Amidst the massacre, there was no room for stratagems or formations. Each person was simply trying to survive as best they could, just like the others. It would have been more orderly if they’d had the chance to strike first, but now they were only reacting. That was the essence of any ambush on this scale, of course. They couldn’t kill them all so easily, but they could destabilize them—and often, that was enough.

Max spotted a bastard orc perched in one of the trees. Standing on a branch, it hurled spears at elves and elven women alike, laughing all the while. It didn’t seem to care much about the female elves who might die in the process.

Silvana had confirmed his suspicions about orc predilections, as if he’d needed further proof after everything that happened in the cave. This one, however, didn’t seem to care. Or maybe it didn’t care whether its victim was alive or dead. Max preferred not to dwell on that.

Fuck, that’s vile!

“Helen!” Max shouted over the cacophony, pointing his sword toward the target. “Can you take care of—?”

He didn’t finish the sentence. Helen had already sprung into action—or perhaps her spellcasting speed had improved dramatically, because a gust of wind instantly knocked the son of a bitch off his perch. The orc fell, screaming and flailing its arms as if grasping for something to halt its descent where there was nothing. Its head burst against the ground like a ripe melon.

They might have humanoid forms. Their skulls might contain brains not so different from humans’. But that was superficial. Max would never forget what happened in the cave. Those things were monsters, nothing more. They had to die screaming, every last one of them, until not a single one remained on the face of the Earth.

“Good work, Helen.”

Helen nodded, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. If he could choose, Max would have preferred Helen live a life untouched by violence. But that ship had sailed the moment the girl chose to stay with him. And he’d accepted it. Encouraging her vengeful impulses was a thousand times better than watching her wallow in misery, lamenting her circumstances and weeping over what might have been. Celebrating such violence might not be ideal for someone so young, with so much growing left to do. But it wasn’t inherently bad, not as long as she channeled that rage properly. And Helen did. She was doing the world a favor, really.

That’s what they were doing here.

A while later, after navigating a few twisted corners, Max halted abruptly again. This time, he narrowly dodged a hail of arrows—so close they clipped the hairs of his beard. In fact, he had to yank Helen to the ground to pull her out of harm’s way. He felt a flicker of guilt, as if he’d laid hands on her or something, even though he’d only done what was necessary. Nonsense, like so much else.

He helped her up.

“Sorry,” he apologized anyway. “Come on, let’s go, go, go, go!”

The sooner they cut off the snake’s head, the better.

Silvana’s original plan wasn’t bad. The enemies had just been cleverer than she’d anticipated. But it could still work. They could slip behind enemy lines. Besides, it was better than staying in the thick of this, fighting for their lives. Safer. They wouldn’t have support in the orc camp. They were after the king, the leader of this damned band of animals.

But Max realized something that should have occurred to him from the start: in the middle of all this, they had no support here either. The elves all hated and feared humans. And Helen disgusted them as a half-breed. If they found themselves in trouble, the elves would likely do nothing—even if they were mere feet away. Prioritizing themselves. Max might even have to worry about someone stabbing him in the back, exploiting the chaos to settle old grudges.

Yeah. Ironically, they’d be better off out there.

A third time, they were forced to stop. The girl saw something she should never have had to witness again. He’d been an idiot for staying here, risking this. Knowing it would happen sooner or later. And why? Because Helen wanted revenge. Because she’d insisted she’d be fine. As if she knew what she was talking about. She was a child, for God’s sake. He should have turned back.

What she saw… well, it was obvious. An orc had pinned an elven woman to the ground. Her dress was torn to shreds. Thick claw marks raked her right breast. Blood, of course, flowed freely.

Max lunged at the orc without hesitation. He’d grown harder, but he wasn’t a monster. No one in their right mind could turn away after seeing that.

The orc fell as easily as the others. Or maybe it put up slightly more resistance, clashing its spiked mace against Max’s sword a few times. It swung twice for every strike Max attempted. But in the end, it didn’t matter. The mace shattered. Then it tried using its jagged nails. But Max pierced its heart before it could land a blow.

He turned to the nearly assaulted elf, crouching to help her up. Her legs trembled—more from trauma than physical injury, he guessed. She’d probably be fine, could likely seek help on her own.

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“Come on, let’s do this,” he said, nudging her forward gently.

Helen shot him an unreadable look. After that, they pressed on.

As they fought their way out, they caught sight of Silvana. She was doing what leaders do in such situations. The only mystery solved was whether she was still alive or not. They didn’t need her; they hadn’t sought her out for orders. So they simply passed her by.

He wondered if Silvana had noticed his presence. With so much on his mind, so much danger, he assumed she hadn’t. He assumed it didn’t matter in the first place. They pressed on. It was hard to witness what was happening around them and keep moving instead of stopping to help. He didn’t have the stomach for it, but he’d have to force himself.

After all, at that pace, they’d never finish. It might seem like he was doing something terrible, but this ambush would end far sooner once they cut off the serpent’s head. Stopping to help at every turn would only drag out everyone’s suffering.

