The deputy captain's eyelid twitched as he felt increasingly uncomfortable under the intense gaze. He shifted his eyes away, looking toward another direction.
But in the next moment, a scream echoed from behind him. The deputy captain sighed inwardly, wanting to offer a final moment of silence for his fallen comrade, but he quickly realized something was wrong—the scream just now… it seemed to come from an orc?
He turned his head and was shocked to see a new figure had appeared on the battlefield. This stranger's arrival suppressed everyone present, and the overwhelming spiritual power emanating from him felt like a massive mountain pressing down on their chests, making it hard to breathe. The deputy captain's eyes filled with fear, and his limbs began to tremble—he had never felt anything like this, not even in the presence of their commanding officer.
"A Saint—a Saint-level mage!" The deputy captain clutched his chest as a sense of despair began to swell within him.
As he desperately tried to think of an excuse, a strange sensation spread through his body, filling him with dread. Looking down, he discovered that a small swirl of sand had formed into a brown ring around him, slowly disintegrating his body inch by inch.
"Help, help me! Ahh!"
But by the time he realized what was happening, it was too late. The force of disintegration spread throughout his body, and within moments, the man who had been standing there just a moment ago vanished entirely.
The death of the traitor brought a wave of relief to the soldiers, who now understood the Saint's stance. The atmosphere was electrified with astonishment and gratitude as they looked upon this unfamiliar but clearly powerful ally.
On the other side, the orcs were thrown into chaos by the sudden appearance of this human Saint. The lead Blood Moon Werewolf, in particular, looked as though he had just swallowed a bitter insect—his face twitched, his muscles tightened, and his fur bristled, all signs of the immense psychological pressure he was under.
"Scatter and run! Get the information back to headquarters!" the Blood Moon Werewolf shouted, waving his arms. Instantly, hundreds of orcs scattered like startled birds, fleeing in all directions.
"Running under my watch? What a joke…"
Rhett watched the orcs disperse in a fan shape and let out a cold laugh. His spiritual power spread instantly, and the sky was suddenly filled with swirling sand. Countless tiny earth elements condensed into shackles, wrapping around the legs, arms, and waists of each orc. With the power of the Concentration Mysticism applied, the rocky shackles were unimaginably strong, resisting even the most desperate struggles.
Earth Spikes! Swish, swish, swish…
With a single thought, hundreds of earth spikes shot up from the ground, piercing through the orcs' bodies and sending blood spraying into the air.
"Saint Magus, let us assist you!"
The Wind Knight, seeing all the orcs restrained, quickly took the cue and shouted from the ground. He infused his sword with a large amount of battle aura, causing it to glow with a blue hue. The surrounding knights, hearing the command, swiftly charged toward the orcs.
"No need for that!" Rhett frowned and waved his hand to stop them. He had intentionally avoided striking vital points with his earth spikes, merely incapacitating the orcs. Even if the destiny points from a few hundred kills were small, they still added up, and he wasn't about to waste them.
"Understood... understood." The Wind Knight hesitated briefly, then quickly issued new orders to halt his men's actions.
"Taylors, the rest is up to you…" Rhett stopped spreading his spiritual power and patted Taylors on the shoulder. Taylors, experienced in this task, nodded, drew his twisted staff, and began casting spells on the nearest orc.
Taking advantage of the moment, Rhett approached the Wind Knight, who struggled to rise, his expression showing both respect and pain.
Noticing how difficult it was for him to move, Rhett shook his head, gently patted the knight, and handed him a bottle of Phoenix Elixir. "Take this and heal up first."
"Thank you, thank you, Saint Magus!" The Wind Knight coughed, suppressing the pain in his chest, and without hesitation, accepted the elixir. He quickly downed the contents, feeling the powerful energy course through his body, mending his wounds.
A few minutes later, the Wind Knight's injuries had visibly healed. Regaining his strength, he immediately stood up and saluted. "Honored Saint Magus, thank you for your assistance. As the captain of the Seventh Regiment, Third Detachment, of the Dark Blue Line, I offer you my deepest gratitude!"
"No need for thanks," Rhett said, shaking his head. "Which direction is the Dark Blue Line's camp?"
"Two thousand kilometers southwest. You'll find the camp there," the Wind Knight replied respectfully. "I haven't had the honor of your name yet. Which kingdom do you hail from?"
"Rhett Green, of the Kingdom of Ginlund. Now, tell me about the situation on the Dark Blue Line."
