“Who are they?” Alex asked, pointing at a chunky, robot-like creature that seemed to have been a regular person before its transformation.
“They are called the Transferred,” Ketovan said.
“Which means they transferred their consciousness to these metal counterparts. But why?”
“For a longer life and the ability to feel, breathe, and hear, which is difficult for some cores,” Ketovan explained.
They walked along a branch street where daily necessities were sold, then took a sharp turn into a larger street dedicated to weapons and adventuring gear. Ketovan stopped a minute later.
“What do you really need?” he asked.
“A few pairs of safety gear, a subsidiary sword to use until I reach Commander Rank, and some health potions and—”
“Health potions? Do you think our world is so backward?” Ketovan asked, scoffing.
“Not really. Do you guys have health potions here?” Alex countered simply.
“We use pills that are far more efficient than potions and easier to carry, but there is a catch.”
“Of course, there is a catch,” Alex said mockingly.
“You can’t use them once you reach Noble Rank.”
“Then I can use them for another hundred years maybe,” Alex said.
“Actually, a regular human takes at least 250 years to reach Noble Rank, but as for you, it’s unclear,” Ketovan said.
“You said there is a Commander Rank Omniarch in this city. How old is he?” Alex asked.
“Somewhere around 170, give or take 20 years.”
Ketovan entered a plain white shop with a moderately sized sign: ROTWAND’S FORGING—WEAPONS FOR 2,000 YEARS.
Inside, Alex was captivated by the swords on display—shining blades in a wide range of colors and designs. Some had gems embedded in their guards; others had efficiency-driven, less fancy designs. Ketovan headed directly to a room behind the counter—a forge.
“Ketovan, is that you?” a voice spoke from the room.
Ketovan emerged with an old man: Richard Rotwand. His great white beard and bald head indicated old age, but his bulging, farm-fit muscles and wrinkle-less face suggested he was at least Commander Rank.
“Alex, meet Richard Rotwand. The third-generation owner of this shop. Rich, this is Alexander Sobreviviente, a new friend of mine,” Ketovan introduced them.
“So, Ketovan said that you need some specials for your training?” Rich said, shaking hands with Alex.
“I need some adventuring gear. I am not as rich as our friend here, but I can afford something out of the ordinary,” Alex said.
“Sure thing. Do you have a Dimensional Bag or, even better, a skill?” Rich asked.
“I have a storage ability.”
“Then let’s start. According to Ketovan’s list, the first items are weight-adjusting straps for the arms and a weight-adjusting belt,” Rich said, pulling out three pieces of thin, cloth-like material. The belt was white, and the straps were black.
“Such plain colors,” Alex said, testing them out.
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“You can adjust their colors and designs, and the weight, to your liking.” Ketovan clicked some buttons on the straps, and Alex instantly dropped to the floor, unable to move. He slowly lay there as the weights increased steadily.
“You will remain silent, or else you can remove the weights yourself,” Ketovan said dryly.
“Fine,” Alex answered, realizing surrender was the best option until he had more knowledge.
“Next will be two sets of enhanced Darlion metal training swords, a few sets of training armor, and twelve sets of enhanced woolen clothing.” Rich pulled the items onto the table.
“The total?” Ketovan asked.
“Two hundred gold and five thousand silver,” Richard said.
Ketovan released Alex from the straps. Alex pulled out the money, paid, and pushed everything into his inventory. They then left the shop and continued walking.
The city guard captain, a Noble Ranker, received a dire report: Forest Orcs had attacked at 2 PM. He and his squad rushed, using flying mounts and teleportation, toward the east walls—the only section of the city not protected by mountains, and therefore the most heavily guarded.
But then, a signal flashed from the west walls: a legion of Forest Orcs from a Warped Space, 450 km away in the mountains, was marching toward the city.
When the Captain arrived at the west wall’s watchtower, all he could see was an ocean of Orcs. Their synchronized footsteps were so heavy that the watchtower trembled slightly. At the front of the unending army rode an Orc that was the largest the Captain had ever seen—nearly fifteen feet tall, with limbs as thick as regular humans. It rode a huge green gecko, a local beast from their banished Warped Space.
The gigantic Orc lifted its hand, and the army halted. It slowly and stiffly lowered its hand toward the city walls, and the Orcs began to charge. All previous organization vanished; they ran with no uniformity, smaller Orcs being trampled by larger ones who accepted the brutal law of their own kind.
“Captain, the Orcs are led by an Orc Lord. The numbers are unclear, but the analyst says there are at least five thousand Commander Rank Orcs and twenty-five Noble Rank Orcs in that army,” a man reported.
“What about the leader?” the Captain asked.
“High Noble or Low Royal Rank,” the analyst answered, dread clear in his voice.
The Orcs slammed into the walls. Many at the front were killed instantly, their skulls crushed, but the walls did not budge. Then, a group of about 300 Orcs began projecting their Aura Beasts—simple, larger, bulkier versions of themselves. All lower-ranking Orcs stopped and backed away.
“What is the rank of that group?”
“Noble Rank,” the analyst confirmed.
“Open fire!” the Captain roared, issuing the killing command.
Large missile launchers and multiple automated machines equipped with guns and lasers emerged from the wall and began massacring the army. A few high-ranking Orcs managed to leap onto the weapons but were disintegrated into nothingness.
Then, the Orc Lord rose from its mount, took a simple leap into the sky, and threw its massive club onto the walls. The defense weapons failed to track or destroy the club. It slammed into the wall with a thunderous sound, and the stone fractured. The Orcs began flowing into the city.
The city guards desperately tried to kill as many as possible, but their numbers made the task impossible.
“Send the Adventure Society a signal for help and danger!” the Captain roared, leaping down from the watchtower. His drop alone killed nearly 2,500 Normal Rank Orcs.
The Captain was a whirlwind, slaying at least ten Orcs with every slash of his bastard sword. When the Orcs became overwhelming, he used one of his skills:
“May the wind be the way to my enemy's death. May my wind show them their way to the void. NOBLE RANK SKILL – WIND BURST!”
In an instant, a circle fifty meters in diameter around the Captain was cleared, littered only with blood and sliced body parts of thousands of Orcs.
The Orc Lord, sensing the Captain's threat, lumbered toward him. Their weapons clashed. The Royal Rank Orc took less damage. The Captain used Wind Burst again, but this time only managed to hack off a few non-vital parts of the Orc. The Orc slammed its club onto the Captain's head. The Captain knew what was coming but couldn't evade in time.
The Captain fell dead, and with him, the morale of the city guards.
A brilliant divine light erupted from the Orc Lord as it Ranked Up. It tore away the cloth covering its mouth and stretched its jaw.
“Humans!” It screamed.
Every human watched in terror. The Orcs stopped fighting. Orcs could not speak the common tongue unless they reached Divine Rank.
“We Orcs have lived a life of slavery and banishment for five thousand years because of your species. Now we shall do the same to you. I, the leader of the Forest Orcs, Aju Lil Mao, declare war on your kind and any other species that wish to side with you!” the Orc Lord boomed.
He raised his hand, and two Noble Rank Orc Generals came forth. The Orc Lord, now the Orc Emperor, placed his hands on the heads of the two Orcs. A sickly green light passed into them, and they grew larger, nearly as big as the Orc Emperor, though they still bowed their heads.
The humans understood one thing: the city of Daro would either fall today or face mass destruction.
The Orc Emperor leaped into the sky and flew away from the city toward the Warped Space these Orcs originally belonged to. The remaining city guards were brutally slaughtered within minutes. The Orcs regained their formation and marched like an organized army once again.