Jordan and Ben watched intently from their vantage point atop the hill, the wind whipping at Ben's suit and Jordan's dreadlocks. Below them, in the rocky expanse before the fort, a brutal, primal ballet unfolded. The Level 51 Orc Chief, a formidable figure of disciplined power, squared off against the Level 45 Mutated Orc, a monstrosity of raw, uncontrolled rage.
The Chief, a towering figure, raised his greatsword, its surface humming with latent energy. His voice, a deep, resonant growl, carried even across the distance. "You should not have trusted those humans, Shirka! Their methods are poison!"
The Mutated Orc, its diseased green skin rippling, slammed its massive, malformed fist into the ground, cracking the stone. Its voice was a guttural, distorted rumble, more beast than speech. "My methods were effective! Was my growth so brutal that it needed your intervention, Chief? When my brothers used the most demonized methods, you praised them! You're all hypocrite! I won't stand for this hypocrisy, I will become the next chief of our clan!"
The Chief's tusks flared, a flicker of cold fury in his eyes. "The difference, Shirka, is control. Before you could wield the dark power, those humans gave you, you ran out of control. You became a mindless beast, a liability, a stain on our clan's honor."
A primal scream tore from the Mutated Orc's throat. "I'll show you control!" It lunged, a green blur of pure, unthinking violence, its massive fists windmilling.
The battle was savage, yet strangely stagnant. The Mutated Orc, despite its monstrous size and apparent strength, was a whirlwind of wasted motion. Its attacks were powerful, but predictable, lacking finesse. It roared, it charged, it slammed, each blow shaking the ground but rarely finding its mark. The Chief, by contrast, moved with a terrifying motion. He parried the Mutant's wild swings, deflecting blows that could shatter stone. His greatsword moved like an extension of his will, each strike precise, each counter-attack designed not just to wound, but to control.
It quickly became clear the Chief was holding back, toying with his enraged kin. He allowed the Mutant to exhaust itself, letting its fury burn bright and fast. The Mutated Orc sustained heavy injuries—deep gashes appeared on its arms and chest, its movements becoming more labored, its roars turning into pained grunts. Finally, with a swift, almost casual flick of his greatsword, the Chief severed the Mutated Orc's massive left hands at the wrist.
The Mutated Orc shrieked, a sound of pure agony and terror, its stumps spurting black blood onto the rocky ground. Its mindless rage instantly turned to primal fear. It spun, its glowing eyes darting wildly, then, with a desperate, guttural sob, it turned and bolted, towards the forest, escaping. But towards Ben and Jordan's general location, towards the relative safety.
From the fort's battlements, one of the orcs, witnessing the brutal disarming, yelled, "Chief! Should we chase him? He's fleeing!"
The Orc Chief, his greatsword dripping black blood, merely grunted, a sound of dismissive contempt. "Let him go. He'll come home soon enough. He always does." His gaze, however, lingered for a moment on the direction the Mutant Orc had fled, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
Jordan and Ben, now fully alert, watched the grotesque, handless figure of the Mutated Orc barreling towards them. Its speed was terrifying, its desperation palpable.
"Dude, it's coming towards us!" Jordan whispered, his voice tight with a fresh wave of panic. His hand instinctively went to his sabers, but his eyes were wide, calculating the impossible odds. That thing was Level 45, and he was still Level 17.
Ben, however, was unnervingly calm. He adjusted his tie, a purely habitual gesture, his gaze unwavering on the approaching monstrosity. "Do you think you could distract it?" he asked, his voice flat, as if asking for a favor at the office.
Jordan's jaw dropped. "Dude, are you fucking crazy?! That monster is twenty-eight levels higher than me! Even if its hands cut off by its boss and it's still a fucking monster!"
"Just for five seconds," Ben stated, ignoring the outburst. "I want you to go on its right flank, and I'll be on the left. I'll be right behind you, so you don't need to hold it for long."
Jordan groaned, a sound of pure frustration. "Ugh, I swear I'm gonna die if I'm just hit once by that huge fucking fist!"
"That one is heavily injured anyway," Ben countered, his voice a steadying presence. "You just need to do your hit and run, while I just need to land a hit."
"You know that I have to use all of my skills just to avoid being hit by that thing, right?" Jordan pressed, his voice rising.
"Stop complaining," Ben cut him off, his tone firm. "We just need to finish it from its pain and misery. Besides, it's a massive amount of undeclared EXP."
Jordan let out a long, shuddering breath, then nodded, a grim determination settling over him. "Alright, alright, you crazy bastard. Let's do this."
As the Mutated Orc lumbered closer, a desperate, wounded beast, both Ben and Jordan readied themselves. Ben's briefcase shimmered, vanishing, replaced by the Shortsword of Compliance and the Scales of Guilt. He moved the Scales, golden light flaring.
[ ✦ Mark of Debt applied ]
The System calculated rapidly, revealing the Mutated Orc's massive trove of unreported EXP and stats. A surge of power, cold and exhilarating, coursed through Ben's veins.
+1000% Temporary Stat Boost: Active
Debuff Resistance: Active
Reprisal Mode Enabled
Jordan felt that weird aura again, the oppressive weight of Ben's power, but this time, it was laced with something else—a chilling exhilaration. He couldn't help but smile, a wild, almost manic grin. "You're not the only one who's gonna give it all, man! Watch me skin that orc alive!" He activated his own skill, his body wrapping in a vibrant purple aura, his dual sabers humming with anticipation.
