"Number Four's use of Shock Waves is truly very successful! If he continues like this, exceeding the master level will happen very soon!"
Nafız was speaking looking at the orc shattering the shield wall with a spinning kick. Watching the application of one of the techniques they compiled with her student Kitapkurdu for orcs live was giving her pleasure.
The technique the warrior, ranking number four within the Elite Ten, worked on was called Shock Waves. This teaching allowed him to add the energy in his body to every strike he made. The orc warrior had formed this ability at the end of a very difficult process; he had to prepare his body first. He started by learning close combat because for him to use Shock Waves, the strike had to contact the opponent.
A new orc style, formed by blending many different close combat techniques, was created in this process. Besides mastering this fighting style called Orc Strength, number four developed his body to its extreme point.
This success carried him to the Sacred Lands, being selected from the Orc Military Academy. Here, too, he would learn the technique requiring the use of energy found in his body. This process was harder than all; there were friends who went mad, whose bodies failed, even lost a few limbs.
He was the only person successful in this technique among dozens of friends. Perhaps he could be the first orc in history to apply such an energy technique. Orcs were very unsuccessful in using fighting techniques. The lack of opportunities in their hands was perhaps the most important reason for this. Nafız had leaned on this subject and set to work with the help of the gift her student received from the reward dungeon.
Kitapkurdu had collected all free techniques found in the world through merchants. The more information he could store, the higher the success rate would rise. Dimitri's help was great in this regard; thanks to him, they had even been able to reach the secret techniques of some schools.
From the blended information, they adapted techniques close to their race or created them from scratch. They were practically experimenting, and truth be told, the failure rate was unexpectedly high. Although they were sad for the losses given for this purpose, there wasn't much they could do.
Ultimately, the Blood God consoled herself with the happiness of watching successful results, albeit few. Currently, her eye was on the orc infiltrating through the opened gap. She was examining him carefully; perhaps she was the only person who could see his movements.
This warrior, whose wind other orcs could only feel, was the owner of number eight within the Elite Ten. Thanks to his ability specialized on speed, he created the impression of practically teleporting from one point to another. The technique he used was called Orc Steps. It was carefully created from among many fast movement and step methods. It was one of the hardest techniques to create.
Due to their large size and muscular structure, the biggest disadvantage of orcs was being relatively slow. Many warriors setting out on this path were ruined, left crippled because their muscles didn't adapt to the extraordinary training they received.
Alyon's tribe hadn't ostracized any orc in this situation, offering them the best care, but living crippled wasn't acceptable for someone who set out to be the hero of his lineage.
Almost all of them had wanted to end their lives with their own decisions. The loss of many elite warriors had been experienced. Only number eight of the Elite Ten succeeded among them; he endured everything and became the first orc to apply a technique based on speed.
The phrase Elite Ten wasn't a title invented for empty show or to stroke egos. They were all unique, unique among hundreds of thousands of orcs!
When his friend, cutting opponents rapidly with daggers in his hand, finished business in one region, number four opened a new area of movement for him. Besides their individual skills, their teamwork had also reached a dazzling level.
After seeing things going well in this region, Nafız shifted her attention towards her other warriors. This was their final exam, but both she and Miloş were waiting on alert at every moment so that such valuable gems wouldn't fall victim to an accident.
Unlike the duo entering piercingly into the enemy, number seven and ten were attacking their enemies ten steps in front of the shield wall in the part close to the left flank. They had a very interesting appearance right now; this situation was a first for the orcs standing behind the shields.
While number ten sent his arrows standing upright on number seven's shoulders, he seemed not bothered by this situation at all. Shortly after this strange attack started, warriors waiting behind the shield wall began to die one by one. The archer inside the black armor had escalated the business, hurling arrows five at a time towards his target consisting of a large crowd.
After a while, when orc warriors dying one after another had no place left to hide themselves, as the only remedy, they thought of attacking towards the duo using their numerical advantage. For someone acting with logic, this was the only solution; the biggest weakness of archers was having difficulty attacking targets close to them.
When they went on the attack shouting and screaming, it never crossed their minds that they might have skipped a point. How could the people making this strange attack on them overlook something they could think of?
The crowd had approached five steps to the duo when a glow occurred in the hands of number seven of the Elite Ten, whose feet touched the ground. A breath later, the same brightness had come right in front of the eyes of the warriors running at the very front.
"Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop!"
A red cloud rose towards the sky. The bodies of the rebel tribe's warriors leading with their speed were falling to the ground. Their images were terrible; there was no one left in one piece, these people had lost at least one limb.
The group attacking with ambition had to pause. At first, they couldn't understand what it was, but the truth stood before them in all its majesty. What they saw were two iron whips; two whips covered with thorns on the surface and five steps long. These weapons, complementing number seven's technique and being the gift of the reward dungeon to him, caused a person's blood to drain just by looking.
The scene pleased Nafız very much. After sighing with pride, she cast a glance at her wristbands out of the corner of her eye. The whip was a feature of her changeable weapon, and the technique number seven applied came directly from her.
A technique book she gave to the Orc War Academy was on whip usage. It required flexible muscles, superior kinetic vision, and high intelligence. When number seven left his tribe and came to the academy, he decided to devote himself to this path.
Due to his perseverance, physical predisposition, and superior kinetic vision, he earned the right to enter an isolated training by coming to the Sacred Lands. When he brought his technique to the master level with the training he received with weapons five times the thickness of a normal leather whip, his next stop would also be the reward dungeon.
His success, which was already above expectations until this time, was carried to a completely different dimension at his exit. Due to its nature, the reward dungeon gave gifts on the subject the person was prone to. The weapon this orc received also came with the same logic.
Number seven had come out with two whips of shiny metallic color made of an indeterminable substance, each the thickness of an orc's wrist. The fate of the warrior brought to the Blood God's presence upon this event would also change.
He had found the opportunity to work specially with a legend-level practitioner of the technique. Number seven would almost forget his heart beating from excitement. After the nightmare-filled training process, he had managed to enter the Elite Ten, and he was dazzling again in his final exam.
"Archers! Your target is those two orcs; fire at will!"
After the short shock, a voice rose from within the rebels. Unlike the duo attacking by breaking through the line, these orcs were in a target position in the open area. There was no one who could fall victim to friendly fire; they didn't have to approach them and get themselves killed.
About a hundred archers of the rebel tribe would immediately turn their bows to the indicated direction and send their arrows. Meanwhile, number ten was still shooting on his friend's shoulders. For this warrior, where he stood didn't matter much; he didn't pause attacking even when number seven swung his whip.
"Get behind me!"
Number seven called out calmly to his companion on top of him after taking his whips to his two sides. Now was not the time to attack; the sky was full of enemy arrows. When two breaths passed, arrows appeared five steps away from them. Two words spilled from the mouth of the warrior in jet-black armor taking a deep breath.
"Metal Storm"