Chapter 25: Debts Must Be Repaid
Crimson-black bl**d splattered everywhere. Spears tore through guts, and the battlefield was littered with mangled limbs and shattered organs. Body parts fell to the ground with reckless abandon, and in this grisly tableau, life was the cheapest commodity of all. bl**d? Just another type of liquid.
Tillysha couldn’t help but recall an old saying from her former life: each human organ was worth a king’s ransom, but during wartime, their combined value wasn’t worth a stray dog’s life.
The orc crowd in the basin was frenzied, hacking away at arms, legs, and heads without hesitation. There was no mercy, even among their own kind.
Observing keenly, Tillysha noted how easily these two groups of orcs could be distinguished—it was reminiscent of that previous jungle skirmish.
Here was one side: the orcs fighting bare-chested, barely clothed save for a few scraps of fabric. Opposing them were orcs fully armored and clad in battle gear.
The armored orcs clearly had the edge in muscle, skill, and experience. Yet the less-clad orcs weren’t about to give up without a fight. Their weapons? Looted. Their armor? Practically non-existent. Even without divine authority or magic, the protective power of armor played a big role in war.
Still, under such unfavorable odds, the less-equipped orcs fought fiercely, showing something the better-equipped orcs lacked: the courage to disregard d*ath and a profound hatred for the other side.
With those traits, the underdogs fought tooth and nail, unrelenting, willing to trade their lives one-for-one with the armored orcs. Their only condition for satisfaction? Landing a good few axe-blows before they themselves expired.
Morale in war was crucial. The tides turn when one side begins to fear the other.
The underdog orcs did indeed outnumber the armored ones, but these were desperate, fearless fighters. In contrast, the armored orcs seemed constrained by second thoughts, hesitant to engage in the brutal one-for-one exchanges.
“What’s got into these slaves? They don’t work hard usually, but they’re ferocious in battle!”
This was the question perplexing the armored orcs.
They couldn’t comprehend how a group of slaves, who were often looked down upon and barely fed, could even stand toe-to-toe with their professional soldiers.
Before long, the armored orcs couldn’t handle the pressure anymore and started retreating.
Their lives were far too valuable to exchange even with such vile slaves, right?
Hesitation led to restraint, and despite commanders issuing ultimatums of execution for retreat, none heeded the commands. Their commanding officer, brandishing a ceremonial sword, was trampled underfoot by the fleeing horde.
He didn’t perish instantly, thanks to the orcs’ stubborn vitality, but when he realized his men had abandoned him, he was promptly captured by the bare-chested orcs.
The battle concluded in a scene of severed limbs and rivers of bl**d—an unsettling prelude to the violent battles yet to come on this savage land.
For the Brilliant Sun and Moon team, one bad and one good news awaited.
Bad news: The fighting had ceased, and as the orcs cleaned up the battlefield, they chanced upon the group standing on a raised piece of land.
Good news: These orcs weren’t like the others they’d encountered, who would attack elves or humans on sight.
These orcs eyed them with caution, forming a disciplined line before their peers, huddling together. The bald orc wearing feathers was likely their leader. After receiving their report, his sharp gaze located the group on the slope, then conferred briefly with his underlings.
The orcs then hastily gathered useful weapons and gear, turned the rear guard into the forefront, and slowly marched away, retreating under the watchful eyes of Brilliant Sun and Moon.
These orcs seemed different from the traditional stereotype. They were less hostile towards outsiders—or prudently avoided being ambushed and chose not to provoke a force of unknown strength.
Once they assured themselves that this group of humans and elves harbored no immediate aggression, they opted to pull back to avoid any unnecessary conflict.
Aistride observed this with a flicker of surprise.
Even sensing the presence of elves, the orcs chose not to act on their primal instincts. This was baffling.
In moments, these orcs vanished into the horizon, leaving behind only the broken and bloodied corpses, and a scattering of armor and weapons yet to be pillaged.
It was apparent that they avoided further conflict—they had expended significant strength battling the armored orcs and were now in no position for another fight.
Princess Filisia glanced towards Tillysha, as though asking her thoughts.
Tillysha’s response was simple: follow.
Following too closely might provoke suspicion or lead to unnecessary conflict, so they had to keep a respectful distance, close enough to spot their tails.
It was risky to pursue too closely, so Tillysha planned a delay. Once the orcs were satisfied that the group posed no threat, and that they could safely return to base, Tillysha would then follow.
“Shall… we follow them?” Wenfu’s voice trembled a little, unsure.
Sure, these orcs were different from the heavily-armored ones, and they weren’t as terrifying, but they were still orcs.
The idea of actively pursuing the orcs filled Wenfu with discomfort. Watching the three elves in her group gave her no solace—they showed no objection.
