The orc sprang up from its grounded form in an attack. War axe swung from below to cleave Adrian from crotch to head in a single strike. But he moved faster. He stepped into the attack at an angle, his enhanced senses guiding him with pinpoint precision. The axe scraped against his shield, no sparks showered them in the clash of metals. The shadows around it seemed to leap forward, as if to aid in blocking and consume any of the sparks he expected. Adrian wasn’t sure if it helped or not in the grand scheme of things during the actual blocking.

He used his momentum, sword falling from above, leaving a trail of darkness behind it. The strike was clean, brutal, and final.

Adrian’s blade carved through the orc’s neck, severing its head in a single motion. No amount of armor, muscle, or leathery skin could have kept its head attached to its shoulders. Green blood sprayed into the air. The sickly fluid catching the firelight as it rained down all over Adrian’s armor, pitter pattering in the sudden silence around them. The orc’s body spasmed violently. Limbs jerking as if refusing to accept death. Its arm, still clutching the war axe, twitched toward Adrian, motioning at another potential strike, but it was meaningless. The beast was already dead.

A severed head hit the ground unceremoniously, its yellow eyes staring blankly at the sky. It lived and died without greater purpose. Worthless and dead amongst the muck and mud. Filth.

“Orc filth.” Adrian exhaled. His mind reeling back at how gruesome his thoughts had become. How much hatred dripped from those two words. This was something beyond derision and anger, it was murderous glee at their destruction. But it was natural to him now. He felt the Mark energy fade away. Prepared again for him to call it, even if it was only a small portion of what it had been a few scant minutes ago.

The shadows reeled back into the nooks and crooks of darkness the fires did not illuminate. They vanished as quickly as they arrived for that singular moment. But not [Strengthen], it lasted for five entire minutes before it would even begin to waver. Another point that showed how superior it was to other types of Marks, the majority with significantly less time duration.

The Shadow Mark had left him exhausted, but the battle wasn’t over. It had only just begun. The other two orcs were closing in now. For brief moments, they had frozen midstep at the ferocity of his form, but now that the shadows had disappeared, they regained their courage and charged again. Heavy feet stomping on the ground. Battle cries unbridled by what had happened moments ago to their ally.

Orcs were not a sentimental bunch. Nor were they smart enough to tell when they were outmatched. Or maybe they just relished in battle so much, death had become just another oddity they tended to overlook in their moments of ecstasy and joy. As if they relished every clash and struggle.

Adrian wanted to charge them in a blaze of righteous fury. His endeavor was holy, hence there was no way he would lose. Not against alien scum worth less than the ground they stepped on–

He shook his head. His bloodthirst and aggressiveness was rearing his head again, but this time, it was more manageable. At least enough for him to control unlike the first encounter. Instead of counter charging, he began a slow retreat with his shield and sword ready. A plan formulating in his mind. First and foremost, he needed them to get close. Very close. The plan required that he use [Shadow Step] but he had no clue how far it would take him. Would it keep him within the direct vicinity of the battle, or would he end up next to the dead militiamen and too far away to take advantage of the sudden shift in his position.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

But there was no choice but to use it. He was not yet comfortable enough with his body to take on an elite foe without his Mark, much less two aggressive giants of muscle.

Bright words suddenly blazed across Adrian's vision, momentarily blinding him.

“Shit!” he cursed. The words made him lose the two orcs. An endless string of notifications,‘achievements’, and skill progress. He didn’t need this now!

[CONGRATULATIONS!]

[BATTLE WON!]

[EXPERIENCE GAINED: 35 XP (1 Orc Warrior × 35 XP)]

[EXPERIENCE GAINED: 125 XP (3 Achievement Accomplished x Variation... XP)]

[FIRST KIL...]

…

…

…

[SKILL PROGRESS -

Combat Skill Progress:

* Swordsmanship: 423→424/1000

Mark Skill Progress:

* Shadows: 392→393/1200

* Shadow Strike: 143→145/1200]

* Strengthen: 33→33/500

* Fortified Body - 89→89/500]

He prepared himself for the toughest fight of his life. And most likely the last. The thought crashed into the back of his mind, but he couldn’t feel anything from it. No real anxiousness or fear that he may die in the next few moments. Just a sense of duty that required him to accomplish at least killing one more so his Knights would out number them momentarily. A last stand.

Adrian roared. He stepped forward, [Shadow] Mark energy surging through his body, bolstering [Strengthen]. The orcs hesitated for a split second before continuing their reckless charge. He swiped away at the notification and prepared to use the last bits of Mark Energy to [Shadow Step] praying that it would be enough. He also mentally prepared himself to spin in his spot after disappearing and cleaving the closest orc in two.

This time around, he wouldn’t have an overwhelming advantage–

Salvation arrived in a flash of dark green armor that refused to reflect the flame pyres around them. The two knights he'd observed earlier streaked past him with their own battle cries, gold light shone dully from the hinges of their armor. A telltale sign of the Mark use of [Strengthen]. Unlike their armor, their swords reflected the light around them, dancing in the air as they clashed with what had been distracted orcs, getting a couple hits in before they stabilized into a battlefront.

They must have finished off their own opponents. Now, they moved with deadly precision striking at the flanks in a more circumvent path. Taking advantage of the orcs' rage-blind focus on Adrian. The battle devolved into brutal chaos. But it lasted only a handful of seconds, not even enough for Adrian to react and help them. It made him wonder how long his own battle had taken, it had felt like ten minutes at least. Right? Somehow he doubted that.

Massive knight swords clashed with the brutal cleavers the orcs used. The knights used their shields to push them back, but it was clear from a distance that one was far superior to the other. The one on the left–

Erik Sigurds. He was a veteran of many frontier wars. Had been on the frontlines before Adrian had even been born. A master of the sword and had reached High-Copper Level 7. With two deft swings and a ridiculous feint, he swept the orc before him off its feet. Stepped on it with heavy metal boots, pinning it to the ground. And ran his sword through its face. Twisting the blade until his foe stopped twitching. He was faster than Adrian even remembered him to be.

On the other hand, Finn Kols took a massive blow that sent him sprawling to the ground. His armor screeched against the patch of road under him that was still intact. He scrambled to get up. The orc thundered towards him, gargantuan butcher knife raised above its head.

Adrian moved to intercept. He shield bashed the orc. Swung and missed the stumbling monster. His shadows tried to reach across the ground and hold the orc in place–

A sword cleaved the orc in two. The body split open, gruesome viscera spilling out by the bucket full. Erik stood behind it. He snapped his wrist and the orc blood that tainted his sword splattered onto the ground, now clean. Loose rank strips hung from his shoulder showing his station. They fluttered in the wind. His eyes burned the same red that Adrian’s did.