Chapter 208
The desert elves built their homes out of sand.
They would gather sand, compress it, and then harden it with magic into brick-like blocks. Using those, they constructed their houses.
Naturally, since they were made of sand, they could not burn.
For a long time, these sand-built homes had served as sturdy shelter for the desert elves. But at this very moment, those same homes were burning.
This was no ordinary fire—it was fire created through magic.
The extreme heat didn’t just melt the sand—it burned it entirely.
It was the skill “Breath of Death,” cast by an orc priest.
The flames created by Breath of Death would never extinguish until they completely burned their target—
Even if that target was sand.
“Argh!”
“Help me!”
Between the burning sand houses, the desperate screams of the desert elves echoed.
The orcs were slaughtering the elves.
The elves resisted as best they could, but the overwhelming number of orcs pushed them back helplessly.
With three or four orcs attacking a single elf, proper resistance was impossible.
In the end, like ants swept away by a tidal wave, the elves were swallowed by the raging tide of orcs.
Screams and cries of despair rang out everywhere.
Along with the home they had painstakingly built over more than a hundred years, the elves were dying.
“This… can’t be…!”
Tabaro, the chief of the desert elves, forced his eyes open and looked around.
Everything he saw was death.
Everything he had led and built was collapsing and burning.
His kin—his entire tribe—were dying.
This was the price of failing to stop the tidal wave of death that was the orcs.
Tabaro, too, was paying that price.
A massive spear was lodged in his abdomen.
The one who wielded the enormous spear—so large that even strong orcs would struggle to lift it—
Was the Orc Great Chieftain, Orca.
Orca lifted the spear that had pierced Tabaro’s abdomen, raising him into the air along with it.
“Ghk… to think… I’d fall to mere orcs…”
“That is why you die—and why your race falls, elf.”
Orca mocked the dying Tabaro.
The elves, like the orcs, were a race that had barely changed.
Crude homes made of sand. Clothes made of beast hides. Skin tanned by the blazing sun.
They claimed to have adapted to Earth, but in truth, they were merely surviving—not progressing.
And yet, the elves always looked down on and despised the orcs.
They believed themselves to be a noble race, but they showed no growth beyond that.
If Orca had been an elf, he would have prepared for an orc invasion.
But these elves had made no preparations at all.
That was why their village was being annihilated today.
Orca stared into Tabaro’s eyes as he spoke.
“As of today, the elves fall—and the orcs rise.”
“You… lowly orcs…”
“Watch from hell how far the orcs you despised will go.”
Puhahahaha!
In the next instant, Tabaro—impaled on the spear—exploded.
Orca had concentrated his aura into the spear and detonated his body.
Flesh and blood scattered in all directions.
The surviving elves screamed in anguish.
“Lord Tabaro!”
“No!”
Bloody tears streamed from their eyes.
The orcs slaughtered them mercilessly as well.
And just like that, a desert elf village vanished from the world.
Orca sat among the ruins, gazing at the burning remains of the desert elves’ home.
Flames soared into the sky, dyeing the gray heavens red.
Orca found the sight quite magnificent.
‘The cities of humans will burn like this as well.’
Within the orc race, a deep-rooted hostility toward humans and elves was ingrained in their very genes.
They did not know why they harbored such hatred—and they did not care to know.
Orcs were not a race that pondered.
They acted on instinct.
Among all orcs, there was only one who thought.
“Priest!”
It was the old orc priest.
The priest, who could be considered Orca’s right hand and mind, did not look pleased.
He approached Orca with a grim expression.
“Lord Orca!”
“What is it? We’ve destroyed the desert elves’ village—why do you look so grim?”
“The shaman of the Red Hammer Tribe has been killed.”
“The shaman?”
Orca frowned.
Orc priests shared a spiritual connection with shamans.
They could not read each other’s thoughts, but by sharing emotions, they could sense whether the other was alive or dead.
“The Red Hammer Tribe…?”
“They were sent along with Lord Ashanka.”
“So something has happened to him.”
Shamans, unlike priests, did not fight on the front lines. They supported from the rear.
If a shaman had been killed, it meant something had gone wrong with the orcs guarding the front.
Ashanka was not foolish or irresponsible enough to let a shaman under his command die.
That meant a situation had occurred where he could not protect them.
“What should we do, Lord Orca?”
“Send out the riders. We’ll wait here until they return.”
“It shall be done.”
The priest bowed respectfully.
The Blood Wolves ridden by the riders possessed exceptional senses of smell and mobility.
If it were them, they would learn what had happened to Ashanka before the day was over.
“Foolish Ashanka… to lose a shaman to mere humans.”
Shamans were extremely valuable.
It took a very long time to properly train one.
“If you’re dead, I’ll avenge you. If you’re alive, I’ll rip your head off.”
Either way, Ashanka was as good as dead.
—
Zeon sat and looked over the interior of the Iron Fortress.
The survivors were moving busily.
Many had died or been injured in the orc assault.
But the living had no time to mourn the dead.
No one knew when the orcs might attack again.
Before anything else, they had to establish a complete defensive posture.
First, they had to deal with the dead.
They gathered the bodies in one place and burned them.
It was a cremation.
