The last Orc Champion hit the dirt with a gurgle. Silence fell over the ruined village.
Only the Orc Chieftain remained.
Across the splintered remains of huts and broken bodies, two figures faced each other through smoke and flickering embers. One—towering, hulking, breathing like a bull. The other—calm, bloodied, and smiling faintly as he rolled his shoulder back into place.
Alex's gaze locked with the Orc Chieftain's single remaining eye.
"Round two." he muttered, flicking the blood from his dagger.
The Orc Chieftain roared and charged, cracking the earth with each thunderous step.
Alex vanished—
He reappeared behind it—already in motion—dagger slashing toward the monster's blind left side.
The Orc reacted fast. A wild backhand swing nearly caught him mid-air. Only his Sixth Sense and honed reflexes saved him—keeping him a blur ahead of the strike.
'One hit, and I'm done.' Alex thought, darting low, weaving between stomps and hammer blows, each one creating craters where he'd just been.
He triggered Resonance—casting spells in rapid succession, targeting the same spot near its ribs.
It worked.
The accumulated energy detonated from the impact point, staggering the Orc Chieftain as it bellowed in pain.
It leapt—clearing the remains of a hut—and landed with a shockwave that shook the ground.
But Alex had expected that.
He'd already logged its flaws—left blind spot, right-arm dominant, slow pivot speed. It wasn't brute strength he needed. Just timing. And precision.
When the Orc Chieftain lunged again, Alex forced a multicast: three
The third struck true—piercing its left leg. The boss stumbled.
That was the opening.
Alex dashed in, pushing his body to the edge. He slid beneath its outstretched arm, carved a shallow line across its gut, then pivoted and drove his dagger into the base of its neck—its blindside.
It howled and reached for him.
Too late.
"Die," he muttered.
A final spell. A fully overcharged
The explosion was brutal—blasting through bone, brain, and rune-covered flesh.
The massive boulder slipped from the Chieftain's fingers.
It froze—then toppled forward like a collapsing monument, shaking the battlefield one last time.
Silence.
Alex staggered. His knees almost gave out, but he caught himself, dagger buried in the dirt.
His heart pounded. Mana nearly gone. Stamina drained.
Aurora appeared beside him, arms folded, her frown tight with concern.
"You're reckless."
But Alex just smiled.
Boss cleared.
But just as Alex allowed himself a breath—he noticed movement.
Dozens of Orcs.
They had seen it all.
Blood soaked the ground, dying it green. The Orc Chieftain lay dead, its head blown off in bits. Orc Champions were scattered corpses. The Orc village was now a smoking ruin.
And at the center of it all stood one man—bloodied, cut, chest heaving, black dagger still dripping crimson.
Alex said nothing.
He just looked at them.
And the brutish, wild Orcs—hesitated.
Their leader was gone. Their generals? Slaughtered. And the one who had done it all stood calmly before them, unbothered.
Alex reached into his storage ring and uncorked an energy potion. He downed it in a single pull—cool fire sliding down his throat, burning away the fatigue.
He exhaled and cracked his neck.
"Fine," he muttered. "Let's finish this."
He surged forward like a shadow.
Some Orcs screamed and fled. Others charged in desperation. None of it mattered.
They were broken. Uncoordinated. Lost.
And Alex tore through them with cold, surgical precision.
What had been a desperate fight minutes ago… now felt like cleanup.
Until finally—the last Orc hit the ground with a dull thud, twitching once before going still.
Alex straightened slowly, wiping blood from his face with the back of his arm. His eyes scanned the battlefield, half-expecting something else to lunge from the smoke.
Nothing came.
Then—
"Alex!" A voice—familiar, breathless, filled with worry and relief.
He turned.
Sherry came running into view, wide-eyed, her expression a storm of emotions. Behind her, Bellio drifted—back in his plush, compact form—and Gleam hovered nearby, its crystal body catching the fading light like stained glass.
They looked battered, but okay.
Sherry skidded to a stop in front of him, her eyes jumping from the corpses to his bloodied state.
"You're hurt," she breathed, voice catching. "Are you okay?" Her eyes lingered on him—his body was streaked with blood, clothes torn, scuffed and darkened by smoke.
"Yeah. I'm fine," Alex said, giving a small nod. His tone was steady, but his breaths were still rough. "What about you?"
Although he'd taken a few hits, the Wilderness Combat Armor had minimized most of the damage—except for the time the Orc Chieftain had nearly caved in his side.
"I'm also fine." Sherry replied softly, visibly relieved.
◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆
Sherry stood amidst the aftermath, wide-eyed as she slowly took in the devastation. The battlefield was littered with corpses and the charred remains of what had once been an Orc village. Smoke still curled into the reddening sky, heavy with the scent of blood and scorched flesh. The stench clung to everything.
"We actually… cleared a B-Rank monster nest…" she murmured, her voice small, almost fragile with disbelief.
She turned to Alex. "It's really… shocking. I mean—this was practically suicide. No one would even think of attempting something like this with just two people. But… we really did it."
Alex didn't respond right away.
He crouched beside the disintegrating remains of the Orc Chieftain, brows knit in thought. "Yeah. That's great and all," he said dryly, "but how the hell are we supposed to collect this many mana cores before someone else gets wind of it and comes scavenging?"
His eyes swept across the wreckage. Hundreds—no, thousands—of corpses lay scattered, each one containing a mana core. From the lowest C-rank ones, to the Orc Champions, and the Orc Chieftain, they were sitting on a literal mountain of wealth.
"We don't even have the manpower to harvest them all." Alex muttered. "And I'm not exactly eager to let others swoop in and clean up after our work."
That's when Aurora floated into view again, her spirit form flickering with light—arms crossed and an unmistakable look of smug pride on her face.
"Looks like you need me again, Alex."
He blinked up at her. "You have something?"
She gave a confident nod. "Of course. I am extremely knowledgeable, you know. I happen to know a very convenient spell for this exact situation."
Alex raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "What kind of spell?"
"A Tier-3 Dark Magic spell. Summon Skeleton Soldiers. You'll like it." Aurora said, tracing a magic circle in the air with her fingertip.
At the word summon, Alex's interest sharpened. "Skeletons, huh?"
Aurora grinned. "Basic, durable, mindlessly obedient—and perfect for menial labor. They'll dig through corpses and harvest mana cores for us."
Alex nodded, impressed. "Now that's useful."
Despite the ache in his limbs and the weariness pressing on his body, Alex dropped cross-legged to the ground and studied the spell with laser focus.
Twenty-five minutes later, he exhaled slowly and stood.
==============================
[The host has learned a new magic spell]
Tier: 3
Attribute: Dark
Mana Cost: 250
Mastery: F
==============================
"
The air shimmered, and a wide, dark magic circle etched itself into the ground—glowing with sinister black light. From its center, five skeletal soldiers emerged.
Sherry, who had been nearby tending to a cut and sipping water from her canteen, looked up—
—and immediately dropped it.
"W-What is going on?!" she yelped, scrambling to her feet. "Where did those come from?! What are they?!"
Alex raised both hands, stepping quickly between her and the skeletons. "Whoa—Sherry, relax!"
"They're mine," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "Skeleton soldiers. I summoned them to help harvest mana cores. Think of them as… magical laborers."
The skeletons silently turned and began trudging toward the nearest Orc corpses with eerie coordination.
Sherry blinked, still very much not okay.
Once confident, Alex didn't stop at five.
He cast the spell again. And again.
In rapid succession, spell circles flared to life and cracked open the earth across the battlefield. Soon, fifty skeleton soldiers stood in orderly ranks—each summoning bringing forth five. The ruined clearing now resembled something out of a dark fantasy war chronicle.
They were simple skeletal constructs, each roughly D-rank in strength, armed with crude weapons—swords, spears, axes, even bows.
Alex watched them work. They moved efficiently, harvesting mana cores, sorting through bodies, and even dragging aside larger corpses. For simple summons, they were surprisingly competent.
He turned to Aurora. "So… I've basically become a necromancer now, haven't I?"
Aurora let out a short, amused laugh. "Pfft—not even close."
He raised an eyebrow.
"So not even a little bit like necromancy?" Alex asked, watching one skeleton awkwardly trying to roll an Orc Champion off another to reach a mana core.
Aurora smirked, then gestured toward the undead workers.
"Necromancy manipulates death essence itself. Necromancers reanimate actual corpses. What you're doing isn't resurrection—it's summoning. These aren't real corpses. They're magical constructs shaped from your mana to mimic the dead."
She continued, "Technically, you'd be called a Dark Summoner. It's a separate branch of dark magic altogether."
"Nope." she finished with a shrug—to answer his question.
Alex rubbed the back of his neck. "Still… these guys are pretty damn useful."
"For a first-time cast?" Aurora nodded approvingly. "You summoned D-rank units without any proficiency. As your spell mastery improves, their strength, equipment, and intelligence will scale too."
He nodded, eyes narrowing as his imagination spun.
A real army. An elite legion of summoned undead soldiers—maybe even A-rank units someday.
'Yeah… this spell definitely had potential.'