The Small Baphomets rejoiced in brutal satisfaction. The most hateful woman was going to fall under their strength. It seemed pristinely clear to them that the death of the winged Orc would avenge Azza and redeem their species. There was nothing more noble and right than their act of surrounding said woman and beating here where she was curled upon the mud!

While the victorious climax was rising higher, a strong burst of heat came from behind, assaulting the edge of the group. Bizarrely, a few of the Chosen who were directly hit by the orange-colored heat lost their limbs as if to a sword. They cried out because it hurt badly, but what kind of creatures would they be if they diverted their gazes from the divine battle taking place in front of them? The Chosen in the center could also hear the screams of their comrades, but not a single person turned away from the hateful woman or stopped their bodies from attacking. There was no force in the world that could turn them away: they were heroes.

***

Sprinting from the edge of the forest, Oolga knew, just by looking, that the situation was bad for her daughter. The very fact that Small Baphomets weren’t being thrown left and right meant that she wasn’t winning in this fight. However, she was clearly still alive. The Small Baphomets didn’t pay the Mayhem Orc any attention even when she cut down their allies, and the only thing she knew that could cause creatures to go mad like that was the special effect of her daughter’s .

It was raining heavily, but Oolga didn’t spare it a thought. She forcefully conjured her flames and imbued them with . While the Small Baphomets could do nothing to dodge or block her attacks, she cut through them one by one. Over half of their total number was eliminated in an incredibly short amount of time. When there were only a dozen of their members left, suddenly, their attention turned to her.

They parted slightly, and Oolga was able to see Vyra lying on the ground. One of her wings was only a bloody stump, and the other was bent at an odd angle. Her left leg was riddled with holes, and her back was black from heavy bruising. There were bruises and lacerations all over her arms and sides from desperately blocking sword strikes. She seemed to have lost consciousness.

Something deep inside of Oolga’s gut flared brightly before snapping entirely. Her flames burned brighter and were no longer concentrated solely on her axe. Orange and red fire wreathed her entire body, instantly evaporating any rainwater that got too close and distorting the air with its intense heat. In her rage, she became the living embodiment of fire.

The dozen Small Baphomets that remained could do little to resist her. had no effect, and her flames made their swords so hot they could barely hang onto them. Their only advantage was that, though her flames cut like blades, they didn’t block like blades. Several attacks were able to get through and draw blood. Too bad for them, a small advantage like that wasn’t enough to contest this monster. A few holes poked in her body, or other minor flesh wounds, had no hope of stopping an enraged mother from protecting her child.

Oolga ignored her rapidly decreasing vitality and Magic Power and let her berserk emotions shine ever brighter. She brought the pain of death to the ones who dared to harm her baby. Not a single thread of life could be allowed to remain intact.

***

Durghan watched in stupefaction as his sister calmly set down the firewood she’d been piling and ran away without saying anything. He blinked a few times and looked around, but it seemed everyone else had been too busy to notice. Feeling like he should tell somebody about it, he walked over to a certain blue-colored Orc.

Honestly, Durghan spent most of his time leading and mentoring the weaker Orcs, so he didn’t get to interact much with the people at his level or higher. The Lord's sister was the one among them who seemed the most approachable to him.

“Fiara, do you have a moment?” he dipped his head a fraction and asked.

The girl looked up from the Fomor she was skinning and lowered her knife. “Uncle Durghan, what is it?”

For a moment, he was surprised and couldn’t continue his previous train of thought. “Eh, erm, uncle?”

Fiara’s eyes widened. “Is, is that wrong? The chief and I are blood sisters, but, should I not call you that?”

Durghan fumbled and rubbed the back of his neck, “It might not be wrong? But, you don’t have to call me that. Just Durghan is fine.”

“I see." The Wisdom Orc composed herself, "Then, what did you come here for?” Although she asked, she seemed to already have something in mind, as she looked at him with a measure of poorly hidden pity.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Well, just a minute ago, I saw Oolga doing something strange, so I thought I should tell somebody.”

Fiara’s eyebrows shot up. “That was it?”

“What did you think it was?”

It was a justified question, but it made Fiara fumble over her thoughts. “That’s, well, I thought you might be feeling down since your battle didn’t go well. Irsha lost too, of course, but, yours was definitely by the biggest margin... I mean--” The girl’s face paled when she realized she had said far too much. “Th-that’s-- I’m sorry!”

Durghan snorted in surprise. He had actually been feeling fairly pleased that he had managed to find the enemy leader and test his skills against him. He hadn’t bothered to compare his win rate to the others. After blinking those thoughts away, he cleared his throat, “Well, let’s just leave that aside, shall we?”