If they left the corpses unattended or buried them, the smell might attract magical beasts—so they had no choice but to burn them.
Next came the orc corpses.
There were over a thousand orcs that had attacked.
Burning that many bodies was difficult even for awakened who could wield fire magic. So they chose another method—
They threw them into the vertical cave where the Four-Eyed Bats lived.
“Heave-ho! Heave-ho!”
“Put some more strength into it!”
People dragged the heavy orc corpses and dumped them into the vertical cavern.
Thud… thud…
From inside the cave came the sound of wings flapping.
The Four-Eyed Bats were enjoying an unexpected feast on the orc corpses.
Fortunately, since Deborah had tamed the queen, there was no danger of the bats coming up through the cave.
Deborah, standing nearby, said,
“If we keep feeding them like this, the bats will grow accustomed to the taste of orc meat.”
“Then the bats that have developed a taste for orcs will become a reliable support force.”
“This is what you call turning a crisis into an opportunity.”
“Indeed.”
Zeon nodded.
Feeding the orc corpses to the bats had been entirely Deborah’s idea.
The Iron Fortress would gain the Four-Eyed Bats as powerful guardians, while the bats would enjoy a new delicacy—making it a win-win for both sides.
Meanwhile, Urtian and the awakened were busy reinforcing the fortress’s defenses.
They shaved down the slopes below the fortress to make it harder for orcs to climb up, and piled stones at the entrance to hurl down.
They prepared many other measures as well.
There was no longer any division among the people.
Fighting together against the orcs had created camaraderie and a shared sense of unity.
The awakened prepared for battle, while ordinary people worked to ensure they could fight under optimal conditions.
Deborah gazed at the people with distant eyes.
“Only now have we truly become one. To protect this place, we’ll stake everything and fight.”
“That’s good to hear.”
Something about Zeon’s tone made Deborah uneasy.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“If I asked you to stay longer… that would be too shameless, wouldn’t it?”
“There’s something I realized while wandering the desert for a long time.”
“And what is that?”
“It’s better not to interfere too much in the lives of the locals.”
Back then, Zeon had been a wanderer.
He roamed wherever his feet took him.
He never intended to settle in one place.
But if he offered too much help and people began to depend on him, it would lead to serious problems.
In the desert, Zeon’s abilities were practically overpowered.
If people grew accustomed to his protection, the colony or village would lose its ability to survive on its own.
There had even been villages that relied too heavily on him—only to be wiped out after he left.
When Zeon learned of it later, he had blamed himself deeply.
Their destruction wasn’t his fault, but he had certainly contributed to their loss of independence.
Since then, he made it a rule to minimize his involvement wherever he went.
Deborah, being perceptive, quickly understood his meaning.
“You’re right. We’ve received so much help that I forgot something so obvious.”
“With someone like you, Deborah, this place will be in good hands.”
“That is… if we survive. But we will survive.”
“Yes.”
“When we prosper enough to trade with Neo Seoul someday, I’ll come find you.”
“I’ll gladly be waiting.”
“Are you leaving right away?”
“I’ve found that the quicker the farewell, the less regret it leaves behind.”
Zeon brushed himself off and stood up.
Deborah rose as well and walked with him.
Seeing Zeon heading toward the entrance, Brielle, Levin, and Eloi approached.
Brielle asked,
“You’re leaving now?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s go.”
“What about preparations?”
“Already done.”
Brielle tapped Levin’s subspace backpack.
Levin grinned.
“We’ve packed plenty of water and food. We’ll be fine for a while.”
The subspace was filled with supplies—enough to last until they reached Neo Seoul.
They descended from the Iron Fortress using a basket lift.
At the bottom, Urtian was waiting.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Then take these.”
He handed over the reins of two Bactrian camels.
“Sorry I can’t give one to each of you—we’re not that well-off.”
“It’s more than enough.”
Zeon shook his head.
He knew how precious Bactrian camels were to desert scavengers.
They weren’t just transportation—they were companions.
They were difficult to breed, so their numbers were limited.
Giving away two of them was the utmost generosity Urtian could offer.
“If you take turns riding, it’ll reduce fatigue.”
“We’ll make good use of them.”
“If you reach Neo Seoul, release them. They’ll find their way back here.”
“Understood.”
Zeon accepted Urtian’s goodwill.
“Then this is farewell. I hope you return safely to Neo Seoul.”
“And I hope you successfully repel the orcs.”
“We will survive. And we will make this place prosper. When you return, it’ll be as magnificent as Neo Seoul—I guarantee it.”
“I’m sure it will be.”
“And this…”
“What is it?”
Zeon looked at the black gemstone in Urtian’s hand.
“It’s a communication tool used to contact the scavengers in Neo Seoul.”
“A communication device? Then why give it to me?”
“Now that we’ve settled here, we don’t need it anymore. It might be useful to you.”
“Thank you.”
Zeon accepted the black gem.
After looking briefly at Urtian and Deborah, he said his farewell.
“Then we’ll be on our way.”
“Go safely.”
Zeon’s group bowed lightly and left the Iron Fortress.
Watching his retreating figure, Deborah murmured,
“The desert will see another storm… a great sandstorm…”
A sandstorm named Zeon.