Chương 126: Boiling Point

The Orc King advanced through the ruined forest with his weapon resting across one shoulder, each]step crushing frost, splintered branches, and scorched earth beneath his enormous crimson feet. Sieghart remained folded against the cracked tree, breathing through blood and pain while First Aid struggled to repair several injuries at once without enough concentration to prioritize properly.

His ribs screamed whenever his chest expanded, his back felt partially crushed, and one leg refused to accept his weight despite the healing mana spreading through it. Waiting for the spell to finish was impossible. The King would reach him first, and another kick would probably reduce the distinction between damaged and dead to semantics. Sieghart pressed both palms against the ground and summoned Wind Magic beneath his body. The first blast lifted him awkwardly, almost throwing him face-first across the roots.

He corrected the current before falling, using several smaller gusts like invisible supports beneath his shoulders, hips, and injured leg until his boots touched the earth again. Standing hurt badly enough to whiten his vision, but standing was still an improvement over waiting beneath a tree while an enraged cannibal approached with execution clearly in mind. The Orc King's expression changed when Sieghart straightened.

Surprise lasted only a moment before amusement returned, accompanied by another pulse of corrupted bloodlust. Sieghart raised his left hand and formed a Wind Blade while his right gathered flames into a rapidly expanding Giant Fireball. Maintaining both structures simultaneously strained his shaken concentration, yet the spells stabilized before the King entered striking distance, spinning air beside roaring orange fire.

Sieghart released both spells together, driving the Wind Blade into the Giant Fireball from behind and accelerating the entire flaming mass toward the advancing Orc King. The combination destabilized almost immediately. Compressed wind tore channels through the fire, mixing oxygen into the sphere and forcing its internal pressure far beyond normal limits. The Orc King recognized the danger and raised his massive weapon horizontally, placing the broad metal head between his face and the incoming spells.

The combined attack struck the weapon and detonated, producing an explosion sharper than an ordinary Giant Fireball and powerful enough to bend nearby trees away. The King remained standing behind the metal barrier, but the expanding wind curved around both sides and carried concentrated streams of fire across his exposed forearms. Several cuts opened through the crimson skin. Flames entered those wounds immediately, blackening their edges and forcing the enormous warrior backward by half a step.

The damage was hardly decisive, yet the Orc King lowered his weapon and glared at Sieghart with enough hatred to confirm the attack had finally become personally annoying. Sieghart wiped blood from his mouth and answered with a tired smile. Escaping by flying south never entered his thoughts, even while every injury argued for retreat. He had already found something capable of hurting the King.

Leaving now would discard that knowledge, abandon the town, and surrender whatever answers waited inside the monster's corrupted core. The King charged again, and Sieghart leaped backward before his injured leg could object, then fired Wind Magic beneath both feet and extended the jump across several dozen meters. He landed briefly, used another blast to preserve his momentum, and swept one hand forward while Fire Magic heated the air between the surrounding trees.

A shimmering Heat Wave rolled toward the Orc King, bending the view behind it while dried leaves curled and patches of frost vanished beneath its passage. The King ignored the attack completely. Heated air washed over his crimson body, disturbed the corrupted aura, and accomplished little beyond making his already burning skin shine brighter. That was exactly what Sieghart expected, because a sphere of water larger than the King's torso followed behind the distortion, concealed by the wavering heat.

The Orc King swung downward and split the sphere in half. Water exploded around the weapon, divided across both shoulders, and drenched his chest, arms, face, and armor. The liquid was already boiling, and it struck wounded skin with an angry hiss while steam erupted around blistered patches spreading across the King's forearms. The creature roared, more furious than injured, and swept one arm across his face while Sieghart planted his feet farther away.

Sieghart pressed both hands together as water condensed between his palms, while Fire Magic heated it rapidly enough to transform the gathering liquid into a violently churning stream.

"Let's turn that rage into soup." He fired immediately, and the Boiling Water Cannon crossed the clearing in a thick white torrent before striking the Orc King's raised weapon. Scalding water burst around the weapon's edges and poured over the monster's head, shoulders, and torso, hiding him inside a white cloud filled with furious roaring. Sieghart maintained the stream while sliding backward through controlled wind bursts.

Infinite Mana kept both water creation and heating active despite the concentration required by his injuries. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. The King pushed through anyway, every step carrying him deeper into the boiling torrent while his weapon shielded his face and his body absorbed continuous heat. Crimson skin darkened toward angry purple around older burns.

Hair curled and vanished, leather straps shrank, and metal armor began radiating enough heat to worsen everything beneath it. The Orc King roared again and accelerated, moving faster through the boiling torrent than he had before entering it and forcing Sieghart's eyes wider. Pain was not slowing him. It was feeding the rage technique, driving more corrupted power through his body and turning accumulated damage into additional aggression.

Sieghart broke the Water Cannon and launched himself sideways before the King's weapon crashed through the remaining stream, scattering boiling droplets and stripping bark from nearby trunks. Sieghart answered with another combination while moving. A Water Sphere struck the King's chest, followed by a Fireball that detonated inside the spreading liquid. The result covered the monster in another burst of scalding steam. He charged through it, and Sieghart sent two more heated spheres toward his injured arms.

