The battlefield was a nightmare. The high orc, despite its grievous injuries, moved with terrifying speed and strength, its single remaining arm wielding its massive battle axe with brutal efficiency.
Lucas and the others fought with everything they had, but it wasn't enough. They were exhausted, broken, and outmatched.
Lucas launched a barrage of fire spears, each one blazing through the air with deadly precision.
The orc dodged some and batted others aside with its axe, the flames dissipating harmlessly against its scarred skin.
Desperation clawed at Lucas's chest as he switched tactics, summoning ice to encase the orc's legs.
For a brief moment, it seemed to work—the orc's movements slowed as the ice crept up its body.
But then, with a roar, it shattered the frozen restraints, sending shards of ice flying in all directions.
"Pathetic," the orc sneered, its voice dripping with contempt. "Is this all you've got? I expected more from you humans."
Viona charged at the orc, her great sword swinging in a wide arc.
Her face was a mask of rage and grief, her tears still streaming down her cheeks. "You killed them!" she screamed, her voice raw with emotion. "You killed them all!"
The orc met her attack head-on, its axe clashing against her sword with a deafening clang.
The force of the impact sent Viona stumbling back, but she didn't stop. She swung again and again, her strikes fueled by pure fury.
But the orc was too strong. With a brutal counterattack, it disarmed her, sending her great sword flying through the air.
Before she could react, the orc grabbed her by the throat, lifting her off the ground.
"Viona!" Lucas shouted, his voice filled with desperation. He launched another fire spear, but the orc dodged it effortlessly, its grip tightening around Viona's neck.
"Such a waste," the orc growled, its eyes gleaming with malice. "You humans are so fragile. So easy to break."
With a sickening crunch, the orc snapped Viona's neck, her body going limp in its grasp.
It tossed her aside like a piece of trash, her lifeless form crumpling to the ground.
Katherine let out a choked sob, her hands trembling as she reached for another arrow. But her quiver was empty. She was defenseless.
Grant, his face pale and streaked with tears, raised his hands, summoning a powerful gust of wind.
The spell slammed into the orc, forcing it to take a step back. But it wasn't enough. The orc shrugged off the attack, its eyes narrowing as it turned its gaze to Grant.
"Wind?" the orc mocked, its voice filled with disdain. "You think a breeze can stop me?"
Grant didn't respond. He was too exhausted, too broken. His hands trembled as he tried to summon another spell, but the orc was already moving.
With a single swing of its axe, it sent Grant flying, his body crashing to the ground with a sickening thud. He didn't get back up.
Lucas felt a wave of despair wash over him as he watched his comrades fall one by one.
He was the last one standing, his body battered and his mana nearly depleted. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to win.
And then, he heard it. A voice, faint but unmistakable, echoing in the back of his mind.
*"Hey, brat… remember me?"*
The voice was teasing, almost playful, but there was an edge to it—a darkness that sent a shiver down Lucas's spine.
He froze, his mind racing as he tried to place the voice. It was familiar, but he couldn't quite remember where he'd heard it before.
*"Come on, don't tell me you've forgotten already. After everything we've been through?"*
Before Lucas could respond, his vision began to blur.
The world around him seemed to darken, the sounds of the battlefield fading into silence.
He tried to fight it, to stay conscious, but it was no use. His legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed to the ground, his consciousness slipping away.
The last thing he saw was the high orc standing over him, its bloodied face twisted into a cruel grin. And then, everything went black.