone-white. Then—
“Grrk! I refuse to die like a dog here!”
A thunderous roar split the center of the camp. For an instant, every movement in the orc encampment froze. Orcs gathered around the fires. Old orcs hiding in the ridge crevices. Even the ones waiting with signal horns to alert the main force if humans appeared. All eyes turned toward him at once.
The bloodshot orc swung his axe through the air.
“Why must we be the first to die!”
His voice cracked with fury and fear. “Why do the warriors hiding in the back only wait? Humans come out and we blow the horns? Then what about us!”
Spittle flew as he shouted. “We die, and those bastards in the rear just watch how the humans move?!”
The orcs’ pupils shook. The words were not wrong. Even the young orcs gathered here knew it in their hearts. They were sacrificial pawns. Stronger warriors waited in the main force, using them and the old orcs as disposable scouts to observe human movements. They had simply been too afraid to say it aloud.
Kyle did not miss that tremor. The blood-red energy flowing from his fingertips split again into several strands. It became invisible particles mixed with the wind and snow. The power slipped precisely into the bodies of the young orcs who had begun to waver at the first one’s words. He had chosen only those already shaken.
“H-he’s right!”
“Why should only we die first!”
“They always put the weak tribes at the front!”
Long-suppressed resentment exploded. The eyes of the orcs tainted by the Blood Soul Induction Art turned bloodshot one after another. Rage spread like a plague. When one spoke, another’s fury swelled. Yet another added his own terror to the words. Fear became suspicion. Suspicion turned back into rage.
“Are we just meat shields?!”
“They send the old and the starving first, then the warriors wait in the back?”
“They said once we cross the wall there’d be food? What good is that if we’re all dead before then!”
At that moment, a larger, older orc shoved his way forward from the crowd.
“Shut your mouths!” he snarled. “If the warriors hear this, you’re all dead!”
It was a warning. Any orc still in his right mind would have felt sufficient fear. But to those already under the influence of the Blood Soul Induction Art, it sounded different. It sounded like a threat meant to silence them.
Like words spoken by someone siding with the strong warriors hiding behind. Like the bark of a collaborator who wanted to sacrifice them.
“Warriors?” The first orc who had erupted in anger widened his bloodshot eyes. “If they’re warriors, why did they send the old and the starving first!”
He tightened his grip on the axe until his hand shook. “The strong ones are just going to fatten themselves by sacrificing us! Grrk!”
“I said shut up!”
The orc trying to intervene reached out. That was the moment.
Thwack!
The axe buried itself in his shoulder.
“Kaaaagh!”
Dark blood sprayed into the air. The intervening orc’s shoulder split open deeply. He staggered backward, screaming. Blood flew.
It was the spark.
“Kill him!”
“He’s a collaborator trying to throw us away!”
“Kill them all!”
The encampment turned into hell in an instant. Orcs trying to follow orders. Orcs swept up in rage. Even the old orcs who had been hiding flinched in confusion. Crude axes and clubs swung at one another. The sound of bone and iron clashing erupted. Screams, roars, fury, and terror mingled together.
The orcs were slaughtering each other.
Watching the scene from above, the corner of Kyle’s mouth twisted.
The effect is solid.
His current physical ability was still lacking. It had only been a little over two weeks since the memories of his previous life had awakened. Because of that, his body had not yet advanced far beyond the level of a mid-level knight. It would take more time before his physique became truly useful.
Still, I’ve grown stronger.
Thanks to that, he could use some of the techniques from his past life. On the battlefield, they were more useful than a sword.
Use everything you can.
That was the way of the Blood Cult.
Kyle turned his head.
“Haken. Morris. Delph.”
“Yes, Grand Duke Heir.”
The three guides’ voices were thick with astonishment at what had just occurred. They knew Kyle had done something, but they could not tell what. Still, they asked no questions and maintained their posture. Kyle liked that about them.
“You three remain here and continue securing the retreat route. Do not intervene. Simply watch until the situation below is resolved.”
“Understood! We shall obey.”
Haken answered first. Morris and Delph bowed their heads in silence. They did not fully understand what they had just witnessed. They had questions about the event. But they pushed their curiosity far away for now. There would be time to satisfy it after everything was over.
Kyle looked back at Leina and Wulfran.
“Leina. Wulfran.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Both pairs of eyes sank low and cold.
“We attack now.”
Kyle gripped his longsword as he spoke. “You may kill most of them. They’ve exhausted themselves fighting each other, so cleaning up should be easy.”
A faint blood-red gleam flickered across his green eyes.
“But leave a few alive after cutting off only their legs.”
Leina’s eyes flashed sharply. Wulfran’s hand tightened around the shaft of his glaive. Kyle continued.
“At least one from among the old orcs hiding in the ridge crevices. And at least one from among the young orcs currently tearing each other apart down there.”
His voice was ice-cold. “Capture them alive. We need mouths that can spit out information about the main force hiding behind them.”
“I will remember, my lord.”
“As you command.”
You may kill them. But leave the mouths we need.
The moment the order was given, almost simultaneously, faint smiles appeared on the lips of Kyle who had given it, and Leina and Wulfran who had received it. The fact that they would see blood. The fact that they could unleash their power on the battlefield. Deep in their eyes, a blood-red glow slowly began to flicker.
“Let’s go.”
Kyle moved first.
Taat!
Three shadows clad in white winter gear shot down the slope. The encampment was still lost in chaos.
“Kill him!”
“Traitor!”
“Kaaaagh!”
The orcs were swinging weapons at one another. Their vigilance had naturally grown lax. Kyle slipped through that gap.
“Grrk?”
One orc belatedly turned his head. But it was already too late.
Shuuuung.
A blood-red aura blazed ominously along Kyle’s longsword. A thin, blood-red aura.
Slice!
In a flash, the orc’s thick neck was severed cleanly. The head rolled across the snow. Dark blood gushed from the stump like a fountain. The white snow drank deep crimson.