Nearly twenty orcs blocked the path ahead but three names burned brighter in Luke’s vision:

[Kayn, Orc Captain – Lvl 22]

[Drukar, Orc Captain – Lvl 21]

[Morvat, Orc General – Lvl ??]

The largest stepped forward, towering above the rest. His voice oozed contempt. “You saw the fortress. That leaves us no choice.” He raised his voice, words cutting like steel.

“Not that this wasn’t inevitable. But now?” He pointed toward them, eyes hard. “No more games. Kill them.”

The volley came before the last syllable faded. Luke grabbed Allison and pulled her sideways. They hit the ground hard, tumbling down a ruined slope into the broken streets below. Dirt filled their mouths. Breath stolen. Bones jarred. Above, the orcs roared, frenzied and blood-hungry, charging after them like a pack unleashed.

The three commanders stood motionless until the General raised one hand. Three lances of fire ignited in the air then plunged downward. The world shattered.

Flames erupted across the ruins, masonry torn apart in the blast. Heat slammed into their backs. Luke surged forward, dragging Allison as debris rained around them.

“We can’t fight that!” he shouted, dodging a burning beam that collapsed in front of them.

“Then where the hell are we going?”

“The fortress.”

She stared at him. “Seriously?”

“I’m bringing the Midnight Warden to us.”

Behind them, the thunder grew—heavy footsteps pounding through stone and ash. The orc commanders had joined the hunt. Another barrage came crashing down, shaking the ground and splitting the street. The shockwave hurled them in opposite directions.

Luke crashed through an archway, shoulder slamming against jagged stone. Orcs flooded in behind him. He spun, hurled a kukri—the blade sank into one’s chest, then snapped back into his grip with magnetic force. “Damn it,” he muttered. “Should’ve picked Blood Shot… Too late now.”

Above him, Allison dashed across crumbling rooftops. She leapt, landing hard, her sword flaring with frost. She slashed—a crescent wave of ice surged forward, catching the lead orcs mid-charge. Frost bloomed across their limbs, locking them in place.

Luke dove in. One throat opened under his blade. A kick sent another staggering. Then Dark Dash. He blinked forward, sliced two more open before their weapons even rose.

And the ground trembled.

Something massive dropped from above—warhammer sparking with electricity. The impact cracked the street in two. Luke flew, bones rattling from the blow.

[Kayn, Orc Captain – Lvl 22]

Electric arcs flickered along the orc’s arms. He sneered, teeth bared, then lunged forward. Luke barely raised a blade in time. The strike tore past his guard and shattered the wall behind him. Blood spilled from his mouth. Pain flared through every nerve.

Still he forced himself upright. Still breathing. Still moving.

He turned and ran, deeper into the ruins. Kukris flashed in his hands, blades like whispers in the dark.

“Get back here, human!” Kayn’s voice crackled with power.

Luke weaved through alleyways choked with rubble, ducking under swinging hammers and threads of lightning. Then a shadow fell. Allison descended like a meteor, sword charged with raw frost. She struck. Ice burst across the impact zone. Kayn staggered under the force.

Luke didn’t hesitate—he was already on him. Blades cut deep, draining heat and strength with every wound. But the battle wouldn’t slow. The ground shifted again—stone splitting as another behemoth entered the fray. It was covered in jagged armor, fists the size of anvils.

“I AM THE WARRIOR OF STONE!” it bellowed. Then it tucked into itself. And rolled.

Not like a fighter but like a collapsing building made of spikes and fury. A living avalanche. Luke and Allison dove aside as it thundered past—flattening the orcs in its path. But more took their place. A flood. An army.

Luke froze. More than he’d seen during the Safe Zone invasion. Too many. His chest tightened. His hand trembled.

“Dammit… this arm—”

He wasn’t whole. He wasn’t ready.

A thunderclap split the sky as Kayn surged forward, his body cloaked in lightning, hammer raised—not at Luke, but at Allison. Steel met thunder, frost met fury, and their weapons collided with a shockwave that rattled the battlefield. Titans, locked in combat.

