Leone’s slashes whistled through the air like a song as he danced with his knife.
Piles of mud and rock desperately struggled to maintain their barely humanoid form, but the flurry of air-cutting waves was overbearing. The minions were unable to hold their shape and after a little less than a minute of bisecting slashes, the mud monsters sank back into the ground, defeated.
The borc standing in front of the young man was irate. This cocky, young brat really thought he could win? And that easily, too? The borc was not going to stand for it. “Earthen Life,” the large man chanted.
At his command, 4 more monsters of dirt and rock crawled out of the ground. They were just as weakly built as the first ones summoned. “What you do now?” the borc yelled cockily. “Now you scared?”
The young wizard did not bother responding, though he couldn’t help but smile. He thought to himself how things were getting easier. His power was building up to the point that he would not need as many attacks to blow away the borc’s minions, despite them having no change in strength. Raising his knife, he beckoned for the mud monsters to come forward. Growling, the maroon-skinned man sent the dirt goons forward, though his efforts would not be met with much success.
With one clean swipe, Leone sent a cutting wave flying toward one of the minions, much larger than any of his previous strokes. The arc was so intense it decomposed the rock monster in an instant. Pebbles, sticks, and sprays of dirt flung everywhere. The large man was mortified. Leone, of course, was just beaming. The young man thought to himself, Oh, it’s about to get a whole lot worse for you, asshole.
With another wide strike, he sent a horizontal wave flying toward 2 of the remaining 3 earthen minions. Just like before, they were split at the torso, leaving their top halves to float slightly in the air for a moment. However, this time the bottom halves fell apart entirely after the cut, leaving the top halves to fall back down to nothing and splat as well. In a matter of seconds, Leone had already disposed of 3 of his targets, 2 of them with a single attack.
Getting nervous, the dark red borc ordered the last remaining earth minion to shield him. Leone was elated. He had already been enjoying himself, and this whole excursion had certainly been helping his boredom. But the fact that this tough minion-summer was now resorting to using them as human shields was laughable to him. His magic had been powering up for a minute or two now, and the output was becoming rather impressive. “Hey!” the young man finally spoke. “If you don’t mind telling me, how strong is this magic of yours? Your little dirt babies. What level do they take to summon?”
From behind the obstructing mud minion, the borc yelled, “No your business!”
“Aw come on, I thought you were in control here!” the young man mocked. “Right? You were asking if I was scared and everything. Surely someone as tough as yourself wouldn’t mind gloating about their magic level. Or did I misread you?”
“You misread nothing,” the red-toned man yelled before barking. “I stronger than you. You scared!”
“Well then, by all means, go ahead. Tell me how much stronger you are.”
“My magic level 8! This magic level 9. It strong. Stronger than you!”
Leone chuckled to himself. The thug in front of him really knew nothing. He didn’t even have the slightest awareness of just how doomed he was. Leone himself did, admittedly, have a base magic level of 7, which he had asserted from taking Reavius’ test back in Appilus. On top of that, his Wave Cutter spell was only honed to level 5. He was aware that it wasn’t incredibly strong on its own yet, however he didn’t mind. Because he had his trump card. As of right now, he guessed his cutter was about level 11, as with the rest of his magic. More than enough to handle the borc’s minions. And with each passing second it was only getting higher, if ever so slowly.
Not worrying about replying to the man in front of him, Leone decided to let his actions do the talking. He gave himself a couple more seconds, which he figured wouldn’t cost him since the borc was on the defensive now, and held up his knife-holding arm slightly to the right. Finally, he dropped his arm, slashing across his chest as if putting on a seatbelt.
The borc felt the blow instantaneously. Mud and dirt splattered over his entire body as he was sent flying back. From what he could tell, the wave had been stronger than any of the others the skinny kid had cast. He slammed into a tree behind him, staggering and struggling to remain standing. All of his summoned monsters were gone, and all that remained were uprooted clumps of rock and sticks littered about the area in front of him. The maroon-skinned man did not have the strength to summon any more minions. All he had now was his Iron Armor. The borc thought about how if he hadn’t been dragged off so abruptly, he would have had his sword as well. But because of the circumstances, he had one less of his tools available to him. The large man barked in frustration.
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Slowly propping himself upright, the maroon red man tried to concentrate on his armor spell, hoping to strengthen its already weakening effect. Out of earth minions and without a weapon, all that the borc had was his defense. Unfortunately, that was not enough.
Not wasting any time, Leone flicked his blade again, throwing out another wide slash. Before the borc could even look back up and meet the young wizard’s gaze, he was launched back into the tree he had just made acquaintances with. This time, he blew a small crater into the side of the tree, leaving him stuck in its trunk, unconscious. Leone flicked his knife with his other hand in satisfaction and put it back in hiding. Making his way back to the main group at a leisurely pace, the young man wondered how Azim was faring against the remaining borcs.
