The siege of the city didn't diminish at all. In fact, more mages came to lend a hand, as now groups of Hobgoblins and Goblin Shamans were shooting at the defenders from afar.

Arrows and Fireballs were being exchanged in spectacular bursts of magic and matter, and sounds of explosions and screams filled the air.

The human combatants held an edge at first, but as the hordes of interlopers pushed at their shields as an unending tide, cracks started to form.

And where better to concentrate an attack than where they once succeeded before. And they were doing it. The defenders on the wall were exhausted from constant fighting and killing and it seemed like they would break down at any moment.

"God damn it!" Gerald cursed as he looked down at the horde. "What is so good there that you have to attack right where my warehouse is?!" It was unacceptable! How dare they test his patience!

He released the invisibility as a spear appeared in his left hand and a sword in his right. Holding the Toothpick and Orc Slayer, and having the Black Onyx cloak draped over himself, he fell from the sky.

"Elemental Avatar!"

Boom!

A sudden impact crushed many under his feet, as dirt and ash and stones rose from the ground, obstructing his magnificent form. Scorching flames of the battlefield licked his body, igniting his shirt in a ball of flames.

"Hmph!" Gerald snorted and stabbed the sword into the ground. A sudden gust of explosive wind tore the clothes off his body, revealing the black gem in his chest. Those that could see Mana would see him glowing at the moment.

A glow of power only seen in the beasts approaching the Gold Rank.

The Goblins around him warily approached as they felt the waves of Mana surging around him. Each breath filled him with energy, and his muscles hardened and bulged under the weight of the enchantments. With Magic Eyes active, his orbs appeared to be glowing in the color of blood, and his Life Aura grew as magic filled his bones.

Nobody could see the changes though, as only the closest monsters could feel themselves shudder in fear as an ancient instinct kicked in, warning them of a predator.

"None of you are going to survive this!" Gerald growled in a low voice and gripped the blade.

Stab!

With a quick jerk, the Toothpick penetrated the skull of a Hobgoblin to his left, and as he pulled the spear back, the monster fell to the ground, dead.

Blood splashed.

Heyaaaaaa!

Demonic screeches erupted all around after a moment of silence. The waves of living flesh collapsed on him all at once. From afar it seemed like a meteor struck the lake and was then covered by the returning tide.

Blood sprayed into the sky. Limbs flew and were diced and sliced among the flurry of blades. A wild, iron tornado, created a meat grinder where Gerald stood. He was an example of a benevolent saint, helping liberate the monsters of their vile form, releasing their souls from fleshy imprisonment.

They thanked him with songs and gifts, jumping toward him with smiles, and wide-open arms. He smiled gently and laughed, dancing among them and gently stroking their fur.

Each movement of his arms drew mist into the air, and glorious crimson rainbows formed all around him. It was beautiful!

It was horrible!

The soldiers and warriors watched in horror as monsters were almost disintegrated in a storm of blood. Even though they were deadly and cruel monsters, the sight of their death was so much worse!

Heavy blades from a single human whistled as they cut the air, and only quiet splats were heard as they dissected and disemboweled the invaders. Blood filled the air and turned into crimson mist. Rings of fire were blasted outward with each step he made, and where his sword slashed, a line of Thorns formed.

Stone thorns, growing straight from the ground, razor-sharp, and deadly! Many of the interlopers were impaled before they even knew what was going on, and their entrails spilled on the ground at the slightest tug.

The onlookers stood in a daze. The monsters they so desperately fought just seconds before were now dropping like flies. The sudden void of danger left them stunned and helpless as they could only watch, as someone else slaughtered their opponents without sparing them a single thought.

"Does anyone know him?" One of the warriors wondered aloud, not expecting to get an answer.

And indeed, apart from a few unrecognizable groans and whispers, most fighters simply shook their head.

Even the observer, who was counting the kills from the Guild's warriors and knew basically everyone, was unfamiliar with the man. Not like he could see his face at such a distance and under the cloak he was wearing, but still. The mark in the shape of a crystal on his back was entirely unfamiliar. It was the first time he saw it. Or was it?

The man scratched his stubble and strained his brain thinking, but he just couldn't remember.

"Oh, no! He's at it again!"

The man suddenly recognized the voice and turned his head. It was a group of three young ladies, one of which was a Dark Elf, and two men. However the cloaks they wore attracted much more attention than the people themselves.

