Death Notice Book 8: Chapter 28: Orcs

Release Date: 2026-06-05 19:23:07

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After moving beyond Qiongda’er Forest, the elven migration group scattered into a long, single-file formation to lure human thieves from the Golden Plain into attacking. However, their path was carefully chosen. They kept roughly parallel to the northern bank of the Naga River.

This measure ensured that if attacked, the assailants couldn’t surround them from both flanks. With their backs protected by the Naga, they would face enemies from only one direction, preventing the elves from being overwhelmed.

Of course, the elven group remained not exactly at the riverbank, but about two kilometers away. This prevented attackers from easily driving them into the water with a sudden charge. The possibility of enemies first crossing to the north bank and then launching an assault seemed remote.

After all, the migration group was spread out over two kilometers, and shapeshifted Druids were constantly patrolling the skies. Thief bands wouldn’t find it easy to slip around them undetected. Unless they first crossed the Naga River, waited on the south bank while their comrades launched the main attack from the north, and then crossed back to strike from behind.

But these attackers were loose bands of smaller thieves. Who among them would willingly act as the vanguard, sacrificing themselves for others’ gain? Therefore, even Qin Lun hadn’t really considered this possibility seriously.

The dark line moved incredibly fast. In the span of a few breaths, it covered nearly every kilometer separating them, revealing grotesque faces with exposed fangs.

“Lizard Cavalry! Orcs!” An old elf gathered beneath a wagon shot to his feet, staring wide-eyed at the oncoming swarm.

At this distance, Qin Lun’s vision could already make out the attackers’ features. They were hideous creatures, most over two meters tall, with iron helmets on their heads and black or yellowed tusks jutted from their jaws. Their muscles coiled powerfully beneath green skin. Some were bare-chested, others wore crude leather armor over thick pelts of hair. They wielded heavy weapons like maces and flails.

The Orcs’ faces were vastly different from humans or elves. Their cheekbones protruded, nostrils flared wide, and prominent brow ridges shaded deep-set eyes that glowed with cruel, crimson light. Their gaze towards the elves was like starving predators spotting a feast.

All these incoming Orcs were mounted riders, but their mounts weren’t horses. Riding on giant lizards. These huge reptiles had triangular heads, powerful limbs, and stood easily 1.45 meters tall. Long, flattened tails swept behind wide backs fitted with simple saddles.

The lizards crawled with astonishing speed, matching galloping horses. Seeing their webbed legs, Qin Lun instantly knew where these lizard cavalry came from. Being amphibians, they must have crossed from the south bank of the Naga. They had waited for the elves and human thieves to exhaust each other, both stamina and arrows depleted, before launching this sudden assault.

These Orcs likely originated from the Fierstep Mountains south of the Naga River, within the Shaar Kingdom. The Fierstep Mountain Orcs and the Trolls of Rashemen Hills were two major internal threats weakening the Shaar Kingdom. The kingdom’s formidable military strength was pinned down trying to contain these threats, preventing further territorial expansion north or south.

At the eastern tip of the Fierstep Mountains, the Shaar Kingdom had specifically established Tors Castle, garrisoning an entire heavy division of ten thousand soldiers to contain the Orcs. Earlier, the migration group had rejected crossing the Naga River to reach Ank Forest via the Shaar border, precisely because they feared encountering this heavy garrison.

Elves, humans, Dwarves, even Goblins, Trolls, and elemental Giants – most Sapient Races of the Toril World had once built splendid civilizations throughout history. Only Dragons and Orcs never formed complete, enduring nations.

The Dragons’ failure was understandable; their numbers were minuscule, reproduction painfully slow, and each individual was overwhelmingly powerful, hindering societal cohesion. Orcs were different. Their fertility matched humans, their individual strength surpassed them (save for intellect), yet tens of thousands of years passed without them forming a true civilization, which was genuinely odd.

Looking back across the entire history of the Orcs, however, it seemed inevitable. Orcs didn’t engage in production nor creation. Though they developed their own language and crude religious beliefs, they remained stagnant for millennia, perpetually locked in a state of primitive tribal clans.

In ancient times, before the elves fled the Yan Tagyr plane to Toril, the Prime Material World, Faerûn witnessed many tower-cities built by the Orcs’ reptilian kin, the Lizardfolk. But these were swiftly defeated by the frigid climate of the Thunder Era, plunging back into barbarism without ever rising again.

