Chatper 211: REMATCH

The clash of titans echoed across the battlefield, thunderous shockwaves and brutal sounds of combat radiating from the clearing where Kargul faced off against the blood wyvern and the crimson witch. The wyvern, massive and sluggish, was still a beast of terrifying presence—its rotted wings spread wide as it lashed out with brute force. Kargul’s punches, however, were monstrous in their own right. Each blow sent vibrations through the earth and made even the undead wyvern stagger with a guttural screech.

Hovering just out of reach, the blood witch laughed coldly, her voice like cracked glass. She danced between tree branches and swirling crimson mist, always staying just beyond Kargul’s reach. Every now and then, he hurled a throwingaxe at her with sudden speed, but she effortlessly dodged each throw, cackling at his frustration.

“Come here, you foul creature!” Kargul roared, his voice thick with fury as he charged after her, eyes gleaming with the desire to hear her brittle bones shatter beneath his might.

But the wyvern slammed its tail into his path, its sheer weight and speed catching him mid-sprint. He tried to duck, but the heavy, scale-covered appendage struck his chest like a battering ram, launching him backwards into a tree that cracked from the force. His skin, hardened like stone, withstood the blow.

Before the dust could even settle, Kargul was back on his feet. He ignored the witch for now, focusing on the wyvern. As it reared up to strike again, he charged and slammed his mace into its front leg. The crunch of bone echoed through the forest, and the beast stumbled sideways with a snarl. But before he could press the advantage, the ground beneath him turned to blood-soaked mud, slowing his movements.

The wyvern’s maw glowed with red energy, breath building in its throat. Too close. Too fast. Kargul reached into his pouch, pulled out one of the alchemists’ toxin sacs designed for undead, and hurled it straight into the creature’s open jaws. A beat later, realization dawned in its glowing eyes, and it began coughing violently, red mist erupting from its throat as it thrashed in place.

Kargul grinned and stomped the ground, using his earth skill to solidify the blood-mud beneath him. He surged forward as the wyvern choked, but his moment of triumph was short-lived.

“You bastard,” he muttered to himself and a wave of thick crimson mist surged into his mouth—sent by the blood witch. He coughed, sputtered, but the mist had little effect on his constitution. He recovered quickly, fury renewed, and charged again.

Only to be interrupted once more.

A blood spear shot toward him—this time from Grommash, the red orc. Kargul barely had time to react and swung his mace to deflect it. The impact hurled him several meters back, gritting his teeth as his boots tore up the earth.

“Traitor!” Grommash roared, his aura flaring like wildfire. “Your stench reeks of weakness. This time, I’ll tear your guts out and feed them to my war beast!”

Kargul laughed through clenched teeth. “Finally. This time, I’m going to smash you real good.”

They charged. The earth quaked beneath their feet. When they collided, the clash of mace and axe sent a thunderous shockwave through the trees. Kargul lost the first exchange—Grommash’s strength overpowered him, throwing him back. Before he could recover, the wyvern lunged, claws like spears bearing down on him. Crimson ichor dripped from their tips—poison, undoubtedly.

Kargul blocked with his mace, skidding backward. His muscles screamed, but he stood tall.

“Grommash, wait just a moment—” The witch’s voice coiled like a serpent from her perch ten meters up in a tree. Her grin was sharp, mocking. “Hey, orc boy, did the little girl pay you to turn on your kin, or are you really this stupid?”

“Silence, witch! It’s smashing time!” Kargul bellowed, his voice shaking the leaves from the trees. His body flared with raw power as he activated his boost skill, channeling rage into motion.

Grommash sneered. He was confident—faster, stronger, more resilient. This would be a lesson carved in pain. The other orc wasn’t just a rival; he was blessed by an orc god that Grommash’s own patron despised. Breaking him would bring glory and favor. He would savor every moment.

“Dodge to the side,” came the witch’s voice again, this time whispering in his mind.

He ignored her.

Whatever she’d summon into the fight, it couldn’t harm him. He had eyes only for the kill—Kargul’s head beneath his boot.

But pain exploded through his chest. His body froze mid-charge, then lifted into the air. Two blade-like claws, jagged and gleaming, burst through his torso. He coughed, blood spilling from his mouth, his mind blank with shock.

The insect had struck.

And it hadn’t come to play.

