Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 373 Cub
The axe wind whipped up sand and dust, forcing Thales to close his eyes.

But he ultimately escaped the fate of being cut in two with an axe.

At the critical moment, a single-edged fighting axe swung from the direction of the campfire, slicing into the orc's unprotected armpit amidst a deafening roar.

With a piercing scream, crimson blood gushed from the orc's body, splattering all over the face of the panting Thales.

It has a fishy, ​​salty, and pungent smell.

as always.

With this axe strike, the orc's rough, massive axe flew from his hand, carrying the force to split the earth, and sank deep into the sand, embedding itself in Thales' left shoulder.

The tall orc roared in an unfamiliar language. He turned around and swung his arm, as thick as a man's thigh, toward the owner of the fighting axe, but the owner nimbly dodged it.

"stand up!"

Dean's powerful voice rang out, clear amidst the surrounding shouts of battle, which invigorated Thales.

"No time to rest!"

The power of termination flowed to the boy's back and chest, easing his chest tightness somewhat. Thales rolled over, trembling as he clung to the orc's giant axe, struggling to his feet. He wiped the blood from his face, his numb limbs recovering from the shock.

The orc, whose neck had been pierced, remained in a state of extreme rage, oblivious to the gushing blood from the wounds on his neck and armpits, roaring in a language Thales couldn't understand as he lunged at Big Dean.

The composed mercenary, axe in both hands, made a move to charge at the orc, but just as he got close, he rolled to the side, deftly dodging the orc's fierce attack.

"Hula, Nadallis!" the orc howled in frustration as he turned around after missing his target.

With a frenzied attack, the orcs' blood splattered, irrigating the parched land.

Dean kept his eyes fixed on the orc's feet, but did not confront it head-on. Instead, he used his size and footwork to feint attacks, dodging two powerful charges in succession.

Just like a bird avoiding a ferocious leopard.

The orc's blood flowed slower and slower, and less and less.

Finally, Thales was relieved to see that the orc took a deep breath, swayed slightly, and its movements became sluggish.

Dean didn't let this opportunity slip by.

He erupted in an instant, whirlwind-like rushing back to the orc's side, his axe blade flashing as he severed the ugly head.

The headless body swung its massive, several-foot-long arm one last time before collapsing onto the sand.

Thales breathed a sigh of relief.

“You saved me a lot of trouble by hitting it,” Dean said, panting as he pulled him up, tossed the spare one-handed sword from his waist to the boy, and kicked the muscular corpse. “But remember, Wyman, don’t get entangled with them—orcs don’t fall down immediately after being wounded, and the more severely they are wounded…”

“Their counterattacks are always more dangerous…I know,” Thales gritted his teeth as he took the weapon. “Sorry, someone taught me that, but only in real combat…”

In the classrooms of the Northerners, even though thousands of years have passed since the war against the saints, those tall, strong, and fearless outcasts remain their eternal enemies.

Throughout the entire Kingdom of Exter, the northernmost outpost is the most transcendent grand duchy. Facing the co-ruled king, they are even exempt from paying a considerable portion of taxes, which can be used to build an elite force whose reputation is no less than that of the White Blade Guard. The Glacier Outpost is so named because the Shuster family has shouldered the heavy responsibility of guarding the thirty-eight outposts and keeping a watchful eye on the glacier orcs north of Quegur for generations.

Since the founding of Exter, more than twenty kings have led their armies north to support the war against the glacial orc tribes that have crossed the border and moved south. Whether it is the military training that responsible northern nobles receive from childhood or the regular training of conscripted soldiers, how to fight orcs is a compulsory course.

The guards in Valhalla all said that before Nikolai received that nickname, he had already proven his fighting prowess against orcs by following King Nun at the Thirty-Eight Watchpoints. However, when faced with the delicate Grand Duchess and the dagger that seemed more like a threading needle, the Meteorite, who had considerable experience in dealing with orcs, could only vent his frustration of being "unappreciated" on his second student—after all, the Star Prince had no chance to go north anyway—for example, by violently pushing Thales down countless times with his great axe, or by relentlessly beating him even after Thales had frantically shouted for a stop countless times, euphemistically calling it "the power of orcs."

