Chapter 511 - 513: A Position Of Strength

The orcs charged forward, aiming to climb the steep hill.

Damon pulled his hand back. Behind him, the adventurers with long-range capabilities took aim.

Right next to him, the black shadowy figure known as Ghost stood with a bow in hand—Damon’s bow.

Having witnessed Ghost’s lethality firsthand, Damon had entrusted him with the Helm of Balero. This was the perfect battlefield for him. Although, if Matia had been here, it would’ve been even better. She could’ve simply flown into the sky and rained spears of ice down on their enemies.

He really missed his shadow.

Still in recovery after creating Ghost, Matia had gone far beyond her limits to create a minion on par with herself.

Damon didn’t know how long she’d need to heal, but he hadn’t hesitated to summon Ghost. His ability to fire multiple arrows simultaneously, combined with the Helm of Balero’s kill-shot, made him a monster in his own right.

The ground trembled beneath their feet as hundreds of orcs surged up the hill, swarming toward the summit.

Unnoticed Singularity narrowed his eyes, ready for battle.

"I have no idea what you’re planning," he muttered, "but it had better be good."

Damon glanced over his shoulder at the civilians huddled behind the metal frame of the train.

"It’s simple, really..." he said. "I’ll ask them to leave us alone—nicely."

Singularity blinked, then chuckled.

Clearly, Damon was making some kind of joke to ease the tension.

Until he saw Damon’s face.

On the ground beside them, barely conscious, Aleph weakly raised a trembling hand.

"This... madman is serious..."

Dred looked to the sky. "Mom... I’ll be joining you soon..."

Aleph croaked, "Filthy orphan."

Damon waved his hand.

Arrows and bursts of magical energy thundered down the hill, streaking through the sky, leaving trails of destruction in their wake.

The orcs were hammered by the barrage. The earth shook from balls of magical force launched by mages. Blasts of raw magical energy exploded in the ranks below.

Undeterred, the orcs grabbed the bodies of their fallen comrades and used them as shields—without hesitation or remorse.

This was orc society.

Strength was everything.

Might makes right.

The living were mightier than the dead, and that was the only logic that mattered.

Their battle cries never ceased.

Twilight sneered, twirling his magic dagger.

"You didn’t really think I’d let you go far, did you?"

Far below, in front of the charging orcs, a spatial rift tore through the air.

Then came the explosion—pitch-black lightning lanced from the rift, crackling like a storm. The cabin of dark electricity erupted, killing orcs in the blast and stunning those around it.

Damon narrowed his eyes.

That was Twilight’s attribute: Black Lightning—a rare variant element.

He turned to Wimpy.

"Get ready to use your second-class skill."

Wimpy nodded, gripping his magic guns.

"Who... am I copying?"

Damon looked at his shadow—Ghost.

"You’ll be copying the skill he’s about to use."

Wimpy nodded. His skill—Wild Card—let him copy any mana-based skill. It only worked on mana-based skills, couldn’t replicate unique class skills not based in mana, and could only store one skill at a time. If overwritten, it had to be re-learned.

Damon looked back down the hill.

Hundreds of orcs scrambled upward, slowed by the traps and obstacles Aleph had created—at great personal cost.

"Ghost."

At his command, the shadow raised his bow to the heavens and fired a single arrow high into the air.

The temperature dropped.

Cold swept across the battlefield as the arrow reached its apex—and began to split.

The single arrow split like breaking glass—fractals of ice and shadow blooming outward—until the sky itself seemed to splinter.

One became ten. Ten became hundreds.

Each one radiated the cold, hungry death in the form of shadow and ice.

The orcs slowed. Some looked up. A few—faster or smarter—shouted in Orcish:

"Take cover! Shields up—take cover!"

They reacted fast.

But not fast enough.

Ghost, who was a third-class shadow, imbued with ice and shadow, unleashed a rain of black icicles that screamed as they fell. One struck an orc using a corpse as cover. The frozen body shattered. His arms iced over. His skin turned black, then white, then blue as frost raced through his bloodstream.

Wimpy grinned. He’d learned the skill.

He raised both guns. Two bullets.

Then came the sounds of thunder and agony as orcs were shredded by the barrage of mana-forged magic bullets.

Wimpy clutched his head from the mana strain, but the blood spray and collapsing enemies boosted morale.

Adventurers cheered. Weapons raised. A victory—however brief.

But that was only the beginning.

Damon’s eyes fell on the orc war chief.

The Orc seemed to chuckle. His lips moved.

Then the siege beasts stirred.

Mounted on their backs were crude catapults, fashioned from salvaged magic artillery. They hurled flaming boulders through the air as orc shamans lifted their arms—red magical energy spiraling into the sky.

Unnoticed Singularity sliced a flaming boulder in half as it came flying toward them.

"They’re taking us seriously now..." he muttered.

"Any more bright ideas before they kill everyone? My party and I can escape if we have to—but we can’t take many with us."

Damon chuckled.

"Actually, everything is going better than I thought."

Singularity raised an eyebrow just as another blast landed inches from Damon, coating his armor in dirt and flames.

The fire rolled harmlessly off his body.

"Uh huh. Very convincing..."

Dred dodged a falling boulder as civilians screamed behind them.

"Quit aura-farming and do what you gotta do!"

Damon sighed and pulled a staff from his shadow storage.

"Like I said... I’ll ask nicely."

"To negotiate," he said, walking forward through the rain of fire, "you must first establish a position of strength."

He laughed to himself.

"Before I was a death seeker, I was a merchant in blood... and a dealer in death."

Then, in a voice the orcs would understand, he raised his staff and shouted:

"I am a merchant in blood, and a dealer in death!"

The staff ignited.

Black flames erupted from its tip, casting a wide arc of destruction. From his high vantage point, Damon had clear sightlines on many of the orcs below.

Without hesitation, he launched the attack—

A devastating volley of fire from the Staff of Carnage tore down the slope and struck the orc ranks.

A deafening boom.

A black, consuming explosion.

Then...

Silence.