The hulking Ogre lay sprawled on the forest floor, unconscious and bloodied.

The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, mingled with the swampy stench of the forest.

The Orcs, still catching their breath from the brutal encounter, gathered around the fallen beast, their faces a mixture of awe, unease, and a tinge of pride for Garzuk’s resilience.

“What should we do with it, Warchief?” one of the Orcs asked, his voice cautious. “Do we finish it off? Drag it back as a trophy?”

Volk stepped forward, his crimson gauntlet gleaming in the faint sunlight piercing through the thick canopy above.

He stared down at the Ogre with an expression that betrayed no sympathy, but also no interest.

“Leave it,” Volk commanded, his tone flat but absolute.

“Leave it?” another Orc questioned, his brows furrowing. “But it’s—”

“Do I look like I care for a useless lump of meat?” Volk interrupted, his voice rising. He gestured toward the deeper parts of the forest with a sweeping motion.

‘There were humans coming, and if the Baron is a threat, it means that some could take on Volk too. It’s better to be sure and full of energy than to waste it dragging some of this filthy meat as a trophy. They can have as many trophies as they want after this,’ he thought.

“We’re not here to waste time dragging bodies. We’re here to test your worth and the strength of your new armor! You want trophies? Earn them in battle, not from fallen trash.”

The Orcs fell silent, though a few exchanged uneasy glances. Volk’s fiery gaze silenced any murmurs of dissent. He turned away, the folds of his cape swishing behind him as he strode toward the darker parts of the forest.

“Move out!” Volk barked.

The Orcs trudged forward, their boots squelching in the mud.

The deeper they ventured, the darker and more oppressive the forest became.

Twisted trees loomed overhead like skeletal sentinels, their gnarled branches forming a labyrinth of shadows.

The stench grew worse.

It was no longer just the scent of damp earth and decaying vegetation. It was something else—something alive and rank, like unwashed flesh soaked in rot. Volk’s nose flared as he sniffed the air.

“They’re close,” he said, his voice low but carrying authority.

“How can you tell, Warchief?” one of the younger Orcs asked nervously.

“Because I can feel it,” Volk replied. Of course he’s an Ogre too. His Radioactive Form that was weakened for now. “Ogres stink of cowardice and brute arrogance. That smell you’re gagging on? That’s what stupidity smells like.”

A few Orcs chuckled nervously, but their laughter died quickly as the forest ahead began to rumble.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

The ground trembled beneath their feet. Bushes rustled violently, and trees swayed as something massive pushed its way through the dense foliage. Then they appeared.

Three Ogres lumbered into view, each one towering over the Orcs. Their grotesque bodies were covered in thick, patchy hides, and their faces were twisted in permanent scowls. One carried a massive club fashioned from a tree trunk, another wielded a jagged boulder, and the third had nothing but its massive fists, each as large as an Orc’s torso.

The Orcs tensed, gripping their weapons tightly. Garzuk, still nursing his injuries, shifted uncomfortably toward the back of the group.

“Warchief,” one of the Orcs whispered. “What’s the plan?”

Volk raised a hand, silencing the question. His crimson gauntlet pulsed faintly as he pointed toward the Ogres.

“You’ve trained enough,” Volk said, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. “Now it’s time to prove yourselves.”

He stepped back, folding his arms. “Take them down. All of you.”

The Orcs hesitated, their eyes darting between the massive Ogres and Volk.

“What are you waiting for?” Volk snarled. “An invitation? Attack!”

One of the Orcs, emboldened by Volk’s command, let out a war cry and charged forward. The others followed suit, their cries echoing through the forest as they surged toward the Ogres.

The first Ogre roared, swinging its club in a wide arc.

WHOOSH!

The air screamed as the massive weapon tore through it. The lead Orc barely managed to duck, the club passing over his head by inches and smashing into the ground with a deafening BOOM!

“Get behind it!” Volk shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. “It’s slow! Use your speed, you fools!”

Two Orcs darted to the sides, their blades glinting as they slashed at the Ogre’s legs.

SLASH! SLASH!

The beast bellowed in pain, swiping at them with its free hand. One Orc managed to dodge, but the other was caught by the backhanded blow.

THWACK!

The Orc was sent flying, crashing into a tree with a sickening crunch.

“Focus!” Volk roared. “Don’t scatter like frightened Goblins! Work together!”

Meanwhile, the second Ogre hurled its boulder toward the group.

CRASH!

The massive rock smashed into the ground, sending a shockwave that knocked several Orcs off their feet.

“Get up!” Volk barked. “You call yourselves warriors? Stand and fight!”

The third Ogre charged into the fray, its massive fists swinging wildly. One Orc raised his shield just in time to block the blow.

BANG!

The impact dented the shield and sent the Orc staggering back, but he held his ground.

“Good!” Volk shouted. “Now counter! Strike its arm!”

The Orc obeyed, thrusting his blade into the Ogre’s exposed arm.

SHUNK!

The beast roared, its arm hanging limp as blood gushed from the wound.

The battle raged on, the forest filled with the sounds of clashing steel, roaring Ogres, and Volk’s relentless commands.

“Don’t stand there! Attack its back!”

“Shield up, you idiot! Do you want to die?”

“Flank it! Make it fall!”

The Orcs, though clumsy and inexperienced, began to adapt under Volk’s guidance. They worked together, using their numbers and agility to outmaneuver the Ogres.

The first Ogre fell to its knees after an Orc drove a spear into its side.

THUD!

“Finish it!” Volk commanded.

Another Orc leaped onto the Ogre’s back, plunging his blade into its neck. The beast let out one final, gurgling roar before collapsing to the ground.

The second Ogre, now surrounded, swung its fists wildly, trying to fend off the attackers.

“Keep it distracted!” Volk ordered. “One of you, go for its legs!”

An Orc darted forward, slashing at the beast’s Achilles tendon.

SNAP!

The Ogre let out a blood-curdling scream as it toppled forward. The Orcs swarmed it like wolves, their blades stabbing and slicing until it lay still.

The third Ogre, realizing it was outmatched, tried to retreat.

“Coward!” Volk spat. “Don’t let it escape!”

The Orcs pursued, their war cries shaking the forest as they descended upon the fleeing beast.

SLASH!

CRUNCH!

THUD!

Moments later, the Ogre lay dead, its massive body riddled with wounds.

The Orcs stood over their fallen foes, panting and bloodied but victorious. They turned to Volk, their eyes filled with a mixture of awe and exhaustion.

Volk stepped forward, his crimson gauntlet glowing faintly. He looked at each of them, his expression unreadable.

“You fought well,” he said finally, his voice low but firm. “But this is only the beginning. There are more Ogres out there. They will be your stepping stones or you could be in their stomach.”

The Orcs nodded, their spirits bolstered by the hard-fought victory. Volk turned away, his mind already planning the next move.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep