Magus Reborn [Stubbing in Seven Weeks]
232. Taking down orcs

Adrenaline pumped through Kai as he charged towards the orcs, the vaults he’d opened brimmed with mana, strengthening his body.

The rush hit him hard.

It had been a while since he’d used these abilities, since he’d moved like this, fought like this. Every step made his blood burn hotter. The orcs up ahead were confused, their heads turning too slow to react. Maybe they didn’t expect a human to charge straight at them like this.

More arrows flew past him. One struck an orc in the leg. It let out a deep roar, blood spraying from the wound as it turned, furious. Its eyes burned with hate.

“Fucking humans!” he shouted, lifting a foot to crush the captured Asharian beneath him in rage.

But Kai got there first.

He twisted his spear and stabbed it into the orc’s knee. The force pushed the beast back. “Run!” Kai shouted to the man. “Go!”

The orc growled, wobbling but steadied himself. His eyes locked onto Kai.

“You’ll be minced meat under my leg,” he spat. “I’ll tore through your flesh.”

Kai stepped forward. “You talk too much,” he said, and swung his spear again but it hit the sand as the orc dodged back. He moved to retaliate with his huge arms, but Kai moved fast—faster than the orc could track.

He circled the towering brute. His smaller size was a weapon in itself, letting him slip through gaps the orc’s slow, heavy body couldn’t close. The creature roared and swung his thick arms, his fists crashing down with enough force to break bone.

But Kai was never there.

He rolled under wide swings, pivoted around crushing stomps, and aimed low—always low—his spear darting toward the knees, the ankles, the soft spots where the joints moved.

Steel scraped skin. Blood flicked across the sand. But the orc’s hide was like leather, thick and heavy. Each cut barely pierced deep enough to bleed. But by the painful growls, he knew they hurt and that was enough.

The orc grew more furious with every scratch.

He snarled, stomping hard, trying to smash him into the earth.

A fist came down toward Kai’s head like a hammer.

He ducked just in time, feeling the wind of it rush past his ear. The punch slammed into the ground where his skull had been a second earlier.

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Kai dropped low and drove his spear into the orc’s toe, right where the bone met the nail.

The orc screamed—a deep, howling sound full of pain and rage—as he twisted the blade deeper. Kai wasn‘t done. Not yet.

As the massive creature reeled, he used the opening. His hands moved fast, forming a quick spell structure in the air. Mana surged. A [Firebolt] shot from his palm, small but focused—straight into the orc’s open mouth.

The bolt tore through gum and tongue and ignited inside the orc’s face.

He shrieked, louder than before. Blood, spit, and tears sprayed from his face as he staggered back, flailing wildly, his arms sweeping through the air in blind rage. Smoke rose from inside his jaw, his face blistering from the inside out.

Kai stepped back, careful not to get caught. He reached beneath his robes, pulling free a throwing knife.

One flick and the blade spun through the air.

It struck the orc’s head—but bounced off with a dull clang.

Kai grabbed another knife and hurled it without pause.

This one sank deep into the orc’s left eye.

The beast screamed in pain. Hah! Blood poured from the ruined socket, drenching his cheek as the orc dropped to one knee, his body swaying like it might fall but it didn't.

Kai charged.

He didn’t wait for the next move. He gripped his spear tight, brought all the strength in his body into one final drive, and plunged the blade into the orc’s thick neck.

Steel punched through skin and muscle. Blood gushed out in thick streams as the orc choked and thrashed, collapsing onto the sand.

But it was still alive. By the constant twitch, Kai knew he was still holding on. If he could do one peaceful thing, it’d be ending it with one final stab. And he did just that as his spear plunged into the orc’s throat.

The body went still as blood erupted. For a moment, Kai just stood there, breathing hard and staring down at the massive creature he had slain.

He had used a bit of magic—but only a [Firebolt]. That spell barely scratched the surface of his reserves. Most of his mana had gone into strengthening his body, and even that hadn’t drained much.

