Virgil looks at the smoke bellowing from the hill up ahead.
It is the only hill in the cavern with flat ground—the reason this place bears its name.
They spot dark fae women and children running toward them, faces distraught, tears streaming, cries echoing in the air.
Behind them, laughing dark orcs give chase, their heavy weapons raised.
Anger surges through Swan, her eyes narrowing as she bursts forward.
She blurs past the fleeing women and children, her twin swords igniting with flames.
Her first swing blasts a dark orc off its feet, sending it crashing into the dirt.
Her next slash cleaves another from shoulder to hip in one smooth, merciless strike.
A swift leg sweep topples a third orc, its armour clanging against the ground.
A heavy sword comes down toward her head, but she drops low, sliding beneath the blow.
Without turning, she rises in one fluid motion, driving her flaming blade into the attacker's back.
She rips it free through the side, molten blood spraying.
Another dark orc scrambles up from the ground—she cuts off its hands in a blur, then severs its head.
The first orc staggers to its feet, mouth opening in a roar, but she leaps high and plunges her sword down its throat.
In mere minutes, the ground is littered with the charred, lifeless bodies of the dark orcs, their laughter forever silenced.
Swan turns toward the dark fae women and children huddled behind Virgil and the others.
She hurries over, voice urgent. "Are you all okay?"
A woman steps forward, still trembling. "Swan, we are safe… but the village is still in the hands of the dark orc bandits."
Swan's eyes widen. "What? What about the garrison?"
Lonely Peak is a resource cavern for the dark fae, guarded by a strong force led by a Rank 11 Master.
The woman lowers her head. "General Braco took the elite troops to quell the rebellion in Dross Cavern two days ago."
Swan glances at Virgil and the others, her tone sharp but pleading. "I need your help. Once the village is safe, the kingdom will surely reward you."
The group exchanges glances, their spirits linking in silent discussion.
Cynthia: "What should we do?"
Marcus: "This isn't our concern. We need to reach the southern ocean as fast as possible."
Mira: "We should help them."
Clide: "We don't know how strong these bandits are. If it's another black automaton situation, will you use another Thunder Ball?"
Lily: "I'll go with the majority."
Vincent: "Then let's vote."
Virgil turns to Swan. "Do you know where we could get Silver Stone blood?"
Swan doesn't hesitate. "Silver Stone blood… the Silver Sword race sells it in the Dark Fae Kingdom's capital. If you help me take back the village, I will do my best to obtain a vial of it for you. I swear in the name of Lord Trufant."
The group's doubts ease—such an oath, sworn to one of the dark fae's gods, is not made lightly.
Virgil climbs from one side of the hill alone.
Halfway through the climb, he comes across three dark orcs uphill.
He shoots one with a poison arrow spell, not bothering to see the result.
His spear meets a dark orc's sword with a sharp clang.
Using his skill, he thrusts the spear into the orc's neck.
He swings his leg around, the sole of his foot slamming into the chest of the third dark orc.
The third staggers back as Virgil wrenches his spear free from the second orc's neck.
Blood erupts in a fountain as the second dark orc collapses to the ground.
Virgil blocks the next attack from the third dark orc.
He channels the Life Sword spell and cleaves the first orc, which had regained its footing after the poison arrow strike.
The Life Sword curves in midair, striking from behind and entering the third dark orc's body.
The third crumples to the ground.
The Life Sword dissolves, its energy flowing back into him.
Slaughtering dark orcs, Virgil climbs the hill and then comes across a formidable dark orc with red markings all over its black body.
It fights without any weapon, only a grey energy surrounding its fist, punches toward him.
Virgil uses his spear to block the punches.
With his spirits, he channels the life control spells.
Ten or so Life Knives appear and shoot toward the dark orc.
It notices, stops its punches, and punches toward the Life Knives, destroying them.
Virgil attacks with his mana-covered spear.
The dark orc defends this time, with grey energy appearing to block Virgil's spear.
Their exchange becomes a blur of motion, each attack met with an equally precise block.
Spear meets fist, mana clashes with grey energy, neither giving an inch.
Every thrust, sweep, and strike is countered so perfectly that it looks like they are performing a choreographed dance.
The onlookers would believe it is rehearsed if not for the force shaking the ground with every blow.
Virgil's breathing grows heavier, sweat dripping down his face as the rhythm continues without a single opening.
