Morning came without ceremony.
No grand speeches. No dramatic send-offs. Just preparation.
Armor was fastened. Weapons were checked. Orders given.
And soon enough—they stood at the edge of the forest.
---
It was quiet.
Not the peaceful kind. The kind that made the air feel… heavier.
"…This forest gives me the creeps," Elias muttered internally.
Cain said nothing. His gaze remained fixed ahead.
The groups had been split. A total of five per squad.
And for the third—
Cain stepped forward.
"…So you're our leader?"
The voice came immediately. Sharp. Unimpressed.
Cain turned.
A man with short brown hair and a hardened expression looked him up and down.
"…I don't recall seeing you before. And yet the Captain puts you in charge?"
Ah.
Here we go.
Elias clicked his tongue internally.
Random mob character #1, right? The one who picks fights for absolutely no reason?
The man crossed his arms.
"Name's Mark. I've got more experience than you, so let's make one thing clear. If you turn out to be a liability… I'll take command."
A brief silence followed.
Cain remained unfazed.
"…Understood," he replied calmly.
Elias, on the other hand—
Ugh. If he makes another annoying expression I might lose it.
Another man stepped forward, more composed.
"Richard. I'll follow orders."
A simple soldier. Much more appreciated by Elias.
"…Beros, sir."
The third voice was quieter. Respectful.
Elias paused.
…Beros?
His gaze shifted.
He's the first soldier I met since I transmigrated, if I'm remembering correctly. Feels nice to see a familiar face in my team.
The last one gave a small, nervous smile.
"M-Micheal. I'll do my best."
Yeah.
That one's breaking first.
Cain gave a short nod.
"Squads will move as assigned," Malthus' earlier words echoed in his mind. "Stay alert. We will be moving together. Maintain distance, but stay within sight. Prioritize information over engagement."
Mark clicked his tongue but said nothing.
And so—they entered the forest.
---
Time passed. Slowly.
Four… maybe five hours.
The deeper they went, the quieter it became.
There were no more birds or animals in sight. The flora was noticeably thicker.
Cain had earlier noticed some droppings near some trees. This was either a large sized animal, or their target.
That was when they came across the site.
"…This isn't normal," Elias muttered.
Cain crouched slightly.
"…Agreed."
A large trunk from a tree laid nearby, uprooted and filled with scars. Deep, violent scars. The ground was torn apart in places. Thick gouges carved into tree bark.
"…These marks do not seem to be from a battle. There is no blood. All of this seems to have been done by a single being." Cain said quietly. "It looks more like a wild beast's rampage."
"…Should we signal?" Micheal asked, voice uneasy. "This feels wrong…"
Mark scoffed.
"Signal what? Some broken trees? That could be anything. If we call them for nothing, I'll be the one taking the blame, as the senior here."
Micheal frowned. "That's not normal damage…"
"Sir."
Beros' voice cut through, quiet but firm.
"…Do you feel the tremors?"
Silence.
A faint vibration.
…The sound of rustling kept getting louder and louder. Yet nothing was in sight. Richard had climbed atop a tall tree to get a better look at the surroundings.
Then-
The branches above him shifted.
They all heard it. A scream.
Everyone froze.
"Above—"
The branches shook. Not from wind. From something heavy.
*THUD*
It was Richard.
He hit the ground hard, blood spraying from his back.
"…Ghk—!"
A massive shadow moved within the trees—too fast, too large.
"…What the—"
It dropped. A figure crashed through the branches. Before anyone could react—
It moved again.
Fast. Too fast.
It landed behind Mark.
A large, pale green figure. There were purple markings all over it's body.
An Orc Lord. No. That thing... Could not be justified by such a simple name.
Elias was nervous. His knowledge from years of gaming had seemed to betray him.
That orc... was hiding in the canopy.
But—
Orcs don't do that.
Mark turned—
And froze.
The club was already mid-swing.
Death was certain. He shut his eyes.
Beros rushed in that moment. No hesitation. He grabbed Mark—tried to pull him away—
But it was too late.
CRACK—
Mark screamed as his arm twisted unnaturally, the blow clipping him and shattering bone. Beros was thrown aside, his leg buckling as he hit the ground.
For a moment—no one moved.
Then—
Heavy breathing.
The Orc stood there.
Its body towered over the five. Larger than it should be. Muscles uneven, swollen. Dark veins pulsed beneath its skin.
It was looking at Cain. Not like a beast. Like a hunter.
"Move."
Cain's voice cut through the silence. It was a sharp, decisive tone.
"Beros. Micheal. Get the injured men to safety. I will hold it off."
Micheal hesitated—just for a moment—then grabbed Richard.
Beros gritted his teeth and forced himself up, dragging Mark along.
They moved. Cain stepped forward. Between them—and it.
Yet, the Orc did not move. It simply stood, watching the soldiers move in absolute terror.
Cain's eyes were on the flare that had fallen from Mark's hand. It was lying behind the monster.
"Get the flare. I will distract it."
They nodded. Cain took out his sword, preparing to dash.
"Now!"
Before either of them could move, the Orc did. A single step.
*CRUNCH*
The flare snapped beneath its foot. The spark died instantly.
Silence returned again.
The Orc looked at Cain.
And smiled. Slowly.
Elias stared at it.
"…It understands our words."
We're fucked.