But what Thales didn't expect was that in his first battle against the orcs, he ultimately forgot Nikolai's teachings.

Thales looked at the headless corpse with lingering fear, recalling the irresistible force with which it had thrown him through the gash in its neck.

What kind of race is this?!

Compared to their terrifying relatives who remained in the north, the orcs who were scattered in the Great Desert after the final war may be slightly different, but they are still the same in many ways, such as their huge size, amazing regenerative ability, tolerance to pain and temperature, terrifying explosive power, and their infamous dying counterattacks among humans—it is said that the famous Ironblood King died from the last blow of a dying orc at his feet.

Dean didn't say anything, but he punched Thales' chest, his brow furrowed with worry.

"careful!"

At Louisa's urgent shout, Dean shoved Thales aside.

A vicious spiked club slammed into the sand between them, sending sand flying.

Dean faced more than one threat on his side. He turned around, parried another orc's irregular scimitar, and used the momentum to dodge.

Thales steadied himself and, in the moonlight, made out the owner of the spiked club—an orc with blue paint on his face, a hideous scar above his left eye, and his hair tied into a short braid. He wore more armor than the previous one of his kind and was also larger, almost one and a half times the height of an adult human.

Its eyes glanced at the corpse on the ground, then parted its lips to reveal two rows of clenched teeth, first looking at Dean who was being entangled, then at Thales.

“Sair,” the orc in front of him spoke slowly, his rough voice vibrating, “Luma, Sokadasair.”

Thales couldn't discern the orc's expression, but that didn't prevent him from judging the other's emotions.

The orc blood on his face was still sticky, and the prince endured the stench as he prepared his sword.

Orcs, they'll smash your skull as easily as we smash an egg...

These are the words that the awkward Griveo said to Thales before parting ways in Dragon City.

Thales now deeply understands this.

Almost every one of them was seven or eight feet tall or even taller, possessing astonishing strength and swift movements. Their weapons were heavy and crude, yet in terms of efficiency, they were no less than those of finely forged human weapons.

With their size, strength, and physique, they are superior to humans in every aspect... It's hard to imagine how the miracle of thousands of humans defeating 20,000 orcs in the war to slay the saints two thousand years ago was created.

Thales gritted his teeth.

In the distance, Louisa, wielding a two-handed sword and with agile footwork, was struggling but remarkably dragging three enemies along.

McKee nimbly rolled and sprinted across the sand, his twin blades flashing, confusing the sight of several enemies as he fought his way through debris and obstacles, trying to get closer to Louisa.

Hubert, Old Hammer, Kanzer, and Quick Rope stood back to back, struggling to hold off the orcs surrounding them.
Others were not so lucky.

Although the merchants also had their own armed forces, their skills were clearly no match for the mercenaries. Under the overwhelming force of the orcs in both quantity and quality, the caravan suffered heavy casualties, and the screams of agony still echoed around them.

The battle cries continued, but the orcs no longer concealed their attack; their unfamiliar language and booming voices echoed across the dunes.

“Wyah, there’s one more key to fighting those bastards,” Dean said, panting as he swung his axe to knock back an enemy: “Never be alone, even if there’s only one enemy on the other side.”

Under the moonlight, two more tall, robust gray figures slid down the sand dunes, weapons in hand, and charged toward them.

“Go and meet up with Louisa. I’ll cover you.”

Thales nodded nervously.

"run!"

Almost the instant the boy took his leave, the blue-painted orc roared and swung his club down: "Fracka!"

But Dean didn't let him succeed, deflecting the mace with his fighting axe in mid-air.

"Boom!"

Hearing the wind howling behind him, Thales resisted the urge to turn around. He desperately called upon the Sin of the River of Hell and rushed back to the campfire with astonishing speed, throwing himself to the ground and pulling a shield from Hubert's baggage.