"Of course. The ordinary orcs on the Dark Blue Line are primarily Nightcats, as the terrain here is steep, mostly forested, which suits the Nightcats' combat style. The royal orcs are mainly Shadow Tigers and Blood Moon Werewolves, for similar reasons," the Wind Knight explained. "The orcs have an estimated force of around thirty thousand, while we have roughly forty thousand troops."
"Hmm…" Rhett nodded thoughtfully, then looked directly at the knight. "What's your name?"
"Rocky Flann!"
"On my way here, five hundred kilometers back, I spotted about a dozen heavily injured Nightcats recovering. You know what to do, don't you?" Rhett paused, then added, "And in the future… choose your friends carefully."
"Yes... yes, sir." Rocky's eyes flashed with a trace of hatred, followed by a somber look. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Saint Magus, my wife's family lives in the Kingdom of Ginlund. Once this war is over, I plan to join her. If you'd allow it, I'd be honored to serve as one of your knights."
Rhett chuckled and shook his head. "When the orcs are gone, perhaps we'll meet again."
With that, Rhett wasted no more time. Once Taylors had finished dispatching the orcs, they took to the skies again, vanishing into the horizon.
Rocky stood on the ground, watching them disappear into the distance. He sighed deeply. After the knights had cleared the battlefield, they gathered around him, offering comfort.
"Captain, Dallos got what he deserved. He betrayed us for the orcs. Don't mourn him…"
"Yeah, we're here with you, ready to fight by your side!"
The forest was thick with the scent of blood. Rocky looked at the hundreds of knights surrounding him, feeling a sense of comfort. His gaze swept slowly from right to left, his expression unchanged. But when his eyes fell on a particular group in the center, his face suddenly darkened.
The air grew cold, as if the temperature had dropped to freezing. Everyone sensed the shift and turned their eyes toward where Rocky was staring—at the three squads previously led by the deputy captain.
The members of these squads, sensing the hostility, grew nervous. Was the captain planning to hold them accountable for the deputy's betrayal?
"Two hours ago, who was scouting in that direction?"
Rocky's gaze bore into the three squad leaders, pointing toward the northeast, where Rhett had said the injured Nightcats were hiding.
At this question, two of the squads quickly denied involvement, stepping back and waving their hands defensively. "Captain Rocky, it wasn't us. We were scouting in the opposite direction, and everyone here can vouch for that."
After verifying their claims with the others, Rocky dismissed them with a wave. His attention then shifted to the remaining squad, most of whom seemed confused, except for their leader, who stood trembling, his sword and shield shaking in his grip. His entire body was tense, as if under immense pressure.
Unable to withstand Rocky's gaze any longer, the squad leader finally broke. His sword and shield clattered to the ground as he fell to his knees, his voice cracking with despair, "Captain, I was wrong! I betrayed the kingdom and everyone here! Dallos convinced me to cover up the orcs' movements!"
As his confession echoed through the ranks, the other knights turned on him, their eyes filled with disbelief, anger, and even some who reached for their swords, ready to strike down the traitor.
"Kamon, how could you do this?"
"You're despicable! How can you live with yourself after betraying the comrades who died fighting these orcs?"
Amid the chorus of angry shouts, Kamon buried his face in the dirt, but not a single person showed him any mercy for his actions.
Rocky drew his sword, raising it high above his head. The dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves glinted off the blade as he spoke in a low, steady voice, "Kamon, I hadn't suspected you until that Saint Magus pointed it out. I might never have realized otherwise.
"I received reports earlier that there were no signs of orc activity in that direction... But for a Saint Magus to go out of his way to warn me—his real intention wasn't about those insignificant Nightcats. It was to make sure I rooted out the traitor!"
Kamon's head jerked up, his voice trembling with anguish. "End my life, Captain Rocky! Ever since I betrayed everyone, I've been consumed with guilt. I can't take it anymore. Please, end my suffering!"
Slash! The sword arced through the air, spraying blood in its wake.
As Kamon's body collapsed, the flames of a cleansing fire began to burn away the filth of his treachery.
Rocky turned to face the others, his voice heavy with emotion. "My comrades, we are meant to share our burdens, to face the darkness and dangers ahead together. But those who betray us push us all to the brink of destruction, and I will end their lives myself!
"Let this be a lesson to all of us."
Two days later.
Atop a mountain peak that pierced the clouds.
The sea of clouds below undulated gently, bathed in golden light from the sun, a breathtaking sight.
Above the clouds, near the summit, three human Saints and three ferocious orc Saints faced each other across the sky.
A Saint-level Blood Moon Werewolf, surrounded by a faint blood-red aura, locked eyes with the three human Saints in front of him, letting out a sinister laugh.
"Hahaha, and where do you think you're going? Did you really believe that flying high would keep you from our notice?"