The simple minds of the Orcs held no place for concepts like self-reliance or creation. Their formidable physiques bred only aggression.

Hungry? Eat. Full? Sleep. Something they wanted? They took it. After all, this continent teemed with other Sapient Races who knew how to create and produce.

They were the gods’ favoured ones! Beyond fighting and breeding, they needed to do nothing!

This was their logic, unchanged from ancient times to the present. Where Orcs tread, nothing alive was left standing. They brought only destruction and slaughter.

No Sapient race or kingdom on Faerûn dared form alliances with Orcs. These green-skinned savages would often turn on their collaborators immediately after achieving victory.

The human thieves would definitely not cooperate with these Orcish lizard cavalry. Thieves weren’t generous enough to shed their blood for someone else’s gain. Qin Lun also doubted the Orcs’ arrival was a coincidence. The most likely explanation was someone had informed them, and their goal was likely pure slaughter.

Qiongdus Kingdom? Unlikely. Even as mortal enemies to the Qiongda’er Elves, Qiongdus wouldn’t permit Orcs across their borders.

Sespitz and Shaar were even less plausible. Sespitz maintained decent relations with Anke Elf Court, sometimes even hiring Anker Elves to guard against the powerful western kingdoms of Tethyr and Calimshan. Shaar was preoccupied suppressing resistance from the Steaming Lake Mercantile Alliance (the Border Kingdoms), having no resources to spare for affairs north of the Naga affecting Sespitz or Qiongdus.

Numerous thoughts flashed through Qin Lun’s mind, but his attention lingered on the Orc cavalry only briefly before snapping elsewhere. The orc riders were a threat to the Moon Elf migration group, not to him personally. What filled Qin Lun with genuine, overwhelming menace wasn’t the distant horde, but a distorted patch of space about twenty meters to his right.

This distortion vaguely resembled a human shape. It was transparent, insubstantial, with the scenery behind it clear to see. If not for his Detection Aura and the Perception threads from his Clock Eye outlining its form, Qin Lun would never have noticed it.

“A High Rank Assassin! It got this close before I detected it?” Qin Lun’s pupils constricted to pinpricks at the sight of the transparent figure. Without the slightest hesitation, he pushed off with both feet, leaping backwards. Activating his Swift Wind Step, he fled towards Iristin’s location.

“Using the orcs was merely to create chaos. The real target wasn’t the ordinary migrating elves, but the Sun Elf Diplomatic Mission… and potentially the exhausted Moon Elf royal descendants after their recent battle.”

Facing mortal peril, Qin Lun’s thoughts raced even faster; intuition struck like lightning. He instantly linked the Sun Elf presence in the group to the unfolding ambush.

“Huh?” A soft, surprised sound came from the open ground to the wagon’s right. Immediately, a blurred figure cloaked in a whirling gale swept past the wagon. Buffeted winds sent nearby elves staggering. Somehow, this figure outpaced Qin Lun, catching up to him mid-leap.

A curved dagger, shaped like a beast’s fang and perhaps a foot long, stabbed out from the void, aimed straight for Qin Lun’s throat. Simultaneously, the figure solidified in midair right before Qin Lun – a powerfully built assassin clad entirely in close-fitting black leather, his face masked save for intensely focused eyes glaring from beneath a dark velvet hood.

Staring death in the face, Qin Lun’s mind grew eerily calm. He coolly regarded the assassin. The Assassin maintained his mid-leap posture, upper body lunging forward, right arm extended in the knife thrust. Qin Lun couldn’t discern their race or even gender beneath the mask.

“Hmph!” Qin Lun’s mouth twisted. A pentagram-shaped Pentagram Crystal Mirror materialized instantly between them, as tall as a man. The dagger struck the crystal surface.

KRA-KOOM!

The mirror exploded in a shower of shards, but the simultaneous Elemental Burst also slammed into Qin Lun, blasting him backwards and creating precious distance from his attacker.

The beast-fang dagger, momentarily checked by the crystal, stabbed only empty air. The Assassin, however, wasn’t surprised. His target had pierced his stealth and chosen instant flight. Clearly, their Perception was sharp enough to discern the power disparity.

Such targets couldn’t be dispatched instantly. They needed relentless pressure, disrupting their escape rhythm and forcing a defensive lapse before delivering a fatal blow.

