Chapter 118 – Unfortunate Adventurer.

The night was thick with tension as Edmund and his group crouched at the edge of the orc camp. Torches flickered, casting long shadows against the crude woode n palisades that surrounded the encampment. The orcs were loud, their voices echoing through the night as they feasted and sharpened their weapons. The stench of unwashed bodies and charred meat filled the air, making Edmund’s stomach churn.

“We stick to the plan.”

Whispered Mikol, their leader, his voice barely audible over the distant crackling of fire.

“We get in, free the captives, and get out before they notice.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea? What if they spot us?”

Edmund asked, peering through the camp. The Orcs weren’t paying close attention, but their numbers were overwhelming. If they were spotted, the five of them wouldn’t stand a chance in a fight. Mikol shot Edmund a glare, his expression clearly showing annoyance.

“If you’re so scared, why’d you even come along?”

Edmund clenched his jaw but said nothing. He had come for glory, to prove himself. This was his moment. He forced down his nerves and tightened his grip on his sword. The plan was simple. An opening in the palisade, barely more than a gap, had been spotted during their scouting. If they moved quickly and quietly, they could slip through, reach the cages, and free the captives before anyone noticed.

They moved like shadows. Edmund’s heart pounded in his chest as they slithered between tents and past drunken orcs. The cages were at the far end of the camp, near a massive bonfire where several orcs were engaged in a brutal, drunken brawl. Their bodies were massive and a mix of both fat and muscles.

The young adventurer followed after the group he had recently joined. Mikol was their leader, and as the newest member, he felt somewhat like the odd one out. He didn’t know them well, but he was certain this was his ticket forward. He had recently acquired his second class, but his progress had stalled. Only by joining this veteran party could he prove himself. If this mission went well, he would earn a permanent place in the group – and with it, the chance to reach his full potential.

Soon, they reached the cages holding various prisoners. The captives inside were thin, dirty, and weak. A few lifted their heads as Edmund and the others approached. Mikol wasted no time, pulling out a set of crude lockpicks and getting to work. Edmund watched their backs, scanning the camp for any signs of movement. His hands were slick with sweat despite the cold night air.

A click. Then another. One by one, the locks came undone. Edmund helped pull the captives out, urging them to stay quiet. Everything seemed to be going fine, the captives kept quiet after realising that a party of adventurers had arrived to save them. However, suddenly from behind them a shout erupted. One of the orcs had turned toward them, eyes wide with anger.

Edmund’s blood ran cold. The orc screamed, with a deep, throaty sound echoing across the camp. The other orcs, still feasting and drinking, snapped their heads toward the commotion. For a single heartbeat, there was silence – then chaos erupted.

“We’re blown! Move, now!”

Mikol cursed under his breath. The adventurers sprang into action. Their rogue darted forward, sinking a dagger into the throat of the nearest orc before he could grab his weapon. Their mage began weaving a spell, her hands glowing with crackling energy. Their dwarven warrior plunged his axe into the first orc that charged. The captives, now realizing their only chance at survival was to run, scrambled to their feet and fled toward the opening in the palisade.

Edmund raised his sword, heart pounding as an orc charged at him, a rusty cleaver raised high. He barely managed to parry the strike, his arms shaking from the sheer force of the impact. He retaliated, slashing at the orc’s exposed side, drawing blood but failing to bring the beast down. Another adventurer, the dwarf, finished the job with a well-placed axe cleave.

Then Edmund felt it – a sharp, searing pain in his thigh. His breath hitched. He looked down in horror to see a dagger buried in his leg, the hilt still quivering from the force of the strike. His vision blurred as pain and shock flooded his senses. Staggering, he turned his gaze upward – just in time to see Mikol’s cold eyes staring back at him.

“Sorry, kid.”

Mikol muttered.

“We need a distraction.”

Before Edmund could react, Mikol shoved him backward – right into the path of the oncoming orcs. He hit the ground hard, gasping as fresh pain shot through his wounded leg. Above him, his so-called allies were already retreating, leaving him as an offering to the bloodthirsty horde. The orcs, realizing the easy prey before them, roared in anger.

Edmund struggled to rise, his sword slipping from his grasp as his strength faltered. He could hear the shouts of the escaping adventurers, the distant cries of the freed prisoners, but none of it mattered. The orcs surrounded him, their snarling faces twisted in anticipation. One of them, larger than the rest, stepped forward, raising a crude axe high above its head.

‘No. Not like this.’

Gritting his teeth, Edmund forced himself to move. His hands found the hilt of his sword, and with a desperate cry, he swung at the nearest orc. The blade connected, slicing through flesh and muscle. The orc howled, staggering back, but another quickly took its place. A heavy boot slammed into his chest, knocking the wind from his lungs and sending him sprawling once more.

This wasn’t the end. No, it couldn’t be the end, he told himself. His whole life flashed before his eyes – a life filled with nothing but the misery of an orphan with a dream. He had come here to change his fate. So how could this be the end?

The betrayal. The pain. The humiliation. This would not be the last chapter of his story. He would survive. He would crawl out of this nightmare. And when he did, he would find Mikol and the others. And he would make them pay.

*****

“…”

“That’s quite a strong will to live. This one almost turned into a vengeful undead spirit… probably would have, given a few more weeks.”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The left eye socket of the living armor pulsed while talking.

“The head is well preserved. And look, the adventurer’s card is still intact… How lucky.”

Rusty stared at the severed head of the man once called Edmund. Using his Possession skill, he peered into the memories left behind. This one was far more vivid than the last. The anger Edmund had felt toward Mikol was almost palpable.

“It was worth leveling it up along our travels.”

“I’m not sure about this one Rusty, it seems to have a history.”

This time it was the right socket, pulsing with bright light.

“What’s there to worry about? Just some weak adventurers – they probably won’t even remember his face.”

Replied Aburdon, while Rusty wondered how the head ended up on top of a tree. According to the memories of the man named Edmund, he had been betrayed during a quest. Using his possession skill, Edmund’s memories floated as lingering echoes in Rusty’s mind. The last few hours of his life were startlingly vivid: his body was torn apart by orcs, and the orc leader’s axe cleanly lopped his head off. Yet, what had once been the monster camp was gone.

“I wonder what happened to those orcs…”