“Lead the way, Luna. Sniff the orc camp out for us.” I instruct Blossom using her new legal name.
Naturally, my beautiful airhead has no clue I’m talking to her. Blossom continues to gaze off into the distance, lost in her thoughts. Perhaps I’ve given her too much attention right after having her stand guard for an entire night.
I clear my throat loudly. “Khm! Luna!”
The sound snaps her attention back to the present, and she blinks at me in confusion before finally realizing that she is, in fact, Luna.
“On it, Master!” She replies cheerily.
With Blossom leading the way, she occasionally lowers her nose to the ground to pick up a scent, her ears twitching as she listens intently for any sounds. Her senses guide us through the dense underbrush, and we follow closely behind, trusting in her instincts to lead us to the orc camp- and hopefully to Broderick.
As we move deeper into the woods Luna pauses every few dozens of seconds to sniff the air and turn her head to pick up the trail. The forest is thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, and the occasional rustle of leaves overhead hints at small creatures scurrying through the branches.
“Any sign of them, Luna?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
She tilts her head to the side, ears perked, and sniffs the air again. “Blo- Luna thinks that she’s got something, Master. There’s a faint scent, a little ways off to the east. It’s a bit similar to how the goblins and hobgoblins smelled back then.” she replies, gesturing with her snout in the direction.
“They are something like distant cousins on the evolutionary tree, after all.” Ayame chimes in.
“Good work!” I encourage our outdoors superstar, giving her a few approving pets. I’m especially happy that she didn’t call herself Blossom out of habit. There’s still some hope left for my beloved scatterbrain.
We adjust our course and move eastward, the foliage growing denser as we progress. The light filters through the canopy in dappled patches, casting flickering shadows on the forest floor. Every now and then Luna stops and I can observe her nose quivering as she catches traces of the orc’s scent.
“How much farther, do you think?” Ayame asks, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of movement.
“Not far.” Luna responds confidently. “Their scent is getting stronger with every step. They are nearby.”
We continue onward, our pace cautious but steady, each of us alert for any sign of the orcs. Marjorie, however, lags a good distance behind us. Her massive frame makes it impossible for her to move quietly through the dense forest, and the sound of her footsteps is like an elephant crashing through a porcelain shop.
So we made the tactical decision to sneak ahead of her as her thudding steps over branches would surely alert the orcs if she were any closer.
After another few minutes of trekking through the woods, Luna comes to a sudden halt, her tail wagging slowly. “Luna feels that they are going to be visible in less than a mile.” she whispers, lowering her voice.
I nod, signaling for everyone to stop. “Alright, proceed with extra care from here on out. Let’s see if we can get a look at what we’re dealing with before getting found out.”
As we carefully make our way forward, a loud crash echoes through the forest- the unmistakable sound of battle. The noise sends a jolt through us, and we quicken our pace, though we attempt to maintain our stealth as we approach the source of the commotion.
We near the edge of a small clearing, crouching low and peering through the foliage to take in the unbelievable scene unfolding before us. The orc camp is situated in a crude encampment, with lots of makeshift tents and a giant fire pit at its center. However, the focus of the scene is not the camp itself, but a lone figure standing amidst the chaos.
Surrounded by hundreds of orcs, a tall, overly muscular man- whom I can only describe as the embodiment of “Gigachad” from my previous world- holds his ground. His presence is both awe-inspiring and surreal, his body a testament to raw strength and power. The orcs swarm around him, their numbers overwhelming, yet he stands unyielding.
(picture)
In his hands, he wields a giant greatsword, a weapon of fantasy proportions that seems too massive for any normal person to manage. Yet, in his grip, it moves with a fluid grace, leaving behind a dazzling trail of light with every swing.
Each motion of the weapon cleaves through the orc ranks, and the blade’s radiant light temporarily blinds those unlucky enough to meet its glare.
The blade strikes with a precision that belies its massive size, cutting down multiple orcs with a each of its rapid swings. Despite the overwhelming odds, there is an unmistakable confidence in this man’s stance.
In this moment I realize that this is what I always dreamt of; power of superhuman proportions. A single entity standing in the midst of a terrifying horde of monsters, yet remains steadfast in the face of them all.
What an inspiring sight.
I turn my head to examine his opponents.
Some of the orcs are simple foot soldiers, their green skin and brutish features marking them as the lowest of their kind. But among them are mightier ones, evolved and battle-hardened.
As orcs grow in levels, they transform into more formidable forms, from simple runts to the fearsome “Orc Lords,” a sub-race I learned about from Ayame during her crash course on orc hierarchy while we were sneaking through the woods.
These Orc Lords are the pinnacle of orc evolution, towering over their lesser kin with an air of menace. Their muscles bulge with power, and their tusks curve menacingly from their jaws. Their armor is cobbled together from the spoils of countless battles, and they wield massive weapons with deadly proficiency.
“Husband!” Marjorie, who has caught up with the three of us, shouts suddenly.