Then, for the first time, the dark orc misjudges a step.
Virgil seizes the moment and drives his spear forward, piercing the dark orc's chest.
The grey energy flickers and fades as the creature's body slumps forward.
Virgil continues his ascent and finally reaches the devastated village.
Dark orcs and dark fae still clash in the streets, their battles leaving the air thick with smoke and dust.
He joins the fray, cutting through the dark orcs to aid the dark fae, pushing forward toward the village centre.
There, a single dark orc stands, towering with a massive axe, holding off a group of dark fae, Swan, and the rest of Virgil's team.
The ground is littered with fallen dark fae, their bodies sprawled in bloodied heaps.
Swan's group is still on their feet, protecting one another and moving in perfect sync, their combined strength holding the dark orc at bay.
Virgil charges with his spear, his eyes locked on the massive warrior.
Their weapons meet with a ringing clang, the impact jolting through his arms.
The sheer force behind the dark orc's blow drives Virgil back a step.
The axe comes in a vicious arc toward him, and Virgil flips backwards, the blade cutting the air where he stood an instant before.
Virgil lands lightly, spear still in hand, eyes locked on the massive opponent.
Swan bursts forward, her twin swords igniting with fire, slashing at the dark orc in a whirlwind of flame and steel.
The dark orc meets her head-on, their weapons colliding with a deafening boom that shakes the ground.
Swan is knocked back, sliding across the dirt, her swords sparking as she digs them into the ground to stop.
Before the dark orc can finish her, Marcus and Clide rush in, their weapons crossed to block the massive axe's downward strike.
The impact sends a shockwave through their arms, but they hold, gritting their teeth.
Around them, a squad of dark fae hurls dark and fire magic, forcing the dark orc to turn and defend against the barrage.
Despite the combined assault, the creature remains unscathed, its thick hide and overwhelming aura shielding it from harm.
It is clear why—this foe is a second-stage professional, and every attacker here is only a first stage.
The plan forms in everyone's mind: exhaust it, wear it down, then strike with everything they have.
Virgil moves in again, just as the dark orc raises its axe to cleave through a dark fae warrior.
His spear intercepts the swing, the clash ringing out like struck iron.
The dark orc snarls and lashes out with a sudden kick.
Virgil sidesteps, pivoting around the brute's flank in a swift motion.
With the butt of his spear, he strikes the back of the dark orc's knee, forcing it to stumble forward.
The brief opening is all Swan needs—she darts in and carves her blades in a crossing slash across its chest, leaving a glowing red "X" in its black flesh.
The dark orc bellows in rage, its dark skin erupting with crimson light.
Its power surges, doubling in speed and strength as it whirls toward Virgil.
The axe comes for him again, faster and heavier than before, a killing blow in every sense.
Death flashes in Virgil's eyes—he knows that if he does not block this blow, he will truly die.
He thrusts his spear toward the dark orc's body with everything he has, muscles screaming, mana surging.
The crowd watches with bated breath, the air thick with tension.
Mira, Lily, and Cynthia close their eyes, unable to watch their friend's death.
Swan, Marcus, and Clide surge forward in desperation to intercept the blow.
Vincent's hand dives into his bag, retrieving a thunder ball, cursing himself for not using it sooner—ready to avenge Virgil's death if it comes.
Virgil's spear slices through the air, the wind bending around its tip.
The metal turns red, then slowly shifts to gold, until golden fire blazes at the weapon's head.
With a roar, the blast slams into the dark orc's chest, just as the axe's edge hovers inches from Virgil's face.
The force lifts the dark orc off its feet, hurling it backwards in a violent arc.
Virgil collapses to his hands and knees, every shred of energy gone, his head pounding.
Blood trickles from his nose as he slumps forward, his body heavy and unresponsive.
The strike has shattered the dark orc's ribs, and the strange technique it used to increase its strength is broken, its body drained of power.
Yet the beast still staggers upright, snarling, refusing to fall.
It charges again, only to be met by a storm of steel and magic—Swan, Marcus, Clide, and the dark fae warriors driving their weapons into its body from every side.
The massive form finally collapses with a thunderous crash, dead at last.
The remaining dark orcs freeze, their morale shattering at the sight of their leader's fall.
They flee in a frenzy, scattering into the night, while the dark fae give chase, hatred burning in their eyes.