One was blocked. The second struck his shoulder and burst beneath the edge of an armor plate, pouring boiling water into the narrow space underneath. The King tore the plate away and threw it. Sieghart ducked beneath the spinning metal before another wind blast carried him behind a leaning tree. A Fireball struck the ground before the Orc King's next step, heating the soil until Sieghart's following Water Cannon transformed the surface into bubbling mud.

The King sank ankle-deep, ripped one foot free, and continued forward while boiling earth clung to his legs and added new burns beneath the corrupted glow. Sieghart kept changing elements before every attack. Fire heated water, wind accelerated flames, water carried heat around the weapon, and mud trapped that heat against reinforced skin.

No individual spell mattered enough, but together they accumulated, slowly worsening burns, opening wounds, and forcing the Orc King's body to absorb punishment from several directions. The King's breathing became harsher, steam rolled from his shoulders, and every exposed wound expanded as repeated temperature changes damaged skin his magical resistance had previously protected. Sieghart felt his own body deteriorating as well.

First Aid remained active, but sudden wind-assisted movements repeatedly disturbed half-repaired muscles and forced his cracked ribs to shift. He coughed again while forming another Water Sphere, tasting blood without allowing himself enough time to determine whether that represented improvement or something considerably worse. The Orc King emerged from another cloud directly ahead, and Sieghart realized too late that he had misjudged the distance separating them.

The enormous weapon rose above both crimson shoulders while the King planted one foot and prepared to split Sieghart through the center. Sieghart thrust both hands forward and fired a Water Cannon saturated with Ice Magic until frost formed along the stream before it crossed the distance. The freezing torrent struck the Orc King's superheated body while his weapon descended, and the sudden temperature difference produced an explosive wall of white mist.

Metal crashed into the ground, opening another crater and sending a shockwave through the vapor, but the weapon struck only mud, ice, and a fading illusion. The Orc King ripped the weapon free and searched through the mist. Two silhouettes emerged ahead, both resembling the older disguised Sieghart and running in opposite directions. The King hesitated only briefly before grabbing two broken tree trunks and hurling them toward the fleeing figures with enough force to turn both into enormous spears.

The first trunk passed through one Sieghart and shattered against distant rocks. The second struck the other squarely, only for that body to dissolve into distorted light. Both were false, and the Orc King spun slowly, dark-red eyes searching the mist while his nostrils widened and corrupted aura pushed outward violently.

"I'm up here, dipshit." The King looked upward and found Sieghart floating roughly ten meters above the clearing, supported by concentrated wind while dozens of Water Spheres surrounded him. Maintaining altitude, illusions, and so many separate constructs strained his Mentality, but the King's momentary confusion had provided enough time to establish everything. The spheres varied in size from human heads to large barrels.

Every one contained water chilled nearly to freezing and wrapped in a thin layer of controlled Ice Magic. Sieghart lowered both hands, sending the first wave downward before the Orc King could abandon the clearing or prepare another ranged attack. The Orc King raised his weapon and prepared to ignore the bombardment, apparently expecting more ordinary water meant to become steam against his overheated body.

The first sphere struck his right shoulder and froze instantly, locking the upper arm against his chest and connecting the weapon's handle to his crimson forearm. The King's eyes widened as three more spheres struck his torso, left thigh, and weapon arm, spreading thick plates of ice across every impact point. The remaining water followed, striking his back, knees, chest, hands, neck, ankles, and head before freezing into interlocking layers wherever it touched.

The Orc King roared and flexed, expanding his muscles beneath the frozen shell until deep cracks raced across his shoulders and several heavy chunks exploded away. Sieghart fired another wave before the movement finished, filling every opening with fresh water that flowed through the cracks and froze against the monster's burning skin. The King swung one arm and shattered ice from his elbow. Another sphere struck immediately afterward, replacing everything he had broken and connecting the joint to his side again.

He stomped hard enough to break the frozen mass around one leg. Five smaller spheres burst across the exposed knee and rebuilt it twice as thick. Sieghart continued firing without pause while water became ice, broken ice melted against the King's heat, and fresh spheres replaced every weakened section before it collapsed. The Orc King's crimson glow fought back, melting channels through the frozen shell and filling the clearing with steam, but every escaping plume revealed another target.

Ice climbed across the King's neck, covered his jaw, sealed one shoulder, trapped both knees, and buried the massive weapon beneath widening blue-white crystal. The monster flexed again, spreading cracks everywhere, but Sieghart directed the final dozen spheres into those fractures instead of wasting them against the surface. Water penetrated the damaged layers and froze inside them, turning every attempted escape into additional internal reinforcement for the prison.

The Orc King's roar became muffled beneath the ice while his enormous silhouette remained visible inside, crimson light pulsing as muscles strained against every section simultaneously. Sieghart hovered above him, breathing raggedly while blood ran from one corner of his mouth and cold wind twisted around his shaking arms. The monster was not defeated, and Sieghart could already hear the ice cracking, but for the first time since arriving, the Orc King stood completely still.