Karokan let out a thunderous roar, its bellow echoing across the entire battlefield.
Seeing his subordinates and comrades slaughtered without mercy, his rage exploded. The remaining orc soldiers including the shamans who had once protected the rear lines were now unable to move. The pressure from the duel between the two monsters before them made their survival instincts scream.
All of Karokan's hopes of attaining the honor of a warrior had collapsed.
Not because he was defeated.
But because a single man had descended onto the battlefield and destroyed everything by himself.
"GRAAAAAH!!"
Karokan charged.
Each step shattered the ground, sending rocks flying into the air. The massive muscles covering his body tightened, and with a powerful stomp, he leapt high into the air, his shadow blotting out the torchlight.
Both of his huge axes were raised.
Then he threw them.
The two gigantic weapons spun with terrifying speed, creating violent whirlwinds that tore through the air. When the axes slammed into the ground around Jun—
DOOOOOOM!!
A devastating explosion shook the fortress. The ground split open, stones were flung everywhere, and shockwaves swept outward in all directions. Several human soldiers were thrown back even though they were far behind.
A thick cloud of dust swallowed the center of the explosion.
For a moment, no one could see anything.
The orcs held their breath.
The humans froze.
When the dust slowly settled that figure was still standing.
Jun stood where he was, his feet planted firmly in the cracked ground. One arm was raised, his red sword embedded halfway into the earth as support. The skin on his arm was slightly scraped, a thin line of blood flowing—but that was all.
He lowered his arm slowly, his expression remaining calm.
"Good attack," he muttered flatly. "But not enough."
The aura around him changed.
The gentle, illusion-filled sword technique of Mount Hua began to mingle with the rough, domineering flow of Heavenly Demon energy. Two forces that should have been mutually opposed were now forcibly contained within a single body.
The air vibrated violently.
Illusory plum blossom petals spun faster, while a blackish-red aura seeped from Jun's body, pressing down on everything around him.
Synchronization began.
Jun took his stance.
His legs lowered slightly, his sword held at a slanted angle—ready to slash, ready to thrust, ready to destroy. The ground beneath him cracked even deeper, unable to withstand the pressure of the concentrated energy.
On the other side, Karokan landed with a heavy crash. He raised his axe again, and from his gigantic body erupted a bright red aura—wild, brutal, and overflowing with killing intent.
The two auras collided in the air, creating pressure that made both soldiers and orcs instinctively retreat.
There were no longer any armies.
No longer any siege.
What remained were only two figures in the middle of a battlefield already reduced to ruin.
An Orc Champion in a frenzy, his body filled with rage and a warrior's instinct that no longer knew retreat.
And a human—who sought neither glory nor honor—but was simply trying to survive a cruel fate that kept dragging him into fields of slaughter.
When axe and sword finally clashed, the sound rang out like the toll of a war bell.
CLAAANG!!
The resulting vibration rippled across the battlefield, shaking the ground and warping the air. The orcs who had still been screaming moments ago now fell silent. Their instincts—honed to recognize hierarchies of power—screamed a single warning:
Do not approach.
The human soldiers were the same. They could only watch, unable to interfere. This battle had already surpassed any level they could comprehend.
Karokan roared, his muscles bulging. The bright red aura enveloped the blade of his axe, making the weapon look like a gigantic ember ready to crush everything. Each swing carried pressure capable of pulverizing steel.
Before him, Jun did not retreat.
He coated his sword blade with Demonic Qi—a dense, controlled dark energy that wrapped tightly along the edge of his red sword. The aura did not explode wildly; instead, it flowed calmly… yet lethally.
Axe and sword collided again.
BOOOOM!!
An airburst erupted, slamming into the surroundings like a colossal hammer. The ground lifted, stones were hurled aside, and several orcs who were too close did not even have time to scream—their bodies were torn apart by the shockwave, flung away like dry leaves.
Karokan pressed forward brutally, every step crushing the ground. His axe danced wildly, attacking from every angle, as if he intended to smash Jun into countless pieces.
But Jun moved with precision.
His steps were light, almost floating. The Mount Hua technique made his movements seem fluid, illusory plum blossom petals appearing and vanishing at intervals, disrupting his opponent's perception. Every slash Jun made was never excessive—one swing, one death.
