The gunshot drowned out the sounds of the battle. The slug shattered the Ghoul’s mask, and blood trails fell through the cracks. Wolf kept the shotgun shouldered but pulled back at the last moment. The window had closed. A fireball hit the Ghoul’s side, catching its attention. The creature looked around in confusion until its eyes met the Aias Sword. Just as the Ghoul charged toward Firana, Ilya’s magic arrow struck its hind leg. The Ghoul roared in distress, dazed and thrashing the hazardously built tents of the outer camp.

Near Umolo’s gates, the Greyfangs fought against the bulk of the undead army. Spells crossed the sky as the orc elite unit decimated Ghouls and Undead Soldiers. The fact they were using System magic was an afterthought. [Foresight] poured all my focus on the fight in case I had to jump in, but the kids had the Ghoul locked in a vortex of attacks.

Ilya put another arrow in the Ghoul’s hind legs, but the creature charged at Firana. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, but Firana used her [Aerokinesis] to dodge. Zaon and Ilya pushed forward, trying to catch the monster’s attention. The new formation worked better than I had expected. The kids fought in sync, keeping the Ghoul within their strike zones while avoiding engaging in close-quarters combat.

No matter how strong the Ghoul was, it was harmless if it couldn’t reach us.

Ilya overcharged a magic arrow. The Ghoul’s hind legs were turned into a pin cushion. The attack caught the creature’s attention, but Hunter was a swift Class. Ilya sped through the camp’s derelicts away from the Ghoul while Zaon and Firana poked it with their fire spells. The undead creature faltered and roared as more oil-like blood poured from the shotgun wound in its face.

When she was at a safe distance, Ilya charged an arrow and shot, hitting the Ghoul’s forehead.

The strategy was effective, but it could be better if we used weapons tailored to the task.

The Ghoul fell, but the kids maintained their distance.

I channeled my mana to give it the final blow. The Ghoul clawed the air as I approached, like [Foresight] had warned me. I dodged the blow and buried my sword through the cracks of the bone facemask. The creature was dead.

The area spell subsided, and the mist retreated to the forest like the wounded tentacles of a deep sea monster. The Greyfangs controlled the battle at the gates, and Dassyra’s warriors patrolled the orc camp, searching for stray undead. It seemed the battle was nearly over. I looked at the Ghoul’s body. Its pitch-black skin and bone mask were identical to a Wendigo. Such was the destiny of System users who lost to Corruption. A shudder ran down my shoulders as I pondered how close I had been to turning into a corrupted monster.

Hallas and Pyrrah appeared from behind an orc tent. [Foresight] told me they had been observing the fight from a safe distance. I still had to see what the elven warriors were capable of.

We gathered around the Ghoul.

“Is it dead?” Hallas asked.

Ilya crossed her arms. “Yes, and no thanks to you.”

“It seemed to me you had everything under control,” he replied.

In their position, I would’ve stayed hidden. Hallas and Pyrrah weren’t System Users, so they must be below Zaon in terms of strength and agility. Still, they must have combat experience. Their task, after all, was to funnel experience towards their Gilded Warrior. Considering the quality of their weapons and armor, they weren’t mere fodder.

“What kind of adult lets kids do the dirty work? You could’ve at least helped,” Ilya said. She wasn’t fond of the elves like she wasn’t fond of me when I first arrived at the orphanage.

Hallas sighed. “Is she always like that, little brother?”

Zaon examined Ilya’s expression.

“I’m not comfortable answering that question,” he said after a moment of meditation.

Rookie mistake.

Ilya punched Zaon’s arm, and Hallas and Pyrrah seized the moment to escape.

[Foresight] announced the battle was over.

Dassyra’s warriors set a defensive perimeter around the camp while the non-combatants cleared the destroyed tents. Many warriors were wounded; however, my enchanted armor had passed the trial by fire. The orcs who wore my armor were safe, although more exhausted than those who didn’t. Dassyra and Little One had worked them to the bone.

I felt the summary of the fight approaching.

Undead Soldier slain.