The Assassin’s free left hand snapped backward in a sharp motion. A dazzling streak of white light, pure concentrated combat energy (“douqi”), erupted from his palm – over a foot long. The blast shot towards a young elf standing in front of the wagon Qin Lun and the Assassin had just vaulted past.

THUMP!

The young elf blanched. Blood erupted from his mouth. A deep palm imprint, two inches deep with crisp, sharp edges like a knife cut, appeared over his heart.

KA-BOOM!

The unlucky elf was hurled like a cannonball into the sturdy wagon behind him. With an earth-shaking crash, the entire vehicle plowed sideways across the turf for over ten meters, throwing up chunks of sod, before its frame fractured and snapped apart.

Propelled by this violent recoil force, the Assassin’s figure flickered and vanished, reappearing instantly, impossibly fast, right before Qin Lun again. His right arm flashed down, the beast-fang dagger tracing a deadly, savage arc aimed to split Qin Lun open from shoulder to hip.

Simple. Direct. Utterly unstoppable. This was the might of a High Rank Assassin! Qin Lun’s pinprick pupils dilated violently. Since entering the Shattered Starry Sky, he’d faced death numerous times, but never before had every cell in his body shrieked with such paralyzing, visceral terror.

Was this the end? The metallic taste of blood filled Qin Lun’s mouth. Deep within his dilated pupils, a speck of deep crimson ignited.

Then exploded outwards, flooding both eyes with violent red light…

“Huh?” The raw, ferocious aura emanating from Qin Lun triggered the Assassin’s second soft sound of surprise in this fight. A cold jolt shot through the Assassin even as his descending dagger accelerated like a lightning strike, plunging towards the elf’s chest.

Shunk!

Yet at that very instant, a surge of crimson light ignited around Qin Lun. It coalesced with blinding speed over his chest, concentrating into a dark red, rubbery barrier just as the beast-fang dagger tip arrived.

The dagger point struck the barrier as though piercing incredibly tough leather. It penetrated only about an inch before the compressed blood-light energy and his underlying sternum halted its momentum completely.

“G-g-gahhh!” Qin Lun’s teeth chattered uncontrollably, a crimson thread of blood escaping the corner of his mouth. Yet, a distorted, ferocious grin spread across his face. His left hand shot up, clamping onto the beast-fang dagger’s blade, resisting the Assassin’s subsequent shove with savage strength. Simultaneously, his right hand twisted, the Dagger of Sin emerging silently, aimed like a poisoned fang for the Assassin’s gut.

A sharp glint flashed in the Assassin’s eyes. His right knee jerked up with blinding speed, perfectly intercepting Qin Lun’s wrist, deflecting the thrust. He yanked the beast-fang dagger back, its bloodied tip flashing to slice the elf’s throat in one fluid motion.

“Your chance… is GONE!” Qin Lun—or rather, the persona now dominant, which could only be Joey—snarled that twisted grin. He flung his arms wide open and plunged forward, wrapping his arms around the Assassin in a desperate tackle. At the same time, he lunged his head forward, bared teeth gleaming white, and aimed a vicious bite at the Assassin’s neck!

The Assassin had never expected such a vulgar, primal tactic. Annoyance flickered within his eyes. His relentless stream of precisely aimed killing techniques was finally broken. Opponents encountering his attacks—even those stronger—always chose tactical retreat or full defense. Everyone knew to evade his initial, most lethal strikes during an Assassin’s ambush; weathering the storm usually left him vulnerable. Few opted for this suicidal close combat, especially an elf not known for brute strength!

This very elf, upon detecting him moments ago, had reacted with textbook caution. Yet now, his entire demeanor had violently shifted. Suddenly reckless, he embraced mortal wounds just to inflict injury as well.

The Assassin briefly considered it might be a bluff, a feinted kamikaze move. But the sheer, palpable aura emanating from the elf was undeniable—a primal, ferocious cruelty far surpassing any cornered beast. He could still deliver a killing blow, but he wouldn’t escape unscathed. Injuries—serious ones—were guaranteed.