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“Boss! What we do?” screamed one of the axe-wielding borcs after face-planting into the ground.
Watching silently, the goateed leader of the campsite ignored his companion’s pleas, observing the metal man’s movements intently. The boss considered himself a good leader, though in actuality, that assertion was a little bit questionable. He believed in his men to do their best, but also did not go out of his way to protect them. For the most part, this was because of the ideologies that borcs, and even other species of Orcs, lived by. Dominance and independent strength. They didn’t necessarily think they had to accomplish everything on their own; traveling in a group was perfectly normal and, in fact, most common with borcs. However, self-sustainability remained a key trait of respect. They valued one’s ability to fend for oneself in conflict without depending on the aid of another, especially their leader. To do so was to admit weakness.
This way of thinking often led to underdeveloped individuals, such as the group fighting Azim. The desire to be a strong and self-relying individual sent borcs and other orcs out on their own before they were actually capable of self-reliance. There was an overconfident sense of dominance that was not backed up by real strength. Of course, some orcs were smarter and knew how to actually develop their strength in order to justify their personality. Most, however, were meat-headed powerhouses without much magical composition. Because of this, what the boss considered good leadership, others might have found as a lack of care for the preservation of one's crew.
The strange, metal intruder’s punch felt stronger than one of their own. The lumbering oafs realized this day just how lucky they were to have such thick skin. Despite the overwhelming strength of the intruding stranger, they as a species were also tough enough to take a couple of hits. The axe-wielder still standing brought his weapon crashing down, but Azim just rolled out of the way. The cape of his cloak wrapped in on itself, giving the robot the appearance of a pill bug. Popping back up, the android grabbed the borc by the face and slammed him into the ground. With the large man’s weapon floating in the air as he lost grip of it, Azim snatched it from its free fall and swung the back of the blade down, clobbering the laid-out borc in the face.
Picking himself up from the ground of the campsite, the first maroon-skinned man jumped on top of the android. All of his weight sank down on Azim’s shoulders, and yet somehow the metal man did not seem any bit handicapped. Limp on the shoulders of the robot, his limbs draped around the metal intruder, the borc grew confused at why his assault seemed so ineffective. He did not have much time to ponder the situation, however, because Azim quickly grabbed and tossed the man, bowling him right into the second borc, who was just starting to get back up.
Azim, turning his attention away from the knocked-out axe-wielders, looked over to the flame-throwing Mage. Before focusing his processors on the pair of borcs in front of him, the android had charmed the broken sword to go after the third. To the robot’s delight, the magic-wielding borc was still busy ducking and dodging the broken, floating blade, growling at it as he did. It danced around the dark red man, swinging at his arms and legs, distracting him from the entire rest of the battle, as it had for the past couple minutes. Azim, keeping the spell active, bent down and picked up one of the knocked-out borcs’ bone axes. Holding it in his left arm above this head, the metal man hurled the axe forward, sending it spinning through the air like an upright flying frisbee. Still distracted by the stray shard of steel, the borc was ill-prepared to intercept the incoming weapon.
The maroon-skinned man with the goatee just watched as his last comrade was struck down. The blade of the bone-made weapon dug into the large man’s chest, tearing his already-tattered shirt and leaving him to fall promptly back into the dirt. The throw was not enough to sink deep into the borc’s insides, Azim had been careful about that. Assessing the thickness of his enemies’ skin from his earlier punch, he calculated the appropriate force necessary to strike the mage without impaling any organs or otherwise causing any fatal injuries. Still, it was enough to leave him unconscious.
Azim, making sure his 3 opponents were down for good, turned his attention to the boss. The red-toned, goateed man looked around his campsite, observing the fallen bodies of his companions. He did not seem too visibly upset. The robot was surprised, but did not care enough to be concerned.
“They… disappointments,” the boss began. “Could not handle simple, small knight getting in camp. Worth nothing. No deserve that town. But I do.”
“You are not a good leader if you do not value the lives of those you surround yourselves with,” retorted the robot.
“I show you why better than them,” the large man replied, picking up his knife and finally standing up.
The air seemed still for a moment. There was a tension in the air, one that Azim could not really detect as it was unnecessary to the android. And yet Riva, still hiding in the bushes behind him, as well as the goateed borc, felt it. It was like static, filling the air around them, taking the slightest bit of breath out of their lungs, save for Azim. The two combatant figures stood opposite each other, neither one twitching even an inch. Staring down the boss, the robot slowly raised his guard, readying himself for the next fight, determined to make sure the borc in front of him never left this campsite.