The death magic erupted, sending lines of apparitions and dirt in the air as it carved the floor, resulting in a small, blackened crater.
One of the shielded apparitions perished, its shield smashed into pieces, then its body evaporated. The other two fared better, the spearman stood unharmed, while the other had lost its shield, turning it into a regular orc.
My slumped figure froze. Both my mind and body were paralyzed and groaning proved an impossible task. Every time I commanded my own body to move, I made the mistake of moving the body of another in its place; it was as if I was living in three separate bodies at once.
As the jumbled mess of fragmented information swirled around my vision, through some sheer will and luck, I found the right commands to close my eyes and focus. It then took a few more seconds of waiting before I could twitch one of my fingers, and another few before I succeeded in swinging my arms. Meanwhile, the smoke had been hindering the mage’s vision this entire time, and I thanked God it didn’t resume its Death Bolts even if it almost certainly should.
Was it saving its mana? Or was the reason something else? The manner of fact is, it knew that I was capable of turning invisible—which was still in cooldown for a long time—and it didn’t understand the extent of my summoning magic, perhaps it didn’t want to waste its precious mana on the orcs that in its eyes, I’d just summon back, even when I actually couldn’t?
Theories and ideas didn’t matter. What mattered was how could I abuse this downtime?
It was hasty, but a plan formed inside the jumbled mess of my thoughts. My eyes were closed still, but I wasn’t blind; within my vision, I peered outside through the eyes of my summons.
Moving remained a challenge, but spells were simply another twitch of my muscle fiber. It took seconds to graduate from absolute stillness to the movements of an infant, just enough for magic to work. Half my mana pool depleted, and to my sides, the apparitions of an Orc Archer and Nightblade knelt.
[You summoned The soul of Goblin Nightblade]
The goblin went invisible and rotated around the Orc line-up, standing in front, unafraid, and unassuming. Perfect.
The smoke had almost dissolved now, revealing the mage who’d prepared another bolt to ravage what was left of my Orcs. Yeah, My Orcs. Its eyes gleamed delightfully when it saw my huddled figure behind the orcs, knowing that its arcane power dwarfed mine.
But it didn’t know about the small, invisible creature that was in the way of its magic.
Another bolt launched, much to its chagrin. Its staff burst as its bolt exploded right in front of its eyes. The bolt didn’t even launch a meter away before the bolt hit an obstacle; That obstacle being the invisible goblin, taking the hit face-first.
I knew that my spells hurt me as much as they hurt the others, so its wails and groans of pain were expected, hell, I was waiting for it, even.
The rest went swimmingly. I commanded the other summons to strike, breaking past another wall of Dark smoke as they found the huddled figure of the mage who lost its staff arm from the feedback of its spell. A few slams and stabs and arrows on its face later, it was dead. Despite its magical prowess, its capabilities in the melee were childlike in comparison.
A bloodied scene littered the area where the mage was brutalized by its ghastly kin. The crowd didn’t seem to care, in fact, they seemed to revel in the butchery and sheer perversion of my actions, and their roars only compounded in volume. This… fight—no, our lives—were just a show in their eyes, after all.
But should I care? No.
Opening my eyes, grimacing at the unfamiliar visions from my summons, I conjured the compendium once more. The Orc Mage was at Lvl. 8, just at the right level for me to absorb, not more, not less.
[(5/5) Souls are full. Release a soul, or upgrade this spell to hold more souls.]
Right, the soul limit. As of this moment, I had all four of the Orcs and the Goblin Nightblade inside the compendium. The goblin had the least amount of attributes gained and it was also the weakest compared to the rest, but its skill was damn instrumental in all my encounters so far, so dropping it would be as if I was digging my own grave. I had two shielded orcs at this moment—copies, to be exact—and one of them had died too, so letting it go made the most sense to me.
[You have released the Soul of the Orc Warrior.]
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A light verdant vapor oozed from the compendium, its smoke clung to the skies above, signifying its passing.
With a slot free, I spared no thought before I absorbed the mage’s body into this book. How are the others faring?
As the tendrils left my arm, snaking their way into its body, my gaze shifted from the corpse to the ongoing battle in the center of the arena. Phillip’s body had suffered more than a few cuts, leaking blood all over his white suit, panting, struggling for air. It was the first time that I’d seen him in this state—the Hobgoblin took him by surprise before, so it didn’t count—and so were the girls behind him. The spells and projectiles they threw were effective at pushing the Chains guy away, but it wasn’t enough to turn the tide.
Meanwhile, the chief settled on his comfy spot and… observed. Its axe remained planted on the ground, and its eyes showed the same kind of boredom that the mage displayed before its demise. It could’ve finished all of us off if it wanted to, but it never did. This was a mission, right? Wasn’t it taking it a little bit too easy on us?
[You acquired 1x Soul of Orc Mage.]
