Early next morning, I was in the forest again not far from where I left. No new skills were formed during yesterday’s long venture, and I forced my slight disappointment aside. There were orcs to kill, and I was determined to find the source from where they were coming.

It didn’t take long either.

I was headed north, deeper into the forest. While I admit my map was a poor representation, it did allow for simple tracking. I followed the marks made yesterday whenever I had encountered an orc, and the concentration increased northward. Entering deep into wild territory was generally a dangerous and stupid idea, because unknown monsters became stronger and more territorial. However, there was likely no greater threat here than an orc horde.

The orcs I found were nestled in a small gorge plunged into the side of the mountain. It had tall, rocky walls probably carved out by an ancient river, if the damp line leading to a murky pond was anything to go by. Somehow, trees with thick foliage managed to cling along the walls. To my great relief, the size of the orc group couldn’t be called a horde. However, the group was large enough to be a platoon. In other words, if I ran into the gorge and started attacking, then I would be fast surrounded by at least fifty orcs.

Yeah, that was suicide.

Four orcs, probably soldiers and the next rank higher than the common orc, surrounded a large, shabby tent located in the center of the large, shabby encampment. There were several dozen common orcs lingering around. I could pick out a few groups that looked like lookouts, since they sat close to the five exits leading out of the gorge. Though, their fat heads were busy grunting and squealing at each other instead of carefully watching for intruders. I also saw some groups of three orcs occasionally walk into the trees. Those same groups reappeared several minutes later only to be replaced by new groups that would take their turn to leave. Scouts.

This was an organized group of monsters.

I returned my gaze back to the large tent in the middle. Just what could be in there? It had to be an important orc, maybe at a rank higher than the four soldiers. I frowned; anything stronger than an orc knight would only foretell destruction for the northwestern quadrant of the country. Even I have not faced an orc knight before.

I was waiting, hoping for the orc in the tent to emerge so I could see what it was, but the day was fast approaching noon. I needed to attack soon if I wanted to make any real damage before nightfall. I would have to retreat if the orc was higher than a soldier. While I could try and slowly pick off small groups of orcs over the next few days, doing so would leave the camp untouched. Eventually, whatever was in that tent would notice that orcs were dying and move en mass to kill the nuisance. Me.

If the dang orc in the tent wasn’t going to leave, then I was dang well going to make sure my first attack would do some damage. Hopefully, I could take out all the common orcs and at least two of the orc soldiers.

But how was I supposed to do that? My self-taught magic was still far from strong enough.

The gorge was shaped like a short worm curled up in a single twist around the stomach and only stretched for a couple miles in length. The orc encampment was erected as close to the water as possible, meaning most of them were huddled up next to one of the walls.

If I could block off the exits out of the gorge and corral the orcs into that area by the wall, I could attack from above without worry of being surrounded. Said wall didn’t look all that sturdy either.

Making sure I remained in stealth the entire time, I put my plan into immediate action. I even avoided some straggling orcs that could have been easily removed. Water magic weakened the sides of the paths leading out of the gorge, and a compressed fireball was powerful enough to close off the exits with minor rockslides. Dumb, lazy orcs would rather circle around to a different exit than use their great strength to clear away the rocks and broken trees. It was in their nature.

When all the exits were blocked, orcs oblivious to their oncoming annihilation, I paused. The part of the walled edge of the gorge that would cause the most devastation was all the way around the other side of my starting point and entirely upwind of the orcs’ camp. Of all the things I could ridicule orcs as, I could not say they have a dull sense of smell. In fact, like normal pigs, their noses were spectacular, and they could smell enemies distinctly even through their enormous BO.

I had to risk it. Hopefully, my stealth abilities would cover my presence well enough to only confuse the orcs, since they wouldn’t be able to see me.

Waist bent in a steady posture and carefully stepping over anything that would make a sound, I walked slowly along the side of the gorge. As I moved, I saturated the dry rock along the edge of the wall with water produced from my magic. It was an exhausting process that emptied my mana reservoirs several times, but by the time I finished, the side of the wall was thoroughly wet and grey puddles had seeped all the way down.

Stupid orcs haven’t even noticed yet.

I then made the tough climb up the side of the mountain directly perpendicular to the gorge and began spraying even more water under the largest boulders and trees around. The work was tough going and I had to squeeze myself between jagged rocks and climb over clinging trees several times.

Thankfully, landslides were funny natural disasters. I just needed to get one started and the momentum of the collapsing land will do the work for me. One boulder finally moved…an inch. Thick muddy water had begun to accumulate among the roots of the trees nearest the edge of the cliff, but no further signs of movement showed.

I began to grow frustrated and worried my plan was foolhardy. I made my way back to the edge of the gorge and continued to douse the ground with water. I was close to running out of reserve of mana potions, so something had to give, and by the gods it wasn’t going to be me.

I was back to the gorge able to look down and see the ignorant orcs below. In a fit of irritation, I resorted to kicking one of the drenched boulders. Admittedly, I was having a tantrum, but to my preemptive delight it groaned and eventually tumbled forward.

Only to be caught by a tree, exactly like the pooling muddy water. Sure the boulder knocked the tree at a precarious angle, but the damn thing refused to fall.

