Teclos woke up.

He was leaning against some sort of wall—it was jagged, rough, and deeply unpleasant against his back.

It felt wrong.

He couldn’t quite recall what had happened or why he wasn’t in his own bed.

The moment he tried to move, however, a massive wave of pain tore through him. Every vein, every muscle, even his skin and bones felt as if they were being ripped apart from the inside.

The pain forced his eyes open, but even that hurt.

They burned—literally burned—and his vision returned in a blurred, unfocused haze.

Somewhere nearby, he heard loud noises... like fighting.

’What? Where am I?’

He tried to feel his surroundings with his darkness—but there was nothing.

Nothing at all.

He didn’t even have a speck of mana left. Whatever remained—whatever had replenished—was being used to mend his body, draining away at an alarming rate.

’Wait a second...?’

Then, suddenly, pain split through his skull, sharp enough to steal the breath from his lungs, and the memories came rushing back all at once.

The orc chief.

The cockatrice hunt.

The frantic run through the forest.

Ralph’s desperate escape.

And then—

Gillard.

His mind froze, refusing to move past it.

Gillard.

A harrowing memory surged forward—the sickening crunch of ribs collapsing under an axe, the grotesque smile of that damn bastard...

And worst of all—

Gillard dying right in front of him.

Tears began to stream down his face.

’No... no, no, this can’t be...’

He tried to deny it again, but his mind wouldn’t let him. The image replayed relentlessly—as he uncorked the potion and tried to make Gillard’s lifeless body drink it.

’Argh!? Why am I in so much pain?!’ he thought as he tried to move.

He slowly, painfully forced his eyes open again and looked down.

Black veins bulged beneath his skin.

Aside from that... he looked just fine.

Which made no sense.

Why did it hurt so much?

He stopped for a moment, rewinding that thought.

’Wait... what?!’

Indeed, his entire body was covered in visible veins, each one tinted pitch-black. He could not move his mana at all, and every vein felt as if someone had sliced into him and was slowly carving them out from the inside.

He wanted to scream.

But no sound came out.

His mind worked—but his body refused him completely.

He lifted his gaze again, his vision slowly returning.

And the first thing he saw was bodies and blood.

Broken forms were scattered across the ground—human and orc alike.

Some of the humans were still fighting.

But they were hopelessly outnumbered.

He saw his father.

Talmir was holding the horde back almost alone, cutting through orcs in brutal arcs, each strike tearing bodies apart. Toby was the only real support nearby, along with Zarik and Tom—but the rest were barely standing, bloodied and broken.

Teclos turned his head slightly.

And saw an orc clad in the same despicable black armor as that bastard.

And Axel.

Axel was moving like a shadow, carving into the orc again and again. Small cuts, mostly—but they were no doubt sapping the orc’s strength away. He had the upper hand.

Seeing that... Teclos almost felt relief.

It filled him with a strange sense of satisfaction—watching the orcs fall, ripped apart by his father’s blade.

If only...

If only he had stayed home today.

Everything would have been fine.

Gillard would still be alive.

...What was he going to tell Ralph?

What was he going to tell Gillard’s parents?

These thoughts hollowed him out.

His emotions drained away, replaced by a vast, suffocating emptiness.

At least the orcs would pay.

Now that his father and his master were cutting them down—

They would all pay.

—

Outside.

Kosak decapitated one of the last orcs on that flank, blood spraying in a wide arc as the body collapsed at his feet.

He turned toward Sera, already about to suggest they reinforce another section of the line—

When he sensed something through the ground.

A heavy impact shuddered through the wall, followed by the unmistakable weight of a body tumbling down against it.

It was Gunvald.

Kosak’s expression darkened instantly.

Only one thought cut through his mind.

’Shit.’

In that instant, everything changed.

He could still feel that the guild master was alive—but with those injuries, not for long.

So he made a decision.

He would send the signal for retreat instead of the elder, and for that, he needed to go to the town square where the tunnel was.

"Where are you going?!" Sera called out.

"It’s bad... we need to run, right now. I’ll give the signal instead of Ezekiel—I don’t know what that geezer is waiting for, goddammit!"

"What?! You can’t decide that on your own! Are you mad?!"

"Sera, listen to me!" He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "The guild master is about to die, and one of those monsters is going to be set free—you know, the one burning everything to a crisp? Yeah. We have to evacuate into the tunnel now!"

Kosak’s voice carried urgency—desperation.

They were the highest-ranking hunters left on this flank.

"What?! No way... that geezer wouldn’t die just like that."

He tightened his grip.

"It’s true! I can feel it through the ground. Move your ass and gather as many survivors as you can!"

"What about Ezekiel? He’ll send the signal when they’re safe—you can’t just make that call!"

"We’re all going to die here if we don’t fall back now!"

Sera hesitated.

Kosak was not usually the serious type.

But now?

Now his face was grim.

And if Gunvald had fallen...

Her mind made the connection before she could stop it.

"What if he’s dead?"

Kosak’s jaw tightened.

"He’s not dead yet," he said grimly. "But he will be soon. We have to get out of here."

"No... Ezekiel... What if Ezekiel is dead?"

Kosak froze.

"What? No... they haven’t breached the tunnel—"

"There are orcs that control earth," she cut in. "And if a monster like that flaming bastard has alliesthe same as him..."

She didn’t finish the sentence.

She didn’t have to.

Cold sweat ran down the backs of the remaining hunters.

Their families were down there.

In that tunnel.

"You give the signal," Sera said at last, her voice serious. "We’ll go with your plan."

Kosak nodded once and sank into the ground, moving rapidly through the earth toward the guild hall, where the signal flare was stored.

Moments later, he reached it.

And as he approached—

His fear was confirmed.

He sensed a body layin in the tunnel.

