In the direction Muria pointed, the air rippled, and visible waves spread from his fingertip. When these waves touched the chest of the angry, pale orc—a creature who seemed burly and muscular, with an arm thicker than Muria's waist—the orc was instantly sent flying backward, crashing through his own dilapidated wooden house.
The commotion, along with the sound of the pale orc's ribs cracking and his screams, immediately alarmed the small village. One by one, the doors of shabby houses opened, and more pale orcs emerged, each holding a wooden club.
"Who are you, and why did you harm my master?" An elderly orc, frail and bent with age, emerged from the largest house in the village, supported by two female orcs. Upon seeing the orc Muria had just struck, the old orc looked at him with a calm expression. The orc who had been struck was just an ordinary member of the village, not particularly strong. The power Muria had displayed was not enough to intimidate them.
"You need to explain why you abandoned these children here, leaving them to freeze in the cold wind," Muria demanded coldly, looking around at the environment and forming some suspicions.
In his previous life, there was a saying that even a tiger would not harm its own cubs. Of course, this was a slander against tigers, as they were actually more protective of their young than most creatures. To use tigers as a counterexample was inappropriate. If one were to speak of creatures that harm their own offspring, tigers would not even be on the list.
"This doesn't concern you, traveler from afar," the old orc responded. Upon realizing that Muria's conflict with them stemmed from his concern for the infants, the expressions of the old orc and the other hostile orcs softened considerably.
"And what if I demand a reasonable explanation?" Muria raised his hand above his head, and a scorching fireball quickly formed in his palm. Within moments, it expanded to the size of a human head, then continued to grow until it reached a meter in diameter.
Next, nearly a hundred fiery serpents, each about twenty meters long, slithered out from the fireball. In the shocked eyes of the pale orcs, their village was suddenly surrounded by these serpents. The cold of the night was instantly driven away, replaced by an overwhelming heat.
"A Gold-ranked wandering mage." Seeing the power Muria displayed, the old orc's expression turned to one of reverence, followed by resignation. He hadn't expected their small village to encounter such a powerful human by sheer bad luck.
"If you can't provide a reasonable explanation, prepare to face my wrath!" Muria stated coldly. In his mind, orcs might be a simple-minded race, but they were not so foolish as to harm their own offspring. He was willing to give them a chance to explain.
"Do you truly not know the reason, mighty mage?" The old orc's tone grew more respectful, as this tradition was well-known across the continent. He found it hard to believe that someone would cause trouble over something so common.
"I don't."
"This is our orcish rite of passage. The new generation of pale orcs must survive a night in the cold to prove their worthiness to live."
"What a ridiculous ritual! You leave newborns to freeze in the cold, and only those who survive can live? Did a wild boar trample your brains?" Muria scolded upon hearing of such a ritual.
This was worse than simply killing them outright. After all the struggle to come into this world, they had to endure such torment, only to die painfully in the cold.
"This is the only way for our village to survive. We can't support so many children, so only the strongest infants can live," the old orc explained.
"Not enough resources," Muria muttered, understanding the key issue. "Your village's food supply is insufficient to sustain all these infants, so you select the strongest ones to raise and abandon the rest. Is that correct?"
The village chief, who had been about to explain, was momentarily stunned by Muria's blunt assessment, then hurriedly nodded. "The lord is wise. That's exactly it. After feeding our warriors, there isn't enough food left for the infants. If we fed all the babies, our warriors wouldn't have enough to eat. This would lead to a vicious cycle, and the village would eventually disappear."
"So, you're saying your abilities are insufficient to gather more food, forcing you to abandon some of the infants, correct?" Muria's sharp questioning caused the orcs to lower their heads in shame. They knew he was right—they were simply too weak.
"You could put it that way," the old orc admitted, embarrassed by Muria's words. "But we have no choice. Our hunting grounds are limited. To get more food, we'd have to fight other villages. If we won, that would be fine, but if we lost…"
"Since that's the case, give me the infants you deem weak. I'll take care of them," Muria demanded, extending his hand towards the old orc.
"Human, do you intend to turn our children into slaves? Or sell them to the gladiator pits? Don't even think about it! Even if they freeze to death or starve when they grow up, I won't hand them over to you," a strong orc growled, stepping forward to glare at Muria.
"What gives you the right to decide for these infants? What gives you the right to take their lives?" Muria's gaze fixed on the orc, and a tangible wave of dragon's might emanated from his eyes, hitting the orc like a giant hammer. The orc was sent flying and crashed to the ground, unable to rise for a long time.
"If you can't ensure they grow up healthy, then why did you bring them into this world? If you don't have the means, then don't let them suffer."
"We won't abandon our offspring, human. No matter how powerful you are, we won't yield to you," the old orc declared, staring resolutely at Muria.
The old orc's stance inspired the other pale orcs, who grabbed their weapons. On this continent, the hatred between humans and orcs was irreconcilable.
"Human? Looks like my transformation spell is getting better," Muria chuckled, knocking on his forehead in realization. "I overlooked that. How about now?"
Muria's dazzling golden eyes transformed into vertical slits, and an intentionally restrained pressure spread from his body, enveloping all the orcs and making them feel as though they were trapped in amber.
"A dragon!" The old orc froze upon seeing Muria's dragon eyes, and the mysteries that had puzzled him were instantly resolved. Overcome with joy, the old orc fell to his knees and kowtowed before Muria.
Though he had never seen a dragon in his life, he knew that all dragons were worthy of worship and following. When faced with a dragon, kneeling and prostrating oneself was the proper response.
"Great dragon, we are willing to follow you."
"You're too weak," Muria replied bluntly, making no effort to hide his disdain. No matter the reason, they were a group of weaklings who had abandoned their offspring. The way they treated their young was something Muria found despicable. "Hand over the infants you consider weak."
In the end, Muria left the village with thirty orc infants. He placed these small burdens into the semi-plane of his mage tower, leaving them in the care of the tower spirit.
After doing this, Muria felt much better. His original goal had been to scout the continent, gather information, and map out the distribution of forces. But instead, he had stumbled upon this distressing scene.
And so, to improve his mood, he intervened. Everything he did was in line with his conscience, just as he had acted when he first left the Titan Islands.
Muria had always followed his conscience as he journeyed. When he saw wrongdoing in human territories, he dealt with it by imprisoning the villains in his semi-plane, forcing them into lifelong servitude.
Now, when Muria saw injustice, he would draw his weapon and correct it. He would change anything he found displeasing, molding it into something more to his liking.
This was one of the motivations for growing stronger—the power to change anything that offended him.
As Muria continued to explore the surrounding area, he was surprised to discover that all the villages nearby were orc villages. Besides the common lower-class magical creatures like goblins, he found no traces of other intelligent species. This struck him as rather strange…
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