Undead Warrior slain.

Undead Archer slain.

Ghoul slain.

Ghoul slain.

Level up!

Level up!

New Skill acquired: [Mirage]

I’ve learned not to complain about the System boons, but two levels were too little for killing three undead soldiers and two Ghouls that were double my level. Were the Greyfangs leeching experience? I glanced over my shoulder. They were using System magic, after all.

It wasn’t my job to expose their practices, and most of all, I didn’t want to shorten our stay at Umolo. I focused back on the prompt. Despite not seeming a very scholarly skill, [Mirage] was on Holst’s character sheet during the royal feast. I used [Identify].

Mirage: An improved version of [Minor Illusion] unlocked by those Scholars capable of controlling tremendous amounts of mana with utmost precision. Prestige Class requirement.

Mirage was my third Prestige Class requirement. I massaged my temples, deep in thought. [Mana Mastery] and [Foresight] were also Prestige Class requirements, and both skills were utterly broken. I hoped [Mirage] was it too.

I made a mental note to test the skill later.

The orcs eyed the Ghoul’s dead body with fearful expressions as they cleared the rubble. Despite the fact that an orc was walking around gathering the undead bodies with a handcart, nobody seemed willing to dispose of the Ghoul.

“What now?” Firana asked.

Before I could answer, Dassyra appeared through the tents and approached us.

Wolf excused himself and said he would tend the wounded warriors.

“Umolo Almighty… you killed it. The first wasn’t a fluke,” Dassyra said, surprised. Her face was covered in sweat, dirt, and blood. I guessed it wasn’t hers.

The kids exchanged proud glances.

“I’d ask for fifty more armor pieces, but I guess you are exhausted,” Dassyra joked.

I felt reasonably energetic despite fighting two Ghouls and several undead. The kids weren’t in much worse shape. However, I wanted a moment to ourselves.

“It was a hard fight,” I said.

Dassyra was understanding.

“I’ll have you escorted back to the tribe. We will clean up outside, and I will let them know it was your idea to protect the outer camp,” Dassyra said, vaguely pointing at the orcs around us.

I thanked her.

A minute later, Little One, with half a dozen warriors, guided us back to Umolo. We stopped first to collect the Ghoul corpses and hauled them inside. I asked what those were for, and Little One just grinned. We paraded the Ghoul corpses through the main road, with Little One occasionally stopping to remind the onlookers how everyone ran ‘with their tails between their legs’ except for Chieftain Dassyra from the Teal Moon tribe.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The orcs were green with envy.

The warriors from other tribes replied with obscene gestures, fueling Little One’s contempt even further. [Master of Languages] archived several ‘potentially obscene’ words under the ‘Orc Slang’ tag. Little One stressed that a group of foreigners had defended Umolo, and I couldn’t help but feel awkwardly conscious we were part of the parade along the Ghouls. Firana and Ilya, however, jumped into the victory wagon and greeted the crowd.

After a while, we took a sharp left turn and headed to our camp.

The orcs from the Teal Moon tribe gathered in the main square to see the trophy haul. Little One had been harsh with the other tribes. However, with the warriors of the other two Teal Moon war chiefs, he was straight abrasive. I thought Little One would start a fight, which was a bad idea. There were only six of Dassyra’s warriors against a hundred. The situation de-escalated when Warchief Callaid emerged from his tent. He had no words when his eyes fell upon the Ghouls.

Little One gave me the biggest shit-eating grin.

Warchief Callaid let out a grunt and returned to his tent. At this point, I wasn’t sure if Dassyra was cultivating her fame or just making enemies. Finally, Little One gathered his men and turned around, leaving us with the Ghouls in the middle of the square.

“Hey! What’s going to happen with these?” I asked.

“I don’t know. You killed them. They are yours,” Little One replied, getting lost among the curious crowd.

I massaged my shoulders. Three orcs were required to drag a single Ghoul. There was no way I could dispose of them in an expeditious manner. I looked at the kids. They shrugged their shoulders.