An orc.

"Oh, come on..."

He grabbed the flare, infused it with mana, and hurled it into the air.

A loud boom echoed across the battlefield.

The signal for retreat.

—

When the signal exploded, the hunters all around the walls rejoiced somewhat. Finally, they too would try to escape this hell—the only problem now was making it out alive.

Brahm, Darnel, and Ulmak started organizing a systematic retreat on their flank, and they managed to hold fairly well. They had only lost a little less than half their men and women there, so there was still plenty of manpower left for the retreat.

Ulmak set up a firewall and pushed it toward the orcs.

"Haha! Finally, we can get out of here... I was starting to worry Ezekiel had abandoned us."

"Shut your trap, kid, and fall back. I’m not in the mood," Brahm snapped.

"Haha! Why not, you old geezer?! Half my comrades died, you lost an arm, our homes are being destroyed, and that bastard only gave the signal for retreat now, when it’s almost impossible to pull off with his shitty plan... why wouldn’t I be happy and joking around?"

Tears streaked down Ulmak’s face as he looked at a particular spot where many of his friends had fallen.

Just then, Darnel crashed down beside them, two drowned orcs in his hands. He looked up, saw the tears on Ulmak’s face, and scoffed.

"We all lost someone to these pests. For now, focus on getting out of here alive. Get your revenge later, when the kingdom starts conscripting people."

Although he said that, there was a subtle fury beneath his tone.

Ulmak, Darnel, and Brahm held the front while the first group of hunters fell back behind them. Once those hunters reached a safe distance, they turned and formed the next line of defense.

Only then did Ulmak, Darnel, and Brahm begin to retreat.

The two lines moved like that, taking turns. One held the orcs back while the other withdrew.

It was slower than simply running, but far safer. The retreat remained controlled, and the orcs were forced to fight for every step forward.

—

Everything hurt, burned beyond recognition. With his face melted away and his legs missing below the knees, a glint of hope ignited in his remaining good eye.

He heard the flare—the people would finally fall back from this hell.

He couldn’t speak anymore; his vocal cords were done medium rare.

Still, a happy thought crossed his mind.

’Hah! Finally, old friend... took you long enough for that signal. Hopefully the rest can get out safely.’

He still had mana reserves to spare, and the orc looking toward the flare wouldn’t be able to reach it for as long as he lived.

Lightning crackled, and his badly burnt body levitated off the ground. He had one good arm remaining, and he would use it to hinder that bastard as best as he could.

U’rtak was shocked. The humans and even most orcs were beneath him, but this warrior deserved respect.

He crossed both hands with his battle axes and thumped them over his chest in an orcish salute.

This was one of only two times he had ever done that in his lifetime—once for the previous chief, who died gloriously on the battlefield, and now... for a puny human... no, a human warrior.

It would be impolite to turn his back on this magnificent warrior, so he would face him with all his might now.

—

Evading a downward slash by a hair’s breadth, Pella slammed his battle axe against Gor’ke’s sword. At the same time, he thrust his other hand toward Kui’ri and released an eradicating blast of life mana, destroying the arrow flying toward him and counterattacking in the same motion, forcing her to dodge.

Just then, the signal resounded.

And both orc commanders made a mistake.

They took their eyes off Pella.

Usually, a flare like that would stop everyone in their tracks for at least a second. But Pella never looked at it.

He had been on the back foot throughout the entire exchange.

But that did not mean he was helpless.

And above all—

Never underestimate this old man.

A fist crashed into Gor’ke’s ribcage. It was so fast he didn’t even register it—he just suddenly flew toward a tree, blood spilling from his mouth.

As soon as the punch landed, Pella was already preparing to leap at Kui’ri.

As she saw Gor’ke blasted away, Pella suddenly appeared before her.

"Tshk!"

She dropped the bow and pulled two knives from her belt, defending herself with crossed blades.

Pella had his axe fully wound back above his head, holding it steady with both hands. His back was arched and coiled like a spring, ready to release all his might.

"Hah! Bad move, orc lady."

As he swung it down with all his might, Kui’ri’s eyes widened. She braced her arms with wind while releasing some of it around her body to cushion the impact rather than block it entirely.

Yet she still underestimated Pella. True, he was slower and weaker than them—aside from that oddly massive mana pool—and they had inflicted many wounds on him, while the human had only managed to wound Gor’ke twice.

She thought she’d done enough to escape him—just take the hit while blocking it. It would push her to the ground and create distance, then she could retrieve her bow and attack from afar again.

But then the axe swing came.

Life mana flared all over Pella’s body. The coiled blow was released, and the axe flew at Kui’ri with blinding speed.

Forget bracing against it—the strike shattered her knives and the bones in her arms. The cut itself was somewhat shallow, as she was blasted away before it could cleave deeper into her ribcage. The force sent her crashing into the ground a hundred meters away, breaking both her legs as well.

She spat blood and lost consciousness.

After a second of silence, Pella exhaled.

"Phew... well then. I guess I’ll fall back now."

He was glad the orcs he faced had been foolish enough to let their guard down.

"Fall back!" he commanded the troops on his flank.

—

Every flank was moving inward except for Gunvald and U’rtak. Kosak felt everything through the ground as he meditated near the tunnel entrance, gathering mana.

"Alright."

He opened his eyes and erected a spherical dome made of topaz and orihalcum.

It took most of his mana, but he somehow managed it. The sphere had four entrances that he could close at will; now he only needed the people to come and go inside. The orcs would no doubt breach it, but it could maybe buy them two minutes, if they were lucky.

He created several pitfalls lined with spikes along the roads to halt the orcs’ advance and maybe kill a few as well.

Once he finished all his preparations, he sat down and meditated again to replenish as much mana as possible.

The last phase of the retreat was prepared and ready.