As soon as he looked up, he caught sight of a burly figure raising a scimitar at him!

His swordsmanship, honed countless times, activated instinctively.

Raise your shield and aim it at your enemy... There are only two situations in which you can lower it.

Either you die, or the enemy perishes.

The teachings that had remained unchanged for six years resonated in my ears once again.

Iron Body Stance!
The scimitar slammed heavily against the shield.

"clang!"

Amidst the terrifying roar and impact, a terrifying force surged forth!

For a moment, Thales had the illusion that this blow was almost enough to break through the city wall.

His feet slid backward across the sand, and the shield in front of his arm trembled violently.

But Thales stopped.

As is customary, from the moment he raises his shield, his center of gravity is prepared to meet the impact, and his feet are ready to absorb the force—this habit of the Northern military swordsmanship has always been scorned by many. From Nicolai to Wyatt, they all believe that Thales' defense is too rigid, too conservative, lacks flexibility and speed, and leaves no room for counterattack.

But just as he was about to receive the blow, Thales suddenly realized something.

In the fight against orcs, you have little chance to be "flexible" or "swift".

Compared to human opponents, the orcs' terrifying strength masks too much. Their fatal blows can tear apart your moves in the instant of close combat, distort your actions, and render your fancy and imaginative follow-up reactions worthless.

If you lose your composure in the very first round when the odds are heavily against you...

"Selka!" the orc roared, taking a step forward!
Thales instinctively swung his arm, switching to a counter-attack stance, and turned to dissipate the impact as he moved to his opponent's side.

This is yet another sword technique feature that has been heavily criticized.

Are you in heat? Who are you going to wiggle your ass for? That stallion? Or the duchess next to it? — This is Nicolai’s sarcastic remark, made after he kicked Thales in one of his classes.

The prince took a deep breath, lowered his body, and channeled the power of the final blow into his right hand, unleashing his first attack since the start of the battle.

"laugh!"

The sword sliced ​​open the orc's unprotected hind knee, drawing out a spray of blood.

The second offensive technique of the Northern Army's swordsmanship, the side-attack technique—the heel strike.

Thales frowned instinctively.

The orc cried out in pain; its left leg was slightly injured, but its attack became even more ferocious.

Thales forced himself to calm down and did not rush to attack. Instead, he circled around his opponent's injured leg, using his small size to fight and retreat. His shield clashed three times with his opponent's scimitar, which seemed to tear the air apart, making his arm numb.

The power of termination flowed freely through his body. His hellish senses not only reflected the movements of the enemies in front of him in his brain, but also reflected the situation in the distance, making him dizzy: Dean was being chased and intercepted by three orcs, while Louisa had finally broken through one of her opponents and was charging towards Thales.

Finally, Thales seized the opportunity. After another Iron Body Stance, his longsword shot upwards like a rattlesnake, aiming at the opponent's chest during a gap in the attack.

The orcs' skin was rougher and tougher than he had imagined, but the enemy's charge helped Thales. The prince, who was gritting his teeth, felt his shield and longsword tremble.
"bass!"

A slippery, warm liquid gushed out, flowing down the edge of his sword and onto his arm.

"Hura!" the orc howled, his face contorted into an even more grotesque grimace.

Having learned his lesson, Thales knew things were going badly. Without hesitation, he drew back his longsword and lunged to the side!
next second.

"boom!"

The campfire beside him was shattered by a desperate blow from the enemy, sending sparks flying.

The orc couldn't go any further—Luisa emerged from the darkness and severed its sword-wielding hand.

"Beautiful!" Louisa dodged her dying opponent, letting the orc writhe in agony of being burned, impaled in the chest, and having his hand severed, furiously pounding the ground beside him, blood gushing out: "First time seeing an orc?"

Thales shook his head, feeling numb and aching all over, his spirits lifted.

"The second time."

