Irsha let out a loud shout, accompanied by the swinging of her war hammer. The Fomor focused on blocking her attack, and the attacks of six regular Orcs met its hide in short succession. All but one of them used a bladed weapon, which Fomors have resistance against. Those attacks could barely cause a bruise under the Monster’s fur, let alone cut it.

The Fomor shoved back against Irsha’s weapon and kicked its hooves at the annoying Orcs. Irsha had recovered her balance. She and Varoon swung their weapons at the same time from different sides. Between a War Orc with a blunt weapon, and a regular Orc with a bladed weapon, the Fomor naturally chose to block Irsha’s attack. However, Varoon’s strike had almost as much power behind it as a War Orc’s. He managed to make a shallow gash in its side.

The Fomor lost strength because of the pain, and Irsha forced it back. With a great push, she shoved her weapon out. The Fomor stumbled and lost its balance for a moment. The regular Orcs quickly ganged up on it, striking at the leg joints so it couldn't recover in time for Irsha’s next attack. The head of her hammer thrust out and dug right into the beast’s chest. It staggered, and the Orcs and Varoon swung at it until it was on its knees, then its face. They remembered to decapitate it just to be safe.

Irsha gasped for breath and rested her hammer over her shoulder. “That’s three,” she grinned.

The regular Orcs sat on the ground to rest. They tried not to look at the bodies of their comrades that had fallen before Varoon and Irsha arrived.

Varoon’s chest heaved, but he still held up his weapon. “Let's go.”

They stepped over the bodies of fallen comrades, hurrying to help those that were still living.

They soon stumbled upon a group of three Orcs and one War Orc being flanked by two Fomors. Irsha made use of Vyra’s hand signals, telling Varoon to split up and flank the enemy. He nodded, and they separated to run in different directions. Soon, the Fomors, who had been doing the flanking, found themselves being flanked. Their attentions were divided, and the disadvantaged Orcs were able to take back some ground.

One of the Fomors became enraged and swung its weapon wildly. There was a tragic squealing as one of the Orcs had its head mostly bashed in. Varoon bafely dodged a similar attack. Sweat dripped off his snout and he returned a blow of his own. The other War Orc helped out on Irsha’s side, and one of the two Fomors went down. The second Fomor smashed in the head of an Orc who moved to decapitate the fallen Monster. However, with both War Orcs free, it was only a matter of time until the second Fomor fell. Irsha swung her hammer, and the harsh squelching sound sealed the deal.

Varoon rested the head of his axe on the ground.

“Five,” Irsha gasped, leaning against a tree.

“I go help cover retreat path,” the last Orc stated. He was too tired to keep fighting on the front, and there was a large discolored bruise on his left shoulder. The War Orc was still in decent condition, and ran off to help another group.

“Let’s rest a minute,” Irsha suggested.

Varoon bobbed his head and wiped some sweat off his brow. However, before they could relax, an electric sensation charged through the air. In the next instant, the area directly behind Varoon was overcome by a blinding white light. The sound arrived: a terrific boom that knocked the both of them off their feet.

Irsha stared with horrified eyes. Varoon pushed himself off the ground and rolled over to look behind him. A sudden clearing had been created there, with black ash coating the ground. It was five feet wide, and dozens of feet long. Varoon gasped for air, shaking from the extremely close call.

When they both looked with bloodshot eyes to the end of the clearing, they saw their chief, Dagoran, together with a party of six other War Orcs. Three War-Orc-shaped shadows were burned into the ground beside them. Opposing them was what any Expansionist Orc would recognize as a Small Baphomet. It could not even be compared to a Fomor.

The Small Baphomet was a man from the neck down, and a goat from the neck up. Its entire body was covered in thick black fur, and its horns curved back from its head menacingly. It had blood red eyes with square pupils.

It was only seven feet tall, and scrawny compared to a male War Orc. However, what they lacked in raw strength was easily made up for by absurd Magic Power and advanced spellcasting. They were easier to kill than ordinary Fomors, having less resistance to attack, but they would wipe out dozens of Orcs in exchange. Not to mention, their regenerative powers worked twice as fast.