He was slowly lifted into the air, pain lancing through his chest as he saw the massive orc charging toward him, his damned mace raised high. Grommash’s war beast surged forward, brimming with power, slashing down at the oncoming threat. Behind him, pain spiked again—blinding and sharp—as the insect-like man tried to cleave him in half. But Grommash was not so easily slain. With a brutal elbow strike behind him, he struck the attacker’s head, rewarded with a sickening crack.

In the next moment, the blood witch’s magic flared and teleported him onto a thick, moss-covered branch high above the chaos. From this elevated perch, he watched as Kargul was slammed aside by the force of the war beast's assault, tumbling through broken trees. Ah yes—today, the traitor would die. There was no sanctuary, no shadow to hide in. Grommash would see to that personally.

He glanced down at the insect man. The creature’s shoulders had broadened slightly—stronger now. Grommash’s punch had landed hard. His own wounds were deep, oozing dark blood, but his recovery was impressive. He only needed seconds more to mend the wounds in his chest. A lesser foe might have been finished, but not Grommash. The situation would be diffrent if his heart got destroyed.

“You truly think you can win this fight?” Grommash sneered, his voice laced with contempt. “You couldn’t even bring down my war beast. I’ll kill you both… and enjoy every second of it.”

Kargul said nothing, simply grunting as he readied himself once more, charging the beast with raw fury. The insect man, meanwhile, was already rising to his feet, the aura around him stabilizing—then steadily climbing in strength.

Grommash’s lip curled.

“Got that look again…” he muttered to himself. “Brings back humiliating memories.” Rage stirred within him like an old friend. He leapt down from the branch, not caring why Cathrin was still holding back her true strength. If she wouldn’t finish these pests, he would.

“Come then, pitiful orc. You don’t even have a war beast!” Grommash laughed as he strode toward Kargul and the insect warrior, the earth trembling beneath his feet. His crimson wyvern lumbered beside him, snarling, wings twitching with anticipation.

“My war beast is Vorlok, the Worldshatterer,” Kargul growled, rotating his mace in preparation. The power radiating from the insect man surged again, his body now crackling with barely contained force.

“Die!” Grommash bellowed, launching into a sprint. But just as the wyvern prepared to pounce, something enormous crashed down from above. A shadow moved like lightning—then the wyvern was gone, rolling through shattered trees fifteen meters to the side.

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Grommash’s eyes widened as he beheld the intruder—a giant turtle, armored and ancient-looking, had smashed into the wyvern and now bit savagely into its midsection. Blood and corrupted mist poured from the wounds, but the turtle didn’t seem to care that it was consuming poison-laced flesh meant to kill any living thing.

Then movement drew his attention—Kargul, charging in, his mace raised high. Beside him, the insect warrior, now slightly taller, his muscles rippling with unnatural strength. Both surged forward with killing intent.

Cursing, Grommash raised his hands and unleashed a roaring bloodwave. It slammed into the two, slowing their charge momentarily, but not stopping them. Their momentum reignited, and they surged forward again.

Grommash’s eyes narrowed as he noticed Kargul’s foot stomping toward the ground—a familiar movement, tied to one of his earth techniques.

“Jump!” the blood witch’s voice cut through his mind like a blade.

This time, Grommash obeyed. He sprang to the side, a wicked smile on his face. He could feel how badly the orc wanted that strike to land. Amusing.

A heartbeat later, the ground beneath Kargul and the insect exploded into bloody spikes—an eruption of bloodspears. But Kargul was already stomping the ground, and the shockwave from his earth skill shattered the spears. The insect man twisted mid-air, avoiding the impalement entirely. Grommash allowed himself a nod of approval. That one was fast. Very fast.

His gaze flicked to the side—to his war beast.

It was impossible, wasn’t it? A turtle?

His twisted grin widened slightly when he saw the wyvern throwing the turtle aside. But then his smile vanished.

A massive section of flesh was missing from the wyvern’s midsection. The turtle had torn it open. And now it was airborne again, shell gleaming, soaring toward the injured beast.

Before the collision could happen, the blood witch fired a spear of crimson energy from the ground. It struck the turtle, not hard enough to pierce the shell, but enough to disrupt its flight. The wyvern seized the moment and lunged, tackling the turtle midair and dragging it back to the ground in a tangled heap of claws and teeth.

Now the wyvern pinned the turtle with a clawed foot, its mouth snapping toward a flipper.

And then something unexpected happened.

The turtle—so seemingly sluggish, more leathery in appearance than armored—pulled its flipper fully into its shell. The wyvern’s jaws clamped shut on nothing but dirt, its teeth digging into the earth with a muffled crunch.

