Chương 125: Rage Was Apparently an Excellent Antidote

Sieghart realized that retreating forever would never produce victory. The Orc King was too fast, too durable, and far too energetic for exhaustion to become a reliable strategy. He had improved at firing spells while moving, using trees, poison clouds, and abrupt changes in direction to prevent the monster from establishing a clean attacking rhythm. That should have made Sieghart easier to understand over time. Repeated movements created patterns, and intelligent enemies eventually learned how to exploit patterns.

Instead, the Orc King somehow closed more distance after every exchange, forcing Sieghart to spend increasingly stronger bursts of Wind Magic simply to remain beyond the weapon's reach. Sieghart launched another Poison Sphere toward the monster's face while throwing himself sideways. Purple liquid burst across one cheek and released another cloud of foul vapor. Earlier attacks had forced coughing, hesitation, or momentary blindness. This one barely made the Orc King narrow his eyes before continuing forward.

Something had changed as dark-red energy leaked from beneath the King's armor, wrapping around his shoulders before spreading across his torso, arms, neck, and enormous legs. The strange Aura resembled heated smoke, yet it moved against the wind and remained tightly attached to the monster's body instead of dispersing. Loose leaves trembled around him, stones shifted beneath his feet, and several nearby orcs retreated despite standing far beyond the range of his weapon.

The Orc King's body expanded as the pressure intensified. Leather straps tightened, armor plates shifted, and muscles already thicker than Sieghart's torso swelled even larger. His yellow skin gradually turned crimson, beginning across the chest before spreading over his arms, neck, and face until every exposed section shone red.

"That can't be good." Sieghart had encountered enough corruption to recognize the obvious. Whatever strengthened the King was not ordinary Aura, even if its purpose resembled physical reinforcement. The dark-red power seemed to feed his aggression while forcing additional strength through a body already capable of breaking trees and opening craters with casual attacks. A rage-based skill seemed like the most obvious explanation.

The monster had become larger, redder, angrier, and noticeably less concerned about poison. Sieghart doubted the transformation was subtle enough to require deeper analysis. What mattered was finding something capable of weakening it before the King reached him. Rage produced heat, accelerated circulation, and encouraged violent movement. If the corrupted technique depended upon those conditions, cooling the monster might interfere with its effects.

Sieghart created five Ice Shurikens and launched them toward the King's face, throat, elbows, and previously injured knee from separate angles. The Orc King swung his massive weapon once, producing a circular shockwave that shattered every projectile before any of them reached his body. Broken ice scattered through the burning forest while the King surged through it, crossing twenty meters before Sieghart finished gathering wind beneath his feet.

Sieghart spread Frozen Floor across the monster's path, thickening the surface until a broad layer of solid ice covered the ground between several trees. The first crimson foot struck the ice and shattered it. Each following step crushed another section before the King's weight could slide across the surface. The rage-enhanced warrior no longer needed traction. His steps carried enough downward force to break the spell before it could properly interfere with his balance.

"That worked better yesterday..." Sieghart clicked his tongue and changed tactics before the enormous weapon reached him. Water gathered around his right palm while freezing wind compressed around his left. He fired Water Cannon first, sending a concentrated stream toward the King's head as the monster raised his weapon defensively. The water struck the broad metal surface, divided around its edges, and sprayed across crimson skin, dark hair, armor plates, and exposed joints.

Sieghart released the freezing wind immediately afterward. The chilled current wrapped around the soaked warrior and stripped heat from every wet surface. Water crystallized across the King's chest and shoulders. White frost covered his arms, while thicker ice spread over his knees, elbows, ankles, and weapon hand. The Orc King slowed for the first time since activating the transformation. It was only a slight change, but the result proved Sieghart's idea was working.

Sieghart maintained both spells while retreating, feeding more water into the stream and strengthening the cold wind until frozen layers began accumulating faster. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Every step became heavier. Ice cracked around the King's knees, regrew across his ankles, and spread over his shoulders whenever he tried raising the weapon.

Sieghart felt a brief spark of satisfaction before the Orc King released another furious roar and flared the corrupted energy surrounding his body. The sound tore through the water while dark-red heat melted thin patches of ice, forcing Sieghart to continuously rebuild everything his opponent destroyed. Then the King stopped advancing, and Sieghart immediately became suspicious. Enemies like this did not pause because they had suddenly reconsidered the violence they had spent several minutes enjoying.