“Times really have changed,” mused one of them, “from orcs chasing elves to elves chasing orcs.”
In time, the group of five caught up to the orc army. With so many individuals and numerous injured under their care, they moved at a snail’s pace, carried by the crude stretchers they had fashioned.
The Brilliant Sun and Moon team maintained a safe distance, neither too close to stir alarm nor far enough to lose sight of their quarry.
After trailing for several minutes, the group found the orcs entering a crude wooden fort. Built hastily and without aesthetic consideration, this structure was quintessentially orcish—it served a purpose and nothing more.
In the compound, dedicated healers tended to the wounded, pulling out vials of alchemical potions, likely stolen from other factions, to treat their comrades.
“Those potions are probably taken from other groups. They lack the capacity to craft their own,” muttered Tillysha, her eagle-like vision keenly observing from behind the boulder.
“And, the quality is poor. Some are even incorrectly used.”
“Tillysha?” The others awaited her next instruction but saw her rise from the boulder, moving into the open.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going alone. Stay here and wait.”
“What are you saying?” As Tillysha walked resolutely towards the orc fort, her companions looked on, puzzled.
“Leave it to me.”
“…” Though none of them fully understood Tillysha’s intent, Aistride nodded, noting the calm confidence in Tillysha’s demeanor.
Inside the fort, the orcs were in disarray. The feathered leader had reported to the main chief, while the others were busy sorting loot and tending to wounded.
Their lack of proper equipment and training was evident as they struggled with an overwhelming casualty rate.
An orc warrior who’d sustained a severed artery lay bleeding excessively in front of a healer, who administered a recovery potion with no visible improvement. Only the orc’s innate resilience kept him alive.
The healers’ frustration was palpable. Despite their few victories, their lack of proper medical supplies and skills meant many wounded didn’t survive.
“Orc gentles, this isn’t the way. It’s an external wound. Though recovery potions help somewhat, they’re not the ideal solution here. You need to stabilize his injury.”
At the sound of a golden-voiced harp of the forest, all eyes turned to the unexpected, radiant elf maiden in their midst.
“RAARH! RARH!” The orcs let out guttural roars. Tillysha’s uninvited entrance had stirred their tempers.
Spear-toting guards rushed in, baring their fangs in threats that would have made Wenfu soil herself in fright.
“Please forgive my intrusion, but I mean no harm.” Tillysha, unmoved, remained calm, her voice like an unearthly melody.
The orcs, weapons at the ready, circled her, shielding the injured warrior while simultaneously cornering her.
Clearly, they weren’t interested in any explanation.
Realizing words would be futile, Tillysha decided action was best. She observed the injured orc and focused a tiny emerald spark at her fingertips.
The guards’ faces fell—having seen divine authority in action before, the glowing tendril at Tillysha’s fingertips struck fear in their hearts, stopping them from advancing.
Tillysha deftly removed the outer layers of the budding green sprout, revealing the core, then gently pressed it to the orc’s wound.
“RAARH!” The orcs roared again, assuming the elf was harming their comrade, until a commanding voice silenced them.
Tillysha turned to find the largest tent’s occupant—this towering beast of an orc leader, taller and more muscular than the rest, with a menacing scar across his eye. His one-eyed glare commanded silence, his roar halting any attack on Tillysha. He spoke a few words to his men before turning his full gaze towards Tillysha.
Silent understanding passed between them. The healing plant had worked—its tender yellow core had fused with the orc’s wound, sealing it, the bleeding halted. Among stunned onlookers, the warrior’s condition began to stabilize.
Seeing this, the orc warriors stared in astonishment.
“If you lack bandages, you can use vines and such, but be sure to apply this alchemical agent first.” With that, Tillysha took out a clear vial of potion from her ‘pouch of plenty.’
Her personal alchemical plants were sterile and clean, able to disinfect, but normal vines could risk infections.
The orc chief pondered for a moment before issuing another roar. The orcs stepped back, lowering their weapons.
Realizing his acknowledgment, Tillysha gathered more emerald energy, treating all the severely bleeding warriors until they were stabilized. She also offered her high-quality potions to the orc fighters.
“Elf, I don’t know your purpose, but I thank you for your actions.”
“Hm?” Tillysha turned back, startled at the chief’s words.
“You… you can speak?”
“Know some human words, not perfectly. Just try to get the meaning.” The orc’s rugged expression suggested he valued practicality over niceties.
He glanced at his people starting to use the potions Tillysha provided.
“What do you humans call us? Orcs, right?”
“Our race believes in repaying debts. I don’t care for your intentions, but should you need help within my means, my answer is clear.”
“There’s no free lunch,” chuckled the orc.
“I don’t require your repayment, orc sir.”
“Ah? Miss elf, do you take offense to my pride?”
The towering orc, it seemed, was unexpectedly stubborn.
