It took the three of them to haul the thing, and not for very long at that.

The only way was to carry it on their heads, which made putting it down and then picking it up an enormous pain.

The weight wasn’t the only issue. Dante feared the smell attracting other monsters. Because they were so late to search for a boar, they probably had to reach the edges of the Graymay territory. The boar just rubbed it in when it ran into the Waldo lands--not only did they have to carry it further, but the risk of meeting unknown monsters or worse, unknown orcs made it worse.

But either because the boar was seemingly flying, or the orcs under it, no one bothered them yet.

“How long until we reach camp?” Pistil said through gritted teeth.

“We're almost out of Waldo land. Is there a reason we don't loot this one, and just get one that's closer to base?" Dante said. He didn't mind the labor, but he didn't want to lose their prey.

"We're not allowed to hunt in Graymay territory without permission, right? We'll lose reputation. We don't know if this will cause the Waldo lands to hunt us for "looting" in their territory, or if we'll even find another boar with everyone hunting for them."

Ugh. It was sound logic but Dante still didn't like it. Were the other tribes even enemies? Weren't they all orcs? How would orcs from other tribes even find that out? Weren't games supposed to be convenient?

“Stupid! Stupid” the Goblin yelled. “Food for warriors. Not for stupids!”

“Can’t we eat that?” Dante said, motioning towards the goblin. He held both spears and was their guide, but he really did hate that son of a bitch.

“Boar down,” Skan said, his voice as quiet as ever.

“No. We just took a break,” Pistil said, but when Skan pushed the boar to the side, he and Dante had little choice but to follow suit or be crushed. The boar sent leaves flying when it dropped to the ground “Dude, what the--”

Skan placed an open palm towards the goblin, but his sight stuck to the tree line. The goblin flinched, its nose sniffing the air aggressively. It hopped towards Skan, handing him his spear, and then tossed the other spear towards Pistil.

“Monsters?” Dante said, looking around. He couldn't see anyone in sight, but when he followed Skan’s gaze he saw them; yellow-brown eyes were staring back at him from the bushes.

“Worse,” Pistil said.

Four orcs stepped out of the shrubs with spears and axes that had iron instead of wood. Their skin was a darker shade of blue, and the largest of them hovered around 7 feet tall. None of them wore armor.

Level 2 Waldo Orc Officer

Rank: E

Level 1 Waldo Orc Scout

Rank: F

Level 1 Waldo Orc Hunter

Rank: F

You have begun a rank E scenario. Tread carefully, orcs.

The goblin booked it out. The Orc Scouts weren't the issue. The real problem was the Orc Officer that had an equal rank to the boar that Dante's party barely killed.

“Brother Graymay. You hunt in our land?” the orc officer said, stepping forth. His spear wasn't some sharpened branch like Skan's or Pistil's. Instead the wood was perfectly straight, a good eight feet tall, and had a black stone tip. Like the Graymay Officer this one's husks also peeked out of his mouth.

“We injure boar. Boar run. We finish boar,” Skan said, motioning with his free hand. “See Wounds.”

“No!” the orc yelled, swinging his spear to the side. “Any enter Waldo land become Waldo. Leave boar or leave head.”

Skan glanced behind him. Seeing the fatigued condition of Pistil and Dante, he shook his head. He pointed his spear against him. “Me against you. Winner takes boar. Keep heads.”

“Me against you? Obsidian against wood?” The orcs bellow shook the bushes around him. He tossed his spear aside and drummed on his breasts. “You insult Waldo. Waldo kill!”

“Great now we have a chance annnnnd it’s gone,” Pistil said, shaking his head as Skan tossed away his spear.

The orc spirit lives within Skan. Refusing the enemy's handicap has changed the scenario from a rank E to a rank C.

The enemy orc released a battle cry and dashed towards Skan.

Dante wasn’t sure whether it was honor or pride that had Skan do that, he could never tell the difference, but this was a video game. It was obvious that the enemy orc had a stronger body, a higher level, and who knows what else. Though Skan was an NPC he still looked like the rest of the starter orcs.

He was old and shriveled like a raisin, and while that didn’t seem to hinder him much, this fight would not be fair. If not for the level difference, then in the amount of labor Skan had spent before the fight.

“Oh my god…” Pistil said, taking the words right out of Dante’s mouth. "The fuck?"

Barely a few seconds had passed and the enemy orc has lost a few teeth. Dante couldn’t understand how that was possible--the enemy orc was faster and stronger at virtually every aspect. He was a good foot taller than Skan.

But his punches kept missing, and each time he stepped forward it was into another one of Skan's punches.

Skan didn’t just dodge. He was predicting every movement.

A step ahead of his opponent. It was much simpler in theory, but in the heat of battle, it was difficult to think ahead, much less think at all. Muscles would tense up and time would flow too quickly as you struggle to react with the opponent.

Everything would be a blur, and once its over, it would seem like a hazy dream. That’s what adrenaline did to someone. Though Dante had his fair share of fights he was still an amateur at this type of prediction. In all the years Dante roamed the streets and the sketchy underground arenas, he'd only witnessed a handful of people move like that.