The Assassin hesitated. He knew this elf was a descendant of the Moon Elf Tribe’s royal line, a secondary target in this operation. Judging by his performance in the earlier fight, he held considerable status within the tribe. Killing him would ignite fury even amongst migrating Moon Elves; their pursuit would be relentless. Gravely wounded, he’d be easy prey for a High Rank Elven Ranger tracking him or a High Rank Druid sniffing his trail. His supposedly partners were cold-hearted, self-serving bastards; none would stay behind to cover his escape.

With inner resignation finally settling, the Assassin silently sighed. Pure white combat energy erupted outward in a violent pulse, forcibly blasting Joey off him like an unwanted octopus. Simultaneously, his right foot snapped out in a powerful kick, crushing into Joey’s abdomen and launching him like a ragdoll.

Joey smashed hard into the grassy ground. The massive force rebounded him skyward. Like a stone skipping across water, he tumbled wildly, completely uncontrolled, limbs flailing. He finally flopped down like a sack of wet grain, limbs twisted grotesquely—likely broken or dislocated entirely. He strained, gnashing his teeth, but managed only a feeble twitch before collapsing, unable to rise.

The High Rank Assassin’s decisive kick inflicted critical injuries. Yet, this action tore them apart. The nearby Elven Rangers—Iristin included—snapped into action. His chance to finish Joey had vanished.

“ROOOOOAR!!!” Transformed into a massive bear, Iristin unleashed a wrathful, heartbreaking bellow. She charged towards the fight on all fours. As she ran, a thick pillar of pure Life Essence—vibrant green—slashed down from the heavens above, bathing the prone Joey.

Druid Healing Magic – Glow of Life!

Simultaneously, where the Assassin stood, thick, gnarled vines erupted violently from the earth. They twisted and fused together, forming a colossal green hand that smashed down towards him with crushing force.

Druid Nature Magic – Grasping Thorn Hand!

WHIZZ-WHIZZ! Before Iristin could close the distance, two streaks of silvery light ripped through the air behind her. Two Fine Iron Long Arrows shot towards the Assassin from opposite angles—lethal precision aiming to deny any route of escape. The archers were the Elven Rangers who had moments ago been locked in combat with the “Gray Wolf’s Claw” leader, Schlieffen!

Seized by this unexpected distraction, Schlieffen saw salvation. He turned and fled without a backward glance. The Assassin’s assault had unwittingly saved him; he had zero intention of risking his life for the Assassin now. The “Gray Wolf’s Claw” was shattered. With most members dead, their power wouldn’t recover for years.

Seizing the opening during the Assassin’s brief backward retreat…

THOOM!

The colossal Grasping Thorn Hand crushed the patch of ground where he’d been standing into a deep crater. But the magic wasn’t done! It paused for just a moment before peeling upwards, giant thorns flexing as it surged after its quarry once more.

The Assassin knew the assassination had failed. He spun sharply, his black velvet cloak swirling around him as he prepared for immediate retreat.

But the figure froze momentarily as he turned.

He found himself facing a tide – a furious, roaring wall of aging elf elders, mothers, and children charging straight at him!

These were the very elves clustered near the wagons, saved earlier by Qin Lun. Now seeing that pale-haired youth lying shattered and unmoving, they surged forward with berserk fury. Even hopelessly outmatched, they would recklessly throw themselves into the Assassin’s path to stop his escape.

The Assassin cursed inwardly. In normal circumstances, he could wipe out these ordinary folk in moments. But now? With that High Rank Druid and two capable Elven Rangers right on his heels? Any delay would be fatal.

…

Qin Lun blinked. The crimson tide consuming his senses receded. Joey had relinquished control of their shared awareness, likely exhausted or overwhelmed. A deafening roar filled his ears. His mouth tasted of iron and copper. The scene before him wavered and doubled, a kaleidoscope of blurry forms.

Yet, beneath the dizzying pain, his core consciousness remained lucid. Through his Perception threads, his mind constructed a stark, black-and-white vision of the fight nearby. Iristin was battling the Assassin. Even with the aid of the two archers peppering him with arrows, they were clearly struggling, still on the defensive.

Thwip-thwip-thwip! Arrows continued streaking towards the Assassin, forcing him into continuous, acrobatic dodges as the Grasping Thorn Hand surged relentlessly after him. The desperate charge of the common elves was slowing his escape as the distance Iristin needed to close vanished swiftly. The Assassin remained deadly, unleashing bursts of white combat energy, turning the space around him into a lethal field. Several elves were blasted away, grievously wounded or worse, but th