Enforcer bodies didn’t leak mana. You didn’t push it out—you let it cycle inside, powering muscles and sharpening reflexes. But there was no time to think more.

From the left, screams echoed. The fight wasn’t over.

He turned, eyes scanning the field. The three remaining orcs were still alive. During the fight, Gareth and Ansel had joined the fray. One of the orcs was already in bad shape—bleeding heavily as Ansel, Kael, and Neris worked together to bring him down.

Another was locked in battle with Claire and the Storm Sovereign, both of them holding their ground. With the spirit sending lightning arcs every time the orc tries to get closer.

But the third orc… that one was different.

He was bigger than the others—and the only one holding a weapon. A massive axe, wide and jagged, and glowing faintly with mana. One glance was enough to confirm what Kai had feared. It’s human-made.

That basically confirmed the theories in his mind.

The orc swung the axe in a wide arc, forcing Feroy to leap back. Gareth moved in from behind, trying to land a hit, but the orc turned fast. With a grunt, he deflected Gareth’s blade and snarled, “You’re all going to be meat today!”

Mana surged from the axe. Kai’s eyes widened.

“Dodge!” he shouted.

Right then, a blast of energy—shaped like the orc’s axe—exploded from the weapon. It raced toward Feroy.

Feroy dropped flat, pressing himself against the hot sand just in time. The blast missed him and slammed into the sand behind, exploding with heat so intense it turned the desert into glass. The glass shattered instantly, spraying sharp pieces everywhere.

Kai shielded his eyes. But as the dust settled, he saw the orc lowering its axe, chest rising and falling hard. He can’t use it again so soon.

Now was the time.

Without a second thought, Kai charged at the ugly orc, his body still humming with mana, his grip tight on the spear.

He reached the orc a second too late to land a solid blow as he recovered, but his spear still grazed the creature’s arm. The orc growled in pain, eyes flashing with rage, and brought his massive axe down in a wide arc.

Kai dodged swiftly—but not just with speed alone.

He created a spell structure beneath his feet, and a small surge of wind burst out. It boosted his speed, making him blur for a moment, just enough to throw off the orc.

The creature blinked in surprise, but before it could track Kai, Gareth appeared behind it—silent and quick as a shadow. He drove his weapon deep into the orc’s back, making him snarl in agony.

The orc spun to retaliate, but Gareth was gone, fading into the shadows before the axe could touch him.

He roared in frustration and rage, veins bulging on his neck. His eyes snapped to Feroy, who was already rushing in. Each step Feroy took shook the ground, his spear leveled forward.

They clashed.

Axe and spear slammed into each other with a loud crack. Feroy didn’t try to meet the full force—he sidestepped, smartly deflecting the axe’s path. Flames erupted from the tip of his weapon as he swung, trying to keep the pressure on.

But the orc was faster than he looked. Despite his size, he moved with sharp instincts. Every swing Feroy made was blocked by the thick, enchanted axe. Sparks flew with each clash.

Kai didn’t wait on the sidelines.

He joined the fight, his spear twisting through the air. Timing his attacks with Feroy’s, he struck at the orc’s exposed sides. His aim was precise and he kept moving, always shifting positions to stay out of the orc’s direct reach.

Together, the two of them pressed hard. It was a tight struggle—constant movement, constant strikes. They stabbed, slashed, twisted their bodies to avoid the axe, pushing the orc back step by step.

Then it happened.

The orc growled, muscles flexing, and suddenly twisted. With one hand it swung the heavy axe to keep Kai at bay—and with the other, it punched Feroy straight in the chest.

The hit landed.

Feroy flew back, his body crashing into the sand. He groaned, winded, blood trickling from his mouth. Kai’s eyes widened in panic and he decided that the battle had gone on for far too long.

He pushed more mana into his core and quickly formed a third circle spell. The wind around him sharpened, swirling like blades.

Then—he released it.

A blast of razor-sharp wind burst from his palms and struck the orc dead in the chest. The impact sent the creature flying, tearing up the ground beneath it. Blood sprayed across the sand as the orc slammed into the earth, tumbling back with a cry.