“Argh!”

My frustration was reaching a boiling point. I had spent hours trying to cause this landslide with nothing to show for it. Soon, I would have to return to the village for the night without having killed a single orc.

I slammed my foot to the ground, barely holding back from screaming my lungs out. Mana from my spells must have been activated still, since I felt it swirl around my body. There was an uncomfortable lack of sound from the stomp, not unlike a scream failing to echo back in a cave.

Then, the ground under my feet visibly shook.

Panic.

I bolted away from my position—the very epicenter of a landslide about to happen—and everything around suddenly sank a solid foot. I was nearly sent sprawling, and deafening snaps and cracks sounded like giant trees were being sheered in half. The whole cliff-side was collapsing at once, and I was still on it.

I knew it was coming though, and somehow I managed to leap from one crumbling foothold to another out of the disaster. The thundering waves of rock, mud, and splintered trees was ignored along with the guttural screams from dying orcs as I focused solely on getting out of the way.

Not even once did I think of how stupid it was to fell a mountainside with myself smack dab in the middle of it.

I was lucky to live. Period. But damn do I do good work!

The orc leader, faced on all sides by jagged stone and mud-smeared trees, was simply a monster. A stupid monster, at that, caught unawares by a freaking landslide. If I had the breath to laugh, I would be dancing a jig with glee.

I was grinning to myself and thinking that none of the orcs could survive, when a plume of debri was tossed up into the air. Out emerged a massive orc clad in dirty, dented chest armor and roaring like a feral beast.

Which I supposed it was.

The thing was also at least twice as fat as common orcs with clear muscles that bulged from beneath its thick skin. It was an orc knight, a smart and extremely dangerous monster.

Damn.

The orc mysteriously knew where I was and as soon as our eyes made contact it began racing toward me despite the visibly broken leg and mangled left arm. To my horror, it simply ripped off said arm and wielded it like a club.

Sickly purple blood spurted down the orc’s side.

I was scared. I tossed every spell I could blindly think of, mostly useless fireballs in my panic, and scrambled backwards. The orc was much faster than it looked however, even with its injuries, and a flinging club-arm was in my face the next moment.

Luck again was on my side. The orc slipped over an unnoticed, muddy log and its aim veered sharply to the side. Missing my head by inches, the force of the attack knocked me off my feet and sank the orc’s club-arm deep into the slick mud.

My brain finally caught up to the battle, and I scrambled to my feet. I aimed my sword at the back of the orc’s uninjured leg in the same repetitive move I had used against all the other orcs. The sword cut in a measly inch, and then bounced away from the orc’s layered fat.

That fat alone was better than most armor.

The next moment I was dodging another swing of the orc’s club-arm with a roll and a spray of mud. A flurry of dodges and hacking strikes at the orc’s leg continued as the desperate battle tore through our slick arena. Mud splashed everywhere, and everything unfortunate enough to be under the orc was crushed flat. I had the slightest of advantage. The mud was working in my favor as my smaller weight let me move more quickly and with less slippage. However, the orc was immensely strong. One hit from its club-arm and I was dead, while each of my strikes barely chipped through the orc’s fat.

It was a battle of attrition, and orcs were known for their enormous vitality.

I kept up my dodging, but every next dodge the orc’s club-arm got closer to hitting me. I hadn’t gotten in a good strike since the first one, and all my energy was further put into dodging, as I grew increasingly exhausted.

It was then, as my legs were shaking and numb when my mana regenerated enough for one spell. I had to make the best use of it, I only had one more strike in me, but fireball wasn’t going to cut it. None of my other spells could significantly damage the orc either.

Maybe my water spell could clean off the smeared blood and mud?

I needed something knew, something I could use with my sword to drive it deep into the orc’s stubborn leg. And then, I imagined how a hot knife slides smoothly through butter; could I do the same?

I cast flame onto my sword, with all the mana I could muster, and charged up a powerstrike. Red-hot fire spilled out of my hands, wormed up my sword, and merged with the usual faint glow of the martial attack. The blade rapidly grew hot and I winced against the heat burning in my hands.

I had to dodge another sideswipe from the orc, bowing low with my knees and back, when the spell finally adhered. The two skills had coalesced into the sword as a shimmering red gleam.

Time to see if it would work.

Already in perfect posture, I sprung forward out of my crouch and swung down at the orc’s leg.

Schunk.

It was a weird sound, not unlike a plunger clearing a blockage from a toilet, but my sword drove nearly all the way through the orc’s leg until it stuck just after slicing through the bone.

Without a leg to stand on, the orc slumped onto its gargantuan stomach. I quickly released my grip from the sword, and rolled away from its limbs as the orc flailed in vain to stand back up.

Several times the monster flopped around like a fish, but I knew its injuries had piled up enough where it couldn’t get up.

I pulled my dagger from its sheath with that comfortable sound of metal sliding against metal. The orc stopped struggling upon hearing it and glared with all its might.

“Murgalorfan!” it spoke through a mouthful of broken tusks and mud.

If I could speak orc I surely would have said “fuck you!” back. Since I couldn’t, I opted to stab my dagger hard through its eyeball and pierce the tiny brain in the back of its skull.

[2320wds]