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  This… was going to be tough.

  I waited till the sun disappeared beyond the ocean’s horizon, its orange glow diving deep beneath the waves. The last of the brilliant waves stopped shining through the tent’s open flap which served as a makeshift window in the humble tent. Even then, the island’s smoldering coal-like aura still lit the night air like dimmed red neon signs. So I waited longer.

  One hour.

  Two hours.

  Four hours.

  Five hours passed.

  Still, there was idle chatter around the camp that filtered into my tent. So I decided to wait longer.

  Six hours.

  Seven hours.

  The moon rose, and hid its face behind gray clouds that the wind blew in. The idle chatter around camp had died down long ago, and only the occasional quiet crackle of wood splintering in the fires placed around camp broke the silence. The moon rose, and hid its face behind gray clouds that the wind blew in. I walked over to my tent flaps and peeked out.

  Perfect darkness. No moon.

  Was I really going to go through with this? What would happen if we got caught?

  Immediate execution probably.

  An image of my body hanging on the gallows came to me, unbidden. I dismissed it, only to be faced with another one: hands tied behind my back, gagged with a bag placed over my head. Zenom standing over me with his bastard sword raised high, ready to execute me with a beheading.

  Shaking my head, I got my thoughts in order.

  No risk, no reward.

  That’s how this world worked.

  And the greater the risk… the greater the reward.

  And if I let this moonless night pass by, there would be no other chance. The ships were being repaired way too fast for me to bide my time.

  Still, there was no reason to rush.

  I closed my eyes and reached deep within myself. I stilled my breathing, even the rapid heartbeat that pounded in my ears. My fingers reached down and grasped the firm hilt of [Snow Scream], my newest sword. Just by touching it, I could feel the chill that came off of it. Like touching dry ice or cold metal –a thin veil of cold that surrounded the sword.

  And that same coldness pierced through the doubt, the nervousness that I had.

  “Ok, let’s get moving.”

  “Finally, Ssslaveborn.”

  “Just you and me, Skaris.” I turned to Skaris, my oldest friend.

  “Good old timessss.” His eyes shone, a lust for perpetual destruction lurking beneath. Controlled, but just like the flames he wielded, it would be a raging fury once let loose.

  Just what we needed tonight.

  As one, we both took strips of cloth and covered ourselves with it.

  “Let’s go.”

  Without another word, we dashed out into the darkness.

  The night air was warm and I could see the volcano radiating visible heat even from this distance. The sand muffled the sound of our footsteps though it did make it hard to run. I could feel the sand slip under my shoes everytime I took another step. I simply pounded harder on it, feeling wind and sand hit the mask hard enough to sting.

  “This way.” I hissed, cutting the corner.

  Over the few days, the camp had become a small village. Except with tents instead of actual buildings. During the say, the heat from the sun combined with the residual heat of the island itself turned it into one huge baking pan. The heat was practically unbearable, reminiscent of a heated sauna-jungle-beach. So most of the adventurers retired early, preferring the cool shades of their tents.

  So when I turned the corner and bumped into one of the priests, I was caught unawares.

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  And I acted completely on instinct.

  My body moved before my brain could even understand what was happening. The second before we made contact, my body tensed and I felt my legs crouch into a linebacker’s tackle straight into his ribs. The priest, without any Core, any buffs and no warning, was lifted off of his feet as his ribs cracked audibly. My hand snaked out, muffling his scream –not that he could even scream with the absence of oxygen in his lungs.

  I spun once, finding myself behind him and my arms snaked out once more, wrapping around his neck.

  Then slowly, ever so slowly, I lowered him to the ground as I choked him to sleep.

  It happened so fast.

  “Isss he dead?” Skaris whispered, his eyes searching the beach.

  “No.” My breathing came fast and hard. I checked the priest’s pulse. He was alive.

  Goddammit, I had taken visibility into account but not the terrain. Everything was flat, and except for the tents, there were no obstacles in place. We were sitting ducks out here. Anyone could’ve seen that. Hell, someone probably did see that. I’m not perfect, I’m no ex-special forces marine-ranger soldier here. I’m just me.

  “We need to move fast.” I hissed, growing impatience.

  “What was the priesssst doing out sssso late?” Skaris’ eyes narrowed as he rummaged the Priest’s robes for anything of use.

  “Bathroom, or something. Doesn’t matter.” The moon was still hidden behind the clouds. “Come on then.”

  “No wait,” Skaris put an arm in front of me before I could run. Following his lead, we fell onto our bellies.

  He pointed towards the boats. “Guardssss.”

  I cursed. “Shit.”

  I had better [Sight] and [Hearing] stat than Skaris. But that meant nothing if I wasn’t paying attention to them. Even with his limited resources, Skaris’ boosted stats for natural senses as a Beastman was more than enough to overcome the lack of Cores for scouting, especially if the scout in question was frazzled.

  Shoving the thought aside, I counted the guards.

  “Four groups, paired up in twos. Do you recognize any of them?”

  “...Sssome of the no-names that were on the other ssships. One of them is wolf-woman.” He turned to me. “The woman you fought in the Colossssseum.”

  “Dorocian Kojisan, shit.” I cursed again.

  I should have done more research. Of course Zenom would place guards around the ships, most likely on guard against monsters. Both from the sea and from the island itself.

  “What do you wisssh to do, Ssslaveborn?”

  Apart from Dorocian Kojisan, I recognized the others just as Skaris said. The Auxiliary forces that were tagging along, mostly for duties like this. Guarding stock, helping secure perimeters and the like.

  Judging by the equipment…

  “Two mages, four fighters and two scout-types, including Dorocian.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “By what they’re wearing.” I didn’t want to get into an explanation of how class-specific gear could betray a lot about someone’s abilities. Now wasn’t the time for that.

  Damn it. The fighters themselves weren’t the problem. Really, the problem were the mages and the scouts. In a battle like this, unless I could take out the mages immediately; they’d serve as a constant wild-card in the battle. It wasn’t like I could tell a mage’s specialty just by looking at their equipment either. That was only possible if mages were of some strength. But these guys were not that strong, meaning they wore generalist equipments.

  Dorocian was a huge problem. Her Cores gave her a [Smell] stat that was just as good as mine probably. Not to mention that her Wolf-summons were specifically designed for this type of thing. I looked for them but didn’t see any of them, nor did I hear the soft padding of paws on the sands. Provided, those wolves could probably sneak up on me anyways.

  But one whiff of my scent and the wolves would be able to point to be as the culprit the day after.

  And I knew that if Skaris and I did this, there would be questions asked. A full-on investigation would take place.

  “...Never fail to ssssurprisssse, Sssslaveborn.”

  Or it’s way too easy to impress you guys. 14 years, I’m telling you. 14 years. All these guys are newbies compared to me. Strictly from a knowledge point of view of course.

  “We can’t face these guys head on.”

  “Dissssagreed. I can take-”

  “Because they’ll recognize who we are, Skaris. By our weapons, style of fighting.”

  “Are you ssssure?”

  “Yes, I’m-”

  Huh.

  Was I sure?

  Slowly, the puzzle pieces came together in my head, forming a plan which just might work.

  The keyword here was Equipment and Newbies. Except Dorocian, none of them were of any particular talent or strength.

  “Skaris, your spear.” I thrust my hand towards him.

  “You made me give it to the Dwarf!” Skaris held his spear away from me, holding it like a child about to get their favorite toy taken away. “This one is mine!”

  “Good, you brought it with you. It still has the [Weapon Mod] attached that we got from the Dwarf Smith? The Fire-type one? You didn’t switch it out with anything else?”

  “...Why do you asssssk?”

  “Here’s the plan….”

  ***

  “What the hell is that?” Ericson pointed in the distance.