“May I recommend a solution, Handy Assistant?” The old orc that worked in the bathhouse emerged from the crowd. “Our leather workers might be able to craft armor with the hide of these beasts. The leather from two Ghouls might be enough for you little people.”

I grinned. Conventional weapons could barely scratch the Ghoul’s skin. They would make great armor. Orc workers, however, wouldn’t be able to cut the leather. Unless I helped them, the corpses would be worthless.

“That would be nice, sir,” I said.

The old orc whistled, and a small army of craftsmen dragged the Ghoul carcasses into a big tent that served as a workshop. We followed. I expected to have to haggle the price, but the old orc said that Dassyra’s guests needed armor, and the leather workers jumped head-on to the task, no questions asked. They didn’t request a portion of the materials or any payment.

As expected, their tools made no dent in the Ghoul’s skin. For the next few hours, I was used as a living knife while Ilya acted as a punching machine. Her [Mana Arrow] was enough to pierce small holes in the hide.

The leather workers took our measurements and kidnapped a young orc, about the size of Wolf, to measure his piece of armor. The young orc was stitching a shirt when the craftsmen appeared out of nowhere and dragged him into the workshop. He seemed to accept his fate and was released—almost kicked out—after the measurements were taken. Ilya couldn’t stop laughing.

When it was time to cure the leather, a Shaman entered the workshop, and we were expelled.

“I guess they don’t want to share their crafting secrets,” Zaon said.

“Let’s go. I’m starving.” Firana nodded.

We returned to our tent. Wolf was already there, waiting for us. He fed the embers of the fire pit and put the cauldron with the leftovers of Pyrra’s soup on top of the flame. I made sure no frog legs were floating in the food.

“How did things go, Wolf?” I asked.

Despite the fact our combat was clean, triage work put a different weight on the medic’s shoulders. Wolf seemed in a good mood, but he was very good at hiding his feelings.

“Our warriors didn’t suffer any lasting wounds. They reject the System but aren’t against receiving medical care.” Wolf grinned. He summoned a System prompt and showed us his last title. [Field Medic]. “There were a lot of wounded among the orcs of the outer camp. I stabilized as many wounds as possible, but their Shamans are doing the bulk of the work.”

The idea of sharing my Holone Grapes with the wounded orcs had never crossed my mind, but I had found myself having selfish thoughts recently. My enchantments could save hundreds of lives, yet I was reluctant to share them with strangers. Even the idea of helping the outer camp was born from our need to find a safe place after we were booted from Umolo.

I wondered if I was changing or if I was like that from the beginning.

Wolf put two bowls aside for the elves and told us how embarrassed he felt when Dassyra recognized his efforts in front of the warriors. It was good to hear Wolf was starting to warm up to Dassyra. We ate and laughed, forgetting about the undead and Ghouls. The soup was starchy and hearty, and even if it was way duller than Little One’s soup, it filled my stomach with a few spoonfuls. Having a warm meal and a roof over my head felt great.

The sun fell behind the mountains, and the kids wore orc pajamas. None were the correct size, which sparked another round of laughter. Ilya could fit another four gnomes inside her pajamas.

When we settled, Firana and Zaon prepared tea.

“What are your thoughts about the fight, Ilya?” I asked.

“We need different weapons. The enchanted swords would run out of magic without a monster to stab, and the shotgun has only a handful of shells,” she replied.

Zaon put the mugs of steaming tea and asked. “Should we learn how to use slings?”

I shook my head. Even an enchanted sling had its downsides. It required wind up to shoot and a fair amount of space to use effectively. We needed something that could be used on the run or with minimal delay. And above all, something that couldn’t be used against us.

“What would happen if I grab the Aias Sword?” I asked.

Firana peeked over Zaon’s shoulder. She was focused on making braids with his hair. They weren’t turning out very well.

“If I grab the Aias Sword, what would happen?” I asked again.

She pondered for a moment. “You’ll burn your hand. It’s much like touching hot metal. If you try to use it, your entire body will burn. Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never seen it with my own eyes, but I’ve seen people getting scalded.”

