0125 In the Name of Betrayal

The journey back to the battlefield from the retreating crowd was far from smooth. The orcs surged endlessly, their immense power seemingly unleashed in an infinite mode by some unknown force, while the human soldiers were utterly exhausted. Prolonged combat and relentless pressure had left them visibly worn out. The collapse of the defensive walls further forced the already disadvantaged human forces into brutal close-quarters combat with the orcs. The front lines, shrouded under a sky thick with dark clouds, steadily gave way until the humans were finally forced to retreat to the heart of Arcadia’s city.

The winding stone streets of Arcadia provided an ideal setting for urban warfare. As they fell back, the soldiers set up various makeshift checkpoints along the serpentine alleys, hoping to use the advantageous terrain to stall the orc army’s advance. By this stage, the human forces had long abandoned any hope of counterattack. Their sole aim was to buy time for the retreating civilians. No soldier dared to step back further; each fought with reckless abandon, wielding their weapons and risking their lives in the narrow lanes to hold off the unstoppable enemy assault.

A fierce growl tore through a narrow alley not far from Arcadia’s center. A lithe golden cloud leopard beast had just torn the head off the last human attempting to block its path, its sharp claws and innate wind magic-enhanced speed making short work of the foe. In its berserk state, the beast had grown larger and stronger, its power, speed, and claw sharpness elevated to a new level. Its sleek golden fur reduced air resistance, allowing it to effortlessly dispatch five humans at once without a scratch.

Heightened senses immediately caught the sound of approaching footsteps outside the alley. Although the person cloaked their presence entirely in wind magic to mask their aura, the faint rustling of their garments brushing against the roadside was unmistakably detected by the beast.

The golden cloud leopard’s emerald eyes narrowed dangerously. It crouched low, motionless, fixating on the alley entrance, muscles coiled in readiness to pounce on its prey the moment it stepped within reach. The figure advanced step by deliberate step, exactly as the leopard anticipated. The beast licked its lips with a red tongue, poised to strike.

Suddenly, the sharp crack of splitting stone echoed nearby, startling the leopard. Fully focused on the alley’s mouth, it had not expected danger so close by. Two walls beside it had inexplicably cracked open. With no time to attack, the beast abandoned its prey and braced itself, springing backward with its powerful hind legs to evade the collapsing walls hurtling toward it.

But the land of Arcadia would not allow this ruthless killer to escape so easily. Just as the leopard pushed off with its rear legs, the earth beneath the broken stone pavement suddenly gave way. Thick, sticky mud, like a swamp, dragged the beast downward. It struggled frantically to free its legs from the muck, but the more it fought, the deeper it sank. Realizing the futility, the leopard ceased struggling, relaxing its limbs against the ground. Its descent slowed as expected.

Crash! The two stone walls fell with a resounding smash. The leopard snarled coldly, straightening its spine and standing its ground. Judging the thickness of the walls, it knew this impact would at worst leave it with minor injuries. Once the meddlesome mage at the alley’s mouth approached, the beast would tear them to shreds just as effortlessly.

With a thunderous crash, the two walls struck the golden leopard’s body with crushing force. The unexpected weight snapped the beast’s sturdy spine instantly. Its form twisted grotesquely, face distorted beyond recognition. Dust and blood filled the air, and a wave of revulsion made someone nearby cover their mouth and nose. Pale golden earth elementals danced joyfully around her as if claiming credit, but she had no time to admire them. After offering a brief bow to the soldiers who had fought the leopard, she stepped over the fallen beast and pressed onward.

If memory served, the ruined houses of the district were only two streets away. She looked up to confirm the path ahead, but instead of clarity, a dizzy spell overcame her. She reached out to steady herself against a still-standing wall and gave a bitter smile.

As expected, stubbornness was a dangerous thing. Clutching the gaping wound in her abdomen, her body protested with fresh bruises and abrasions. The earth element she had summoned to save her life was now drained and weak from overuse, and she had no idea how long it would hold.

With a faint sigh, she forced herself to move forward, each step heavy and faltering, inching toward the ruined houses.

Even if she were to die here today, at least let her see whether Lance—the fool—was still alive. Stubborn thoughts like these kept her going. Having reached the very center of the battlefield and survived multiple skirmishes with earth magic without being detected by the orcs was in itself a miracle. To hope for a safe return now was pure fantasy.

Old injuries flared, blood loss mounted, and exhaustion deepened her dizziness. The constant crash of collapsing buildings and agonized cries around her blurred into a persistent buzzing in her ears. Only a faint remnant of rationality kept her wind magic shield faintly glowing to protect her. Without it, the scent of blood and magic would have surely drawn a pack of orcs eager for an easy meal.

After navigating two streets, she finally reached the door of the ruined house. The heated battle raging outside seemed disconnected from these buildings. The orcs delighted in slaughter and destruction but showed little interest in entering the painstakingly built homes. As she made her way upstairs to Lance’s room, she distracted herself from the pain and delirium with idle thoughts—perhaps the orcs, being generally large, would be hampered inside narrow houses?

Gasping, she climbed to the second floor. At this point, even her wind magic shield was nearly impossible to maintain. Her eyelids fluttered, and every bodily function screamed a red alert, ready to shut down at any moment. Only her mind stubbornly urged her onward toward Lance’s room.

The room was empty. It seemed Lance had packed up all the important things, yet his suitcase lay on its side on the floor, and the man himself was nowhere to be found.

Unable to continue, she collapsed into the chair by the window. The brief rest cleared her dizzy head somewhat, and the ringing in her ears ceased momentarily. Taking a deep breath, she realized that the sounds of battle and shouting outside had suddenly vanished. Curious, she peered out the window.

Below was Arcadia’s central plaza. Most of the territory had been seized by the orcs, surrounded by the blackened scars of war and ruins. Human soldiers stood silently to one side, heads bowed in reluctant resignation, the unmistakable posture of the defeated.

At the heart of the orc army stood a human boy. His black cloak and the scepter in his hand marked him as the supreme ruler over the orcs. His pale face was cold and expressionless, red eyes gazing arrogantly over the scene. The sunlight fell evenly on his silver hair but lent him no warmth. Around him, orcs knelt on one knee, pride etched deeply into their faces, a sight that stabbed painfully at her eyes.

“My king has returned!”