Chapter 190
Dozens of Bactrian camels trudged across the scorching sand.
On their backs rode Awakened warriors radiating a brutal aura.
Between their torn clothes, deep wounds could be seen—as if they had just come out of a fierce battle.
The man leading the caravan muttered,
“Tch! This raid was a complete failure. Of all things, the raid leader turned out to be an S-rank Awakened.”
The man with a massive build, a face covered in tattoos, and pointed ears was none other than Urtian, the leader of the Red Storm Band.
Behind him were key members such as Komak, Aslan, and Duduyan.
Komak glared at Aslan.
“You said the raid leader, Lee Jiryung, was A-rank. What happened?”
“I… don’t know either. It was definitely announced publicly as A-rank.”
Aslan avoided Komak’s gaze as he replied.
His role was to infiltrate enemy lines and gather information.
Based on his intel, the Red Storm Band planned and executed their raids.
The rank Aslan had gathered for Lee Jiryung was A.
Urtian himself was also A-rank, so they judged it worth attacking.
That’s why they ambushed the Pegasus raid party right as it exited the dungeon.
But their attempt ended in failure.
Because of Lee Jiryung.
After becoming an S-rank Awakened, his power was overwhelming.
With his skill, Thunder God’s Hammer, countless people were slaughtered.
Even Urtian stepped in—but he was ultimately defeated.
In the end, the Red Storm Band suffered heavy losses and was forced to retreat.
A raid that ended in failure without any gain.
It was the first time in the band’s history.
Because of that, morale had dropped to rock bottom.
Urtian spoke,
“It seems he ranked up inside the dungeon.”
“Does that even happen?”
“No way it’s common. If it were, I’d already be S-rank.”
Urtian ground his teeth.
His face twisted with rage as he recalled Lee Jiryung.
It was the first time in his life he had been so completely overwhelmed.
Urtian had been strong since birth.
He was born at B-rank and naturally reached A-rank as he grew—without training or effort.
At A-rank, he had no rivals in the desert.
So he never felt the need to reach S-rank.
But after his defeat, he felt a deep fury toward his own helplessness.
Komak spoke carefully,
“Since we failed to secure food this time, we need to quickly find a new target.”
The Red Storm Band had many families to support.
Urtian alone had three children.
To feed them, they had to keep raiding without rest.
But in the desert, there weren’t many targets.
Looking ahead, Urtian said,
“If it comes to it, we’ll hit a mana stone mine.”
“That’s too dangerous. We’ve targeted those before and failed every time. With our strength, it’s impossible.”
“I’m talking about the worst-case scenario. Before that, we’ll look for other targets.”
“Understood. I’ll check if there are any raid parties or caravans passing nearby.”
“Do it as quickly as possible.”
“Yes!”
Komak withdrew after responding, while Urtian remained alone atop his camel, simmering in anger.
At that moment, something unusual caught his eye.
Something was moving ahead.
“What’s that?”
“What is it, leader?”
“What do you see?”
Sensing something off, his subordinates approached.
A cruel smile spread across Urtian’s lips.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“Our next target.”
“What?”
Komak and the others looked forward in confusion.
In the distance, they saw a group moving.
They stood upright on two legs like humans—but their appearance was clearly different.
“Orcs.”
“Orcs?”
Komak and Aslan looked puzzled.
Despite leading the Red Storm Band with Urtian for so long, they had never seen orcs before.
But Duduyan, a Dark Elf, reacted differently.
“Orcs?”
As a Dark Elf, she knew them well.
Elves and orcs were natural enemies.
A deep-rooted hatred ran through both races.
Just hearing the word “orc” was enough to stir anger in her.
Komak frowned.
“Orcs? I’ve never seen any around here.”
“Doesn’t matter. Kill them and take everything they have.”
Urtian released killing intent.
He intended to vent his frustration from the failed raid on them.
Kicking the side of his camel, he gave the order,
“Move out!”
“Yes!”
“Everyone—attack!”
Komak, Aslan, and Duduyan followed.
At the appearance of a new target, the subordinates—who had been sluggish—suddenly erupted with madness.
“Kill the orcs!”
“Slaughter those walking pigs!”
With terrifying momentum, they charged toward the distant orc group.
“Sniff! Humans!”
“A human group!”
The orcs, noticing them belatedly, fell into an uproar.
There were over five hundred orcs.
Among them, two hundred were still young.
Orcs were born warriors.
They only cared about killing and taking—they didn’t raise their children.
Once born, the young were expected to survive on their own.
But they weren’t completely abandoned.
Newborn orcs were entrusted to the elderly, who raised them communally.
The orc group spotted by the Red Storm Band was exactly such a case.
Most of them were recently born young orcs, while old and sick orcs were leading them along…
They were moving.
