“Now we will play by my rules. You tried to trick me and kill all my subordinates, so I'm not going to show you any mercy,” Elrianthe said.

“You won't learn anything from me. I'm not as weak as you and your people,” replied Marguz.

“Really? Do you think I'm weak? Maybe I should lock you in a cell for six months with a rapist... But I don't have time for that. So...” she added, pointing to a group of defeated orcs, ”.... I'll use your buddies. I'll ask you questions and you'll answer. You lie, one orc bites the dust. You won't answer, one bites the dust. If we run out of your mates, we'll start chopping off your fingers, then your hands, your feet, and so on, until we turn you into pet food.”

Marguz remained silent, staring at the sky. He couldn't even assess the condition of his companions, as the poison was still working. Elrianthe noticed this and came up with an idea.

“Let me help you see your buddies,” she said, pulling the spear from Marguz's body.

Blood immediately poured from the wound. Elrianthe reached for the vial of paralyzing poison she had put on the blade earlier. After opening it, she pressed it into the deep wound, stopping the bleeding somewhat and sustaining the paralysis as the liquid slowly seeped into his body.

She approached the group of orcs who were gathered in one place, and looking at each one individually, she assessed their condition.

“This one is about to bleed out,” Elrianthe stated, stabbing the orc right in the heart.

She approached another. He had his hand cut off and was already unconscious.

“You're practically dead either.”

She finished him off and approached the next one. The orc in front of her was old, but his face wore the confidence of a veteran. Fear was definitely not in his eyes.

“Shouldn't you have died of old age long ago?” She asked.

“Proud orc... to die... on the battlefield... only,” the old orc answered her, crippling the human language.

Elrianthe paused for a moment as a sudden memory from the old world hit her.

'That's it! They remind me of the orcs from that one game I loved in my former life. His behavior is reminiscent of those dull and prideful, randy orcs. I wonder if there is an ebon mine hidden in their fortress too.'

Without thinking long, she ended his life with one cut, opening the artery like a packet of potato chips. The old orc fell to the ground lifeless.

"I hate them," she mumbled under her breath.

'I don't know if it's because I'm an elf, or if it's because they once again wanted to make me into a sperm bag, but I honestly hate orcs. I've always bullied them in the game, so maybe this feeling has passed with me from the old world... All I know is that I hate them and I will burn this shithole of theirs to the bare ground.'

She felt no resistance to killing. Everything around her was so foreign that she could not identify with this world as her new home. She felt no attachment to humans or orcs. The only people who evoked any feelings in her were Taygeer and Alison. She also became quite fond of the raven, which often sat on her shoulder or nearby. He was her favorite pet. The rest of them didn't matter. Whether it was Matt or Gaz, they were just tools.

Elrianthe had the orcas' bodies stacked one on top of the other so that Marguz could lean against them with his back and watch the fate of the other relatives.

“Good. The preparations are over. We'll start with something simple. Where is your settlement located?” Elrianthe asked.

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“In your ass, you sick slut,” replied Marguz, clearly aggressively.

At the same moment, Elrianthe pierced one of the orcs through the neck outright.

“Four orcs have already died because of you. Whether you want to or not, I will find out where you are hiding, and I will come to knock you out. Don't be so stubborn, okay? You have a chance to survive, save your kin, and prepare for our arrival. I was going to let you go when you answer all my questions.”

“I don't trust you, and we're not afraid to die for our brothers.”

“And here lies your problem. You will all die in vain. Not for your brothers, not in defense of the fortress, not for honor and pride. You will die out of stupidity because I will still get out of you what I want to know.”

“Keep trying.”

“Good. Another question. How many of you are in this fortress?”

“Enough to rip your ass apart and flood you like a bucket.”

“Eh...”

Another orc fell under the blade of Elrianthe's spear.

“You have three wrong answers left before we start playing with your fingers,” she announced.

“Do what you want.”

Two more orcs were killed by Marguz's silly talk. Elrianthe, disappointed by his stubbornness, turned and headed for the last living orc. She noticed that he began to shake with fear when her gaze fell on him.

She approached him, putting the blade to his neck, and asked another question.

“How many capable fighters are left in the settlement? Will you answer me? Or should I ask this question to him?” She asked, clipping the orc named Struka with her blade.

Before Marguz had time to respond with some insulting line, Struka spoke up.

“Wait! Don't kill me! I'll answer your questions,” cried the terrified orc.

“I want to hear it from him, not from you,” she answered him.

“TRAITOR!” Shouted Marguz. “Traitor! Coward and a stupid weakling!”

Struka showed the least courage. The other orcs died without a word, pretending to be tough. Struka, however, could not withstand the pressure. He was the youngest in the group and lacked character like Marguz or Chief Narzagul. He didn't want to die, at least not like this.

“Marguz, listen! We can go back to the fortress! We can help them fight the humans! They won't avoid fighting, and we can help them!” Persuaded Struka.

“Idiot! Even if they let us go, you will die at the hands of the chief for your cowardice! The chief is strong enough to do without us” replied Marguz with evident contempt.

Elrianthe, observing this pathetic scene, came up with an idea on how to solve the problem of the stubborn interlocutor.

“So, Struka... Where is your fortress located?” She asked.

“Do you know my name?” He asked dismayed.

“Answer me!”

“In the hills...”

“Moron! Don't tell her anything!” Shouted Marguz.

“Don't listen to this idiot. If you answer my questions nicely, you can go home. You want to go back, don't you?” She assured Elrianthe.

“I'll answer...”

“You stupid cunt! She's lying to you!”

“Don't pay attention to him,” said Elrianthe, standing in front of him and obstructing the view. “You're a reasonable boy, not what this stubborn selfish guy is. How many orcs are left in the settlement?”

“Eleven.”

“Are they all warriors, like you?”

“No.”

“And more precisely?”

“I'm about to kill you myself, you fucking coward! Answer her again, and I'll quarter you myself!” Marguz shouted.

'Just a little more. Get more furious,' thought Elrianthe.

“Besides the chief, only the shaman and three young warriors remained. The rest are Narzagul's wives or daughters,” replied Struka timidly.

“You're dead now! You are dead, do you hear, Struka? Elf woman! Release me! I'll kill him myself!” Shouted an enraged Marguz.

Elrianthe approached Marguz with a smile on her face and happily granted his wish.

[ Successful acquisition of a new puppet ]

[ Marguz ] [ Level: 12 ]