Welcome to the True Man's World – 1.3

Four orcs as big as wardrobes and with armor, ready to turn him into pulp, plus the reinforcements on the way. Max’s body was stronger, faster, and more coordinated than ever, but his hearing wasn’t exceptional. Not to mention the echo caused by the cavern walls, which only made things more confusing. So, he couldn’t estimate how many bastards were already on their way or even how long they might take to arrive.

There was no point in worrying about things he couldn’t change. The only thing he had to do was focus on crushing the enemies in front of him. The faster he finished the next four fights, the better his chances of surviving the reinforcements, whether he chose to face them here or run to find a better environment and situation.

Max charged forward, mustering his courage. Just like with the wolves, the numerical disadvantage turned out not to be much of a disadvantage after all. These were massive creatures, inevitably getting in each other's way as they tried to tear him apart with those enormous, spiked maces. Even their thick arms would have been enough to crush him.

No, stop, he thought. That wasn’t true, not now that he had this armor. He was a god’s champion; there was no way he was going to die in a place like this.

The mace collided with his sword. The force of the impact made his arms tremble. He was stronger, but not as strong as that thing, so he had been trying to dodge the blows instead of blocking them. This time he had no choice. But, fortunately, he managed to hold on to the sword. He didn’t lose it.

He grabbed the broken sword from the corpse of that other bastard, quickly turned, and sliced through a tendon. The orc dropped to one knee, and Max was able to stab it in the throat. The sword went through to the other side, drenched in its blood, as red as any human’s. The force of the impact, the sensation of skin and flesh being torn apart. The sounds of the creature choking on its own blood, now flowing freely.

Damn.

Max jumped to the side, leaving the broken sword where it was, yanking out only the other one. He wouldn’t have had time for more anyway because the mace of a second orc came crashing down on him. It smashed the corpse’s head but would have crushed his own if he’d been a tenth of a second slower.

Before the orc could rip the mace from its companion’s corpse (the spikes, as anyone with half a brain could have predicted, proved to be a hindrance in that respect), Max drove the sword into its neck. He cut it, but not deeply enough. He’d hoped to decapitate it in one blow. Too much, as he now realized. Too late.

A punch to the chest sent him flying, crashing into the wall. The armor must have absorbed some of the impact. He knew that, but it didn’t make much difference. He felt a terrible pain, as if something had broken.

Max gritted his teeth, trying to push the pain aside, but it was useless. It hurt like hell; he couldn’t ignore it. He might be wearing shiny armor and wielding a sword, but he wasn’t a knight, a bounty-hunting adventurer, none of that. He wasn’t a seasoned warrior...

But everyone has to start somewhere, he thought. He barely dodged as one of the orcs lunged at him, throwing himself to the ground, crawling for a few seconds before getting back up. It felt like his side had been repeatedly stabbed with knives. The pain shot through him, nearly making him lose his balance a second time.

Max vanished into one of the many cave tunnels. He’d have to retreat before the reinforcements arrived; he had no other choice.

The first one to arrive did so with its mouth slightly open, drooling. Its enormous teeth gleamed in the nearby torchlight. He had left his behind. A mistake, he hadn’t even thought about it. No matter. The orcs couldn’t see in the dark either; they needed to use torches too, so he wouldn’t have to go far to get a replacement.

Max took a deep breath as the orc approached him in the tunnel, wide enough for the beast to fit but still feeling narrow, almost claustrophobic. As it advanced toward him, the tunnel seemed to shrink, and the orc did the opposite. Blood from the fallen orc dripped from the spikes of its weapon. He wouldn’t allow his blood to join it. He charged forward instead of waiting for the orc to reach him. Enough of that. He dodged the first attack, throwing himself to the ground, rolling. He didn’t cut where it would hurt any male the most, but the blade passed dangerously close. The way the creature screamed was proof enough of that.

It almost fell on top of him; that would have been more effective than any of the attacks so far. The orc would have died quickly with his sword through its chest, but it was still true. Instead, it died when he stabbed it through the back, reaching its heart.

Of course, he didn’t feel the least bit guilty for defending himself or for coming to slaughter monsters that existed solely to kill other human beings, but he definitely felt the weight of each life he was taking. For an ordinary guy, it was a completely new sensation. As was the power that came with it. He was feeling the same rush as when he fought those wolves, no point in denying it.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Another orc showed up to try its luck, and one more appeared at the other end of the tunnel; the exit and entrance blocked almost simultaneously. The orc in the back was special. It was slightly smaller, though not by much, and wielded a bow instead of a mace. One orc charged at him, roaring. The other bastard nocked an arrow, took aim.

Max dropped to the ground, and the arrow hit the orc between the eyes. Instant death, good. This time he couldn’t avoid being crushed by its fall, not so good. Orcs might be little more than brute animals, but they weren’t dumb. The archer immediately took advantage of the situation, nocking another arrow and firing while he was pinned down.

