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The Crime Lord Bard - Chapter 141: Orcs
🕑 Added 2025-07-18 00:00:10 +0000 UTCAndrik turned as he whispered. "Orcs."
The word hung in the air, sending a ripple of tension through the company. Though the soldiers halted in an instant, achieving absolute silence was impossible. The clinks of armor, the crunch of boots into the snow, all these sounds seemed amplified in the forest. Yet, masked by the fact that Orcs were anything but quiet.
Over a hundred meters away, hulking figures moved, carving a path of destruction through the woodland. The Orcs tore down any tree that dared stand in their way, splintering trunks with swings of their weapons. Branches snapped like twigs under their advance.
Each Orc towered slightly above the average man. However, they carried an impossible breadth of muscle, their physiques so exaggerated that it seemed their flesh might burst at any moment. Their skin was a deep, dark green. They resembled goblins in their coloration but lacked the lighter hues of their smaller kin. From their wide mouths protruded jagged tusks, and small horns jutted from their foreheads.
They were wearing armor and garments made from hides and bones. In their hands, they wielded weapons that were as varied as they were crude. Some were rusted blades, others heavy clubs studded with stone shards.
'Clearly, weaponsmithing isn't their forte,' Jamie concluded silently. Yet, the Orcs' sheer numbers and physical prowess posed a threat.
Andrik moved cautiously, retracing his steps until he was close to the rest of the group. His eyes never left the horde. "We can head east," he whispered, his voice tight. "They're moving west—"
He didn't need to finish the sentence.
Jamie decided he wouldn't wait for Andrik's plan to unfold. He understood the terrain, the dire implications of their situation. It was clear where the Orcs were headed, but there was no guarantee they wouldn't loop back or send out scouts. Being caught unaware from behind by such a massive force would be catastrophic.
Without a word, the bard drew his twin daggers from the sheathes at his waist. He held them loosely at his sides, his posture relaxed yet ready.
Behind him, hushed whispers reached his ears.
"What is he doing?"
"He's going to give away our position!" another voice hissed.
Jamie couldn't discern who was speaking, whether it was a soldier from Hafenstadt or Frosthell, but it didn't matter. The murmurs of dissent faded into the background as he focused on the task at hand.
Jamie moved with light steps, the memories of Jay guiding his every motion through the snow-laden forest. He knew how to tread upon the white blanket without a sound, his footsteps leaving no trace. Drawing upon knowledge from his past life on Earth, he had already decided upon the strategy he would employ.
'It's not exactly the same, but it will suffice,' he thought.
Like a phantom, he vanished among the trees, leaving his watchers startled. They observed in astonishment as he melded into the shadows, his form disappearing amidst the swirling flakes.
As Jamie neared the end of the Orcs' line, he could see them more clearly; there were about twenty of them. They moved in a loose formation, unable to march closely due to their size.
It was a matter of isolating the first orc. Spotting one lagging behind the others, Jamie slipped through the underbrush as silent as death itself. He positioned himself behind the hulking creature. In a swift, fluid motion, he plunged his first dagger into the orc's broad back. Before the beast could roar in pain, his second blade sliced upward beneath its chin, silencing any cry. The orc's eyes widened in shock, a gurgling noise escaping as blood welled up.
Hot blood spattered over Jamie. Unfazed, he dragged the massive body into the dense thicket, heaving it behind a cluster of pines. Without pausing, he melted back into the shadows.
"He's insane," Andrik murmured from a distance, unable to comprehend Jamie's actions.
"He's actually disappearing into the snow," Maria remarked, her voice tinged with awe. "So that's how he does it..." She knew that Jamie and his mercenaries had accomplished feats bordering on the impossible, but witnessing it firsthand brought a new understanding.
"He's fearless. Brutal and swift," she commented to those beside her.
The entire group watched as Jamie approached another orc, this time moving with even greater speed. He darted behind the creature and, with a deft slash, severed its tendon. The orc collapsed, confusion etched on its face as it struggled to comprehend what had happened. Before it could utter a sound, Jamie rammed a hefty stone into its mouth and slashed its throat in one brutal motion.
Bit by bit, Jamie's clothing became drenched in the Orcs' warm blood. Though soaked, he felt no cold; the heat from the blood was enough to keep him warm.
"Uargh!"
A guttural cry echoed through the forest as the first orc noticed the absence of its comrades. By that time, their numbers had dwindled from twenty warriors to fifteen. The orcs growled in agitation, their beady eyes scanning the surrounding trees.
From the shadows, Jamie observed them, his breaths controlled and silent. He knew that the element of surprise was waning.
With a guttural roar that shook the trees, the Orcs formed a wide circle. The ground trembled under the weight of their massive frames as they readied themselves for bloodshed.
"That's our cue," Maria whispered to the soldiers.
Jamie hadn't expected them to engage, but seeing the soldiers moving into position, he silently slipped to the opposite flank.
As the soldiers emerged from the forest, their armor clinking and heavy footsteps announcing their approach, the Orcs abandoned their formation. They turned with predatory grins, eager to meet the challenge head-on.
"Urh Urgh RUARG!" The Orcs screamed battle cries in their harsh, guttural tongue. Jamie couldn't comprehend but needed no translation. They thumped their weapons against their chests and roared.
'Just a little closer... a little more,' Jamie thought. He waited, fingers tingling with arcane energy. As the soldiers stepped within striking distance of the Orcs, he began to weave his spells.
[Cause Fear]
He cast, extending a hand toward the nearest Orc. Invisible tendrils of dread snaked through the air, seeping into the creature's mind. Confusion flickered in its yellowed eyes.
[Babble]
He shot, directing chaos into another. The Orc began to sputter incoherently, its words devolving into gibberish. Its comrades glanced at it in bewilderment, their unity fracturing.
[Frozen Floor]
Suddenly, a sheen of ice glazed the ground beneath the Orcs' feet. He was not the only one casting spells; not far from there, Serana was weaving another spell.
With their foes distracted by the soldiers and the spells, Jamie seized the moment. He moved like a shadow.
He slashed through a tendon, and an Orc collapsed with a howl, its leg rendered useless. Before it could defend itself, his dagger opened its throat.
Another Orc raised its axe, eyes wild. Jamie lunged, driving his blade up under its ribcage, feeling the shudder as steel pierced flesh and bone. He withdrew and whirled to the next target, his movements a deadly dance.
By the time the last Orc fell, gurgling its final breath, Jamie stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving. He was drenched head to toe in blood.
Casually, he ran a gloved hand through his hair, slicking it back and further smearing it. His copper locks were now a deep, purplish red.
"Now we can proceed to the dungeon," he said with a mischievous smile, his eyes gleaming with a light that bordered on madness.
"Are you insane?" Andrik spat, striding forward with disbelief across his face. "You could have gotten us all killed!"
"But I didn't," Jamie replied, meeting his cousin's glare without flinching. "You lead by counting on luck, hoping they'd decide not to double back and catch us unaware. I prefer to make my own luck. Now we're certain no Orc will ambush us from behind."
Andrik shook his head, incredulous. Yet there was a shadow of doubt in his eyes, as if he could not dismiss Jamie's logic.
Unfazed, Jamie turned eastward. The soldiers parted to let him pass, a mixture of fear and respect reflecting in their gazes.
As he walked away, messages began to materialize before his eyes.
[The God of War sends a message: 'Impressive.']
[You have slain 7 Orcs.]
[You spilled 60 liters of blood.]
[Some gods have chosen to bless you with 1,600 Experience Points.]
