The three greenish orcs stood silently, awaiting Zane’s approach. Their eyes gleamed with intelligence and killing intent. Each gripped a cleaver bristling with metal spikes, the blades pulsing faintly with mana.
Zane’s eyes narrowed as he assessed them. Above their heads hovered the expected bars:
Health: 100 | Mana: 100
Strength: 62 | Agility: 60 | Intelligence: 61
"That’s... a big jump."
No more cannon fodder. These were elite-tier orcs.
Two of them surged forward, cleavers glowing. With synchronized swings, they slammed their weapons into the ground.
The stone floor split open as jagged fissures tore through the ground, racing toward him—Earth-style: Fissure, an A.O.E. attack meant to corner and crush.
Zane flickered out of the way, his figure blurring as he narrowly avoided the exploding terrain beneath his feet.
"That was close..." he muttered, beads of sweat forming.
"They’re faster—and more coordinated."
Before he could recover, a sudden chill ran down his spine.
He spun instinctively.
The third orc had crept behind him, cleaver raised high.
Zane ducked, the weapon missing his head by inches. Mana crackled along its edge—if that blow had landed, it wouldn’t have just wounded him—it could’ve taken him out of the fight.
But it didn’t end there.
The missed cleaver struck the ground, triggering yet another Fissure, but this one was... different.
The jagged earth surged forth—not in a straight line, but curving, twisting as if it had a mind of its own.
"A homing fissure?! Seriously?"
He vanished into a blur, zig-zagging across the battlefield. The fissure trailed him relentlessly, mimicking his every movement, rising and falling like a wave beneath his feet.
It finally fizzled out after several seconds, but he’d barely caught his breath before the other two orcs struck again—this time from opposite sides.
Their timing was impeccable.
Cleavers whistled through the air, earth cracked beneath their footwork, and mana surged with each swing.
Zane ducked, weaved, dashed, and side-stepped—barely keeping ahead of the relentless storm.
Not a single chance to counterattack.
He gritted his teeth.
"They’re not giving me a moment. Every move’s coordinated—covering blind spots, reacting to each other’s attacks... Damn, it’s like fighting a trained squad."
Still, he didn’t panic.
Thanks to his superior Agility, his movement technique, and mana control, he danced through the battlefield like a ghost—conserving energy, using only what was necessary.
But deep down, he knew—he’d need more than defense to win this fight.
The coordinated barrage showed no sign of slowing, but Zane maintained a perfect dance of distance and dodges, always slipping just out of reach. Then, unexpectedly, one of the orcs growled—a guttural, sharp noise—and the others responded in kind.
Their attacks abruptly halted.
Zane blinked in confusion, watching as the trio stood in a loose triangle and began speaking in their strange, high-pitched, screeching language.
It grated on his ears.
But what surprised him even more was the sudden appearance of virtual subtitles in his vision.
[System Feature: Auto-Translate Activated - "Orcish Language"]
"No way... This system’s cooler than I thought."
The first orc snarled, "This tactic’s useless. He’s too slippery. Not a single strike landed."
Zane couldn’t help but smirk. "So your year-long, polished tactics couldn’t even scratch me? Sorry, boys."
The second orc muttered, "That nimble white slouch is a problem."
The third nodded, "A strange being. Not like anything we’ve trained against."
Zane raised an eyebrow. "Nimble white slouch? That’s a first."
Then the first orc suggested something that piqued his curiosity:
"Let’s use our other magical skills."
The others agreed, a gleam of confidence flashing in their eyes.
"Wait... more than just Fissure?" Zane felt a strange thrill pulse through his chest.
"I thought that was their only spell!"
The subtitles confirmed what he suspected—they were capable of far more than just their terrain-tearing A.O.E. attacks. And now, they were preparing to unleash it.
The three orcs separated, taking positions around him. Zane’s eyes locked on their mana bars—each of them dropped by nearly half.
"So, their special skills burn more mana," he observed.
Another passive advantage from the system—being able to see their resources in real-time. It gave him a strategic edge, and he knew it.
And as predicted—right on the money—he braced himself.
Something big was coming.
One orc launched the Fissure skill again. Zane responded instinctively, activating Luminous Step and darting across the battlefield, his body flickering like a phantom. But just as he began to accelerate further, a second fissure—this one homing—shot out from the second orc.
He gritted his teeth, ready to dodge again—until it happened.
The third orc unleashed its special skill.
Zane’s limbs suddenly felt heavy, like his body was being pulled down by invisible chains. His feet dragged against the floor, the friction almost causing sparks. Even under the boost of his extraordinary movement skill, he felt sluggish, like swimming in thick mud.
"A gravity-based debuff?" he muttered, eyes narrowing.
The third orc began laughing nefariously, its guttural cackles echoing across the stone walls. It sneered, believing the nimble slouch had finally been caught in their trap.
Zane frowned, playing along, giving them the impression that their combo had worked.
The ground beneath his feet cracked.
From it, four jagged rocky spikes erupted, aimed straight for his chest and limbs.
A portion of his mana burned intensely, consumed in an instant. From his body, a radiant white light exploded outward, forming a glaring white dome of energy.
The earth spikes never touched him.
Instead, they were vaporized—disintegrated into nothingness. Dust scattered in the air. No, not even dust—atoms, shattered and burned away by the sheer force and purity of the Light Elemental composing his shield.
Where the earth element tried to pierce, the light retaliated, causing such intense frictional heat that the rocky spikes were annihilated.
The orcs recoiled, roaring in pain—the blinding brilliance of the barrier seared their eyes. They stumbled back, momentarily blinded, trying to shield themselves.
But Zane? He stood calmly in the center of that radiant dome, basking in its brilliance.
He could see everything.
With a single thought, the Sacred Barrier dissolved into motes of light, flowing seamlessly into Luminous Step.
Three bone-crunching thuds echoed. Groans followed. Then silence.
Zane reappeared behind them, dusting off his gloves.
All three orcs lay lifeless on the ground—clean strikes, decisive and swift.
He glanced at their corpses, muttering under his breath,
"Good fight. Still, aside from that gravity trick, nothing else impressed me."
He turned away with a smirk.