Chapter Seventy-Seven: The Beast Tribe’s Settlement

The eerie, dark red mist gradually faded, yet the stinging, metallic scent of blood still hung heavily in the air. The orc swung his greatsword with a sharp flick; with a crisp sound, every trace of blood was flung clean from the blade. He glanced down at the ground—poor Gus had been cleaved in two by a single stroke, his innards spilling out in tangled profusion, mingling with fresh blood that stained the earth crimson. Beside him, however, Provis lay perfectly intact, sprawled on his side. This incongruous scene drew a peculiar expression to Veil’s face. After all, the orc had faced Provis directly and swung his sword without moving his feet in the slightest, yet in the end, it was Gus, cowering behind Provis, who was split in half, while Provis, at the forefront, emerged unscathed.

The orc retrieved his sword and cast a cold glance at Provis. A faint, mocking smile curled at his lips. Though Provis appeared limp and lifeless on the ground, a closer look revealed he was already awake. The fear of death had sent his breathing into a frantic rhythm, and despite his efforts to suppress it, the violent rise and fall of his chest betrayed his agitation.

With a snort, the orc made a guttural sound, reminiscent of a human’s disdainful scoff. He reached out a massive arm and effortlessly hoisted the still-feigning Provis into the air. At that moment, Provis could endure no longer—his eyes flew open, his mouth stretched wide to scream, but before he could utter a sound, the orc’s thick fingers squeezed gently at his neck, and the hapless soul master truly fell unconscious.

Slinging the limp Provis over his shoulder, the orc seemed unburdened by the weight of the slight human. As he turned, his gaze swept over Veil and his companion. In that instant, a chill so intense it seemed to freeze their very nerves flooded their hearts—a killing intent, sharp and palpable.

Veil knew this was the aura of someone who had bathed in blood and survived battlefields—a murderous intent that could make ordinary men tremble with dread. This orc, without doubt, exuded that dangerous, lethal presence.

“Human… Outsiders… Leave… Won’t kill,” the orc rumbled. Though he spoke the human tongue, his words were awkward and halting, forcing Veil to puzzle out his meaning: the orc was telling them to leave the mists.

“Boss, let’s get out of here, quick!” Buck’s narrow eyes flashed with an odd light after hearing the orc’s words. He hurriedly tugged at Veil’s sleeve.

“Wait…” Veil motioned for Buck to hold his tongue. He turned and craned his neck to meet the orc’s gaze. The creature stood at least two and a half meters tall, a giant compared to Veil. Straining his neck, he could barely see the orc’s face.

“Do you know who you have on your shoulder? I mean no harm, nor am I his companion. In fact, this man nearly killed my companion and me just moments ago!” Veil put on a look of righteous indignation, but the orc merely glanced at him coolly, giving no response whatsoever, as if he hadn’t even heard the words.

Veil sighed inwardly at his rebuff, shrugging helplessly. He didn’t believe for a moment that the orc failed to understand his meaning.

“Let’s try another question. Not long ago, a woman entered this mist—do you understand? A woman, yes… to be precise, a female mage…” At this, Veil saw a sharp glint flash in the orc’s eyes, sending a jolt of fear through him. Quickly, Veil pressed on, “She’s my teacher. According to what that man said, she was gravely wounded while fighting an enemy. I must find her! Have you seen her?”

The orc opened his mouth as if to speak, but his grasp of the human language was clearly limited. After a long pause, he pointed first at Veil, then northward, and managed, with great effort, to say, “You… I… together… tribe!”

Go with him to the orc tribe? What did that mean? Was this woman, Provis, in the orc’s tribal lands? If so, did that mean Veil would have to venture there himself?

Thoughts churned chaotically in Veil’s mind. He glanced at Buck, whose sly triangular eyes instantly understood. Buck threw himself at Veil’s feet, sobbing and wailing, “Boss, going to the orc tribe is too dangerous! I’m just a simple man—I can’t face those terrifying orcs. Please, boss, you go ahead. I’ll wait here for your safe return!”

Buck’s theatrics were impressive; his cries were so convincing one might think he had lost his parents. But all he got in return was a sharp kick from Veil, who growled, “Damn! I’m not dead yet! Hmph, I wasn’t planning on this, but since you say the orc tribe is so dangerous… Buck, my most loyal servant, you’ll come with me to their tribe!”

At Veil’s words, Buck nearly choked on his own regret. He opened his mouth to protest but, catching the wicked smile at Veil’s lips, swallowed his words in terror.

To Buck, Veil’s smile was as devilish as any demon’s.

Apparently satisfied with Buck’s reaction, Veil turned to the orc, gesturing as he spoke: “Can he come with us to your tribe? He’s my companion too.”

Though the orc struggled with speech, his hearing was sound. He glanced at Buck, nodded to Veil, and indicated that Buck could accompany them to the orc tribe.