The rifle barked its loud report joining the sound of another couple hundreds of rifles, the recoil pushing the rifle into my shoulder. I knew without even looking that the bullet had claimed the life of one of the orcs. While I wanted to mostly cripple them so they could be healed, we still needed to kill quite a few before they would surrender. We had to show them we were not weak.

The orcs bellowed their defiance as they rushed ahead towards the line, picking up speed along the way. Like a wave breaking on a dike they rushed into the field of spike I had just created and faltered. If only for a second because then the orcs behind them rammed into their backs, propelling them forward, in many cases knocking the first row of orcs down. Screams filled the air as orcs were perforated by the tiny stone spikes.

The orcs behind them had too much momentum to stop, or they did not care about their brethren’s plight, so they just used the fallen orcs as stepping stones to clear the patch of spikes. They were met by the mighty roar of almost four hundred dragons shooting almost simultaneously, dropping even more orcs onto the spikes.

That roar was followed by the sharp bark of the rifles of the third rank, and the thunderous boom of the blunderbusses of the second rank. More orcs dropping onto the spikes. I handed my rifle to the Wolf Guard behind me, not even taking a look. Using a small trickle of magic, I shouted, “Brace for impact!”

Up and down the line I heard squad leaders barking orders like, “Stand fast!”, “Make ‘em bleed!” and “If you move one inch back, I’ll have you whipped!”. That last one was a Unifier, more specifically one of the undercover priests. I stared at him hard for a split second while channelling my magic.

I was tempted to kill him at once, but instead, I concentrated on the spikes turning orcs into sieves. With a mighty push of magic, all of the spikes elongated another centimetre and grew barbs inside the wounds. Meaning that if any of them wanted to get up, it would fucking hurt. The screams of pain were drowned out by the reverberating sound of shields hitting shields, the ringing of steel on steel, and the grunts of exertion as men and orc pushed against each other in an unequal contest of strength and endurance.

Despite what I had just told the men, I would end up fighting alone, but I was certainly not planning on dying anytime soon. I had a full life ahead of me yet to live. I moved back a little way and barked a prearranged command at the men right in front of me. As I drew my weapons, two of the men in the back row went down on knees, allowing me to use the shields on their backs as steps.

Two of the troopers in the middle row braced their shields across each other, creating a platform for me to jump from. Despite having loads and loads of mana, I had to keep my mana usage down, so as not to awake suspicions amongst the priests.

A few steps to build up a bit of momentum, a little wind magic to push me along once I had jumped had me soaring above the first row of troopers, heading straight for the throng of orcs. Several orcs looked up to see me coming towards them, their spears or other pointy weapons, were levied in my direction.

Since we had time to prepare for them coming, I had the men bury a large amount of iron in the spot I was aiming for. With just a little pull of magic, I had the metal burst out of the ground, knocking aside weapons and clearing a spot for me to land unimpeded.

I felt the soul of someone flying into my own mana pool, into the small weird ball that was the reason I could not uncouple the link between Shenerah and myself. Or at least that was my theory. The ball of absorbed souls, or whatever the fuck it was, had grown very large. It absorbed a soul every time I killed in melee or with my magic, never with guns for some reason.

All of that went through my head as I landed in the small spot cleared by the metal I was commanding. After I landed, I swung high towards an orc in front of me. As expected, he moved his shield to block my swing with the sabre and moved his axe to deflect the shortsword I was trying to stab him with.

Just as I had wanted him to. With a thought, my magic shaped the iron on the ground around me into a scythe that a hand of stone rose up and grabbed. The stone hand and forearm swung the scythe, cutting through the legs of orcs around it, like a farmer cutting down wheat. Screams filled the air, creating a hole behind the guy I was engaged with.

Around the rim of his shield, the large orc stared at me with fear in his eyes. I gave him a smile, just as I kneed him in the groin. As his focus shifted from his weapon, shield, and me, I spun around and past him, low to the ground. I threw my shortsword straight into the air, creating a link between the handle and my left hand’s glove. With my sabre, I cut the tendons at his knees, while I drew a dragon with my left hand.

The dragon’s triumphant cry sounded as fire and pain spat from its maw, ripping through the legs of several orcs, dropping them like felled trees. I discarded the dragon, with a little help of my link, I caught the shortsword by the handle without even looking. Just in time to deflect a thrust of a spear.

Without looking, I answered the attack with a ball of fire to the attacker’s face. Claiming yet another life. It was easier taking a life than it was to disable the orcs.

“Come face me in one on one battle, you cowardly worm!” I roared loudly in orcish, amplified by magic to drown out the cacophony of grunts of exertion, screams of pain, weapon striking shields or flesh, the orders being shouted, and the sharp reports of my riflemen. I dispatched another orc from this life while disabling another two, before repeating my challenge.

However, no answer came.

“If you don’t step up, I’ll start slaughtering your old and weak, I’ve no need for them,” I threatened loudly. Still, no answer was forthcoming, as I blocked several stabs at my person. There was one I could not block or dodge, so I altered my position slightly, so the axe swing bit into my right shoulder instead of the side of my head.