It was in hopes of evolving into this that the Fomors offered tribute to the Lords of Darkness three times a year. But it was actually only rarely that one managed to succeed.

The chief’s party was clearly short on fighters, and they were disadvantaged in this encounter. Irsha quickly calmed her quaking heart and gripped her war hammer, running up to join them. Varoon snorted and shortly joined her.

The Small Baphomet gripped a curved sword in each hand. It would use those to fight in close quarters, while occasionally launching deadly magical attacks. Varoon noticed quickly that his axe was slipping off the Monster’s fur without doing any damage whatsoever. Small Baphomets should have weaker resistances than Fomors, so he supposed it was using some kind of magic to protect itself. Additionally, it used some kind of magic to hover just off the ground, and it dodged attacks very fluidly. You couldn't read it's footwork to predict its attacks either.

The fight was extremely close. Every person involved was dancing at the edge of death. However, the Small Baphomet reached out to trip Varoon.

He felt a sudden slowness come over his mind, and his movements stopped. Meanwhile, the Monster lowered one of its swords down at him. Irsha noticed that Varoon wasn't dodging, and went out of her way to block for him. Some kind of magic had been incorporated into the attack, and her war hammer disintegrated on contact with the Small Baphomet’s curved sword, still, the attack was blocked, and Varoon’s senses quickly came back to him.

“It use magic to disorient you!” Chief Dagoran called, having noticed their situation. “Careful!”

“You don't have a weapon.” Varoon pushed Irsha to the back. “Go get others to help, and pick a new one up while you're at it, if you can.”

“Kill it and live,” Irsha said seriously, running off quickly.

She moved her feet and pumped her arms as hard as she could, running back to the village. She would recruit anyone who was resting there to go back and help immediately, and grab a weapon while she was at it.

However, when she arrived in the village, she saw the Orcs and few War Orcs already gathering.

“Irsha. You come too,” one of the Orcs from her village called. “Small Baphomet turn up at Bek’s Village. Need help.”

“Bek’s village?” she cried. “A Small Baphomet appeared here! The chief and some others are fighting it, but they need help!”

Then, a War Orc came running from the North like his life depended on it. “Dagoran’s Village!” she called, “Samo’s Village need help! A Small Baphomet appear!”

Irsha’s body went cold. Three of them?! Forget this village. Our tribes are doomed!

She gritted her teeth and sprinted back to where Varoon was as even faster than before. “Varoooon!” Without any care for the others, she forcefully dragged him away from the fight. “Forget it! Two more appeared in other villages. We’re running!”

“Two more Small Baphomets?!” Varoon’s face turned white, but he resisted her pulling. Irsha only pulled harder in response.

“Yes! Two more! There aren't enough fighters to go around, so let's run!”

Three Small Baphomets, Varoon thought, feeling cold. If they position themselves well, they could wipe out all of the allied tribes.

“Run and get my sister,” he said quietly.

Irsha didn't understand him. “Good idea! We can hide in her village!”

Varoon resisted Irsha’s pulling and shouted. “I said go get her! Bring her to fight!”

“That’ll take hours!” Irsha protested. “It won't do any--”

“She’s the Orc Lord!” Varoon cut her off, panting. Irsha released his arm. She stared at him, dark stress circles forming under her eyes. “It isn't about me,” he said. “I'll survive and keep an eye on the situation here. You run as fast as you can and bring my sister here to do her job.”

Small tears welled up in Irsha’s eyes, but she wiped them away and put on her most serious face. "I'll get there in six hours. You'll have reinforcements in 13. Hold out until then."

Varoon nodded, and Irsha didn't waste any more words. She immediately took off sprinting. Even after she lost feeling in her legs and her lungs were making worrying noises, she refused to slow down for even an instant. Because how many of her friends and family could a Small Baphomet kill in a single instant with its magic?

