The rest of the day was boring as they went from store to store and sometimes making a trip back to the house to unload. Derek played guard, he played babysitter; he sat around and waited. They finished at both grocery stores and the day was winding to a close, but they needed to make at least one trip to the hardware store. The women and kids decided to stay at the house to handle all the food and to start preserving it, leaving the guys to make the last trip for the day.
When they reached the hardware store, its desolation hung heavily in the air. The vibrant hum of commerce that once resonated through these walls was now replaced by an oppressive stillness. Derek’s forceful kick sent the back door crashing open, its creaking hinges ripping apart in shrieks of twisted metal. The sound reverberated off the aisles, amplifying the eerie abandonment. As he heaved the main door upwards, daylight seeped in, casting elongated shadows across the sawdust-coated shelves. The light revealed the remnants of hurried departures: scattered tools, half-empty racks, and the faint scent of wood and metal polish lingering in the air.
Carson moved with focused intent, breaking the silence as he fired up a forklift. The machine’s engine roared to life, its familiar rumble a jarring contrast to the stillness, momentarily filling the void with the echoes of a forgotten normalcy. The sound seemed to rattle the very bones of the building, stirring up a cloud of dust that danced in the shafts of light.
Derek kicked in the office door, his mind briefly noting the eerie stillness of the place — a sharp contrast to the typical busy chatter of hardware stores. Finding the keys to the delivery truck, he brought it around for loading. As he watched Carson load the truck, a part of his mind was already strategizing for the return journey, considering potential threats and the best routes back. The heaviness of the loaded truck caught his attention, a silent reminder of the gravity of their situation.
As they secured the last of the plywood, Phil’s sharp call broke the evening calm. ‘Orcs!’ he shouted, his eyes scanning the approaching threat.
From a distance, the rhythmic sound of marching disrupted the evening’s calm. A formation of two dozen orcs emerged down the road, their steel-clad figures marching with military precision. Derek’s eyes narrowed as he assessed them. Clad in plated steel armor and wielding steel weapons, they were unlike any foes they had encountered before. Among them, two figures stood out, draped in tribal garb, likely leaders or shamans. The disciplined march of the orcs sent a clear message: they were not mere brutes but a trained militia, a formidable force.
Derek, recognizing the urgency, immediately took command. “Strap down those loads, fast. We need to move.”
Phil hesitated, a mix of concern and determination in his eyes. “Derek, we can—”
“No. It’s too risky. Head back now.” His gaze met Phil’s, conveying a silent message of trust and strategy.
Carson, who had been quiet till now, chimed in with a nod. “He’s right. We’ll just be in the way if we stay. Derek, just... be careful, alright?”
Derek gave a curt nod, acknowledging Carson’s concern with a brief glance. “I’ll manage. Just make sure everything’s secure and get safety. That’s your priority.”
Carson ran over and tied down the last load as Derek started toward the horde. His attention was already on the advancing orcs, his mind calculating the best approach to delay them. Derek rushed around the stacked pallets and toward the orcs. He understood that the two in the center were special and if he could eliminate them first, then he could eliminate the warriors after.
The trucks starting pulled the attention of the orcs and they saw Derek maneuvered through the labyrinth of stacked pallets, his focus on the approaching threat. The orcs, now closer, moved with a menacing precision. Their frontline stepped forward in unison, spears poised and glinting in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the disorder of their surroundings.
Derek locked down on the fear that was welling up inside him as he pushed forward. It was hard to keep thinking about Marie's words as this armored, trained, and coordinated group posed an intimidating threat that may well kill him. Despite the fact that they were orcs, they were obviously a higher level than what he had fought back at the house.
Derek cautiously approached, spinning and twirling his bar with a practiced ease. Despite his strength, he was acutely aware of the orcs’ steel weapons and armor, a clear disadvantage against his plain attire. Derek pushed idle the thought aside, focusing on the immediate threat as the front line spread out and moved into practiced formations. He had to reach the two special orcs at the center.
A sharp pain in his back from a spear thrust snapped him back to the harsh reality of the fight. Derek pushed past the pain and spun, but caught nothing but air as he worked to return the favor. He could feel his blood starting to seep from the wound, causing his new shirt to stick to his back.
He continued through the spin to attack the orc who had stabbed him, but it was well out of reach. The entire group surrounded him. He calmed to a stop when he realized that none of the orcs were approaching but waiting for him to approach them directly. They were much more intelligent than their barbaric counterparts.
Derek reached for the familiar surge of Ravager’s Resolve, a unique ability that would have given him the strength to end this threat. However, an alarming message flashed across his interface:
Ravager’s Resolve is currently on cooldown: Available in 00:24:51
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Fuck!”
He had relied on this ability to get the upper hand. With no time to waste, Derek shifted into survival mode. He parried a spear with a swift swing of his bar, then thrust it forward with brute force, slamming it against an orc’s helmet. The impact sent the creature staggering backward, dazed. Just then, another orc seized the moment, thrusting its spear into Derek’s leg. He winced in pain, but kept his focus.
In the periphery, the sharp crack of rifle fire sliced through the chaos. Derek glimpsed an orc’s head jerking back, a gruesome spray of blood and brain matter painting the air as a bullet found its mark. Another orc fell similarly, a testament to the precise, lethal shots from his unseen allies. Derek couldn’t pay it any mind. He capitalized on the gap in their line and swung his bar, breaking an elbow.
A ray of scorching fire splashed across Derek’s shoulder, face, and arm, burning away the hoodie and the hair on the side of his face. Several spears attacked hit him from behind, but he ignored the pain with a cry of fury. A spear punched into his gut as the wielder’s neck exploded from a rifle round. Derek collapsed to the ground as pain radiated through his body. The bar fell from his limp hands as he grasped at his stomach to hold his organs in his body. The last thing he saw before everything went black was a club swinging toward his face.