Grommash blinked in disbelief.

“Looks like your fat turtle’s dying first,” Grommash roared with laughter, savoring the taste of victory like blood on his tongue.

Kargul dashed forward, attempting to reach his beast, but Grommash was faster. His axe swept low, aiming for the orc’s leg in a flash of crimson steel.

“Hold on, Vorlok! I’m coming!” Kargul bellowed, leaping clean over the deadly arc.

“No, you’re not,” Grommash growled, his grin growing. “The next thing you’ll see is my war beast tearing your bloated turtle apart.”

The wyvern was relentless now—claws hammering against Vorlok’s shell like a drumbeat of doom. The turtle remained curled inward, defensive, its leathery armor holding against each strike. Then, without warning, the wyvern vanished—launched across the battlefield like a cannonball. It hit the ground with brutal momentum, rolling end over end until its body slammed between two trees. The force twisted its limbs at unnatural angles—its tail and hindlegs cracking one trunk while its neck and skull slammed the other. Bones snapped. The beast folded in on itself like a crushed piece of origami.

A moment later, a swirling flash of violet light appeared where the wyvern had once stood. From within it, a translucent, tentacled form shimmered—then solidified. A purple squid hovered for a heartbeat… and then transformed into a man.

Jack had returned.

Josh’s eyes widened in disbelief. For a moment, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. But no—there he was, floating in the air, a confident salute aimed in their direction. Jack pointed one finger toward Grommash—and in the same instant, the red orc was forced to abandon his assault, dodging back to avoid the strike.

“This is impossible! How are you alive?!” screeched the blood witch. Her aura erupted in a wave of oppressive power, flooding the clearing like a red tide.

“Grommash, call the orcs!” she shrieked again before vanishing—then reappearing in midair with clawed, crimson hands poised to strike Jack.

But Jack had already anticipated her. He vanished just before she reached him and reappeared beside Josh, wearing a smug grin.

“Oh no, not again, scary lady,” Jack teased. “You better keep your eyes open—because I’m coming for you.” His voice dropped with icy finality on the last words.

Grommash, unfazed, pulled a blood-red amulet from his belt and crushed it in one hand. A smug smile crept across his face.

Meanwhile, Vorlok, now freed from beneath the crippled wyvern, stirred. The dragon-beast wheezed, unable to stand, its limbs twitching helplessly. The turtle’s eyes locked onto the blood witch.

With surprising speed, Vorlok launched himself forward. The witch barely escaped, teleporting again, appearing high above in a tree’s branches, already weaving her next spell. But before she could finish, Vorlok was upon her again, forcing her to teleport once more with a frustrated hiss.

“You’ll see how wrong you were,” Grommash growled. “My horde will tear you all apart—limb by limb.”

“Be quiet,” Kargul replied, flatly. He stepped forward, preparing to charge—but Jack raised a hand to stop him.

“Wait, wait,” Jack said, flashing a wide grin. “Let’s give him a chance to impress us. Maybe he can tell us exactly how strong his little horde is—levels, numbers, rarity. We’d hate to underestimate him.”

“What?” Grommash snarled, utterly dumbfounded. “Are you damaged, human?”

“My orcs will come, and then I’ll show you what real pain feels like. I’ll carve your screams into my memory while I drink your blood!”

Jack raised a brow, unimpressed. “Pain doesn’t bother me. I’ve been tortured before.”

“Hey—

I

was the one who got tortured,” Josh said with a wink, glancing at Jack. He seemed to catch on that Jack was stalling for time—and was all too happy to play along.

The red orc stood still, clearly waiting for the cavalry. Silence descended on the battlefield, broken only by the pained moans of the fallen wyvern and the frustrated huffing of the witch as she blinked across the treetops to escape the hungry turtle.

“Grommash, where are the orcs?” the witch yelled, now visibly irritated.

The red orc’s brow furrowed. He reached into his belt and retrieved another gleaming red crystal. His eyes widened.

“They’re… they’re all dead.”

“What? What have you done?!” the witch screamed, her voice laced with fury. Her aura lashed out violently, rising into the sky like a crimson storm.

Jack’s smile twisted. “Oh, they’re already dead? Well, then… I guess we don’t need to stall anymore.”

With that, Jack raised a hand and unleashed a wave of telekinetic force straight into Grommash’s face, sending the warlord staggering backward.