They then rushed to intercept it, a blur of black suit and purple light against the rocky terrain.
Meanwhile, the Orc Chief, who had been about to step inside the citadel gates, suddenly detected something. His head snapped up, his red eyes narrowing, then widening in disbelief. Humans! He roared, a sound of pure, unadulterated fury. "SHIRKA! NO!" He bellowed, his voice shaking the very ground. "Kill the humans! All of you!"
The orcs from inside the citadel scrambled, a green tide pouring from the fort's gates, and the Chief himself ran towards Ben and Jordan, his massive obsidian greatsword held high.
Jordan, noticing the entire orc army rushing towards them, cursed under his breath. "Ahhh… shit! Here we go again!" He shouted to Ben as they approached the wounded Mutated Orc, "Dude! The entire fucking orc army is coming at us!"
Jordan, with his enhanced speed, slashed at the Mutated Orc's legs. His blades, usually so effective, only managed shallow cuts on its thick, mutated hide. The monster was still a tank, even without its left hands. But he succeeded in his goal: he had its full, undivided attention. Jordan grinned, a desperate, defiant gesture. "Helloo… I'm a good human! Can we talk about this?"
The Mutated Orc roared, a sound of pure, unadulterated rage, and pummeled the air where Jordan had been a split second before. Jordan dodged with impossible speed, a purple blur, dancing around the monster's flailing stumps. "Dude!" he shouted to Ben, his voice strained. "I have ten seconds left before my skill runs out and I'm dead! Hurry the fuck up!"
Meanwhile, Ben was closing in on the Mutated Orc's rear. He moved with a chilling calm, his eyes fixed on the glowing Mark of Debt. "By the cosmic authority vested in me," Ben's voice resonated, flat and unyielding, yet carrying the weight of universal law, "I hereby judge you, entity designated as 'Mutant Orc,' guilty of unlawful growth and undeclared gains. Your existence, in its current state, is a violation of Systemic Order. Compliance is mandatory. Your pain is the interest on your overdue account."
He launched into a series of rapid slashes on the Mutated Orc's back, three precise slash with the Shortsword of Compliance.
[ ✦ Stat Recalibration Seal: -25% to all stats ]
[ ✦ Disarmed – Seal of Arms Activated ]
[ ✦ Stat Recalibration Seal: -25% to all stats ]
The Mutated Orc staggered, its already weakened form succumbing to the overwhelming debuffs. It tried to pummel Jordan, but its movements were now so sluggish, so predictable, that Jordan easily dodged it, a wide, savage smirk spreading across his face. "You're dead now, boi!" he yelled, spinning his dual blades. "This skill combo, I call it, the Spinning Nigga!" He rushed towards it in a whirlwind of purple energy, his blades a blur, slashing a multitude of rapid, shallow cuts across the orc's body—its legs, its torso, its remaining arm—each strike a blinding flash of purple light, before aiming for a finisher that was supposed to cut its head off like a scissor.
But for the first time, something else happened. Just as Jordan's blades were about to connect, a blinding golden light erupted from the Mutated Orc.
[ ✦ Final Notice – Foreclosure Authority Triggered ]
[ Conditions Bypassed ]
A massive golden chain, shimmering with an ethereal glow, wrapped around the orc, binding it instantly. Before Jordan's blades could even graze it, a vortex of swirling darkness tore open beneath its feet, and the Mutated Orc was claimed, dragged into the void with a soundless, absolute finality.
Jordan skidded to a halt, his blades frozen mid-swing, his mouth agape. Even Ben, who had initiated the Mark, blinked in surprise. The Final Notice had triggered before the target was subdued.
The Orc Chief, witnessing his son—his uncontrolled, yet still his son—get claimed by the void, let out a primal scream of rage that shook the very mountains. He surged forward, his greatsword a blur.
"Oh sh—" Jordan began, but he was cut off as the Chief's attack, a massive, sweeping cleave, tore into the very ground where they had just stood. The earth erupted, sending a geyser of rock and dust into the air. The sheer force of it emitted a great shockwave that slammed into Jordan, launching him backwards like a discarded toy. He sailed through the air, his arms flailing, a choked shout of "SHIIIIIIIEEEEEIT!" echoing, before landing with a sickening thud, as he bounced once, then lay still.
Ben, however, covered, and held his ground, his feet digging into the earth. The Chief's roar, laced with pure, murderous intent, washed over him. Automatically, the System reacted. Ben's hand moved, marking the Orc Chief and the entire scrambling orc army that poured from the citadel gates. The Scales of Guilt automatically calculated rapidly, revealing their unreported EXP and stats. A surge of power, unlike anything he had felt before, coursed through Ben's veins again, making his teeth clench, a raw, almost painful influx of System authority.
+9,000% Temporary Stat Boost: ActiveDebuff Resistance: ImmuneReprisal Mode Enabled
Ben gritted his teeth, absorbing the sudden, overwhelming power. His golden aura flared, a blinding beacon that was felt by the Chief, the scrambling orcs, and even the distant, groaning Jordan. As the dust settled from the Chief's attack, Ben stood unmoving, a dark, perfectly tailored silhouette against the chaos, a faint, chilling smile spreading across his face as the system notification popped up across his vision.