Owen would have panicked if not for his Battle Hardened Skill fortifying his mind. But he was still worried. Bimpnottin and Bron had returned, barely, but the same couldn’t be said about the other miners within the mountain.

It was a grave oversight. He had gotten all the Builders into the wall, but he thought the mountain would be safe. Never would he have thought the orcs had managed to dig down and access the passages? How? The answer became clear soon enough.

From the orcs charging across the sands from the mountain, a slender orc wielding a crooked staff was located amongst them. Sand moved at his command. He planted his staff in the ground, and a cloud of sand wafted forwards.

“My Lord–” Draed’s loud warning was cut short.

Almost at the same time, the entire castle trembled. The gates had been smashed, and the orcs already standing below the battlements, fought their way in. Owen’s heart sank. The orcen Lord was no-where to be seen.

“The orcen Lord has entered the walls!” Rehan said grimly.

Owen spun around, the orcs coming from the mountain were hidden from view, but thanks to Rehan’s detection abilities, they were using the cloud of dust as an obstruction against the archers. They were approaching. Owen worried. Pyris was still in the house near the centre of his land. What would happen to her if the orcs decided to check the building?

Draed and Elena tried taking the life of the sand mage, but their arrows vanished amongst the sand cloud. None reached through. Whatever magic the mage had, was strong. The orcen Lord had hid away his mage until now. And it wasn’t a good sign. They were fast approaching, unable to be stopped.x

For now, Owen couldn’t worry about that. If he didn’t do something about the orcen Lord, they would all die here today. He recieved a grim reminder of that as three of his soldiers died all at the same time.

Owen grabbed Mirian, Rehan, and Gorath and ran down the stairs. It was a mess. Corpses littered the floor near the gate. Lome was locked in battle with the Lord. It wasn’t looking good. Owen leapt down, landing in the main hall.

Summoning Heartseeker’s Edge, he engaged in combat with the orcen threat. Everywhere his blade danced, he took a life. He entered a bloody rhythm, a dance of death. The orcs had far larger numbers than he did, more than Owen had thought.

For every moment that passed, the situation looked worse and worse. Even with Owen slaughtering the orcs along with his Generals, the orcs were also taking valuable lives of their own. Watching his soldiers breathe their last breath, either having their necks sliced open, or blades plunged into their insides, turned Owen mad.

He picked up the pace, his blade slicing through flesh, biting into bone, before gliding through as he placed more strength into his arm. Blood splashed across the face of Dune’s Crest.

With Lome locked in battle with the orcen Lord, allowed Owen to kill his way through the orcs. As he took more lives, the hesitance at the core of his being was stripped away. Every move of his blade was designed to kill, maim, and slaughter. He held no reservations. It was him, or them. He viewed them as monsters that needed to be exterminated. Only after convincing himself of that, was he able to kill without thought or remorse.

In a matter of 20 seconds or so, he had already slain 15 or so orcs. He stopped counting after the third. More just kept on filtering through the shattered gate. Orcs then appeared from behind. It was those shrouded in the sand. A snake-like form of sand moved at high speed on the floor. Cedric tried cutting through it, but it was of no use. It grabbed hold of Owen’s ankles and yanked him to the floor, despite his high Strength.

Owen ungracefully flipped his body and narrowly avoided an axe to the shoulder. He snapped his leg to the attacker's knee, caving it inward with a crunch. Then, he replied with a wide swing of his blade, slicing through the orcs throat.

The orcen sand mage continued to constrict him and put him in harm's way. Owen’s soldiers tried cutting their way to the mage, but powerful orc warriors protected him. It was obvious what his worth was to the orcen Lord. One orc in particular had huge plated armour with a helmet to match. He was like a great iron wall that stopped all from advancing towards him.

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Owen heard shouting. He looked over from where he hobbled, only to see Gorath was captured and pulled to the orcen Lord’s side. Owen’s heart dropped. The orcen Lord laughed and raised his axe. He was about to cleave it down on Gorath’s skull, when a voice interrupted them.

Spinning on his heels, he saw the captured orc by the sand mage’s side. He stepped forwards, and said, “My Lord, he holds no loyalty to these heathens. Absorb him into the army. Make use of his power. He holds incredible potential.”

The orcen Lord paused his axe. He spoke to Gorath. “Is this true?”

Gorath cast Owen a glare of hatred. He yanked at the chains on his throat. “What do you think, my Lord?”

The orcen Lord laughed. “So be it. Then kill your previous master, and be done with his weakness. Today, I shall rule.”

Gorath gathered his mana. Owen stood there, defenceless, as if he welcomed it. Would Gorath betray him, or would he show his loyalty? With him so close to the orcen Lord right now, the moment he didn’t kill Owen, the Lord would decapitate him where he stood.

Lightning crackled in the air. It was so potent and violent, that everyones hair stood up on edge. Gorath smiled at Owen. Owen grinned back. In an instant, Owen summoned the Fragment he had hidden from his enemy until now: Orcen Totem. Gorath’s spell instantly powered up, and then he used Lightning Surge to empower his magic even further. The orcen Lord gasped in surprise, as did all the others. He laughed, only for it to be cut short the moment Gorath cast his magic.

Owen ducked thanks to the signal Gorath had given him, and the crackling storm of pure lightning slammed into the mighty metal orc. It cooked him from within, turning his flesh, bone, and organs to ash. Lightning continued, chaining to the orcen sand mage. He attempted to summon a wall of sand, but it was too late; Gorath’s magic had already landed. Maybe only because of his quick reactions, he lived, barely.

The orcen Lord flew into unbridled rage. He swept his axe towards Gorath.

“Draed!” Owen yelled over the sound of clashing metal.

Draed fired a quick arrow at the orcen Lord, but the hulking humanoid held no intentions of dodging. The arrow-tip stuck into his chest, but his axe continued unimpeded. Then Mirian appeared, pulling Gorath out of the deadly axe edge’s path.

Mirian plunged her dagger into a nearby orcs heart, then while pulling Gorath, made her way into another room of the wall. Orcs chased, but Owen had no time to worry about them. He just hoped to any god that would listen that they would make it out alive. Mirian had done it once, and she could do it again.

With the orcen Lord in a maddened rage, and no longer holding back, his soldiers paid the price. One-by-one, they were slaughtered as the huge green man cut his way towards Owen. Cedric brandished his blade, and dashed to stop his rampage.

“Cedric!” Owen screamed, but it was too late.

The orcen Lord’s eyes suddenly turned crimson, and his speed almost tripled. He swung his axe in a savage arc, and by the time Owen had blinked, Cedric was severed in half.

“Cedric!” Owen yelled, his throat turning raw.

Owen’s mind turned numb. If this was to continue, all of his men and women would die here. He had to do something.

Voice trembling, he yelled at the Lord orc, “Fight be one-on-one! Let’s end this, just you and me!”

“My Lord, you can’t–” Draed tried bargaining with Owen, but he shook him off.

The orcen Lord laughed. He stopped his axe mid-swing, and then glowered at Owen. “You invoke the Lord’s right to challenge? So be it. Pick your dying ground.”

Thorin, who was bloodied and wounded all over, who was unable to make use of his strengths in such confined spaces, also tried talking him out of it. But Owen was resolute. He looked at everyone here. Lome, Elena, Draed, Rehan, Zog, Drak, Varik, Rizael, who was busy healing those at the back, the Builders who bared arms, Bron who although wounded, brandished his pickaxe, ready to get revenge for his fallen brothers.

Owen retreated to the middle courtyard—the space that was meant to be made into a garden. He called upon Rehan, and whispered into his ear, “Make sure you get Pyris out of here. She is strong enough to resist the soul tear if I die.”

Rehan grit his teeth, but didn’t try and talk him out of it. He placed his hand on Owen’s shoulder. “We’ll get her and the others out of here alive. You’ve got this.”

Owen nodded. “Go,” he said, and Rehan took his leave with one last look at Owen. Owen turned his attention to the others, and nodded to them.

Owen took a deep breath and clenched the handle of his blade so tight, his tender knuckles turned white. He felt his heart, which was smashing against his chest, then placed both hands on his sword.

I don’t want to die, Owen thought, biting his lip so hard they bled. Owen tasted the tang of thick copper. It seemed to activate something in his mind as his heartbeat calmed, shoulders relaxed.