“Y-yes,” Fiara lowered her head helplessly and sighed. Then she looked up, “So what was it that Lady Oolga did?”

“Hmph,” Durghan nodded and pointed into the forest. “She suddenly ran off that way without saying anything.”

“That way, you said?”

“Yes, that way.”

Fiara’s face went pale. “That’s where we were fighting before, isn’t it?” Durghan saw the girl starting to tremble and sucked in a short breath. Suddenly, he felt cold. Was this matter actually a big deal?

“Why would Lady Oolga,” Fiara said with shaky lips, “who possesses the skill, suddenly run to where the chief should be fighting alone?”

Durghan’s beady eyes opened wide, but he quickly tried to calm himself down. “It, it shouldn’t be something like that, right? If Lord Vyra was in danger, she would have said something. She wouldn’t just run off on her own.”

Although he said that, it didn’t convince either of them.

While suppressing their panic, they worked together to call everyone’s attention and organized a small, but strong, investigation party. Fiara bit her lip in frustration, but she would be the only leader to remain behind. It was true that her magic was strong, but Oolga was already on-site. The ice-style water magic she loved so much would become a hindrance if it was used too close to Oolga’s fire magic. While she could still use lightning to attack, it was dangerous to do so with everything so wet; the spells might spread to affect allies as well. Additionally, Fiara was the best person among the leaders to single-handedly restrain all the war prisoners if they decided to riot.

So, the camp was entrusted to Fiara. Irsha was still deep asleep, apparently recovering from a hard-fought battle. That left Durghan, Varoon, and the ex-War Orc chieftain, Dagoran, to go and investigate. They brought a handful of War Orcs and magically gifted High Orcs with them and ran to the previous battle site. Everything was arranged and put into action with blinding speed.

Fiara could only watch them go and resolve to keep things running smoothly on her end. The rain was finally abating, and all the firewood was placed, so she extracted the moisture from the wood with a water magic so basic it didn’t have a magic formation or a name. If it was just pulling the water out of something dead, she could do it just by entreating the water spirits with a bit of Magic Power. It was a technique she had learned from the human mage Elianora, which the Descendants called . Of course, Fiara had shared it with the others, but the technique was useful much more frequently to water magic casters than to those of any other type. After all, water tended to get mixed with other substances a lot, and not always in a way that was desirable.

After drying out the wood, Fiara dumped the accumulated water somewhere out of the way, then cast the basic, non-attribute to start a fire going. Some fire magic casters also contributed to help the flames spread more quickly. The best thing they could do from their end was to have a delicious dinner waiting for the others when they came back.

***

When Durghan and the others had returned to the battle site, Durghan used his right away. He verified the direction of two allies that seemed to be overlapping, and one extremely weak enemy response, which they ignored. The group made a beeline for Oolga and their Lord, finding a scene so provocative and serene that it could have been a painting.

Oolga was sitting on her knees, her body riddled with small holes from which blood had only recently stopped flowing. Despite the fact that her energy was almost completely drained, she sat up straight. Her head was looking down at her lap, where she was stroking the head of their Lord.

Oolga didn’t exactly look to be in good condition, but Vyra was clearly worse off. It wouldn’t be an overstatement to call her battered and broken, with major injuries all over her body. Durghan stared at that scene as if he couldn’t comprehend it, while Varoon trembled in place with an unreadable expression that could have belonged to any high-strung emotion.

“Oolga,” Varoon called in a low voice. His mother looked up at him, and he quickly interpreted her gentle smile. “Is she alive?”

Oolga lowered her head and continued stroking her daughter’s crimson dreadlocks. “She’s alive.” At that moment, they were powerful words.

There was a Small Baphomet corpse not far from where they were sitting; its skull was smashed open, and murky grey brain matter was splattered onto the mud. Oolga held up her hand which had been resting on Vyra’s forehead, revealing the black-tinted magic core she had harvested.

“I don’t have any extra Magic Power to lend her, but she should be able to recover soon with a few of these. It’s only transferring slowly since she’s unconscious.”

“Is it fine to use Demonic attribute magic cores?” Dagoran hazarded.

“It’s fine since she has the Demonic attribute,” Oolga said with a mild smile.

That isn’t fine! each of the three leaders thought. Lord Vyra clearly had the Holy attribute; there was no way for her to possess the Demonic attribute on top of that! Had Oolga lost too much blood fighting?!

“Is this regicide?” Dagoran gaped.

“No, it’s filicide,” Varoon cut in.

“Just watch, you idiots,” Oolga said harshly, without changing her expression. Then, tenderly, “She’s waking up.”