The first time, Dean already took advantage of me.

But they had no time for idle chatter: Louisa brought not only reinforcements, but also two orc opponents.

The wind howled, and Thales instinctively rolled over again!
However, due to his exhaustion, his movements were not very precise, and he was still hit on the shield by the enemy's heavy sword.

Thales felt a tremor in his left hand, then lost his balance, fell headfirst to the ground, and uncontrollably bit into two mouthfuls of sand.

Damn!

Ginny had told him that falling on the battlefield meant...

Thales rolled over and watched as the heavy sword continued to hurtle towards him.

Just then, a figure crashed in from the side, slamming the orc with the sword several meters away!

It's Haken with his big belly.

"Louisa!"

Haken, who had saved Thales' life, was covered in sweat. He wielded a fearsome hammer with great force, driving back several enemies in succession.

Thales struggled to his feet and nodded gratefully to him.

“The breeze has fallen, and the fire is dead,” Harken, battered and bruised, didn’t bother to reply to Thales. His face was filled with hatred. “The Grey Bastards knew they were the outer sentries, and eight or nine of them surrounded them…”

"Hold!"

The female captain cursed under her breath and slashed at the shoulder armor of an orc with her sword.

"call out!"

A long arrow came flying, shooting back an orc who was trying to attack Louisa from both sides.

“They’ve discovered we’re the key, and they’re coming this way,” archer Panga followed Harken back, his face anxious, his quiver nearly empty. “I encountered the Grey Mongol’s sharpshooter; that guy survived three of my shots—”

But he didn't finish his sentence.

The next second, a rough, black arrow with menacing tail feathers pierced through Panga's chest with astonishing force, emerging from his armpit.

Thales was jolted awake!
The archer stared in astonishment at the arrow that had pierced through him.

"Damn it... Dad was right after all."

"What good is it if you can shoot accurately?"

Pang Jia struggled to speak, swayed, and finally collapsed, powerless:

"If you can't kill them, you still lose."

"Ponga!" Louisa's shrill scream rang out: "Fuck you, you bastard!"

Thales looked into the distance in disbelief:

On the moonlit sand dunes, an orc with white-painted lips coldly set down a terrifyingly large, heavy black bow and began tending to his wounds—three gleaming long arrows.

But the mercenaries had no time to avenge their fallen comrades: another group of orcs was closing in from afar.

Thales struggled to raise his shield and rushed behind Louisa in a few steps, blocking an attack for her in her anger and shock, but he himself was knocked off balance by the force of the blow.

No.

Their combat capabilities are simply not on the same level.

If this continues...

He was about to turn around and call out to Harken, but—

"Watch out!" Thales exclaimed in alarm!

Haken barely managed to repel an orc who tried to pounce on him with his hammer, and as he was panting heavily, another orc suddenly appeared behind him!
"clang!"

A familiar spiked club struck Harken's weapon, knocking him to the ground.

Thales tried to rush to his rescue, but the orcs beside him attacked again.

The orc who had knocked down Harken had a familiar blue paint on his face. He grabbed the dazed Harken, glared fiercely at Thales, and his eyes flashed with hatred that even a different race could recognize: "Fracka!"

The next second, Thales watched in horror as the blue-faced orc reached out his large hand and grabbed Harken's head.

It grabbed Harken like a chick, howling as it slammed Harken's head against its own chest armor!

The immense force caused the skull to collide with the steel, producing a chilling, eerie sound.

"Kara!"

Thales shuddered!
"No! Harken!" Dean's roar came from behind the blue-faced orc.

And so, the Allenby Haken, the Haken who had once wanted to marry his sister to Thales, had his head, which had been perfectly intact just a second before, transformed into a red and white thing that shot out.

He slumped to the ground, motionless.

Orcs, they'll smash your skull as easily as we smash an egg...

These words echoed in Thales's mind again, filling him with immense horror.

"Sok! Flaka!" The blue-faced orc roared menacingly at Thales, shaking his sticky left hand and striking his breastplate, which was covered in brains and blood, as he walked over step by step.