They were in a unique position to end this sooner and had a responsibility to seize it. Besides, he might be Ares’ champion, but that didn’t mean he was the only competent one here.

The elves would defend their people on their own, just as they would’ve had to if he and the others hadn’t come this way. If Mars hadn’t been sent to this world. Their time had come, but they slipped out of the elven base and vanished into the forest shadows, hiding.

What would the leader look like? The one he’d killed in that cave had resembled a king. A barbarian king, perhaps, but a king nonetheless. Surely the leader of this pack of animals would be just as obvious.

What was the point of rising to such a position if you didn’t flaunt it?

“I’m scared,” Helen confessed very quietly as they moved through the trees.

“It’d be strange and worrying if you weren’t.”

“Even you feel fear?”

“Yes. More than you, probably.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Why?”

“That’s what growing up means,” Max said finally. “Being afraid all the time. No one escapes it. What matters is what you do with it. How you steer it.”

“I think I understand.”

“Good.”

It embarrassed him a little to speak as if he were so much older than her, as if he had any real life experience to boast about. But he hadn’t lied. It was better to make sure she knew these lessons now, while she could still learn them properly.

Fear was the most ordinary thing. And fears only grew with age and mounting responsibilities. You couldn’t run from fear. You had to embrace it. The sooner she understood that fear wasn’t a sign of weakness, the better.

Max stepped on a dry branch. He’d been too distracted—just a little too lost in his thoughts. The crack rang far too loud in his ears.

Max tensed, certain he’d already ruined everything. Revealed their position. The orcs would swarm them any second.

But of course, nothing happened. The orcs were too busy with the elves. And there were none nearby anyway. Those left in the camp stayed put; the ones attacking were occupied. The path ahead was clear.

That’s what he’d thought from the start, and that’s how it seemed.

“Good. That should make it easy to spot the camp.”

As soon as the usual forest noises shifted, the bastards came into view.

They found the camp a short while later. It wasn’t hard—just a matter of following the growls.

They weren’t hidden in a musty, dark cave. They’d set up tents and everything. Okay, he got it. They might seem like wild animals, but they weren’t stupid.

“Ready?” he asked.

There was little risk of being heard. The camp lay below, down the hill—or straight off the cliff.

Helen nodded slowly, then after a pause: “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she admitted, brutally honest.

Max just smiled.

“Same here. Don’t worry about the number of those sons of bitches. Our job is to get in, kill the leader, and get out. That’s enough.”

“Yeah, I see your face. But it’ll cripple them, Helen. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be doing this.”

Helen nodded firmly.

“I want all those sons of bitches dead.” It was the first time he’d heard her swear. Maybe he should watch his tongue around her. She claimed it didn’t bother her, but what else would she say? “But that doesn’t mean I want to take unnecessary risks.”

Max ruffled her hair.

“Thanks. Got a way to get us down there fast?” He pointed. “That’s obviously the leader’s tent, whatever his name is.”

“I can cushion the fall.”

Max shrugged.

“Works for me. Jump?”

“Jump.”

Max grabbed Helen and lifted her like a sack of flour under his arm. Then he jumped. Without hesitation—because if he’d thought twice, he wouldn’t have done it. And even with hesitation, he wouldn’t have trusted anyone else but Helen. If he couldn’t trust her, he couldn’t trust anyone in this world. That much was clear.

He didn’t need proof of her spellwork to put his life in her hands.

The spell didn’t slow their fall. If anything, it sped up. Max swallowed. It was fine. Helen knew what she was doing.

“Flying son of a bitch!” one of the orcs yelled, spear raised, mouth gaping. Proof even orcs could look dumber than usual.

The tent—undoubtedly the leader’s—loomed closer. At this rate, they’d crash right through it. The orc’s war cry was nothing compared to the one roaring in Max’s veins, fueling him as he braced for the fight. The worst fight he’d been in since arriving in this world, maybe.

Max and Helen landed on the leader’s tent, tearing through it like a cannonball. The fabric ripped, and they plummeted inside.

There wasn’t a single orc. It was the leader’s tent, no doubt about it. But nothing guaranteed he’d be inside at that exact moment.

He was a fucking idiot. For all he knew, he could’ve stepped out for a piss—why not? This world could’ve resembled a role-playing game, where everything was in its place, courtesy of the developers. But it wasn’t a damn RPG world; it didn’t revolve around him. Things just… happened.

It might’ve even been that Silvana was completely wrong—that the orc leader hadn’t stayed behind at the main camp, safe and scratching his balls—but was instead right in the thick of the battle. Why not? They’d already been caught off guard once today. Besides, realistically, the real surprise would be if one of those savages hid from a fight.

It had struck him as odd from the start, but since Helen hadn’t said anything, he’d assumed there was something he didn’t know. He didn’t know most things, after all. He didn’t belong to this world.

You never belonged to the last one either, he thought.

The tent collapsed over them, but Max tore the fabric to shreds with his sword. The orcs slowly closed in around him in a circle, and none so far bore the look of a "leader."

Get in, decapitate the son of a bitch, and get out. Couldn’t be simpler.

Right. Everything sounds easy on paper.