"Save me..."
Staring at the half-orc waking up from a pool of blood before him, Orum's eyes went wide.
Were half-orcs really this tough?
Hurt this badly, and he still wasn't dead?
No wonder they were a race with the "Resilient" trait. Their incredible vitality practically gave them a second life.
"How am I supposed to save you?" Orum asked.
"Pocket... there's a healing potion in there. Give it to me."
Orum pulled out a transparent glass vial from the pocket, about 300 milliliters, filled with strawberry-red liquid.
Looking at the half-orc's complicated expression, Orum guessed the healing potion wasn't cheap.
He also caught a glimpse of 11 gold coins in the pocket, probably Garr's cut from murder, robbery, and human trafficking.
Casually putting the healing potion back in the pocket, he hung it on his own belt. Orum picked up the great axe again and approached the half-orc Garr.
The gleaming axe blade was blinding. The weapon of thought instantly broke through the half-orc Garr's psychological defenses.
"You... what are you doing?! I've got no beef with you!"
The half-orc Garr, spitting blood foam, desperately tried to defend himself in panic: "Your teammate was killed by Dorian, it's got nothing to do with me."
The half-orc Garr understood that his life or death hung entirely on the whim of this piglet [trafficking victim] who'd just escaped.
If Orum was the slightest bit unhappy and swung the axe at his head, he was too badly injured to put up any resistance.
The half-orc Garr prayed desperately in his heart that this young man, who'd been cunning enough to escape on his own while fooling everyone, wasn't ruthless.
His only regret now was that this morning, when he was taking a dump, he'd rushed Orum along. He was probably holding a grudge over that.
However, Orum wasn't thinking that much.
Orum calmly watched the half-orc before him, gripping the axe handle with both hands in a staggered grip, slowly raising it above his head.
"Thwack—"
One axe blow ended the half-orc's life, but no system notification popped up.
"I killed a half-orc, why didn't I get a reward?"
Orum was a bit confused. His cheat [special ability] was that killing different numbers of goblins unlocked corresponding stage rewards.
Logically speaking, killing other monsters should also drop their racial monster organs as rewards, just like with goblins.
Could it be that half-orcs didn't count as monsters? Did he have to kill actual orcs?
"I'll try killing a few more monsters later."
Orum didn't waste any more time. His gaze swept over the half-orc Garr's body, then settled on the goblin corpses.
Goblins were just pure vermin. They had no valuable materials on them whatsoever, you couldn't skin them or take their teeth, and they didn't drop gold coins either.
Fortunately, the Adventurers' Hall in Blackwater Town had a standing bounty on goblins. After killing goblins, adventurers just needed to cut off the goblin's right ear to exchange it for payment.
One goblin's right ear could be exchanged for 2 silver coins. Ten goblins would be 20 silver coins.
Add in the gold coins from the half-orc Garr's pocket, and this haul was worth a total of 130 silver coins.
In this era, 130 silver coins was already a fortune for Orum, who came from a farming family. This money was enough to buy 13 ewes in the village, or 4 to 5 dairy cows.
(/n: ewes are female sheeps)
Cutting off goblin ears with a sharp axe wasn't difficult. Orum only spent a little time collecting the right ears from 10 goblins, stuffing these bloody ears into his pouch.
In this world, the importance of money went without saying. Take the half-orc Garr, for instance—if he'd been a bit richer and bought himself a chain shirt to wear, wouldn't he have avoided dying miserably at the hands of goblins?
After collecting everything, Orum prepared to set out again.
Before leaving, Orum pulled off the boots from the half-orc Garr's feet and put them on his own.
Orum's previous boots and outer clothing had been stolen when the bandits robbed him. Right now, he was only wearing a linen undershirt, his feet bare.
Orum still had to cross half a forest, which would take a full half day. Wearing boots would not only speed up his walking and prevent his feet from getting blistered, but also prevent any "surprises" from stepping on venomous snakes.
The half-orc Garr's boots were mid-calf leather boots that gave off that characteristic half-orc stench of stinky sweat. Orum had to work hard to get them off.
Garr's feet were several sizes bigger than Orum's, and with the half-orcs' characteristically long, pointed toenails, their boots were all custom-made extra-large.
Orum stuffed the boots with lots of cloth scraps and leaves and tied the boot tops tight before he could barely wear them.
Besides the boots, Orum found something even more important in the half-orc Garr's pocket: a simple map and a compass.
With the map and compass, Orum felt his efficiency traveling through the Misty Forest had improved by at least twenty percent!
After taking the pouch and the double-handed axes, Orum's load increased significantly. To avoid affecting his movement, he had to abandon the one-handed sword and small round shield where they were.
All these trivial matters sounded complicated, but Orum handled them efficiently, completing everything in just a few minutes.
Following the guidance of the map and compass, Orum headed toward the west side of the wolf den.
"Rustle—"
Less than ten minutes after Orum left, the black ground of the Misty Forest began to tremble faintly.
The ground wriggled, opening a huge mouth that rolled the half-orc Garr and the goblin corpses all underground, then closed.
In just a few seconds, the ground became spotlessly clean. The earlier corpse fragments and bloodstains all disappeared, leaving no trace whatsoever.
Just like a diner sweeping all the food on the table into his belly, then contentedly wiping the corners of his mouth, the table was now empty.
Many veteran adventurers from Blackwater Town understood one thing:
"The Misty Forest is alive."
...
After trekking for less than 2 hours, Orum's undershirt was soaked through with sweat.
There were no roads in the Misty Forest. Every step had to be taken through more than ten centimeters of soft mud and humus.
Sometimes, when the path ahead was blocked by thorns, Orum had no choice but to use the great axe to clear the way, hacking out a gap.
Traveling through this sunless forest, Orum's breathing grew heavy. His body was completely drenched as if he'd been soaking in a rainstorm, looking thoroughly miserable.
"Snap."
His foot broke a thin, dead twig with a crisp cracking sound. Orum's gaze suddenly caught a long, slender black shadow.
"Holy crap, a snake!"
Like he'd been electrocuted, he jerked his right foot back while simultaneously bringing the axe down, instantly smashing the raised snake head into pulp.
After confirming the snake was dead, Orum simply cut off the snake's head and put the body in his pouch as emergency rations.
"I've got to hurry and get out of the Misty Forest. There's no way I can spend the night alone in this godforsaken woods."
Ignoring his swollen, aching legs, Orum only gave them a quick massage before gritting his teeth and quickening his pace again.
After trekking for a full additional hour, when Orum's stamina was drained once more, he suddenly saw a bizarre scene appear abruptly in the forest ahead.
As far as his eyes could see, large swaths of trees ahead had all died completely.
These trees seemed to have had all their life force drained overnight. Every leaf, every branch displayed a ghastly dead-yellow color.
The withered trees stood in rows, forming a hair-raising forest of tree corpses.
And at the center of these withered trees was a massive, twisted black ancient tree.
Around it, all vegetation had withered.