Phil shouted, as he watched Derek fall under the horde. The blood spray from that orc’s mace spoke volumes about Derek’s condition. His rifle bucked and the head of the mage that had cast the firebolt exploded despite a translucent shield that covered it. The orcs turned away from Derek and looked to them, instantly locking onto the source of the dead.
Carson’s rifle slammed into his shoulder repeatedly as fire burst from the barrel of the AR. Carson moved between magazines as if he had trained that action hundreds of times.
“Reloading!” Phil called as he fumbled with the large rifle rounds, shoving them into the bolt-action rifle.
Carson never stopped, his face never changed, as the orc’s moved closer. An orc fell on every third round. Phil slammed his bolt home and a second later the second robed orc collapsed to the ground, part of its head missing.
The final orc died not a dozen feet away. Phil dropped his rifle and rushed over to Derek, heedless of safety or cautiousness. He dropped to his knees next to Derek’s body.
“No, no, no. Derek, you can’t die.”
He wasn’t breathing, but Phil could see his body working to heal the damage. It was slow and wouldn’t make it. Phil put his hands on Derek and, remembering how Marie had created that shield, he pushed every ounce of willpower into making Derek start breathing. He didn’t know how she did it. They hadn’t had the opportunity to talk about it.
Carson stepped up and looked down at the scene.
“Phil, he’s gone.”
“No!” Phil shouted.
Phil pushed his mind, will, and even his soul into Derek’s body. He had to do this. If he didn’t… then… Pushing the grim thoughts out of his head, Phil kept pushing. It just wasn’t there.
“How did she do it?” Phil muttered in desperation.
He looked into his own self and the answer was simply there. A well of power, tiny, was there. He grabbed and shoved it into Derek, willing it to heal him. The bones in Derek’s face popped sickeningly as they rearranged themselves and the guts were pulled back into his body. Then the mana was gone.
Derek gasped as his body relearned how to breathe. It was also an agonizing sound, as there were still dozens of spear wounds on his body.
“What did you do?”
“Magic, I healed him.” Phil said, looking at his hands in wonder.
“Tell me, I’ll try it.”
Phil explained it and Carson grabbed on to the magic and pushed it into Derek’s body. Derek screamed as he was ripped back into consciousness. His entire body roared in protest as Derek came off the asphalt. His fist came up, swinging into empty air as his mind worked to process what happened.
The shock of the sudden movement had sent Phil jumping back, barely out of the way, before Derek’s fist cleaved through the air. Derek scooped up his bar and swung it around, looking for an enemy. He bellowed a primal roar that was frightening in its pain and rage. As his mind caught up to the situation, all he saw were Phil and Carson kneeling next to where his body had been.
He dropped the bar and collapsed to his knees, conscious, but in agony as his body forced itself to heal.
Phil, concern etched on his face, cautiously approached Derek, who was regaining his bearings. “Are you okay?”
Derek, wincing slightly and tried to smile, straining his composure. “It’s just a flesh wound.”
Phil let out a chuckle and shook his head, as if disappointed. “Your timing for jokes.”
“Fuck, this hurts. God damned monsters.”
Derek, despite the pain that lingered, moved with efficiency to retrieve his medic bag. With Carson and Phil’s help, he methodically applied bandages to his stab wounds, focusing more on the practical need for treatment than the discomfort he felt.
As Derek pushed himself from the ground, Carson asked, “You sure you don’t need a minute?”
“No time for minutes. We need to get moving.” His words were short.
There were priorities, and hanging around here wasn't one of them. He pushed through the pain. Carson and Phil shared a knowing look, recognizing Derek’s dogged determination and relentless pursuit. After the clash, the parking lot bore the scars of battle. Debris was scattered haphazardly, the ground stained with reminders of the conflict. The air, tainted with gunpowder and the sharp tang of blood, seemed to press against him, a tangible reminder of the close brush with mortality. In that brief pause, Derek allowed himself a moment of introspection, the weight of his survival and the cost it entailed settling heavily on his shoulders. He had almost died, would have died, it if hadn't been for Carson and Phil.
His own survival became questioned, but more importantly, the requirements of survival. The risks and consequences, despite the significant amount of strength he gain he had walked away from the last two battles with severe injuries. Well, not quite walked away. He shook off the reflection almost as quickly as it came, recognizing the need to stay focused and prepared. Survival in this new world demanded it.
Derek, still catching his breath from the intensity of the fight, surveyed the scene with a critical eye. His movements, though efficient, carried the weight of the day’s toll. Each step he took around the scattered remnants of the orcs was measured, a physical manifestation of the battle’s emotional and physical impact.
After defeating the orcs, Derek and his team immediately began to gather the valuable gear left behind. The loot was substantial, and they took anything which could be particularly beneficial. Carson, with his meticulous nature, took charge of sorting through the items, making sure they missed nothing of value. Meanwhile, Phil hauled the gathered equipment to the truck. With the task completed, Derek paused for a moment, surveying their surroundings. Everything was quiet except for the thrumming of the truck's engines.
The task completed, Derek paused for a moment, allowing himself to feel the consequences of his actions and poor decisions. With a nod to his companions, it was time to move out, Derek climbed into the truck. As they drove away, his gaze in the mirror lingered on the scene they left behind, now just another confirmation that he was weak and very ill-prepared.
If those were basic orcs, then maybe he wouldn’t have had an issue, but magic was a new threat that he couldn’t ignore. Those orcs weren't simple mindless creatures, they were smart, trained, and equipped. At least now, both Phil and Marie, and maybe even Carson, could use magic. He didn’t know the extent of what they could do, but they would figure it out.