But it turned around halfway through.

"Bastard!" Dean roared as he lunged forward, his fighting axe clashing with its spiked club. "I'm your fucking enemy!"

Thales shook his head, trying to banish the fear from his mind.

But the killing did not end; the bloodshed amidst the flashing swords and shadows continued.

The orcs' battle cries did not diminish, but the caravan's screams and cries of alarm were becoming fewer and fewer. "Behind you!" With a roar, the battered and bruised Northlander Kanze lunged at Dean, shoving him aside and shielding the bald man from an axe blow from behind.

Chased by several orcs, Old Hammer and Quick Rope arrived breathlessly, broke through the encirclement to join them, and took their place in the front row, replacing the increasingly exhausted Thales and Louisa.

"The caravan, and the others," Louisa, who had been under siege, finally had a rare chance to catch her breath. "How are they?"

"Hubert is gone." Old Hammer turned to dodge a heavy blow and simply reported his companion's death.

With a trembling voice, Kuaisheng continued, "He covered our retreat."

Louisa stamped her leg in anguish.

There was no time left to mourn for our fallen comrade.

“There are no more caravans,” a disheveled McKee rushed up from behind and said urgently, “I’m going to find horses. If we don’t break through soon, we’re all going to die here!”

Old Hammer swung his hammer recklessly, temporarily forcing four enemies in one direction back several steps.

"Damn it!" Louisa gasped in pain, "Dean!"

"I know!" Dean's voice was distorted by the battle, but he seemed to still be thinking:
"Archers, armor, weapons, and ferocious beasts—a sudden, coordinated attack, with organized tactics and arrangements..."

"And given its scale..."

"These gray bastards!"

The bald mercenary gritted his teeth and roared, "They are not exiles!"

"They are tribal warriors, regular soldiers from a large tribe in the desert!"

Thales was slightly taken aback.

Big tribe?
Orcish tribes...?
Just then, a strange noise came from inside.

"Haw!"

"Watch out!" Dean roared, feinting past the enraged blue-faced orc, and yelled at Kanze:
"Soldier Lizard!"

Thales felt a chill run down his spine: a massive, inhuman figure on all fours was writhing and howling as it hurtled across the sand!
The next second, a giant gray-yellow lizard the size of a normal person darted in front of Kanze, its scales clearly visible.

It crashed into the mercenaries' formation, bit Kanze's arm, and spun him around, causing the burly northerner to cry out in pain.

Thales gritted his teeth and stepped forward, thrusting his sword into the monster, only to be cut open by its scales.

Kanze, enduring the pain, swung his left arm, trying to shake off the lizard's bite.

This was his last effort.

Another orc seized the opportunity, its heavy straight blade slicing through the air with a piercing shriek, cleaving Kanze in the right chest.

Under the crude weapon, the northerner even had a noticeable notch under his right armpit.

"Pfft-"

Blood spurted out, staining Thales, who was standing next to Kanzer, red.

"Aaaaah!" Old Hammer swung his hammer in grief and anger, repelling the owner of the straight knife.

"No!" Dean roared angrily, kicking up the fire, and the burning firewood fell on the soldier lizard.

Quick Rope screamed, grabbed all the firewood on the ground, and threw it at the monster in the desert.

The lizard could no longer withstand the flames, released Kanze's arm, and retreated into the darkness.

But Kanze, whose body had been split in half, only had trembling strength left. He collapsed to the ground and soon stopped moving.

"Ah!" Louisa cried, tears streaming down her face. She grabbed her longsword and charged back at the enemy.

The lizardmen's charge was catastrophic, disrupting the formation of Dante's greatswords.

Many orcs took advantage of the situation to attack, and without the support of the flanks, everyone was instantly caught in a situation where they were outnumbered – Thales found himself facing two orcs at the same time.