Kristina and Jarckal were one of those people. It was called talent, and this old raisin had an abundance of it.

Skan led the enemy orc by his husks. He constantly stepped back, baiting him straight into his counters. He wasn’t just predicting his opponent; he was also manipulating him. He motioned to the left but would go down and to the right.

To everyone else, it would seem like gambling, but Dante knew better. He'd grew up with Sai and had gone against Jarckal his entire life, and luck wasn't what made them able to predict just about every word and reaction that came out of Dante.

At that point, it wasn't gambling. Nothing that petty made a man untouchable. Skan barely blocked--he couldn’t. The orc’s punches sounded like a gatling gun. It was just that none of them connected.

After taking one to the jaw the orc stuttered back, putting his guard up. He stopped attacking, and instead growled at Skan.

Shrugging, Skan chased after the orc. He threw a couple light punches. They were blocked by the orcs thick forearms. It didn't deter Skan. He threw blow after blow, each one stronger and heavier than the last. When Skan threw a swung wide punch with his right, the Orc Officer finally countered with a dash forward and a straight punch to the face.

That wide swing was measured--it was a feint. The blows were light for a reason. Before the orc had even begun his straight Skan had already brought his hand back. It slapped the side of the punch, while his left swung around the orc’s remaining hand, striking him on his jaw again.

The orc stuttered back, a few more of his teeth flying in a fit of blood. It was the perfect chance to finish the orc off, but Skan held his ground. He lowered his guard and watched as the enemy got their bearings.

He’s giving the orc a chance to surrender. It didn't make sense. Who knew that the Orc Officer even planned on keeping his end of the deal?

They were orcs, but they weren't completely dumb. Once the Orc Officer realized what Skan had done he bellowed.

For the first time Dante understood what a lion’s roar sounded like. The orc’s nose was pointed in the wrong direction, his eyes were slumped under the bruises, and he was missing a good half of his teeth, but his spirit was indomitable.

Fear. Dante began to sense it growing on his sweaty palms. It had been so long since he'd felt it shake his bones.

The Orc Officer stomped forward, newfound power tingling on his forearms. Glowing yellow threads extended from his skin, waving around his entire body in a spiral. His hand snapped up, and the spear that he disregarded flew into his hands.

“Run,” Skan said. He stepped in front of the orc, his hands up in guard.

Dante heard him and ran in. The tip of the Waldo's spear was a blur, but no matter how faster the orc got Skan was untouchable. He dodged two, knocked aside the third, and threw a kick in by the time Dante leaped up with a punch straight at the side of the Orc Officer's head. He couldn't dodge both of them.

He didn't. This was a game. Dodging and blocking weren't the only options. A wave of dense yellow aura omitted from the orc. It felt like Dante had crashed into water face first. It threw him back to the ground.

Skan had brought up his guard in time, taking the brunt of the force on his arms, while Dante had the light knocked out of him. The Orc Officer ignored Dante as he withered on the ground, struggling to breathe. He chased after Skan at an inhuman speed, plucking him from the air with his spear. It went through his chest and back as the orc kept charging, his roars echoing until the tip found the balk of a tree. “I am Norg!” he yelled, driving the spear further into it. “You take Norg Spear. I take life.”

A good orc has pride. A better orc dies with it. A greater orc lives with it.

Skan has completed a rank C scenario.

Indomitable Spear has Soul-bound to Skan.

You have received 34% experience for witnessing this great feat occur.

By the time Dante got to his feet Norg had walked away. Dante knew it was hopeless but he still he to try. He ran towards Skan, struggling with the spear. It didn’t budge an inch. He pulled with both hands with his feet pushing against the tree to no avail.

Without anything on Dante’s behalf the spear vanished into yellow particles. Dante fell on his back as blood began to pour out of Skan's chest. Dante got back up, catching Skan before he could fall.

“Long... since I felt. Pain," he said as blood dripped from his mouth.

“Hey bud, stay with me. You’re an orc. These wounds are nothing, right? Right? Who dies in one hit? Just breath," Dante tried to lessen the bleeding with his hands. Skan was bleeding on both ends. "Keep breathing. You’ll-”

Skan has died.

“Hey…” Dante said, nudging him. “Wake up.”

“Stop it idiot,” Pistil said, stepping near him. “He’s dead. “

“Pistil...NPCs respawn, right?”

Pistil looked at the orcs as they walked away, leaving the boar. They didn’t spare either Dante or Pistil a glance. “I don’t think so, but--"

“I’ll kill those fuckers,” Dante said, his body shaking. Anger replaced fear. He placed Skan on the ground and got up.

“What? Wait no. Skan did amazing. We got so much out of this. We just need to drag the bo--”

Dante’s fist met Pistil's cheeks before he could finish his words. Dante felt his knuckles break something. Pistil flew a couple of feet into the air and crashed. He stayed on the ground, groining.

“Nog!” Dante yelled, sprinting towards the Waldo orcs. “You treacherous bastard I’ll crush you!”