"It's them! That's where I saw it!"

He was not the only one who noticed the newcomers. The defenders all gathered around them like curious children and showered them with questions.

"Are you with that crazy guy?"

"What's your group's name?"

"Where did you come from?"

"I want to join you!"

"Aren't you going to help him?"

"Tell him to stop, I need some money too!"

"Is he single, does he have a girlfriend? I can still be his mistress if he already has one!"

"Err..."

Needless to say, the girls didn't answer a single question. Not because they didn't want to, but because they couldn't. They were bunched together with the warriors shouting over each other all around them.

"By Innos, look!" someone shouted. "The Orcs are charging at him!"

And indeed, as dozens of pairs of eyes turned, they saw a group of about ten Orcs rushing at Gerald. The Goblins stood aside as their superiors rushed with weapons drawn and saliva dripping from the large fang-filled mouths.

"He's going to die!" someone else shouted, this one sounding like a woman. "Help him!"

Many of the guys had the same idea and pulled back their bows and took aim at the Orcs. However, they knew such actions were futile. The beasts were too far away and too heavily armored. Anything they did now would be too slow to help the lone man fighting down there.

They said a silent prayer for the man in their minds and waited with bated breaths for the result.

"Huff," Gerald breathed out loudly and turned towards his assailants with squinted eyes. He flipped the Toothpick around, changed his grip, and threw it!

The spear blasted forward towards the Orc Elite that was leading the charge, penetrated the armor on his chest, and lifted him in the air momentarily, before crashing back down. The defenders on the wall barely had the time to gasp, when his hand opened, revealing a cannon barrel inside.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Loud explosions rang out as his hand was spitting fire and metal like some sort of enraged juvenile dragon.

Armor plates caved in, limbs were torn off in an explosion of bloody mist, and skulls were cracked like an overripe watermelon. Each cannonball was like being hit with a small meteorite, and despite Orcs being vastly superior to humans in physical toughness, they broke apart just as easily.

Gerald roared a war cry and rushed forward like a mad dog.

The Orc Slayer found a gap in the Orc's armor and stabbed through his chest as Gerald proceeded to perform a somersault and shoot him in the back of the head. Brain matter exploded and blood mixed with fat rained down on the earth.

The few remaining Orcs warily stepped back as Gerald glared at them. He extended his hands, and the Toothpick and Orc Slayer landed back in his grasp with a metallic thump.

He turned around without giving them a second thought and left.

Both humans and the Orcs were confused, and the latter roared and attacked after a moment of uncertainty.

That's when the earth cracked.

Gerald was exhausted. So much slashing and cutting, so much blood and gore. It was a bit too much even for him.

The battle was wild and ferocious, and although he was becoming much stronger all around, with almost 900MP his body now contained, the strain of using all that magic in such a short amount of time was painful nonetheless.

His body was on fire, and his heart was beating at least twice the upper limit for a human. He sweated buckets already and his mouth was dry. It was time to stop and cool down, no more fighting for at least a few hours.

As for the Orcs behind him, well, they were already dead.

The ground cracked at his command, and thorns like snakes rushed out, stabbing and tearing them to pieces. Then, with one final roar, he sent out an order, and a wall of Thorns was formed around the breach. The battlefield he painted with blood, was now safe.

He slowly walked back to the wall, appearing slow and exhausted, as he did so.

"By Innos, Gerald, are you alright?" Elly asked as his group came to welcome him.

"Ouch, you are so hot!" Sera exclaimed after touching his hand in an attempt to help him get back on the wall. His skin was red and it felt like it was on fire.

"Thanks, I appreciate the compliment, but now it's not the time," Gerald half-joked and took a waterskin out of his Ring. He drank in big gulps and then took another and poured it over his head. Steam rose from his hair.

Those fellows around tried to talk to him, however, Gerald didn't feel like answering questions from dozens of loud and pushy men and women. He took over a few barrels of water, made himself an icy cocoon, and threw out a Sound Barrier scroll.

'Finally some peace and quiet,' he mused and closed his eyes in meditation. The voices were back with full force, pounding on the walls of his mind. He had to get them under control quickly, or they would become rowdy hooligans.

As he calmly breathed in and out the icy air he slowly relaxed and entered a sleep-like state.