Faced with their immense power, he was almost in dire straits. The sins of the Hell River never ceased, and only by using the timely dodging and deflection techniques of the Northern Army's swordsmanship could he barely withstand that chilling force.

The situation took a sharp turn for the worse.

The prince dodged and parried from the axes and greatswords, his shield groaning as if it would shatter at any moment.

With a loud "thud," the rope flew several meters away and crashed to the ground, the person unconscious.

Oops.

Thales bit his chapped lips, his hope slowly fading away.

The sounds of fighting gradually subsided.

The caravan had completely fallen silent, and the only ones still fighting inside Dante's greatsword were Dean, Louisa, and Old Hammer.

McGee, who was looking for the horse, had already disappeared into the enemy ranks.

"Hold on!" Louisa's voice cut through the encirclement, sounding ominous, yet she still tried to encourage them: "Trust in McKee—he is a Boneman, the darling of the desert!"

persist in?

Believe?

Thales took a step back, narrowly avoiding a deadly sword strike.

Believe in what?
He breathed heavily, his sword and shield trembling from repeated clashes.

Through his hellish senses, the boy could feel that there were more and more orcs around him, most of them holding weapons and quietly waiting on the periphery—perhaps rushing up to replace their companions as soon as an opening appeared, or perhaps waiting for their victory or defeat out of arrogance.

Looking at the growing number of enemies all around, Thales began to believe that his luck had probably run out.

He knew that his opponent was too powerful, both in terms of numbers and strength.

They had almost no chance.

He was fighting solely on his instinct to never give up, which he had developed over the years.

The sins of the River of Hell seem to have reached their limit.

"Bang!" A heavy blow came from not far away, and Old Hammer fell to the ground with a cry of pain.

hateful.

Thales sighed inwardly and rolled laboriously, only to find himself at the feet of another orc.

A chill ran through him.

is it.

It's that blue-faced orc.

It lowered its head, its expression still ferocious.

The next second, the spiked club came crashing down towards the ground!

"boom!"

Thales dropped his shield and, dragging his aching body, awkwardly dodged the attack.

Yellow sand flew everywhere, dazzling the eye.

Thales persisted in a daze.

He knew that for humans, these orcs' attacks would be fatal.

As for the chance to increase the crime of the River of Hell?
Come on, in this level of intense fighting, there's no such thing as "almost dead" as Black Sword said.

There was no chance of bleeding out and then activating magical power.

Once he falls for it, he'll immediately know whether the ferryman of the Prison River is just a legend.

Thales struggled to his feet, but before he could even stand properly, a scimitar struck his sword!

"clang!"

Under immense force and with his movements unsteady, he couldn't withstand even one blow, the longsword slipped from his hand, and he fell to the ground again.

The weapon landed on the sand with a dull thud.

It’s over.

Thales trembled, feeling a sharp pain in his arm.

Compared to Ginny, Wyatt, and even to his former rivals Nicole and Monty...

This level of combat...

He struggled to turn over and saw the blue-faced orc in full armor approaching step by step.

It bared its ferocious teeth at the prince and slowly raised its spiked club.

“Fraga,” the orc said coldly.

Oh shit.

Thales was somewhat disoriented.

Fraka...

What does this mean?
Did you learn this in Long Xiaocheng's class?

Dean and Louisa's angry shouts still echoed in my ears.

Thales gasped for breath, groping around for anything that could cut open the wound and draw blood.

But he failed.

The next second, the spiked club came crashing down!
Thales closed his eyes.

Little rascal.

Remember to learn Orcish.

Otherwise, you won't even know why you died...

Just now.

"Boom!"

The sound of steel clashing.

Amidst the flying sand and swirling winds, Thales broke out in a cold sweat!
He suddenly opened his eyes.

The enemy's weapon missed its mark and struck him squarely on the side of his head, just an inch away.

Thales' heart hadn't caught its beat, and he stared blankly at the scene before him:
An extremely thick, sharp iron fork got stuck in the gap of the mace, deflecting its trajectory.

The iron fork was attached to a thicker wrist without a hand—it looked as if it had been forcibly fused into the bone.

The blue-faced orc, whose killing had been stopped, seemed quite dissatisfied. It turned to the owner of the iron fork, and to the owner of the arm that had been severed at the wrist.

"Nasser!"

The orc roared madly, even the blue paint on his face wrinkled.

It was agitated, pointing its left hand at Thales on the ground: "Sair, Flaka!"

But the owner of the pitchfork simply shook his head slowly.

His right arm, still attached to the iron fork, remained firmly braced against the spiked club, showing no sign of letting up.

A strange word escaped its deep voice:

"Sorino".

Thales stared blankly at their negotiation.

“Sorino,” the owner of the iron fork arm repeated flatly:
"Sorino, Satousel."

The blue-faced orc seemed very angry; its breathing grew increasingly heavy, and its gray skin trembled slightly.

But the owner of the iron fork arm seemed quite extraordinary. A few seconds later, the blue-faced orc roared and reluctantly withdrew his weapon. He glared fiercely at Thales, his small eyes filled with hatred.

Thales lay stiffly on the ground, feeling as if his overused body was about to lose control.

The blue-faced orc raised his head and roared at his surroundings, "Naku! Kandar!"

The next moment, as if receiving a command, all the orcs, whether or not they were in battle, put down their weapons and took a step back in unison.

Even a ferocious beast like the lizard was firmly restrained and subdued by the two orcs using ropes.

The orcs dispersed, revealing Louisa, panting and leaning on her sword, and Dean, whom she was supporting, amidst the encirclement.

The owner of the iron fork was also revealed.

Thales saw it clearly.

This is another orc.

Another special orc.

The armored blue-faced orc was already considered large, but this orc was even larger, almost as tall as two people.

This is not its most prominent feature.

Its skin.

This orc's skin was pale, much lighter than that of his companions.

Its shoulders were covered with a thick layer of snow-white fur, making it look like some kind of ferocious beast. Beneath the fur was a black metallic armor, indicating that it was of very high status.

It has three parallel, menacing scars on its forehead that extend to the bridge of its nose, resembling claw marks. Its lips are light gray, and the hair on its head is more abundant.

Thales frowned.

Is it... the leader?
But the remaining mercenaries cried out in alarm.

The next second, the pale orc chieftain curled his black lips and raised his thick left hand toward them—his hand gripped tightly around the neck of a human prisoner, ignoring his futile struggles.

“No, no,” Louisa’s voice trembled slightly with a sob.

Dean sighed. "McGee."

The skeletal man, his neck being choked, trembled, his expression unfocused. His hands weakly climbed onto the enormous arm of this unusual orc, but he was unable to offer even the slightest resistance.

Thales shook his head in despair.

It’s over.

The orc let out a sound like laughter, threw the weakened Mackie to the ground, then raised his severed wrist and pointed the iron fork at the remaining mercenary.

The next moment, the pale orc slowly spoke.

To Thales and the two mercenaries' astonishment, the other party spoke fluent Western Common with a desert accent.

"Humans," the pale orc's deep voice seemed to vibrate the sand, "you fought bravely, taking away the souls of four tribal warriors and earning our respect."

Louisa stared in surprise, while Dean frowned.

There were dozens of orcs around, standing in a dark mass. They held weapons and stared at the mercenaries with murderous intent, but remained silent and held their breath.

"Therefore, I guarantee with the honor of the Riftstone Tribe that as long as you surrender to me..."

“Your companions, including this Solino,” it said solemnly and seriously, gently nudging Thales at its feet.
"That way, you can live."

Thales moved slightly.

He remembered.

The word for the Pale Orcs: Solino.

In Dragon City's classes, there was a similar word in the Glacier Orc language, although the tone and suffix were slightly different—Sorina.

Meaning:

cubs.

Eight thousand words, hmm.

To my reader "Uncle Bear": Your role has been introduced.

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(End of this chapter)