The crowd gathered around the two combatants was growing restless.

The Orcs and Elves had expected the fight to be over by now, but something strange was happening.

Luk’Tar should have gone down after the savage beating Volk had dealt him, yet there he stood, bruised, bloodied, but still upright.

What is wrong with him?

Is he really that tough?

It felt unnatural in a way it’s abnormal for someone to be that tough!

Volk was the first to notice something off.

Every time he landed a solid punch on Luk’Tar, the dark magic particles that surrounded the young Orc would shift and swirl, like a protective barrier.

They drifted toward the areas Volk struck, almost as if they were healing him, keeping him from collapsing.

As Volk’s fist slammed into Luk’Tar’s ribs again with a resounding BANG!, he saw it.

The dark magic particles, faint at first, began to swirl around Luk’Tar’s torso, as though drawn to the impact.

Volk’s brow furrowed. What the hell is this?

‘This bastard, he was doing something dirty! How do I expose him?’ He asked himself. It was very clear to him, all that he needed to do was expose and show it!

The Orcs and Elves murmured among themselves, their whispers growing louder.

“How is Luk’Tar still standing?”

“Did you see that? Volk’s hitting him with everything he’s got, but it’s like… it’s like nothing’s happening!”

“Something’s not right. This isn’t normal.”

Volk heard them, their voices full of doubt, but his focus remained on Luk’Tar.

Another punch connected with Luk’Tar’s face, making his head snap back violently.

BANG!

Still, Luk’Tar stood, blood pouring from his nose, eyes dark and menacing.

What the hell is keeping him up?

Should I do it?

Volk wondered, his fists still clenched, and his breathing now changed, becoming more cautious than heavy.

Suddenly, after taking another blow to his chest, Luk’Tar did something unexpected.

He lunged forward and grabbed Volk in a tight embrace, with his bruised and battered body pressing against Volk’s.

With his mouth inches from Volk’s ear, he whispered, “You will never beat me.”

Volk’s eyes widened at the words.

The dark magic particles shifted more violently around Luk’Tar, and Volk could feel the sinister energy seeping from the young Orc. But Volk wasn’t about to let this cheap trick go unnoticed.

He ducked swiftly under Luk’Tar’s grasp and slipped away, using the precise footwork he had received thanks to the system’s high-level boxing skill.

His eyes narrowed as he distanced himself, and without hesitation, he shouted, “Luk’Tar, you’re cheating!”

The crowd immediately erupted into a cacophony of murmurs and gasps, with their shock sounding palpable.

“Cheating?”

“What’s he talking about?”

“I knew something was wrong!”

“It’s clear! That dark magic around Luk’Tar! He’s using something!”

Luk’Tar stood tall, his laughter a low, sinister sound that echoed across the clearing. “Heh!” he sneered, wiping the blood from his lips.

“Your punches are mere tickles, Volk. And now you’re accusing me of cheating?” His voice dripped with contempt. “What kind of excuses are these now? Just because you can’t win? Pathetic.”

Luk’Tar stepped forward, taunting Volk with a slow, deliberate swagger.

“Do you think that because you’re finally standing up like a real Orc that it makes you my equal? You’re nothing! You’ve always been nothing but a Labor Orc, a tool for the tribe! And now you dare accuse me of cheating?”

The crowd shifted nervously, their eyes darting between the two Orcs.

Some murmured in agreement with Luk’Tar, while others remained silent, clearly unsettled by the dark magic that swirled around him.

Volk’s fists tightened, his jaw clenching in frustration.

‘I needed to make a risk!’

He couldn’t argue with Luk’Tar’s arrogance—his taunts had the desired effect on the crowd. But Volk knew the truth, and he was determined to reveal it.

“You are cheating,” Volk said, his voice low but filled with conviction.

‘I’ll do that now, if it costs me losing, then so be it!’

His eyes glanced toward Solluha’r, who stood just beyond the fight’s perimeter, her eyes focused on him. He gave her the briefest of nods, and without hesitation, Solluha’r understood.

In one swift motion, Solluha’r hurled the Axe of Dissection toward Volk.

SWOOSH!

The heavy weapon cut through the air with deadly precision.

Volk’s hand shot up, grabbing the axe mid-flight, its familiar weight settling into his grip like an extension of his arm.

Luk’Tar’s eyes went wide, with his arrogant smirk fading into panic as he saw the gleaming blade of the axe.

The crowd gasped collectively, their murmurs silencing for just a moment.

“What the—” Luk’Tar started to speak, but it was too late.

In a single fluid motion, Volk swung the Axe of Dissection upward. The blade gleamed under the faint light as it sliced through the air.

SWISH!

The axe connected with Luk’Tar’s face, carving a vicious line from his chin to his brow.

Blood sprayed from the wound as Luk’Tar staggered back, his hands flying to his face in a futile attempt to stem the flow.

The crowd gasped in horror, many Orcs and Elves instinctively stepping back.

Luk’Tar’s body wobbled for a moment, his legs shaking as though they could no longer support his weight.

Then, with a sickening THUD, he collapsed to the ground, blood pooling beneath him.

For a heartbeat, there was absolute silence.

Volk stood over Luk’Tar, breathing heavily, his eyes blazing with satisfaction. He wiped the blood from the blade of the axe on his arm and spat at the ground near Luk’Tar’s body. “Cheating bastard,” he muttered under his breath.

Suddenly, Lak’Ran’s voice exploded from the crowd. “YOU DAMN LABOR OOOOORC!!” The bellow was filled with rage, and Volk could feel the anger radiating from the elder Orc.

Lak’Ran pushed through the gathered onlookers, his eyes wide with fury as he rushed toward his son’s fallen body. His face contorted in a mix of shock and disbelief, his once calm demeanor completely shattered.

“You filthy Labor Orc!” Lak’Ran’s voice cracked as he knelt beside Luk’Tar, whose chest still heaved with shallow breaths. He was alive, but barely. Blood smeared across Lak’Ran’s hands as he tried to cradle his son’s head.

“You think you’ve won?” Lak’Ran snarled, his gaze snapping up to meet Volk’s. “You think this makes you strong? This doesn’t change a damn thing! You’ll never be more than a worthless Labor Orc!”

Volk, gripping the Axe of Dissection tightly, met Lak’Ran’s gaze with unflinching resolve.

“I don’t need your approval. You and your son are the traitors here. And now, everyone sees the truth.”

The crowd murmured again, this time louder.

The evidence was undeniable.

Luk’Tar should have gone down long ago, but the dark magic that surrounded him had kept him on his feet.

Volk had exposed the treachery for all to see.

Lak’Ran’s face twisted in rage, his hands trembling with the effort to contain his fury. But as much as he wanted to retaliate, he knew that the eyes of the tribe were on him. He was out of moves, for now.

But the storm brewing behind

Lak’Ran’s eyes promised this wasn’t

over.

Not by a long shot!

Suddenly, his eyes glinted in a desperate and malevolent light!

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep