“This has worked out better than I expected,” Leonard admitted.

He had known to expect the other teams to target him. Taking the central totem was done precisely with that in mind. But he might have underestimated just how much the other orcs wanted to be the ones to take him out.

“You think?” Oliver asked sarcastically, avoiding a polearm thrust that would have sent him flying, bringing his sword against the hardwood and cutting it in two.

His opponent didn’t let that stop him and instead head-butted the boy, making him stagger back in surprise. Fortunately, his holy armor was still working, and the damage was only some lost momentum.

That was quickly recovered as Neer finished off her own opponent by throwing his injured form against Oliver’s, allowing the redhead to drive his sword’s pommel against the orc’s head.

Seeing that the others were done, Leonard hurried up. Rather than avoiding the arrow coming his way, he grabbed it out of the air—no mean feat, given that it was an Expert’s—and, with a heave, threw it back where it came from.

A pained cry told him that he had hit his target and, fortunately, not killed him. Resurrection was always possible, but he was waiting to use it for maximum effect when all attention was on him.

“It might have worked too well,” Leonard grumbled.

“I don’t know how sarcastic you are being, but you should know they are all coming at us because you are human. Not because of strategic reasons.” Neer sighed, walking over to the tangled orcs to ensure they didn’t bleed out.

A nearby tree groaned in response to her gesture, and a branch lowered, twisting to grab the two losers and drawing them in. They disappeared into its trunk, and the half-orc stood up, cleaning her hands of the dust. “They might respect your prowess, but that’s only another reason to fight you first. The one to defeat you will be wildly popular and likelier to win the whole thing.”

Leonard wiped nonexistent sweat from his brow in an automatic action that had long since lost its usefulness but served to make him feel human, scanning the arena as they stood victorious over the latest group that had dared to challenge them. The scattered bodies of their defeated opponents were already being pulled away by the magical trees, vanishing from sight. He had to admit, Neer was doing a very good job.

“Four groups down,” Oliver muttered, just loud enough to be heard. “And we haven’t moved an inch from here. It’s so unfair that the others can have up to seven people and split up while we are stuck.”

Leonard sighed but didn’t reprimand the boy. In a way, he agreed. He could feel battles raging in the other parts of the arena—magical flares and the dull thud of clashing steel echoed through the air, far enough away that they weren’t immediately threatened but close enough that he knew the trial wasn’t over. Each group had its strategy, and most seemed focused on claiming the other totems, granting them valuable boons that would empower them for the final fight.

But the griffin? It was the ultimate prize, and every eye had been on him from the moment he claimed it.

“Guess we’re the popular kids.” Oliver eventually sighed, wiping the dirt from his face and casting a wary glance at the surrounding trees.

Leonard couldn’t help but grin at the boy’s attempt at humor, but the truth was that staying here meant allowing the orcs to resolve the trial on their own. That wasn’t the right play now that the first wave of attacks was over. Winning wouldn’t just be determined by who held the central totem, after all—they had to make a strong showing and prove themselves.

“So, what’s the plan, Sir? We’re not just waiting for the next wave to roll in, are we?” Neer asked, echoing his thoughts. As the victories had racked up, she had relaxed more. Leonard couldn’t refute that it was part of why he had decided to stay still for so long. He had to get her head in the game for the next part.

He shook his head. “No. Staying put is a mistake. We’ve held the totem long enough to prove we can, but now it’s time to move. We'll show everyone we can take the fight to the others, too. Plus, while losing the totem would weaken us, we don’t need it to win.”

Oliver raised a hopeful eyebrow. “So we’re finally moving?”

Leonard nodded, glancing back at the griffin. “Yeah. We need to get out there and make a stronger showing. Two teams are already out of the fight, thanks to us, and the remnants of the other two are about to clash as we speak. We can’t sit here while they settle things. Being the last ones standing because we avoided fighting might show some wisdom, but I must take to the field to be acknowledged as a warchief.”

Neer straightened. “Who’s our target?”

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“Both of them. If we want to win, we have to take down everyone left. The teams are almost full, with only a couple of losses to each side, and that gives us an opportunity. They’ll take a while to fight it out.”

They took a longer route that Leonard had scouted out while fighting with the rabble and passed by the southern totem, its lion-headed statue still glowing with the boon of courage. A single guard had been left behind in the assumption that no one left would bother with an attack so far from the thick of the fighting. Leonard made quick work of him, deflecting a wild swing from the orc’s axe and then stunning him with a single well-placed punch. Neer threw the unconscious body to the trees, and they claimed the totem’s boon without further delay.

Again, Leonard felt the magic try to overcome his defenses—the courage totem granted immunity to fear, and he felt an aggressive surge of energy just waiting to course through him. It was a dangerous, potent boost that added to the already impressive magic of the griffin’s protection. It was also precisely like an orc warrior to prefer berserk rage to a cool mind. Leonard dispelled it with a huff, and the totem crumbled.

This is why Grakkor didn’t just hand out the leadership to one of the better fighters. To be warchief, you need more than strength and guts.

They pressed onward, heading east, where the sounds of battle grew louder but visibly lesser as a magical mist permeated everything. Leonard slowed down as they approached the last two remaining teams, motioning for silence. From their vantage point above the fog, they saw the last fighters clash.