Luke didn’t hesitate. He moved—kukri in hand, blade flashing through the rain. He threw it—but didn’t get the chance to follow through. A scream cut the air.

“LUKE!!”

The Stone Orc barreled toward him—massive, wild-eyed. He leapt, fists clenched, ready to crush. Luke ducked low, sprinted up the crumbling wall beside him, and launched himself into the air. His kukri sliced across the orc’s granite hide—a scratch. Nothing more.

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The orc laughed, a deep, echoing sound. He grabbed the trunk of a shattered tree and hurled it like a spear. Luke hit the ground hard, rolled through thick mud and broken tiles. His lungs burned, but his body didn’t stop. He tore into the weaker orcs—shadow-stepping between them, blades flashing.

[You have slain an Orc Scout – Lvl 14]

“Damn it,” he hissed. Not the kill he needed.

Above, the sky flashed white. A burst of snow crashed over the battlefield—Allison had dropped a frost bomb, slowing their pursuers in a blizzard of ice and mist. Luke dodged under a fresh volley of arrows.

Then impact.

A warhorse crashed down in front of him, hooves gouging stone. Mounted atop it:

[Morvat, Orc General – Lvl ??]

The General’s gaze locked onto Luke. “Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled, forming a glowing spear of mana in his palm. The air trembled with power.

Before he could throw it, Allison acted. A volley of icicles shot from her hand, detonating the spear mid-air in a violent flash of heat and shards.

Together, she and Luke dove into a ruined building, sprinting through its broken corridor. They leapt out a shattered window onto a slanted rooftop just as the structure groaned beneath them.

Behind: hooves. Roars. War drums. The horde was here.

“We’re close!” Luke shouted over the chaos.

Ahead—across the courtyard—stood the Midnight Warden. Silent. Still. Unmoving. He walked with deliberate calm, as if untouched by the carnage around him.

“What if he’s with them?” Allison called out. “What if he’s here to kill us too?”

Luke didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He only needed a trigger.

Then he saw it—etched into the ruin’s base: a ring of glowing crystals. Blue. Then red.

A sharp, rising hum filled the air.

The alarm.

The Warden stopped mid-step. His head tilted toward the sound. His blood-red eyes locked on. Then he moved. One blink, and he was gone. The next instant, he stood atop the tower. “ROOOOOOAAR!”

He raised his spear—and unleashed it.

The impact tore through three orcs in a single breath. Their bodies crumpled before they could scream. The tide turned.

Panic swept the horde like wildfire. Even the most hardened warriors turned to flee.

[Your servant Princess Charlie (Skeleton) – Lvl 6 has recovered from her injuries.]

Luke exhaled hard. “Finally…”

Then—

“COME BACK HERE!”

The Stone Orc returned—rolling into view like a wrecking ball, spikes spinning, fury radiating from every joint. He uncoiled and roared:

[Drukar, Orc Captain – Lvl 21]

But he wasn’t fast enough. Charlie burst from Luke’s shadow—a skeletal knight cloaked in dark flame.

She struck first. Iron Fist. A brutal uppercut lifted the orc off his feet. Whirlwind Strike followed—her sword trailing crimson arcs. Stone cracked. Drukar stumbled, snarling.

But lightning surged in from the side—Kayn, charging again with his warhammer sparking, eyes wild.

Luke turned toward the river.

Empty.

Not a single orc dared cross. They knew what waited there.

The Warden’s domain.

The battlefield split.

Luke and Charlie flanked Drukar; Allison intercepted Kayn before he could close in. Luke dove low, rolling through rubble. Charlie met the Stone Orc head-on.

Iron fists clashed with rocky arms in a brutal dance. Drukar smashed downward. Charlie blocked with an armored elbow, then carved an X across his chest. Iron Fist. Spectral Charge. Another punch to the jaw. She grabbed him and slammed his head into a tree trunk. It splintered on impact.

Luke blinked behind the orc, blade carving deep. Vitality siphoned. Slow, steady. One HP per second, maybe—but it was enough. He would bleed the life from this monster, piece by piece.

