Chapter 143 – Cleaning Up Orcs.

Rusty dropped from the final treetop like a falling leaf, his landing silent and fluid. The cool soil yielded beneath his feet as he moved along the edge of the orc camp. His hands had claws on the ends of his fingertips, but that didn’t stop him from gripping a weapon. He drew a shortsword from his inventory, its blade forged from twilight steel. Moonlight shimmered along its surface as he advanced, soundless under the effect of Gleam’s silencing spell.

“Let’s go, Gleam. Stay hidden inside my armor.”

“ ( •̀ ᴗ •́ )و ”

With the sentries down, it was time to clear the camp before anyone stirred. The monsters were exhausted, but they were not helpless. Gleam slipped into his elongated frame, and with her nestled inside, the silencing spell would remain steady around him.

Rusty entered the camp like a ghost floating through a thick fog. His visor pulsed with a low, dim light, casting a faint glow on the dirt beneath his metal feet. The first sleeping orc lay stretched beside a firepit, snoring with his arms flung wide, a crude axe resting just centimeters away. Rusty didn’t hesitate. His blade sank deep into the creature’s chest, silencing the breath before it could even shift. No scream. No sound. Only the faint crackle of fire and the whisper of steel on flesh.

The system instantly notified him when the monster died. At first, the experience points he received didn’t seem like much, as he remembered earning similar amounts from far weaker creatures. However, his guides had explained that more experience is awarded for defeating monsters above one’s rank. When fighting enemies ranked and leveled below him, the experience gain would be severely reduced. In some cases, especially against F-rank or G-rank monsters, he would earn only a single point.

He dragged the corpse into the shadows behind a pile of discarded shields and broken spears, stacking it carefully so it wouldn’t be seen at a glance. Then he moved again. Another orc. Then another. He slipped between tents like a phantom, cutting through throats and hearts in a shadowy rhythm.

Some of them twitched. Some gurgled faintly, their eyes flashing open in fear just a heartbeat before death claimed them. But none could scream. The silencing field followed Rusty like a cloak in the night.

“You’re getting better at this, maybe you should switch from a warrior into an assassin?”

As Rusty continued to kill the Orcs, Aburdon started talking. The demon lord seemed to be bored with his slow approach as he was commenting in a sarcastic tone.

“Why can’t I be all of them together?”

“Oh my, you are quite greedy, aren’t you, Rusty?”

While most people in this world fit into a few predetermined molds like warrior, mage, thief, or archer, Rusty didn’t quite belong to any of them. He had the ability to absorb the skills of other creatures to some extent, and he could also modify his body to suit each role. If he wanted to become a heavy warrior, all he had to do was adjust his body and equip the right weapon. His imagination was his only real limit. But being a jack of all trades came with its own drawbacks.

There simply wasn’t enough time to master every skill. And the higher his rank climbed, the more true this became. Unless he found ways to bend the system, like he had back in the dungeon, he would eventually have to focus his style if he wanted to become a truly proficient fighter. A lot depended on his next evolution and if he could truly master magic.

“Don’t distract him, Aburdon. Just be quiet.”

“Haah, you’re all so boring…”

Alexander urged Aburdon to remain quiet as they were still in an enemy encampment where anything could go wrong. Rusty had just dragged his eighth corpse into the shadows when he froze. A shiver rippled through his armored frame. Gleam, still nestled inside, flickered a quiet warning through their link. The mana in the air shifted just slightly, like a ripple in water disturbed by an unseen hand. Something was wrong.

Near the center of the camp, the orc shaman paused mid-chant. His fingers hovered over the wounded brute he was healing, brow furrowing as if he’d caught a scent or felt a disturbance through the mana around him. Soon, a faint green glow around his staff appeared, along with some green sigils materialising as if to warn him of something. Then, without warning, the shaman’s eyes snapped open, wide, bloodshot, and alert.

‘He knows…’

The orc sprang to his feet with surprising speed, snarling in their orcish tongue. His staff, made of gnarled bone and metal spikes, pulsed with dark energy as he raised it toward the sky. A deep roar erupted from his throat. Though muffled within the area where Rusty moved, the sound still echoed across the camp, slipping past the edges of Gleam’s silencing field.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the Orcs to wake. One by one, they rose to attention, roused by the shaman’s cry. He appeared to be the leader of the encampment and the highest level among them. Though Rusty had already taken down the sentries and several sleeping orcs, he was still heavily outnumbered.

Even so, he remained calm. He had planned for this. Without hesitation, he hurled the blade in his right hand at a wounded orc. It struck true, burying itself deep in the creature’s chest. The orc couldn’t even scream, impaled before he had the chance to stand. As the other monsters saw their comrade’s blood spill, their green eyes began to glow red. One by one, they turned their gaze toward the strange, elongated armor.

“Hah, catch me if you can!”

Rusty had no human head inside his helmet to form those words aloud, but it didn’t matter. The monsters charged. His body vanished into the darkened forest, slipping away from the torchlight and the shaman’s magical attack range. With the sentries in the trees already taken out, tracking him now would be quite difficult.

The Orcs thundered after Rusty, roaring with rage, their weapons raised and bloodlust rising. He didn’t need to be faster than all of them, just fast enough to lead them where he wanted. The dark forest loomed ahead, twisted and confusing, a natural labyrinth.

These monsters had just returned from a battlefield, and this encampment was only temporary. Rusty knew they weren’t familiar enough with the surrounding terrain to pursue him effectively. While he didn’t know the area well either, he had someone who did, his demon lord guide, whose memory was nothing short of flawless.

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“Just hide between that fallen tree and wait… To think I’d be used as some common tracker…”

Aburdon grumbled as Rusty crouched in silence. There hadn’t been much time, but Rusty had still managed to leave a few surprises behind for the orcs. Two of them were now closing in on one of them—a discarded piece of his own body that he hadn’t even bothered to bury. The orcs paused as they reached it, confused by its presence. That hesitation was all he needed. A moment later, an explosion erupted.

The forest lit up with a flash of shadowy flame as the first of Rusty’s hidden body parts detonated. The orcs nearest the blast were shredded instantly, limbs torn away, metal fragments piercing their thick hides. Shrapnel cut through bark and bone alike. Screams of confusion and pain echoed through the trees, drowning the once-silent night in chaos.

“This skill… isn’t it too strong?”