Hussa’s team spread out on one side, a feral grin never leaving her face as she barked orders at her warriors and handled two enemies on her own. Her team had claimed the strength totem, which showed in how they fought—every strike was filled with raw, brutal force. But the other team, led by an orc Leonard didn’t recognize, was no slouch. They had the resilience totem and the only shaman he had seen in the trial. With his reserves increased by the boon, he intervened every time Hussa’s people got close to winning, forcing them back.

The two teams were at an impasse, Hussa’s archer keeping the shaman pinned while the warriors tried and failed to break through. Neither side could gain the upper hand, and the frustration in the air kept growing.

I didn’t mean to do it this way, but this might be better. Waiting too long is not my style, anyway.

Leonard stepped forward and lifted a hand, imposing his will upon reality. Whatever magic was producing the mist fell apart immediately—drawing the attention of both teams instantly. Hussa’s sharp eyes locked onto him, and her grin widened even further. The other orc leader turned with a snarl, clearly recognizing the threat.

For a moment, everything was still, the air thick with anticipation.

And then, just as Leonard expected, the two orc teams came to a silent agreement. They would deal with him first. The humans were the wild card, and their arrival would only complicate things. Better to eliminate Leonard’s group now and then settle their differences afterward.

Neer’s grip tightened on her cleaver’s handle. “Let me handle Hussa,” she asked intensely.

Leonard paused, looking at her. There was the fierceness he had come to expect. He knew Hussa had been baiting her for days, pretending to be precisely what a lost half-orc would want to see and then pushing her buttons, trying to get under her skin. He also knew Neer well enough to trust her judgment when it came to handling personal battles. He'd give her another chance if she thought she could handle it this time.

He nodded. “She’s yours.”

Neer didn’t need any more encouragement. She broke into a sprint, heading straight for Hussa and jumping off the hill, howling in challenge.

“Let’s finish this,” Leonard muttered, unsheathing his sword. He scanned the remaining orcs, ten in total. They stood between him and the path to victory, each roaring in challenge as they prepared for battle. Only one remained silent. His gnarled staff crackled with magic, eyes glowing faintly under his hood.

He noticed Oliver glance toward the shaman, narrowing his eyes with determination. He even angled toward the magic-user, clearly eager to take him on.

Leonard smirked. Let the boy have his challenge.

He hurled his sword into the sky with a single flick of his wrist. It spun upward, vanishing into the blue hundreds of feet above them.

The orcs blinked in confusion, momentarily thrown off by the strange maneuver. But Leonard was already moving.

He charged forward faster than any of them could react, crashing into the group like a force of nature. His first target, a hulking brute with a battleaxe, swung wide, and Leonard ducked under the arc, his fist driving into the orc’s solar plexus. The blow landed with a sickening crack, a shockwave rippling from the impact. The orc’s eyes bulged as the air left his lungs and he was lifted off the ground, crashing into two of his comrades.

Before the others could react, Leonard’s foot connected with another orc’s ribs, sending him skidding across the dirt, cracking the ground beneath him as he collided with a rock formation. The rest roared, weapons swinging wildly, but Leonard weaved between the attacks casually.

A slash came at him from the side, a gleaming arc of cutting magic trailing behind it. Leonard leaped into the air, flipping over the sword, and twisted mid-flight. The orc beneath him stared in disbelief as Leonard passed him, landing with a thunderous kick to the back of his skull. The orc dropped instantly, unconscious before he even hit the ground.

Another rushed in from the right, swinging a massive hammer carved with glowing runes. Leonard sidestepped at the last second, letting the hammer smash into the earth with a resounding boom, cracks spider-webbing out from the impact. Without missing a beat, he grabbed the orc’s arm and used his own momentum against him, flipping the massive warrior over his shoulder and slamming him into the dirt with enough force to leave an imprint.

The remaining orcs hesitated, doubt creeping into their eyes. Leonard stood tall, unfazed.

“You’re not done yet.”

Two orcs rushed him at once, axes swinging in tandem. Leonard caught a wrist mid-swing, twisting until he got a howl of pain. He spun, using the orc’s body as a shield against the other, forcing his attacker to stumble. With a swift kick to the back of the knee, Leonard sent the first orc crumpling to the ground, his hand still gripping his shattered wrist.

The second orc barely had time to react before Leonard’s fist slammed into his gut, lifting him off the ground with the sheer force of the blow. A ripple of energy cracked the ground as the orc flew backward, crashing into the trees.

The archer in the back released an arrow now that he had a clear shot, aiming for Leonard’s head. Without even turning, Leonard sidestepped, letting it whistle past him. His body blurred as he rushed forward, instantly closing the distance. The archer barely had time to draw another arrow before Leonard’s hand gripped his neck. He slammed the orc into the dirt, leaving him gasping for breath with a ruined throat.

The final two warriors rushed in unison, flanking Leonard from both sides. Leonard ducked low, sweeping the legs out from one while catching the other’s blade with his forearm, ignoring the feeling of enchanted steel on his skin. It couldn’t harm him. He twisted, kicking the first orc into the other, sending both sprawling into a heap.

Leonard took a deep breath, standing amid the wreckage. The orcs lay scattered around him, groaning in pain or unconscious, except for the last two, who tried to untangle themselves.

Just then, his sword finished its descent. Leonard reached out, his hand closing around the hilt with perfect timing, catching the blade just as it hovered an inch from impaling the two scrambling warriors.

“Still got it.”