A burst of magic deadened the pain, transformed the axe head into a pauldron that attached itself to my shoulder, and as soon as the wound was clear of any obstruction, it was healed as well. The orc that had wounded looked at me dumbfoundedly as I cut off his head with an almost lazy swing of my sabre.

Seeing the lack of response, I knew I had to push things even further for the yellow-bellied bastard to react. With a burst of speed, I threw myself at the nearest orc, my right shoulder with the pauldron rammed into his chest.

The pauldron had transformed to have a few spikes on it. With access to the bloodstream, as I pushed him back into another of his ilk, the metal became small particles flowing into the bloodstream. I created hundreds of small links to orcs around him.

When the pressure from behind the orc became too much for me to push through, I jumped back, spinning around, slashing and parrying left and right. If I stood still, I died. Constant motion kept me alive. The orc I had been pushing back collapsed in a twitching heap, the particles already perforating his veins, ripping him apart from the inside.

For the next ten seconds, I was just absorbed in defending and riposting, claiming a life here and there, wounding and disabling more than I killed. The ten seconds I had spent on channelling power towards the links, but not activating them.

It became time to activate them, and with a sickening sound the body of the orc, the one with the iron particles in his blood, burst apart. Ripped to pieces as the small sharp metal pieces in his bloodstream pierced through flesh and bone. A variable explosion of blood and viscera hit the orcs around him at the same time as the small particles tore through the air, wounding and maiming dozens of orcs around him, creating an opening.

An opening which I took advantage of without hesitating. I sprinted forward, as well as I could with writhing orcs lying on the ground, through the bloody mist that still hung in the air, obscuring me slightly from the orcs around the path. I only had to deflect a handful of attacks before I was clear of the orcish horde.

I was standing on top of a groaning orc, who gingerly tried to free himself from the barbed stone spikes, but I was unable to really see anything because of the blood running down my face. I stabbed my sabre into his lower back, eliciting an intensified scream of pain, almost resembling that of a stuck pig.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Passing my hand over my face, I used a little water magic to clean it. I drew my sabre from its resting place, making sure not to twist it. The orc had enough problems staying alive without me adding to it. I then made my way across the spikes, jumping from one orc to another.

Free of any orcs, I started crossing the five hundred metres that separated me and the group of non-combatants. From behind me, I heard shouts in orcish about being a “coward” and for someone to do something. Several orcs roared for their chief to fight me. Looking back, I saw that most of the combatants were making their way over the spike patch to follow me.

The group of orcs tried to move away, but my dragoons fired their dragons into the ground, forcing the group to stay where they were. Just as I came within ten metres of the group, a roar went up from inside the group of non-combatants went up, “I accept your challenge, cowardly magic man!”

I snorted in amusement, I could not help myself. I called back, “A coward you call me? I’m not the little bitch hiding amongst those too weak to fight. Come at me, you spineless wimp.”

“No magic! Tell your men to stop fighting!” the orc screamed back at me.

“Agreed,” I shouted and created an illusion of a giant yellow banner, waving back and forth in the air above my head. Orcish shouts of “an honour fight” went up. The shooting started to peter out. The sounds of fighting stopped over the next couple of minutes as shouts of breaking off went up and down the line.

After a minute a large orc, rather muscular compared to the rest, came out. His eyes held a fearful glint in them though. He pointed at me. “No magic. The winner gets to choose fate of the people.”

“Are you sure those are all the rules you want in place?” I asked loudly.

“No help from others. No surrender. Only death!” the orc roared. He then started calling me names, questioning the size of my manhood, and I had to admit I was rather impressed. He certainly knew how to try and needle an opponent into making a rash move.

“Agreed,” I said with a yawn. Then in human, I called out over the battlefield, “If this ugly bastard should manage to kill me, you’re all to submit to the orcs.”

I saw someone whisper to the leader, probably translating what I said. Which was just fine with me, I had not tried to pull a fast one. The orc grunted, took a tentative step forward. I gave him a smile. His eyes narrowed.

I looked him up and down. He was a head taller than me, slightly more muscular than me, but also had the beginning of a pouch on his stomach. The large two-handed sword he wielded would break through any parry I tried to make in a split second. The sword was a macabre thing, with razor-sharp looking spikes up and down the length of the blade. It almost looked like it was built to be intimidating rather than functional.

With a yawn, I threw away my sabre and shortsword. The orcs laughed and their chieftain smiled broadly. “No surrender, I said.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll kill you with this,” I said as I drew a small knife. It was a punch knife, with less length than my thumb. I looked at it. “This seems to be about the size of your cock, I bet you’re killing your wife every night with the lack of pleasure that little tool provides.”

He might be good at dishing it out, but he was not used to taking it. With a roar he stormed at me, swinging wildly in an overhand chop, trying to cleave me in two from head to cock.. Grinning, I stepped to the side, making it miss with a hair’s breadth. Casually I drew a dragon, shoved it in his face.

His eyes went wide, as I cocked the dragon, he let go off his sword and tried to get out of the way, but it was too late. I pulled the trigger, the back of his head bursting open, splattering his brain all over the place.