The enormous warrior shifted his grip, pulled the weapon behind one shoulder, and twisted his partially frozen body despite the ice restricting nearly every joint. Sieghart's eyes widened.

"No…" The Orc King threw the weapon through the Water Cannon, splitting the stream and launching freezing spray outward while spinning directly toward Sieghart with terrifying speed. There was no time to fly, change direction, or construct another defense. Sieghart dropped into a crouch and flattened himself against the frozen ground. The weapon passed above his head, close enough for the displaced air to hammer his Protection and tear through the false shoulders created by Phantom Image.

It continued into the forest without slowing. One tree split, another shattered, and several more trunks collapsed before the weapon disappeared into darkness. Sieghart raised his head while frozen water continued falling around him, only to discover that the Orc King had vanished from his previous position. Enhanced Smell delivered the warning before his eyes found movement. Blood, poison, smoke, and overwhelming rage crossed the distance almost instantly.

A crimson shadow appeared directly above him, revealing that the thrown weapon had merely been a distraction designed to keep Sieghart looking elsewhere. Sieghart tried gathering Wind Magic around both hands, but the King's enormous foot was already descending toward his chest before he could escape. He pushed Protection beyond its normal limit, pouring mana into the barrier until brilliant white light wrapped tightly around his real body beneath the illusion.

The Orc King kicked him, and Protection cracked immediately beneath the impact despite all the mana Sieghart had forced into the barrier. For one impossible instant, Sieghart felt the barrier resisting. Then the force broke through, folded his body, and launched him away like a damaged projectile. Pain erased the battlefield as Sieghart flew through branches, leaves, smoke, and splintered wood while his mind failed to determine which direction the ground existed. He collided back-first with a thick tree.

The trunk cracked behind him, and the remaining force traveled through his ribs, stomach, spine, and skull. Blood escaped his mouth before he dropped across the exposed roots. Every nerve seemed to report a different injury while his thoughts vanished beneath overwhelming pain. Breathing failed entirely for several terrifying seconds, then returned as a wet gasp that sent another sharp wave through his chest. Something inside his torso felt horribly wrong.

Sieghart could not determine whether ribs were broken, organs were damaged, or everything simply hurt too much. His vision flashed white, became black, then returned in fragments containing burning trees, frozen grass, purple mist, and the crimson silhouette of the Orc King. Sieghart tried lifting one hand. His fingers twitched against the ground, but the command never reached the rest of his arm properly.

He needed First Aid, yet gathering enough concentration to activate the spell felt harder than creating a hundred Giant Fireballs simultaneously. The Orc King turned away without concern and began walking toward the weapon he had thrown, apparently considering the fight already decided. Each crimson step melted frost beneath his feet while dark-red Aura continued rising from his body in violent, hungry waves.

Sieghart remained slumped against the cracked tree, his mind almost completely blank except for scattered instincts and the distant realization that remaining still meant death. The King kicked one fallen trunk aside, revealing the path his weapon had carved through the forest and sending the heavy wood rolling through burning grass. Several nearby orcs began approaching again, encouraged by their ruler's apparent victory, although none entered the clearing while his bloodlust still filled the area.

Sieghart coughed and tasted more blood. That single sensation finally gave him something concrete enough to focus upon beneath the larger ocean of pain. First Aid activated weakly inside his chest, encountered several injuries immediately, and divided itself across damaged tissue without providing enough relief to restore movement. Sieghart forced more mana into the spell. Infinite Mana answered without hesitation, but his concentration flickered whenever another wave of pain spread through his torso.

The Orc King reached the place where his weapon had buried itself beneath fallen branches, shattered trunks, and chunks of frozen earth. He bent forward, wrapped one enormous hand around the handle, and pulled until trees shifted and broken wood rolled away from the buried metal. The weapon emerged covered with mud, bark, blood, and ice, yet the King lifted it as casually as Sieghart would lift an ordinary sword.

Sieghart watched through blurred vision while the enormous warrior rested the weapon across one shoulder and slowly turned back toward him. His thoughts still refused to form a complete strategy. Pain occupied nearly everything, leaving only the understanding that the enemy had recovered his weapon. The Orc King began walking toward him again, while Sieghart remained beneath the broken tree and struggled to remember how breathing was supposed to work…