The desert fell silent for a second. Only the sound of the wind and the faint groans of the wounded filled the air. Kai stood tall, chest rising with each breath, his fingers still crackling faintly with wind mana.

But even as the orc crashed into the ground, his grip on the axe didn’t loosen. His chest bled, but he rose again, teeth bared and eyes wild with rage.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” he roared, and mana surged once more from the weapon in his hand.

Kai’s instincts kicked in. He jumped to the side just as another mana-shaped blast tore through the sand where he’d stood. The heat rolled past him, searing his skin. But the orc wasn’t done. Not even close.

It raised the axe again—and fired another blast. Then another. And another.

Each strike came faster, and Kai was forced to pour more mana into his movements just to keep dodging. His legs burned from the effort. His back stung as a near miss exploded behind him, spraying him with sand and glass. The heat grazed his shoulder, and he hissed in pain but kept moving, kept breathing, kept waiting for an opportunity to finish the orc.

In the corner of his eye, movement flickered—Claire.

She fought one of the other orcs alongside the Storm Sovereign. The orc towered over her, swinging wildly, but she didn’t back down. The massive deer beside her was glowing faintly with stormlight, its antlers crackling with power.

Then it struck.

The Storm Sovereign stomped the ground, hooves glowing, and with a flash of blinding blue, it released a bolt of lightning straight into the orc’s chest. The creature howled as the electricity slammed into its body, sending it stumbling back, muscles twitching and steam rising from its skin.

Kai only caught a glimpse of it, but even that much gave him a bit of relief. They’re holding on.

Unfortunately, he couldn't look for long.

The orc in front of him screamed again and charged, raising the axe for one final swing, blood still dripping from its chest, eyes locked onto Kai with nothing but hate.

And he readied his spell.

Kai was just about to cast another third circle spell—to end the fight once and for all—when an explosion rocked the ground behind him. He screamed, more in surprise than pain, and stumbled backwards. Smoke filled the air. The orc in front of him dropped to his knees with a loud thud.

The stench of burnt flesh—thick, heavy, and disgusting—spread across the battlefield. He immediately cut off the mana flow in his hands and turned his head.

Through the smoke, a figure revealed himself—Gareth.

Kai’s eyes then followed the trail of damage and landed on the orc’s back.

There was a hole. A wide, torn gap in the flesh and armor, like something had ripped through it from the inside. Kai could see the charred remains of half a heart and shredded organs through it.

He understood instantly.

Gareth had used one of the explosive potions. He'd thrown it into the orc’s back while it was focused on Kai, ending the monster in one deadly strike.

Kai exhaled slowly. The tension in his chest eased.

It’s over.

But he didn’t sit down or relax.

He turned quickly and made his way to Feroy, who was sitting in the sand, his breathing heavy, a half-empty healing potion in his hand.

“You okay?” Kai asked, kneeling beside him.

Feroy gave a tired smile. “I’m fine. My armor took most of it, even if it cracked a few ribs. I’ll be alright in a few minutes. Already hurts less.”

Kai nodded, relieved. If Feroy had gone down this early into the desert, it would’ve been a disaster. They couldn’t afford to lose someone like him.

Once he was sure Feroy would recover, Kai stood and looked back at the rest of the group. The last orc was down. Ansel and the new Enforcers had finished it off—Rhea was with them. He had told her to stay back and not get herself involved and it seemed like she had followed his command.

His eyes drifted toward Claire. She was standing next to the Storm Sovereign, leaning against it slightly. She looked drained, but alive. That was good enough for now.

But Kai didn’t keep looking at his party.

Instead, his gaze shifted to the three Asharians. They were standing near Ansel, speaking in a different dialect of the common Lancephil language—fast, clipped words that Kai couldn’t understand from this far, but he could guess the tone. It seemed urgent, and a little afraid.

Ansel had once told Kai that most desert tribes still used Lancephilian Common, since the sands had briefly been ruled by the Lancephil kingdom hundreds of years ago. That rule hadn’t lasted long, but the influence had stuck—especially in language.