There was silence for a moment as everyone watched the brainless body sway for a moment, before falling backwards, landing with a thump. My men began cheering, while several orcs started wailing. Someone suddenly shouted, “Cheater!”

The shout came from the group of non-combatants. The shouter seemed to have the courage to rush towards me. I saw several of my troopers cocking their rifles, but I waved them away. The one rushing me was a young orc, probably no older than ten cycles old. She was definitely of mixed heritage, a harpy and an orc I surmised from her looks.

Her wings were leathery instead of feathered. Instead of the dark green skin of the orcs, she had a more light complexion. As far as I could see she had no tusks, and her ears were larger than an orc’s. Her eyes looked grim, angry, and sad. Tears streamed from them freely.

“I did not cheat,” I replied, and stepped to the side so she did not hurt herself by running into me. She was less than half my size.

“You used a ranged weapon to kill, Daddy!” she screamed, going for the large two-handed sword that was stuck in the ground.

“I did,” I admitted with a shrug. “I’m sorry for your loss, but he set the rules. He mentioned nothing about ranged weapons.”

“It’s implied!” she screamed, grunting with exertion as she tried pulling the sword out of the ground. Despite her “Stupid honourless human!”

“Please don’t hurt her, Chieftain!” an old orc called out, as he hobbled forward. “She’s a willful child, means nothing by it.”

Arkoshta had slipped up to me unnoticed. “Greetings, Brother of the God of War.”

The man looked shocked for a moment. “Greetings Sister of the Goddess of Glory.”

The winged girl had given up her fruitless endeavour and had rushed me, something made the Shaman cry out in fright. I deadened my nerves, so when she started hitting my stomach it did not matter. For safety reasons, I secured all my weapons with a link to their sheathes. After a handful of ineffective blows to my stomach, one hand tried to sneak out my dagger, but like the sword, she could not draw it.

She screamed in frustration and punched me in the balls. I flinched despite not feeling any pain. Her temper tantrum had gone on long enough. I did the one thing I would never do to my own kids, I slapped her. Not hard, but slapped her nonetheless. More the shock than actual pain sent her sprawling to the ground.

“This one lacks discipline,” Arkoshta grunted.

The other shaman fell to his knees, begging, “Please don’t kill her.”

The her in question looked at me with a dazed expression, mumbling “You hit me.” over and over again.

“I’m not going to kill her, but she needs to control herself,” I grunted, checking myself to make sure there was no lasting damage to myself. Just to be on the safe side I flushed my system with healing magic.

The shaman crawled over to the girl and collected him in his arms, she did not react, it was like she was caught in a loop. He looked up at me. “What will happen to us?”

Before I could answer, Arkoshta answered, “You and half the warriors will be enslaved by Lord Karth, the rest will be integrated into our group of outcasts.”

The orc looked speculative for a moment. “Who leads your group?”

“My father, Barka.”

The shaman looked at the girl in his arms, then back to Arkoshta. “Does he still treat half-breeds as he did in the past?”

“They’re weak and not worthy of an equal say in matters of import,” was Arkoshta’s reply, her voice devoid of emotions making it clear that she did not hold the same belief.

The Shaman turned to me. “Please, Lord Karth, she’s the daughter of our former chief, don’t make her become a person only better than trash. Let her, her sister, if still alive, and a dozen of our trusted men go, the rest of us will follow your commands without any complaint.”

“I can’t let any of you go. I’ve got a purpose for all of you,” I said coldly. The girl started to come out of her temporary stupor, but the shaman mumbled something, and she fell asleep.

“Please, don’t send the sisters to Barka, he’ll make their life hell when he learns that they’re the daughters of Chief Knarota.”

I looked at Arkoshta. She provided an answer to my unasked question, “Knarota was the sub-chief before my father. In an effort to break Knarota’s will, my father and a dozen men caught and raped Knarota’s wife. Knarota flew into a rage and attacked my father in public. The chief had no choice but to banish Knarota.”

A realisation went through me. I had been played, again. The information Barka had been the truth, but not the whole truth. I looked at Arkoshta. “Your father played me.”

“Yes, once I told him that you were brimming with the magic of giants, he knew that he had to be careful,” she said, a little smugness in her voice.

My eyes narrowed, and I started gathering magic for three different attacks. Her eyes went wide, and she started backing away. I took a deep breath. Taking my anger out on her would not be productive. I still needed her. I would find another way of making Barka pay.

I turned back to the Shaman. “I can’t let her and her sister go free, but I can make sure that they don’t go with Barka. If everyone is cooperative, I won’t enslave them. I need fighters to take down some of the clans.”

“What will the sister have to do for you?” he asked, reluctantly.

“That’s up to them. Some things are not available unless they have a collar on. As you’ll notice, except for the blue shirts, most of my men are collared. Not because I treat them as slaves, or because I got trust issues. Simply because it’s the only way I can give them access to all the magic items available to my people.”

The Shaman looked thoughtful for a long time. “I guess that’s the best we can hope for. We accept your terms.”

“Great,” I said with a smile. “Now, spread the word amongst your orcs, whatever happens, don’t do anything. Act two of this little play is about to begin.”