Soul of The Orc Mage - poor
Rarity: Common | Rank: - | Level : 8
Attributes gained : 5 Arcane, 2 Arcane. Power, 2 Arcane. Defense
You owned Death bolt.
Insane Attributes. All of them were damn near crucial for my style of fighting.
But that wasn’t why I coveted its soul, not for this particular fight, no. I had another plan, one that I figured out during the time our spells merged and almost wiped our party out. Yes, the bolt my half-attributed mage would lack the oomph of the previous one, but I could combine our spells and make it stronger.
With my last drip of mana—keeping some for another death bolt—I summoned the orc mage beside me. Its body had shrunk compared to its real self, but size didn’t matter in the terms of magical know-how, or at least, I hoped so.
It’s time to surprise them.
The mage primed its infamous death bolt, the brightness of which was dimmer than the one prior. At the same beat, I ordered the Orc Archer to draw its bow, aiming it towards the chief, hoping that I’d at least draw some of its attention away before my—no, our—spell blasted the ground the orc with chains stood on. I knew that even if our death bolts were three times as strong, they wouldn’t do much against the chief. It was a fleeting feeling, but the chief was just on a whole other plane of strength.
At this point, I found it easier to project my commands and thoughts to my summons. It was like a muscle that I’d scarcely used, and after a few grueling minutes of learning and trying, I discovered a semblance of familiarity with it; even if it came at the cost of my own body refusing to budge at times. Casting Death bolt was simpler than moving my own body, which I found somewhat… amusing. And sad.
I synchronized our release timing, resulting in the same coagulation of our spells while I watched its death bolt grow in size and intensity. The ball wailed through the empty air. It wasn’t as big nor as deadly as I’d remembered, but even if it was 75% as strong as the one that destroyed us before, it would be more than enough.
The first to notice what happened was the chief, whose calm expression revealed that yes, it knew what had happened to its mage, and yes, it thought nothing of it, Its eyes were only on the chained orc, why?
Regardless, I had an arrow on its way to distract it. The projectile was shrouded by the green glow of our combined Death bolts, making it almost impossible to see from all the chaos that was going on. Only when my arrow came within a certain amount of distance from the chief did it find out about the tiny bullet masked by the grenade from behind.
Of course, the arrow was nothing but a stick thrown by a toddler. Yet, it reacted to the arrow all the same. It could’ve let the arrow dig into its skin and call it a day, but perhaps from its pride, or perhaps due to its trained reflexes, it swatted off the arrow with his arm. However, that small delay in its action allowed the bolt to pass through, making its way to where the chained orc stood.
“GET AWAY!”
Phillip reacted first. He knew English, He knew what I meant, and it took less time for his brain to process what I’d shouted. He didn’t need to spare a glance toward where I was to know what I’d conveyed through my croaked shout, but the chained orc didn’t. It had to take a small peek to the side, to see where the scream came from before-
An ugly bolt erupted at its torso. From this distance, the smoke shrouded enough that my eyes failed to detect its presence, but I could guarantee it took severe damage from my Death bolt. The chief simply stared at the carnage beside it with a heated look, unlike before. Its eyes froze, its gait tense and… Is it worried?
The smoke dissipated, bit by bit, revealing a sagging figure struggling to catch its breath, panting, its eyes glazed and unfocused. Phillip saw what had happened, and so were the girls behind him, and they didn’t spare another glance before they bombarded it with all the might they carried. This chain of events led to its demise, leaving the chief alone in the arena.
And man, was it unamused by the turn of events. I didn’t expect to see that kind of expression from it; Its hands were reaching out to the orc we just felled, its face… mourning.
Then, it turned around. Its eyes, which were already red beforehand, glowed scarlet as they searched for mine. Thrill ran down the pores of my skin as I commanded my orcs to position themselves—shieldless orcs in front, the archer and mage behind with me at the furthest end of the formation—but it didn’t matter how we organized ourselves, I knew from that one stare alone that I was doomed.
The air around the chief vibrated, boiling with fury. Smoke particles evaporated, and its gaze couldn’t be more dreadful.
Why? Why did it get furious all of a sudden? What was the reason? He never cared about the lives of the orcs he’d thrown to us, so what was so special about the orc with the chains? My memories played our encounter from the start. Its behavior, the respect, the special treatment… Don’t tell me…
[Hidden condition activated: Do not anger the chief.]
His son?
Within the next second, all the orcs that I’d summoned were cleaved in one swing. I observed all of it the air above as its force sent me up high, and below me, the headless body of mine stood perfectly still, blood pouring like a fountain. It took some time before the corners of my vision began to fade, and as I studied the shocked expressions of my comrades, the figure of the chief rampaged towards their position.
Phillip’s axe snapped in half, Maria’s arms were cleaved apart, and Sarah’s hair, once white, was blotched with scarlet when she charged a spell—her trump card—but it was all too late. Everybody died.
[Paradox, the stone of rebirth activated. Charges remaining : 0]
My vision faded.