A nearby Shadow Tiger licked its lips with a purple tongue, its eyes gleaming with cruelty. "Did you think you could sneak past us to attack our forces? How amusing. Did you really think we were that blind?"
Another Blood Moon Werewolf clenched its clawed hand, glaring at the three human Saints with disdain. "Enough talk. Let's end them here in the Sea of Clouds! What better place for their graves?"
Faced with these taunts, the three human Saints exchanged a glance and smiled.
Seeing this, the three orc Saints felt a twinge of unease.
"What are you laughing at?" one of the Blood Moon Werewolves growled, feeling both angry and humiliated by their calm demeanor before the fight had even begun.
A middle-aged woman in a purple mage's robe, her figure tall and proud, traced an oval shape with her wand. Standing gracefully in the sea of clouds, she sneered at the orcs. "I'm laughing at your ignorance. After a thousand years of wreaking havoc in this world, your end has finally come."
Beside her, a young knight clad in golden armor, his stance as solid as a mountain, brandished his spear. His voice rang with authority, "There's always a calm before the storm, and your dull minds can't seem to grasp that."
The Shadow Tiger Saint flexed its claws, slashing through the clouds to reveal its menacing fangs. "More nonsense! The rise of the orcs is unstoppable! Our Orc King has reached the pinnacle of power. What human can stand against him?"
"In the past, we acknowledged your natural talents, but now, our world's chosen one has awakened. His coming will end all chaos!" The white-haired elder among the three human Saints, his aura radiating dignity, held his sword with unwavering resolve.
For a few seconds, silence fell over the scene.
The tense expressions of the three orc Saints suddenly relaxed, and they burst into mocking laughter, their voices echoing through the sea of clouds.
"The chosen one? Hahaha, is that your fantasy?"
"To come up with such a figure, you must realize how dire your situation is."
"Humans always cling to their delusions of salvation when facing overwhelming power. But fantasies are just that—fantasies. In the harsh reality of this world, only destruction awaits!"
As the Blood Moon Werewolf spoke, its body began to radiate a thick blood-red light, its muscles swelling, and its blood-red fur standing on end like steel spikes, ready to attack. The other two orc Saints, too, entered their bloodlust and shadow forms, their faces twisting into feral snarls.
The three orcs exchanged glances and then lunged forward like shooting stars. But in the next instant, under the golden sunlight, the sky above the sea of clouds filled with yellow sand, expanding rapidly and enveloping the entire area.
The sudden change in the battlefield stunned the three orc Saints. They had fought these human Saints for decades, knew their abilities inside and out, and were confident that none of them could wield earth element magic, let alone on this scale.
Yet now, a vast earth element field had formed out of nowhere, indicating that they had been ambushed by an earth element Saint Mage!
The three orcs, confident in their speed, tried to escape the sandy domain, but to their horror, they found themselves firmly rooted in place, unable to move.
It felt as if an overwhelming force had locked down the space around them, and every grain of sand seemed to form part of a massive cage, the interwoven forces like countless vines binding them in place.
"No… impossible! This is earth-elemental mysticism—Gravity Space! When did the Gray Ruins Kingdom produce a Saint Mage of this caliber?"
The Blood Moon Werewolf roared in shock and anger, his body surging with blood energy like a tidal wave, his muscles and fur rippling as he tried to break free. But the force holding him was too powerful, and he couldn't budge.
"Does it really matter which kingdom? All you need to know is that eliminating your kind is the will of all humanity."
A calm voice drifted up from below the sea of clouds, heavy and cold. All eyes turned toward the source, and from the swirling sands, a middle-aged man slowly emerged, his expression icy as he stared down the three orcs.
"Your human race is doomed! Surrender is your only option!" The Blood Moon Werewolf snarled, his bloodlust affecting his rationality, making it hard to remain calm.
But as soon as he finished speaking, the Blood Moon Werewolf realized in horror that the earth elements binding him were transmitting an even more destructive force. Despite pushing his abilities to the limit, he couldn't resist.
"Disintegration Mysticism… how can you wield… Ahh!"
In less than a second, the Blood Moon Werewolf Saint vanished into thin air.
But his final scream left the sea of clouds in a deathly silence.
The three Saints from the Gray Ruins Kingdom, despite having met Rhett yesterday and discussed their plan, were still shaken to their core when they witnessed the legendary Disintegration Mysticism for a second time.
The two remaining orcs stared at Rhett, their eyes filled with disbelief. When had the human Saints gained someone of this caliber? Why had they never heard of him before?
With such power, even their Orc King might struggle to come out on top—indeed, he might even fall to the fabled power of Disintegration.