Each time their weapons collided, the air exploded.
And every time it happened, the surrounding orcs who had not yet managed to flee met the same fate thrown aside, crushed, or killed by the collateral effects of this clash between two monsters.
There were no casualties on the human side.
All of that destruction… swept over the orcs alone.
Slowly, the remaining orc ranks retreated. Not because of orders, but because of pure fear. They watched their champion fight with all his might, yet every clash only turned the battlefield around him into a graveyard for their own kind.
In the midst of the storm of red aura and demonic qi, Jun looked at Karokan with dark, tranquil eyes.
They watched their champion struggle desperately, yet every impact only transformed the battlefield around him into a tomb for their own race. There were no more war cries. No more savage roars. What remained were only choked breaths and chaotic retreating footsteps.
Amid the storm of red aura and demonic qi that was slowly subsiding, Jun stood with dark, calm eyes, his sword still pointed forward.
Then slowly—
the situation reversed.
Karokan began to run out of stamina.
It was obvious. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving heavily. The red aura that had once enveloped his body now flickered weakly, no longer stable. Wounds covered his gigantic frame—deep cracks in his thick skin, black blood flowing without end.
Ironically, Jun's injuries were far fewer.
The two finally created distance, standing face to face with the ruined battlefield as their silent witness.
Karokan planted his axe into the ground to support his body. His breathing was heavy, but his eyes… shone.
Not with hatred.
But with bitter joy.
He let out a short laugh—a hoarse sound that nearly turned into a bloodied cough.
Throughout his life, Karokan had been a being starved for battle. In his homeland, he had defeated all who were worthy of fighting. There were no enemies left to make his blood boil. No challenges left to bring him satisfaction.
That was why when that strange human appeared.
A mysterious figure who did not introduce himself, spoke in an unfamiliar tongue, and offered two things that could not be refused:
A true battle and a proper place for his tribe.
That human gave him a relic an artifact capable of opening a portal to a desired location. With it, hundreds of kilometers meant nothing. With it, his tribe could move from barren, impoverished lands to more fertile territory.
And, most importantly there, he said, were powerful enemies.
Karokan did not hesitate.
He moved his forces, opening a portal from the relic he had received from the mysterious human who visited his territory.
In his mind, this was only a small human fortress. There could not possibly be any true warriors there. Everything would end quickly just smash the gate with his axe, then slaughter the rest.
But reality— was different.
Before him now stood a single human who had shattered everything alone.
Karokan lifted his head, looking at Jun with eyes that were beginning to dim, yet filled with meaning.
Then he spoke.
The Taluku language the ancient tongue of the orc race flowed from his lips, heavy and deep. His voice no longer roared, but was calm, almost solemn.
Jun had never learned that language.
And yet somehow he understood.
"Human… You are a flame I found too late. Had I met you earlier… perhaps my life would not have ended in regret."
The night wind blew softly, sweeping across the battlefield that had become a sea of ruins, carrying with it the smell of blood, ash, and heated iron.
Jun remained standing still.
His sword was neither raised nor lowered. He merely let out a small breath—not mockery, nor arrogance but a gesture of respect toward the warrior standing before him.
His gaze was calm, yet deep.
"Then," Jun finally said, his voice low but clear, "let me grant you a fitting death."
At that moment—
The Qi within his body erupted outward.
Not a wild explosion, but a controlled release, yet so dense that the air around them trembled. Fine cracks spread across the ground beneath his feet, stone fragments lifting briefly before crumbling into dust.
Demonic Qi enveloped the blade of his sword, pulsing like the breath of a living creature.
Karokan watched the sight with burning eyes.
He snorted heavily, then with the strength he had left stood upright. He gripped his axe once more, both hands trembling yet firm. The remaining red aura within his body was forced outward, wrapping his gigantic frame like a dying flame that refused to go out.
When demonic qi and orc aura collided the air between them distorted.
Light wavered, sound vanished, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
The remaining orcs, the human soldiers atop the walls—everyone felt the same thing.
Their instincts screamed.
They knew.
This would be the final clash.
//--//
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