***

Varoon saw Irsha sprint into the forest and returned to fighting the Small Baphomet. His axe continued to slide off the Monster’s fur. Who could know how long that defense spell would last? Grinning self-deprecatingly, he sheathed his weapon and held up his fists instead.

***

For every fact I tell Fiara about my old world, she has ten questions. I've been trying to explain house cats for over twenty minutes now, and I don't even remember how we got sidetracked so far off topic. I underestimated this girl, and now I regret offering to teach her about it.

Luckily, I was saved when one of the North Gate Guards trotted up to Fiara’s doorway.

“Chief, the Humans are back!”

I turned my head. “Already? Did they forget something?”

The guard shook his head. “No, it's the other Humans this time.”

I grimaced automatically before fixing my expression. “Alright, I'd better go greet them,” I added under my breath, “and ask them what they want.”

When I went to the North Gate, I saw Rudan and Elianora standing there. No Nostel this time. That's a bit of a relief, at least.

“Welcome back,” I smiled politely.

Those two looked at me with apprehensive faces for a minute.

“Chief Vyra?” Elly said unsurely, tilting her head.

“That’s right. I evolved since last time. Shall we go talk privately?”

I can't help but feel uncertain about this whole thing. I hope these two came back because of something simple. In the worst case, somebody told others where my village is, and these two came to apologize… No, the worse case would be that these two lead an army to my village.

Anyway, I led the two into my hut and sat on my throne.

“Alright, go ahead,” I say, lacing my fingers and resting my chin on them; my elbows resting on the arms of the chair, and my legs spread.

Elianora stood quietly off to the side, while Rudan positioned himself in front of me and bent over at the waist.

“I need to quickly get stronger! There’s someone I have to be able to defeat by the end of summer, and the only way I could think of to train that fast was to come here! Please, I know we overstayed our welcome last time, but please let me train here!”

I leaned back and folded my arms. It's good that I've built good relationships with a few humans. I should maintain them if possible. I don't know why I'm hesitating over this. I'm not usually a skeptical kind of person. Maybe it's because everyone I care about seems to be keeping secrets from me?

Well, just to be on the safe side, I use on him. It all looks normal, but one thing stands out like a sore thumb.

“Alright, but I'll have you answer a few questions first. Elianora, you can go play with Fiara. She should be in her house, trying to make some basic Magic Tools. She’s blue now, so you can't miss her.”

The bespectacled Human gave me a perplexed look for a moment, then quietly turned and left my hut.

Rudan watched her until she left, then looked at me. “What did you want to ask?”

I closed my eyes and thought for a moment. I shouldn't let people I'm not close with know about or any of my other high-level skills.

“When you first came here, Nostel certainly introduced you as Rudan Sart. But my intuition has always told me that something felt off. Is that really your name?”

Rudan’s eyes widened. He swallowed nervously and shook his head. “My real name is Rudan Sartiella.”

“Your comrades know you by a fake name. Why are you hiding it?”

This guy better not turn out to be nobility or I swear…

“It's because I'm estranged from my family at the moment.”

Thank goodness it was something simple.

“See, I come from a long line of knights that serve the kingdom--”

FUCK!

“--but I don't really fit the family image. In order to not bring the rest of them down, I'm distancing myself.”

I held up one hand to stop him, massaging my temple with the other. “Hold on. You're from a family of royal knights.” I glared at him with narrowed eyes. “So, if anything happens to you on my watch, am I going to have an army marched to my doorstep?”

He swallowed nervously once again, but frowned. “Because of the circumstances this time,” he paused, “I don't think they'll worry too much if I disappear. If I can't win this fight in thirty days, I'll be disowned anyway.” He looked down with a melancholy atmosphere, before meeting my eyes with a determined look. “So you can work me hard, alright?!”

Well then, that changes things. If I don't have to worry about his family of angry knights showing up, it’s fine. Besides, I can't help but want to give enthusiastic people like that the green light.

I chuckle. “Alright, fine. You have a deal.”