HUHU HU... huhu

(Sounds of heavy breathing)

The world feels suffocating, a living nightmare for any man. Blood and piles of lifeless corpses fill the ground, forming a bloody river. Every breath is heavy, filled with the thick scent of death and decay. Corpses lie scattered across the field, their faces frozen in expressions of agony, their bodies torn by weapons and the relentless violence of this ruthless war.

The air itself seems to carry the weight of countless souls lost to the carnage. The earth is stained red, and with every step Aldric takes, he feels the dead beneath his feet. There is no escape from this nightmare. The sounds of distant battles, the clash of steel, and the cries of the wounded only make it worse—a constant reminder that death is everywhere.

Aldric's heart pounds in his chest as he stands amidst the chaos, in a body that feels foreign to him, in a place where he doesn't belong. He doesn't dare utter a single word in the face of the shocking scene—a field of blood with countless human corpses and some green giant corpses. He doesn't dare think; he can only follow his instincts to survive.

The sword in his hand feels heavy, foreign. It rests loosely in his grip, as if it belongs to someone else. He stares at it for a moment, watching the blood-soaked blade glint in the dim light. The metallic scent of blood clings to the weapon, a constant reminder of the violent world he now inhabits. [Where am I? Is this hell?]

Suddenly, a scream pierces the air—raw and desperate. Aldric's head snaps toward the sound. A figure stumbles into his field of view—an injured soldier, clutching his gut, blood pouring from a wound that could end his life at any moment.

Aldric's heart races. He thinks, [This soldier, is he like me, caught in the same nightmare? Should I help? But what if something happens? What if he attacks me? Or what if someone else attacks us?] Aldric carefully observes the surrounding chaos. The field around him is alive with the violence of ongoing battles, the cries of war filling the air.

The soldier looks up at him, his eyes wide with fear and desperation. "Help... please..."

Aldric's mind races, but before he can act, a loud crash erupts nearby, drawing his attention. An enormous orc, towering and ferocious, swings a massive axe through the air, moving toward the soldier.

The orc's eyes lock onto Aldric with a predatory gleam, and the heavy footsteps thud closer. The soldier, only a few feet away from Aldric, gasps in terror, but Aldric doesn't dare move. He can feel the orc's presence, hear the rage in its growl.

The orc looks at him and laughs. "Bwahahaha... new blood."

The soldier begs again, "Please… don't leave me!"

For a moment, time seems to slow. Aldric's gaze flickers between the soldier and the approaching orc. His sword feels heavier in his hand. He's not sure if it's the weight of the weapon, the weight of the decision he has to make, or both.

But the world around him doesn't stop. The battle rages on, the air thick with death. And in that moment, Aldric knows: survival will require more than just instinct. It will demand that he make choices—decisions that will determine who he becomes in this chaotic world.

Will he run? Will he fight? The battlefield offers no easy answer.

The orc roars and charges forward, swinging its massive axe with terrifying speed. Aldric's mind snaps back into focus.

Aldric's heart pounds in his chest as the orc's massive axe swings toward him with deadly force. The air around him seems to slow, the world narrowing down to the relentless, iron weight of the approaching strike. For a moment, the sword in his hand feels impossibly heavy—too foreign, too unprepared to stop the orc's fury.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

His breath hitches. A surge of adrenaline floods his veins, his body moving before his mind can catch up. The sword, almost instinctively, lifts in front of him. The edge meets the orc's axe with a deafening clash, sparks flying from the contact. The force of the blow rattles through Aldric's arms, but his feet stay planted, his stance wide to brace against the weight of the weapon.

The orc growls, an animalistic sound filled with fury, its beady eyes flashing with an almost malicious delight. The orc swings again, harder this time, as if it's testing Aldric's resolve. His legs tremble under the force, but he holds his ground.

Sweat trickles down Aldric's face, mixing with the dirt and blood that cling to his skin. He doesn't know where this strength comes from, nor does he have time to question it. There's only the orc's monstrous roar, the shrieking of weapons cutting through the air, and the soldier at his feet, who still pleads for mercy.

"... please!" the soldier gasps, his voice cracking with the weight of terror.

But Aldric's gaze doesn't shift from the orc, the world narrowing further as the creature lunges again. This time, Aldric steps to the side, just barely avoiding the orc's swing. He feels the air whip past his face as the axe cleaves through nothing but empty space. In the same motion, he pivots, his sword coming down in a desperate strike.

The sword bites into the orc's thick hide with a sickening squelch, cutting deep into its side. The orc roars in pain, its massive form staggering back, but the blow is far from enough to stop the beast. Blood splatters in every direction, dark and thick, as the orc snarls, fury building in its gaze.

Aldric stumbles back, his breath ragged, his body instinctively trying to retreat from the savage creature. The orc's strength is overwhelming, and his sword feels like a fragile stick against its monstrous power. He doesn't know how much longer he can last.

The world around him is chaos. The soldier at his feet has stopped begging. Perhaps he's lost consciousness—or perhaps he's accepted the inevitability of his fate. It doesn't matter now. Aldric's focus is entirely on the orc, its eyes glowing with hatred as it prepares for another attack.

In that moment, something within Aldric shifts. Fear tightens in his chest, but he pushes it down, focusing on the fight. Survival is his only thought now, a single, driving force. He doesn't know if he can win, but he knows that if he's going to die here, it won't be without a fight.

The orc charges again, and this time, Aldric doesn't wait. He steps forward, meeting the beast's charge head-on. The sword arcs in a clean, sweeping motion. The orc roars, its massive axe swinging in an attempt to crush him—but Aldric's strike lands first, piercing the orc's chest with a force that sends it sprawling to the ground, lifeless and still.

Aldric stands over the fallen creature, panting heavily, the weight of the battle settling in his limbs. The soldier at his feet stirs weakly, and for a moment, Aldric simply watches the man, the weight of his decision pressing down on him.

Survival has come at a cost. But for now, Aldric is alive.

The battle rages on around him, but in this brief, fragile moment, he knows that his choices—his actions—will define who he becomes in this brutal world.