Without a second thought, I walked out of the building after leaving the request and the report behind. The receptionist was panicking while saying something I completely ignored in my anger. I meant what I said before, those monsters will die and I will make sure of it. Pumping mana through my body I dashed out of the village straight into the forest. You may be wondering why I am wasting mana but at this moment any logical thought process was out of the question. Why am I so pissed? Why do I want to kill them so badly? is it because that's the right thing to do from a moral perspective? No, it isn't because of that, the reason is far more selfish than that. Then is it because I want to be recognized as I hero? No, I am not such an egotistical person. The reason is a personal one, a regret I have held for far too long.

It happened when I was merely twelve. One day one of my classmates went missing. The thing is, she was my best friend, my childhood friend. We did everything together, shared everything, we laughed together, cried together and got in trouble together. You can imagine how distressed I was when I heard the news. Days went by and the only thing I could do was feel helpless, useless, and pray for her safety. After a week the police found her in a fortunate turn of events. I say fortunate but finding her was the only good thing in this entire nightmare.

During a police raid to a house under suspicion of having a drug lab, they found her in the basement. She was completely naked, drugged and treated like some kind of animal. I don't think I need to say this but she had been raped multiple times. Of course, I didn't hear all this from the police, her parents, or even mine. She told me herself. After that, she wasn't the same, I mean how could she? After such a traumatic experience I doubt anyone could go back to how the used to me. Before she was an energetic gentle and happy girl. After it, she grew shy, barely talking with anyone. It took her parents an entire month to get her back in school. If it was me, I would have let her rest for a bit longer.

The problems didn't stop there. She was paranoid, extremely so. She avoided everyone except for me, as for any adults that weren't her parents she treated them like the plague. The teachers grew annoyed with her alongside there rest of the class. Soon enough the bullying began. She wasn't the only one affected by this, I changed too. I began seeing my classmates as trash alongside the teachers for treating her so poorly. Fights broke out every other day as I would try my best to defend her. Back then I wasn't as lazy as I was before dying.

Time kept passing us by. That is until three years later, her body was found. She had killed herself leaving behind two letters, one for her parents, the other one for me. I remember it clearly. The first time I was told she was gone I grew furious. What kind of nonsensical lie was that! but it wasn't a lie. I demanded proof, I demanded to see her. With some reluctance, they showed me a photo of the scene. Then everything sank in, I didn't cry, I didn't feel anything really. I just took the letter and read it.

She thanked me for always being by her side. She thanked me for defending her. She apologised for becoming a burden. She tried to explain why she did what she did. I could understand. She had been through hell and barely came back only to live a new one, anyone would want it to end. The next part was a heavy blow for me. She wrote that she had managed to pull through this last three years thanks to me. That I had become the light at the end of the tunnel for her. She apologised for not being able to continue, and the letter ended.

I blamed myself. If I had been a brighter light, if I had kept her safe, she would still be here. I grew distant from others my parents included. I just felt empty. The rest of the class tried to bully me after their previous target was gone. Let's just say that a sneak attack to one of them and a broken arm was enough to dissuade them. My grades fell too. The teachers tried their best to get me back on track but I couldn't find the motivation to try. The days grew grey in my eyes, void of colour, void of life. The rest you know. After a year of my dull routine, I died.

The selfish reason to why I want the orcs dead is the hatred I have towards that man. The one who ruined Pamela's life, and my own. I know they are monsters, I know this is what their instincts tell them to do. I know projecting my anger into them is stupid but I don't care. I need an outlet for this anger, this hatred that has been eating at me for far too long. If someone else gets benefited in the process then good for them. I just want to feel like I could protect her, that's all.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

While lost in memory lane I arrived at the orc settlement once more. Without stopping for a single second I threw myself at the orcs guarding the wooden gate. Stabbing through the one on the right's chest and reaping it open I felt a slight surge within me. Soon after the one in the right sounded the horn. Judging its actions I guess there are a few more orcs inside. Before I said that if I was lucky there would only be ten orcs if unlucky maybe even five times that number. Right now even a hundred or two could come at me and I wouldn't care. I wanted them dead and that's all that drove me forward. An unstoppable thirst for blood and carnage.

Before the second orc could take his club out I severed his arm. Continuing the motion I cut its head in half. The next moment the gates flew open, behind it three more orcs were ready for combat with more on their way. My mana was running low as of now. Let's imagine mana like water and the body like a container. Let's say my body is like a glass that can hold up to two hundred millilitres, while my core us like a jug that can hold an entire litre. Both of them get refiled overtime but unlike the glass that let's say gets filled by a faucet at full throttle, the jug only gets a slow drip. That's not all it's dangerous for my core to become empty as doing so puts pressure on it.

If I had to guess I would say I need to keep around ten percent of my core's capacity at all time so it doesn't get pressured. Right now I feel like I have around twenty-seven per cent on me, so only seventeen to go. Driving these thoughts and calculations out of my head I lunged towards the new group. I was determined to kill every single one of them. Even if my mana runs out I refuse to back down, they will die, and they will do so now.

The fight was intense, to say the least. First of all, I was completely outnumbered, every time one orc fell a new one would rush in and replace it. Second, my mana was at its limit. I have managed to kill three more orcs but as of now, I am completely surrounded by a horde of them. It seems that my unlucky prediction was the correct one. Soon enough my mana ran out. Without my enhanced speed, strength, etcetera I began receiving hit after hit. It felt like being run over by a truck all over again as I was swatted away into one of the buildings.

A foul stench reached my nose. Looking up I was horrified. Women of different ages tied and naked, with white liquid dripping from their private parts. Some of them were obviously corpses as they had a sickly colour and pieces of flesh missing. That was it, I lost it at that instant as the image I saw of my dead friend back then superimposed itself with what I was seeing now. If I was angry before, right now I was going berserk. I screamed as tears began falling from my eyes. The tears I refused to shed ever since Pamela died. I didn't cry when I was told she died, I didn't cry when I read the letter, I didn't cry at her funeral. Right now the tight seal I had placed on those emotions was finally broken.

I forced my core to pump out more mana, I forced myself to stand up despite the pain. I forced my overload to ignore the limits I had set previously. I could feel my body screaming for me to stop. In simple words, I was self-destructing. However, the surge of power I felt at that instant was something I had only felt once before. I was warned by Diana and Oliver to never push myself like this again. My core wouldn't be able to take it, and in the end, I would die. Right now I didn't care.

Mana began to crackle in a similar form to electricity around me as I lost myself in my emotions. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of acid that burned my very soul. In an instant, I dashed out the decrepit hut. Cutting, punching, kicking, even biting. I began massacring every orc, as they could barely resist my new speed and strength. Blood began to pour of every pore in my body but I didn't care. I severed head flying here, an arm over there, I continued to dash in between the orcs until I saw a different one.

Unlike the others, this one was a head taller. It had more muscle and less fat alongside a crud iron armour and a sword of its same size. In my altered state of mind, I saw this orc as the man that had kidnapped Pamela. Pushing my way through the last of the normal orcs I engaged the new one with bloodshot eyes. While screaming out so loud I might have torn my vocal cords asunder.

"I will kill you for what you did!"