Chapter 364: One Kill Makes the Entire Orc Army Afraid—and Greedy!

Outside the outpost, the moment Luke was spotted, the previously relaxed camp erupted into activity as Orcs rushed toward the walls and watchtowers, eager to see who had been foolish enough to approach them alone.

"A young dragon? Hahaha! I’ll kill him myself and earn the title of Dragon Slayer!"

That single declaration only made the surrounding Orcs more excited.

True dragons rarely appeared this far out, and aside from the crimson dragon that had been destroying their bases throughout the past month, most of their time on the Dragon Continent had consisted of attacking settlements and expanding their conquered territory.

"Shut up!"

A harsh voice immediately suppressed the growing commotion.

The Orc Shaman strode through the crowd with his staff in hand before glaring at the rowdy warriors gathered around him.

"Stop standing here gossiping and get outside. Bring me that dragon’s head!"

The surrounding Orcs immediately became quieter, although the bloodlust burning across their expressions only grew stronger at the thought of another battle.

Seeing their reaction, the Shaman gave a satisfied nod before adding, "Whoever brings back the young dragon’s head will receive a personal reward from Captain Yarvokh."

"Really?!"

"HURAAAHHH!"

That announcement immediately sent the Orcs into another frenzy, and thousands began grabbing whatever weapons were nearest to them.

Heavy metal clubs, broad swords, war hammers, axes, and other crude weapons quickly filled their hands, yet almost none of the Orcs bothered wearing complete armor, instead fastening thick pieces of metal around vulnerable areas such as the chest, neck, shoulders, and waist.

There was another feature shared by nearly every warrior.

Across their green skin ran interconnected crimson tattoos that stretched from their torsos toward their arms, backs, legs, and necks, forming a single continuous pattern that seemed to cover their entire bodies.

The Orc Shaman raised his staff.

"GO!"

"Slaughter him!"

"Kill the dragon!"

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

Thousands of D-Rank Orc warriors surged through the outpost entrance at once, each standing around nine feet tall with heavily developed muscles, and their combined footsteps caused the surrounding ground to tremble slightly beneath their charge.

The C-Rank Orcs didn’t join them.

Instead, they gathered along the top of the earthen wall with their arms folded, watching the battlefield with relaxed expressions while the Shaman stood among them, his staff resting against the ground.

None of them seemed particularly concerned.

"How many do you think it’ll take?"

"Maybe a thousand."

Another C-Rank Orc laughed.

"I’d say three thousand."

The Shaman didn’t join their conversation and simply kept watching the lone figure standing beyond the walls.

Luke hadn’t moved.

His shoulder-length black hair shifted gently in the forest breeze while he stood with one hand resting casually at his side, showing none of the tension that should have appeared upon seeing thousands of Orc warriors charging directly toward him.

To the Shaman, Luke looked less like someone facing an army and more like a lion that had wandered outside for a casual stroll and couldn’t be bothered by the pack of dogs running toward it.

’Why isn’t he afraid?’

For a moment, the Shaman became confused.

’Does that arrogance really run this deeply in young dragons?’

His thoughts briefly returned to the reports concerning the gigantic crimson dragon that had spent the past month hunting down their bases.

Even some A-Rank members of their tribe had encountered that creature, only to return severely injured and order the remaining forces to stop expanding openly and develop their positions more carefully.

Still, the Shaman quickly dismissed the uneasiness in his heart.

’Whatever.’

The young dragon standing outside didn’t look anything like that monster.

Soon, he would be dead.

---

"KILL HIM!"

"HE’S MINE!"

"SLAUGHTER!"

"BLOOD!"

Luke calmly watched the thousands of Orcs rushing toward him while their voices echoed through the forest.

"Paragon’s Judgment."

Luke whispered the name, and a golden sword immediately materialized within his right hand.

Floating some distance above him, Caelith noticed the weapon and smiled slightly.

"He already released one of its seals. That’s good, because the more seals he breaks, the closer Paragon will come to recovering its real power."

Nyx, Myrkhal, and Sevaroth remained quiet beside her, simply observing Luke to see how he intended to handle the approaching army.

Would he transform?

Would he summon his armor?

Or would he fight with nothing more than his current body?

Luke lightly moved Paragon through the air while examining the incoming Orcs.

"Hmm... D-Rank?"

He shook his head.

There was no reason to increase his strength yet.

Even without Titan transformation or armor, his current physical stats had already reached around the level of an Early C-Rank human fighter, which placed these D-Rank Orc warriors considerably below him.

A smile appeared on Luke’s face.

"Let’s dance, baby."

The words had barely left his mouth when his figure vanished.

"..."

The Orcs at the front instinctively slowed.

Their earlier shouting abruptly weakened as thousands of warriors stared at the place where Luke had been standing only an instant earlier.

"Where did he go?"

"Fools!" one of the C-Rank Orcs shouted angrily from the wall. "Use your senses! He didn’t disappear, he’s just faster than you!"

The warning came too late.

"Ugh—!"

A strangled sound suddenly came from the middle of the formation.

Several Orcs immediately turned toward it.

One of their warriors stood completely frozen, both hands clutching his throat, where a deep crimson line now stretched across his neck.

Strangely, no blood flowed from the wound.

Luke was already standing behind him with Paragon lowered beside his body.

The surrounding Orcs had barely recognized him when something far more disturbing happened.

"AAAAHHHH!"

The wounded Orc released a terrified scream as his body suddenly began shrinking.

His thick muscles collapsed inward first, followed by his bones, organs, skin, blood, and everything contained within his body, while his entire nine-foot frame twisted toward a single central point.

"What the hell?!"

Several nearby Orcs instinctively stumbled backward.

The screaming warrior continued compressing until his entire existence had been drawn into a rapidly shrinking sphere, whose surface gradually turned deep crimson and began releasing a dense glow.

Luke watched silently.

Within only a few seconds, the Orc disappeared completely.

Floating where he had once stood was a small crimson sphere filled with vibrant blood energy, its surface pulsing faintly almost like a freshly refined elixir.

No corpse remained behind.

The nearest Orcs stared at it in horror.

Yet beneath that horror, something else immediately awakened inside them.

Desire.

Their bodies instinctively recognized the energy contained within the sphere, and every D-Rank Orc nearby suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to seize it, swallow it, and make whatever was contained inside part of themselves.

Even the C-Rank Orcs standing upon the wall reacted.

The Shaman’s previously calm expression finally changed.

’What is that?’

Despite being a realm higher than the Orc who had just died, he could clearly sense that consuming the crimson sphere might save him months of cultivation.

That shouldn’t have been possible.

The target had only been D-Rank.

Yet the strange object wasn’t merely carrying the dead Orc’s accumulated energy.

It contained something deeper.

Something their instincts understood even if their minds didn’t.

"A desire to evolve..."

One of the C-Rank Orcs unconsciously muttered those words.