Kai moved toward the group, hoping to understand how the orcs had captured them and what was going on. Bits of conversation drifted toward him as he approached.

One of the Ashari men was speaking quickly, his voice low and tense. “We saw a large troop of them when we were out hunting, and then—”

The words stopped as Kai got closer. The three men looked at him.

Ansel turned to him, a frown already forming on his face.

Kai met his eyes. “What’s going on?”

Ansel’s voice was tight. “The situation is bad, Lord Arzan.”

He gestured to one of the desert men beside him.

“This is Harad. He’s from my tribe,” Ansel explained. “He told me they saw a large group of orcs moving toward our tribal lands. He and his two companions spotted them while hunting. When the orcs saw them, they gave chase. They barely made it out alive.”

Kai’s eyes narrowed. “Then why didn’t they kill them?”

Ansel’s eyes darkened and he inhaled sharply. “Because the orc with the axe—the one we just fought—was the son of a general. He wanted to play with them first.”

Behind Ansel, the three Ashari men nodded grimly, confirming the story.

“Is it normal for orcs to approach the tribe like this?”

It took Harad a moment to catch the question. Then he slowly shook his head. “No. They don’t come near. We only see them when we go to pay the monthly taxes.”

Kai frowned. “Then something’s going on. And I doubt it’s anything good.”

Ansel nodded. The worry was plain in his face now. If the orcs had moved towards his tribe with a large procession, and with someone of rank leading them, the tribe might already be under threat.

Kai could see it in Ansel’s eyes: the fear of not knowing if his people were safe and alive. And that worry quickly became Kai’s own.

“We need to get there,” Kai said. “How far is the tribe from here?”

Harad glanced toward the dunes. “An hour. Maybe less.”

Kai turned back toward the others. “Then we move now. Feroy can ride—he needs the rest.”

Feroy, who had walked up to them, gave a tired nod. “I’m not arguing.”

Kai looked over the group one more time. They were not injured and could traverse without any problems.

Before they left, Kai looked at Kael and said, “Hold onto the axe. I’ll study it later.”

The Enforcer nodded and carefully picked up the heavy, mana-soaked weapon.

With that, they began packing up quickly. Kai felt a small wave of disappointment—he had hoped to study the orc corpses, check for items they might had, maybe understand how they were gaining strength. But there wasn’t time. The tribe came first.

Still, their pace wasn’t ideal.

The three Ashari men they had rescued had minor injuries on their legs, and the horse couldn't walk fast with their baggage and Feroy on top. Kai could see the tension in their group, but no one was as terrified as Ansel.

The man walked faster than all of them, often glancing ahead like he could will the journey to end sooner. His fists were clenched, his eyes sharp with worry.

Kai understood. This was home for him.

But moving faster wouldn’t help. The orcs had already had a head start—and they apparently had mounts. There was no catching up now, only hoping they hadn’t done the worst.

So he kept his eyes on the horizon, and followed their group. Finally, after an hour or so, they reached a rise in the dunes—just high enough to see it.

It was a small desert city that lay ahead, its outline barely visible through the heat haze. But something else was clearer—there were flames. Tents and buildings were burning. And thick, black smoke curled into the sky making even the air shimmer with heat.

There were no orcs in sight.

But the fire was enough to tell them what had happened. Ansel stopped walking. He stared. His face went pale.

“No… my tribe…” he whispered, voice breaking. His hand came to his face as he wiped off sweat. “They—they…”

Kai stepped forward and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t despair yet. We don’t know everything. Some of your people might have hidden. They could still be alive.”

That earnt a grunt. Kai waited for the man to calm down his heartbeat as he visibly shook with rage and worry. He let him absorb his words.

Ansel swallowed hard, clenched his jaw and nodded.

“Y-yes, Lord Arzan. You’re right.”

Then they began moving again—down the slope, toward the burning tribal town. Toward whatever truth waited for them in the ashes.

***

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