  It was too dark for everyone to see, since most of them were human. The only non-human in the crowd, the elf-bowman who was right next to Ericson squinted her eyes, trying to see what Ericson was pointing at. Being an elf, she had slightly better eyesight than her partner but not as good as a beastman. Kira had to wonder why the Church had to extend their doctrine to their duties as well. Having a Beastman who could see in the dark was useful in any guard duty.

  But Kira didn’t voice her opinion, trying her hardest to see.

  The ship around them had torches, lit in strategic points so that the whole area was illuminated. Past the light, it was like a waterfall of darkness blocked off the rest of the world.

  And from that wall of darkness walked out a man.

  He was wrapped from head to toe in what looked like leather armor, but the gaps which were supposed to show skin only showed old bandages. Even the man’s face was covered in what looked like cloth, painted black so that it blended in with the color of night. In fact, the man had tried so hard to look nondescript in the night that he stuck out like a sore-thumb, all the dark-color scheme clashing with the soft glow of the torches.

  The bandaged man took another step, wielding a spear in his hand. He twirled it once and then flicked it to the side, holding the haft behind his back and the spear-tip pointed towards them.

  And one of Kira’s Core abilities, [Danger Sense] which allowed her to know when someone was stronger than her was screaming bloody mad.

  “Erics-” She began as she took her bow, pointing it at the man. Kira needn’t have bothered because Ericson already took out his huge greatsword and began advancing towards the man. They were adventurers, they could wound first and ask questions later.

  It was over in seconds.

  The man rushed forward, faster than Kira’s eyes could track. Then before she could fire her bow, the man made a particular motion with his hand –almost like grabbing something from mid-air and bringing it down. That was the last thing Kira saw as a thick tangible cloud of darkness fell on top of them without warning, blinding her.

  Thud

  Clang

  Crunch

  “Ag-” A sharp gasp of pain from Ericson followed by the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the sand.

  “-son” Kira finished and fired her bow into the darkness. As the arrow left her fingers, she knew from her instincts honed over the years that there was no way she hit her target.

  And as soon as she had that thought, an arm slipped behind her neck and holding tight. She tried to scream but found herself muffled –biting down on leather gloves. Kira’s brain went into panic as the man squeezed hard and there was no other thought except the need to breathe. To feel something in her lungs, to kick out her legs and to do something.

  Blackness creeped in on the edge of her vision. Not the darkness that this stranger summoned, but the black of dreams and unconsciousness, the boundary between life and death.

  She had to let them know. That there was an orc here. That was the only explanation. This was an Orc Totem, skill, summoning darkness and-

  ***

  Emilian Kojisan stood on top of a boat mast.

  She thought this work was beneath her. Her job was to protect the Bishop, not stand on guard duty. She played with a strand of her royal blue hair, marking her as a member of the Kojisa house. Twirling it between her fingers, she yanked and a few strands were plucked out with a faint stinging sensation that relieved the stress somewhat. The stress from having to stay here, every night and watching Zenom’s guards do their duties.

  ‘Patience,’ the Bishop had told her, ‘Vigilance.’

  But she knew what he really wanted. The Bishop wanted to be there to catch any miniscule mistake that Zenom might make.

  Like right now.

  A lone attacker with a spear attacked the guards way down below.

  “I can’t see!”

  “Where is he!”

  “The mages! Where are the Mages! Holy shit, when did he get-”

  “ORCCC! THERE’S AN-”

  The intruder fought like a devil.

  Everywhere he went, the torches that they set up around the boats were submerged in darkness. The guards, finally being alerted, went to attack the man but it only took seconds for their voices to disappear. The intruder’s spear flickered with flames, cutting into armor and searing meat. He disappeared into shadows, appearing right behind his targets and leaving only silence in his wake.

  An orc assassin? Here?

  From the Uleum Horde?

  In the distance, Emilian saw Dorocian –her distant cousin– arrive at the scene with her wolves.

  Hmm. Well, it’d be better than just standing here.

  Emilian, one of the personal guards of the Thirtieth Bishop of the Church of Light, Flame and Shield, leapt down to join the fray.