Chapter 46 Half-Orc

The tunnel chamber echoed with the sound of heavy footsteps as Jolthar and the massive orc, now revealed as Gwun, faced each other across the blood-stained ground. Ten paces separated them – a distance that seemed both vast and insignificant given the tension crackling through the air. The torchlight cast their shadows long against the mine walls, dancing like dark spectres awaiting violence. The half-orc seemed to be a tier-6 warrior, as Jolthar could gauge him. After the recent visit of the goddess, Jolthar was now able to gauge others' levels. He couldn't really tell where he was at though; the voidwrath wasn't dependent on the mana nor aura. It was a class of its own. Though he possessed an aura, it wasn't simple to a normal person because of his blessing of the goddess. His aura was ten times purer and more refined when compared to others. Considering his aura, Jolthar was at tier 4, he didn't have anyone assessing him all these years, and he was alone, practising his sword, honing his skills. Power of voidwrath, the power inherited from the chaos sword, so it was hard to gauge his level from a normal perspective. Jolthar's armour felt heavier than usual, each breath coming hard. Behind him, he could hear Mira's soft whimpers and her mother's prayers, reminding him of what was at stake. The other knights had formed a protective circle around the prisoners, leaving him to face this monster alone. "You seem like a fresh bud; are you sure you can take me on?" The half-orc smirked, tilting his head. "We will see that at the end, don't we?" You shouldn't have touched the kid, and I am really pissed off," Jolthar said, his voice still calm but there was subtle anger radiating from him. "Let's begin!" Gwun's voice boomed off the cave walls, the words barely intelligible through his tusked mouth. The orc lifted his massive war hammer, the weapon's head easily the size of a man's torso. Despite his bulk, Gwun moved with the fluid grace of a practised killer as he settled into a combat stance. The leather of his armour creaked with the movement, stretched tight across his enormous frame. What happened next defied belief. Swoosh! Gwun exploded forward with impossible speed, his two hundred kilograms of muscle moving like lightning. The war hammer whistled through the air as it described a perfect arc toward Jolthar's head. The young man had never seen anything move that fast with such mass behind it. Jolthar's years of training took over. His footwork, drilled into him all those years, carried him backwards just enough to avoid the crushing blow. The hammer passed so close he felt the wind of its passage against his face. Jolthar wiped the blood from the corner of his lips as he got up from the crash. His body could take a hit. He felt like years of dragon meat were showing its effect. He watched Gwun with a silent gaze. It was his second fight since he left the mountains, and he felt like he was getting the hang of it. Indeed, real battles were completely different compared to idle stone opponents. Haaaa. Cough! Haaaa... Gwun's yellow eyes gleamed with victory as he raised his hammer for the killing blow. "It's over now. Your sword will fetch a good price. That was a good duel." The hammer rose high, its shadow falling across Jolthar's battered form. One hit from that weapon would end everything—his dreams, his ambitions, his very life. "What are you on about? I am still standing, aren't I?" In that moment of crisis, something awakened in Jolthar. Time seemed to slow as he reached deep within himself, grasping for power he'd touched only once before. The surge came instantly, flooding his body with dark energy that made his hair whip around his face like flames in a hot wind. Gwun's hammer began its descent, but the orc suddenly found his vision going dark. For him, it was as if several hours passed in an instant. When his sight cleared, he found himself unable to complete his attack. Looking down, he saw a long blade protruding from his chest—Knashii, transformed from gleaming white to shadow-black, as if it had absorbed all the darkness in the chamber. "Just... when..." the orc gasped. "You should really watch your opponent carefully," Jolthar began. "Otherwise, he will stick it up your back." "That was a good duel." SHHHHRAAAAAAAA! An impossible sight unfolded before the watching prisoners and knights. The air around Jolthar was sucked into him, like he was absorbing everything around him. It lasted only a few seconds, but everyone in the chamber felt like they were going to be sucked into whatever was pulling them. Jolthar stood alone, his breath heavy; he was holding his long sword. Taking one full breath, he flicked his sword, wiping away the blood of the orc, and then sheathed his sword into his scabbard. The chamber fell silent except for the quiet sobs of the rescued prisoners and the drip of water from the mine's ceiling. The remaining bandits, seeing their mighty leader fall, began to back away in terror. They had come expecting to face mere knights; instead, they had witnessed something from the realm of nightmares.