Even if they were old and sick, orcs were still orcs.
Gripping their weapons tightly, the orcs burned with fighting spirit.
“Sniff! Kill the humans. Protect the young.”
“Kill them all.”
Boom!
At that moment, the Red Storm Band charged in.
The orcs fought desperately, but they were no match.
“Die!”
“Damn it! If you’re pigs, walk on all fours—why are you walking like humans?”
“Look at this—old ones and young ones all together. Filthy pigs!”
The Red Storm Band slaughtered the orcs like madmen.
The old orcs fell one by one with their characteristic cries, leaving only the young behind.
The young orcs stared at the Red Storm Band with eyes full of fear.
The last remaining old orc pleaded,
“Sniff… they are still young. Show mercy.”
“That’s funny. An orc begging for mercy?”
Urtian mocked him.
The old orc’s eyes widened.
“Elf…?”
“That’s right. Now you understand why you all have to die, don’t you?”
“Sniff! If you kill the young, you will face the Great Chieftain’s wrath.”
“The Great Chieftain?”
A strange glint appeared in Urtian’s eyes.
The Great Chieftain was an orc legend.
A monstrous being said to be born once every several generations to lead the entire orc race.
From the moment such a being was born, the orc race would flourish.
They would halt all external activity and focus solely on reproduction.
Just the existence of the Great Chieftain influenced them.
Orcs born around the same time as the Great Chieftain were especially fierce and powerful.
They would grow alongside him and lead other orcs.
That was why the Great Chieftain cherished those born in the same generation—and those born afterward.
The young orcs being escorted by the elders now were no exception.
“Sniff! We do not surrender.”
“We fight even if we die.”
The young orcs picked up the weapons of the fallen and burned with resolve.
Seeing this, Urtian sneered.
“So what? You think I care about some orc legend? Kill them all. Leave not a single one alive.”
Slash!
Urtian’s blade severed the old orc’s head.
That was the signal.
The Red Storm Band began slaughtering the young orcs.
The young ones resisted as best they could—but they were no match.
“Sniff!”
“Graaagh!”
Their screams echoed across the desert.
It was a one-sided massacre.
Soon, the sand was stained with blood, and every young orc lay dead.
In contrast, the Red Storm Band suffered almost no casualties.
Urtian checked the carts the orcs had been pulling.
They were loaded with the corpses of large demonic beasts—prey hunted to feed the young.
“Take this at least. It’ll keep us going for a while.”
“Tch. I hate demonic beast meat, but we don’t have a choice.”
“Take everything. Leave nothing behind.”
The Red Storm Band gathered all the food and left.
Some time after they were gone, another group of orcs appeared—
orc riders mounted on Blood Wulfs.
Seeing the slaughter, they were enraged.
“Our kin are dead.”
“Sniff! All the young are dead.”
“We must inform the Great Chieftain.”
The riders quickly departed.
***
“Disgusting orc bastards.”
Eloi muttered as she transformed her Mad Nine-Tailed Fox weapon into a short staff.
Around her lay the corpses of the fallen orc riders.
While Zeon had gone underground, she had taken care of all of them.
She had rampaged so violently that Levin hadn’t even had a chance to join the fight.
Brielle shook her head and said to Zeon,
“There’s no other word for her—she’s insane. She shredded those orc corpses like rags.”
“Seems like she holds a deep grudge.”
“It’s not just a grudge. It’s inherited hatred, passed down for generations.”
“And you?”
“I’m not that extreme.”
Brielle shuddered as if even imagining it was unpleasant.
Zeon approached Eloi.
“Have you calmed down a bit?”
“I still feel filthy. What about inside?”
“They were all dead.”
“So there really were humans here.”
“Yes.”
At Zeon’s answer, Eloi clenched her teeth.
Human flesh was the orcs’ favorite.
Compared to beasts or demonic creatures, it was more tender.
They also had a deep-rooted hostility toward elves—so even if they didn’t eat them, they would kill them on sight.
That was why orcs would attack humans or elves without hesitation.
The people who had dug tunnels beneath the sand and tried to survive here had likely been discovered—and reduced to food.
“Wait… if orc riders appeared, then does that mean—?”
“What is it?”
“Could it be that an Orc Great Chieftain has been born?”
“A Great Chieftain?”
Seeing Zeon’s puzzled expression, Eloi explained,
“It’s a legend among orcs. In Kurayan, they say when a Great Chieftain is born, an entire nation falls.”
“It’s that serious?”
“I only heard it myself. But whenever one is born, orc riders appear. Their role is to spread the news and gather scattered orcs.”
“… ”
“So that means these ones are currently gathering all the orcs scattered across the desert. Damn it…”
Eloi’s eyes trembled.