Max knew. He knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t be able to get up in time, to shove that bastard off him. So he didn’t even try. He did the exact opposite, pulling it more on top of him, using it as cover. He felt the arrow’s impact on the corpse. And the next one. It was hard to breathe; the corpse was still warm, suffocating. He crawled across the floor, dragging the corpse a little. He took a deep breath. He waited until the third arrow sank into the corpse. He waited too long, unable to muster the courage. The arrowhead pierced through, nearly grazing his ear. It could have been his head. No, not too much; if he tried to push it off now, he’d just get riddled with arrows before he could lift it. He had to wait for the archer to run out of arrows.

Could he afford to wait with the archer in front and who knows how many more coming from the same direction, not to mention the orcs behind him?

The fourth and fifth arrows came in quick succession. Too quick. No, he couldn’t afford to wait any longer. He’d have to risk his damn neck. That’s what all of this is about, I suppose, he thought.

Max gripped the hilt of his sword tighter, until his hand started to tremble, his knuckles white as salt. Yeah, it was now or never. He was here to live, not to hide. He was strong now. He was.

He pushed off the ground, throwing the corpse in front of him. He wasn’t as strong as he’d thought; the body didn’t fly very far, but it was far enough to block the arrow before falling to the ground, the arrow snapping in half between the ground and the body. Crunching like a dry branch. Like that bastard’s neck would.

Max shot forward like the wind. There were more orcs, but only behind him, not ahead. He could hear them, feel them. But it didn’t matter; that meant he could focus solely on the enemy in front of him. Seeing that he’d gotten too close, with no time to prepare an arrow, the orc fumbled for a knife at its side. Maybe it had forgotten where it was exactly due to panic. Did he look like an imposing figure to these monsters? Now, here, covered head to toe in orc blood?

I hope so, he thought. I sure hope so, damn it.

It was too slow.

Max’s blade flashed in the dim light. A gurgle, a spray of blood, and then silence, nothing but silence. His sword dripped blood onto the stones, joining the pool that had formed around the orc’s neck. What was left of it.

He’d managed to decapitate this one in a single strike. He wiped the blade on the orc’s tunic as he turned to face the ones coming in a line through the tunnel, as monstrous as the previous ones.

He changed his mind, but not because he had suddenly chickened out. He yanked the torch from the wall, set it on the corpse, and kicked it, sliding it toward its companions as the flames consumed it.

Max turned and ran. Forward.

It was just a thought, but he was thinking this might end sooner if they had something like a leader (why not?) and he slaughtered it. Fear would quickly spread among the creatures. If they didn’t flee, they’d be easier to kill. He was here for experience points, not the mission’s monetary reward, but he figured he'd also earn plenty of experience for completing it. Just like with the wolves.

Besides, it wasn’t like he planned on letting many of them escape. Just instill fear.

In any case, it was just a thought. He was taking things step by step, improvising as he went along. So far, it had worked out well. Max laughed joyfully. Yeah, he had never felt more alive than he did now. Maybe dodging death was a way to confirm that you were truly alive. Ares had told him he had died. He couldn’t remember his last moments, but he remembered slowly withering away in that hospital bed, which was practically the same thing in the end.

There was no need to question good feelings, anyway.

It didn’t take long for him to find an orc larger than the rest. If his clothes didn’t make it obvious, the crown did.

This was the king of these bastards. Max saw him immediately, and he wasn’t alone. But Max paid no attention to the orc king or his guards; his focus was solely on the small elf behind them. Alone, frightened.

She was clinging to the body of an older woman lying on the ground, but it was obvious to everyone but the girl that the woman was dead. That she would never open her eyes, no matter how desperately the girl called out to her.

“Mom, Mom, please…”

Max gritted his teeth.

The woman’s clothes were torn. The woman was bleeding… from a place he preferred not to mention, even in his own thoughts.

He had expected something horrible like this, but seeing it with his own eyes was something entirely different. His blood froze. Max gripped his sword with both hands.

They had had their fun with the mother, and now they wanted to do the same to the daughter.

No.

No, I refuse.

Max wasn’t a hero. He intended to be selfish with this second chance, to make the most of it, to die without regrets. But that didn’t mean he was going to stand by and watch this.

Quite the opposite.

He would regret it every second of his life. He was grateful to have arrived here precisely today, grateful that it wasn’t too late.

“Are you scared, human?” the orc king asked, laughing.

“Soon, you’ll be the one who’s scared.”

[Conditions met for the activation of Phase 1 of the Class Skill, Sword of the War God: War Cry]

Max immediately felt stronger. And then, thanks to the System, he saw exactly how much stronger:

* Strength: 8 > 18

* Constitution: 5 > 15

* Dexterity: 7 > 17

* Agility: 5 > 15

* Intelligence: 5 > 15

* Wisdom: 5 > 15

* Charisma: 5 > 15

* Endurance: 5 > 15

[War Cry increases all your stats by ten points while you’re in a fight.]

Thanks for stating the obvious, he thought. But, of course, he didn’t care; he was thrilled. Essentially, all his efforts and achievements would be rewarded tenfold.

Like killing these bastards.