Then, Firana told us how her father used to leave the Aias Sword around the old Aias Manor for unsuspecting guards to burn their hands. She said it was to create consciousness about the dangers of the weapon, but I wasn’t so sure about it. Ilya also believed that Garel Aias just liked to mess with his mercenaries. Maybe Firana had inherited more from her father than she wanted to admit.

Despite the turn in the conversation, Firana’s spirits stayed high.

“The Bind rune seems to turn the enchantment against undesired users,” I pointed out, wondering if that was the raw effect of the rune or if there was more enchantment to it. Maybe the sword’s history would have relevant information. “How did your family get the Aias sword?”

“I know that one!” Firana jumped, pulling Zaon’s hair.

She closed her eyes tightly, trying to remember. Her eyebrows almost touched. Nobody seemed surprised Firana couldn’t recall something so fundamental about her family history.

“The Aias Sword was a gift of the royal family! It was created by dwarven blacksmiths and the scales of a dragon or something like that… or it was the heart? Maybe it wasn’t a dragon but a wyvern. A red one, probably.” She scratched her chin.

Ilya slapped her face and took the floor.

“The Aias Sword was made from the scales of the Deep Magma Worm that attacked the royal capital about a century ago and given to Oudin Aias as a reward for protecting the kingdom. Legend says the sword was quenched in his blood so nobody else could wield it. Everyone knows that. Literally,” Ilya said with an exasperated tone. “That was the beginning of the Aias Mercenaries, Firana! You should know that!”

“Hey! A wyvern is basically the same as a scaled worm,” Firana replied. “And I’m sure it was Boudin Aias, not Oudin Aias.”

“It was Oudin. Boudin isn’t even a name,” Ilya sighed, increasingly angry.

“Nah. It was Boudin.”

“It was Oudin.”

“Boudin.”

“OUDIN!”

The girl's fight faded into the background. The Aias sword might have been crafted by dwarves using the scales of a Deep Lava Worm, but I was sure its powers came from an enchantment, not from the materials used. Just like the scales, the blood quenching might be a narrative resource.

I’d be damned if the Bind rune didn’t require blood to detect their rightful user.

“Blood. Not very imaginative, my friend,” I sighed.

“Who isn’t very imaginative?!” Ilya snapped back at me.

Firana had triggered her good.

“The creator of the System,” I replied, looking for something sharp. My sword had seen better days, and its edge was all jagged. After a quick [Foresight]-assisted search, I found a set of knives hanging from the wall.

“The creator of the System… you mean the Man-in-yellow?” Ilya asked.

The kids joined heads as if we were talking about arcane secrets.

“Come on, don’t be like that. The Man-in-yellow is just some ordinary dude who was very good with runes,” I pointed out.

Ilya rubbed her temples. “He created the System! He’s not some ordinary dude! He’s possibly the most important human in history!”

“He did look ordinary, though. A bit too chubby and with a small, thin mustache,” Firana pointed out.

“No, he didn’t,” Ilya replied.

“Firana is right. He was a bit… underwhelming,” Wolf said.

The kids got into another fight, but [Foresight] blocked out the sound. I summoned the Rune Debugger and focused on my spoon. I wrote a simple Light-User-Instantaneous-Recharge circuit. It would allow the spoon to shine when activated, and more importantly, it wouldn’t blind anyone. I attempted to place the Bind rune in several positions, but the Rune Debugger only turned green when I put it in the first position.

I channeled my mana and engraved the runes on the spoon. However, upon completion, the circuit didn’t ‘close’. Usually, the circuit pushed me away as soon as I finished with the runes. I figured Bind wanted blood. I pricked my forearm—I didn’t feel like stabbing my fingers or the palm of my hand—and a drop of blood fell on the spoon, leaving a dark crimson mark. I wondered how much blood it would require. Oudin Aias allegedly had to quench the whole sword in blood.

The circuit suddenly closed.

The kids watched in silence as blood dropped on the spoon.

“I swear there is a good explanation for this,” I said as the next drop fell.