This was a common feature of organisms whose thinking abilities were not developed. When faced with a situation their logic couldn't solve, they chose to destroy it as the best remedy. One of the guards rushing forward with ambition reached Nafız in a short time. He had clenched his huge fist and was targeting his opponent's head. In contrast, the Blood God was looking at the group attacking to kill her with both hands behind her back.
Suddenly her view was blocked by a fist. The female orc dodged slightly to the side and landed a hard kick on her opponent's stomach while her hands were still behind her back.
The orc guard, laughing with the dream of the punch he would land, was now in a very troubled situation as a result of his internal organs changing places. His green face turned purple, his pupils became huge, and he seemed to have a problem breathing due to a distress in his diaphragm.
Nafız didn't pay much attention. After pulling her kick back, she focused on the two dozen orcs coming towards her. Some were attacking with bare hands, some with axes. Although they seemed to hesitate for a moment upon seeing the state of their friends in front, they were coming without slowing down.
"I attacked fifteen people; I hit, hit, didn't stop, oh, hit, hit, didn't stop!"
Singing a song to herself, Nafız dived into the crowd with her hands tied behind her back like a village headman inspecting his sharecroppers. She looked as if she wanted to stretch her muscles tensed throughout the journey.
Her kicks and knees were talking right now. If someone happened to get too close by chance, she was sending him flying with her shoulder too. Seeing the situation, the guard orcs stopped attacking and thought of catching the Blood God by changing tactics.
Nafız was slipping away like a slippery fish from the hands of orcs making moves to catch her with open arms. Guard orcs trying their luck this way for a round were left breathless. The moments they realized their numbers dropped by half would coincide exactly with this time. When they saw their friends lying on the ground writhing in pain, they understood the gravity of the situation. They were slowly moving away from the female orc looking at them with scornful eyes.
"Miloş, you can take the empties!"
Nafız's hair suddenly flew as she turned her back on her enemies and started walking towards the mechanical vehicle. A breath later, while the Blood God smiled, cries of pain were coming from where she was just a moment ago. The former bodyguard leader, heeding the call, exited the vehicle like lightning and arrived at the scene. When he reached his first target, the female orc passing by him hadn't even taken her second step yet.
"What interesting equipment! I wonder how their clash with our crazy boy will be?"
Miloş passing by her and Blood Warrior Sangre were eternal rivals. Like everyone else, she also knew this business would ultimately be solved with a duel. After Sangre received his throwing daggers, Nafız saw her student as the superior side in this match-up. When the bow and special arrows she gave him on his back also got involved, she wasn't considered very wrong.
Whether it was a coincidence or not, as if the reward dungeon also saw this and wanted to intervene in the event, it had given Miloş terrifying equipment. Sangre was completely focused on offense; he had all possible weapons for this job in his hands.
In return, Miloş possessed a movement speed that would humiliate his opponent in the first fight. You wouldn't have much chance to defend against six throwing knives and special blood arrows. You would either run or eliminate the attacks with greater power.
Miloş's method would be speed; what he learned from compilation techniques was added on top of his infrastructure coming from the past. As if this wasn't enough, he had received the special boots currently on his feet from the reward dungeon.
This equipment could increase the user's original speed three times. Although Miloş used a fifty percent increase as of the moment, even this was enough to make Nafız's hair fly. The guard orcs understood nothing. After a throat was cut, blood was spurting from another before the scream ended. The only thing they could see besides the momentary glint of metal was the projection of Miloş practically teleporting from one point to another.
Within a short time, no one breathing remained in the enemy ranks. When Nafız stepped inside the vehicle, Miloş was appearing right behind her.
"It was a show worth watching, training supervisor of the Sacred Lands. I hope these behaviors of yours have been a lesson to some in the team!"
Nafız could have killed the orcs blocking their way herself, but thinking of the enemies waiting for them in the ninth tribe, she used this event to fire up the Elite Ten. This was a clear message; the Blood God was saying if your leader does his job seriously in the slightest event, you will also use whatever you have in your hands.
When the vehicle moved after the expected small delay, the news that those coming to destroy them entered their borders reached the tribe. The tribe chieftain ran to the side of six people looking into the distance with arrogance as if they created small mountains.
"Masters, our enemies are almost here!"
No one from the group wearing various armors and battle clothes was listening to him. They were just standing there with all their majesty.
Although the tribe chieftain whose words mixed into the air where he came in panic was inwardly angry, he had no word he could say right now. Being treated as if he didn't exist by a group of humans was entirely his own fault. While he was an honorable chieftain of Alyon's tribe, by being deceived by sweet words and promises, he had brought himself to a state to be exposed to such insults.
"Sir, it is reported that Blood God Nafız is at the head of the incoming team. Should we start preparations to flee?"
The facial expressions of the people resting their souls in awe changed after these words. When a gray-haired man among them turned his back rapidly, the contempt in his gaze didn't escape attention.
"Blood God? How shameful for a rat-looking orc to give herself such a big nickname!"
After the speech accompanied by a few small laughs, the man looking at the chieftain standing hunched over intended to continue his words as if slapping the person standing before him.
"We are the Gray Hyenas! In these lands we can comfortably cover with one hand, no one can force us to flee. If you come with such an offer again, even the power of the savage you call Siyahayı won't be enough to save your head!"
The tribe chieftain tasted humiliation to his bones. What an irony that Chief Alyon's words, to which he answered "Yes, sir!" in unison, were falling into his mind exactly now.
He sighed deeply. While returning towards his tribe, since he was crushed down to his self, his shoulders turned inward, walking without lifting his head from the ground. The only thing he could do was to wish for these days descending on them like a nightmare to pass quickly. While a dust cloud appeared from very far away, the gray-haired man turned to his friends beside him, and a voice entered his ears.
"Leader! Our guests are coming; I hope you pave the way for us youngsters today!"
The person speaking with a polite style was the young boy hiding himself inside his large cloak at the very end of the row. The eyes of the white-haired male looking in his twenties were shining; his other four friends beside him were also like him.
The gray-haired man in the position of leader of the six-person team wasn't offended at all in the face of the words. As a mercenary, the experienced warrior knew very well when to speak and when to be silent.
The expected meeting was about to happen. The mechanical vehicle with a large dust cloud behind it finished its progress by slowing down and stopped in front of nearly thirty thousand orc warriors waiting for them.
"We have reached the last hole of the zurna! Your turn; let's see who can blow whom!"