Across the field, Allison became a storm of ice and steel. Her sword moved like a living blizzard. Every slash sent waves of frost blooming out, freezing wounds before they could bleed. The Orc Captain’s muscles began to stiffen, his joints locking up.

The monster roared—electricity bursting from his body in violent arcs. Trees behind him ignited as if struck by lightning, and he charged.

Allison didn’t move. She parried—clean, decisive. Her blade caught the hammer, deflecting it wide. An opening. She stepped in and drove her sword straight through his gut.

The orc howled, laughing even as pain overtook him, swinging wildly in one final, desperate attempt to crush her.

Across the battlefield, the Stone Orc slammed the ground. Spikes erupted in every direction—a forest of jagged stone. Charlie didn’t hesitate. She spun, her sword sweeping in flawless arcs. One by one, the spikes shattered into powder. She dashed forward, a blur of bone and steel, trailing red light behind her.

Luke leapt above her. Shadows wrapped around him, cloaking his presence. Midair, he reappeared behind the orc. His kukri plunged deep into the creature’s eye.

The orc’s scream tore through the ruins. It flailed, catching Luke with a wild swing that sent him crashing to the earth. He rolled, dirt in his mouth, vision blurred—but he got up. Breathing ragged. Bleeding.

Still moving.

He sprinted back into the fray, blades flashing. Charlie stepped in behind him, her sword lit with crimson energy.

[Heavy Strike] + [Crescent Slash]

Her blade carved through the orc’s wrist, severing the hand at the joint. Blood sprayed. The monster staggered, howling.

Luke moved low. Shifted his weight.

Dark Dash.

He flickered forward, shadows trailing his form, and drove his kukri straight into the orc’s heart. A perfect, lethal thrust.

The beast spasmed. Screamed.

[You have slain Drukar, Orc Captain – Lvl 21]

[An item has been added to your inventory]

**[You have reached Level 8! Half-Demon (Rank F)] (+1 bonus point to all attributes, +1 free point)**

[New Race Skill Available]

*The [Death Knight] class of Princess Charlie has reached Level 12! (Class Bonus Points Acquired)*

The orc collapsed, dead before he hit the ground.

Luke blinked. Then his body ignited with light as wounds sealed, mana surged, fatigue vanished. His stamina topped off, his HP restored. And his left arm… regrew—muscle, skin, and nerve rebuilt from the inside out, stronger, reforged by the system itself. He flexed his fingers, fist tightening around his blade.

“Hell yes,” he breathed, half laughing.

Nearby, Kayn—the lightning-cloaked orc—finally fell, collapsing in a heap of scorched flesh. Silence followed. For a moment, the battle was over.

Luke turned, heart pounding.

“The river!” he shouted. “Allison! Charlie! Move!”

He pointed.

“Charlie, break a tree!”

No hesitation. Charlie sprinted to the nearest trunk and struck. Once. Twice. The tree splintered with a thunderous crack and fell. She lifted it like it weighed nothing.

They ran—mud and stone slipping beneath their feet as the world behind them fell apart. The Warden had joined the slaughter. Screams echoed. Fire raged. Orcs scattered.

The river’s roar grew louder—wild, violent. Their escape.

Then—fire erupted ahead. The air shook as something vast dropped from above. The ground split beneath the impact. A figure emerged through the flames.

Massive. Burning with hate.

[Morvat, Orc General – Lvl ??]

“Where do you think you’re going?” the general growled.

Luke skidded to a halt. His eyes locked onto the orc. He reached behind his back, drew the second kukri. One in each hand. The flames crackled behind Morvat, casting twisted shadows.

Charlie stepped up beside Luke, silent, sword raised. Allison joined them, breathing steady, eyes sharp.

Then—Luke felt it.

Something stir inside.

A rhythm.

A pulse.

He activated—

[Demonic Blade Dance]

His aura ignited. The air distorted around him, pressure warping space. Black afterimages bled off every movement, flickering like shadows trying to catch up. His kukris shimmered—sharp, starving, alive.

Three against one. A wall stood between them and freedom.

Time to dance.

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