Chapter 82: The Sudden Sword Technique!

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Watching the charging orc warrior, Lynch gritted his teeth, drew his dagger, and lunged forward alongside Fischer.

The berserker and shield warrior of the team were entangled in a fierce struggle with the dire wolf knights, leaving only the mage and the comic relief in the rear. The ranger and assassin had no choice but to face the enemy head-on.

Leo, taking cover in the back, loosed three arrows in rapid succession, felling an orc warrior—yet even he was soon forced to confront the sweeping blade of another.

Unlike other orc clans, who favored heavy clubs and massive axes, the members of this tribe wielded long swords and great sabers. Forging such lengthy weapons required not only masterful smithing skills but also vast quantities of iron and labor. Even among the elite, not every orc could be equipped with a brand new blade; many still gripped heirlooms passed down through generations.

Though ancient, these weapons were of fine quality. Sadly, time had left their edges chipped and worn—no amount of sharpening could restore their former keenness. The orc warriors, arms thicker than Leo's thighs, swung them like cudgels, relying solely on brute strength to shatter their foes.

Faced with a blade nearly five feet long, four inches wide, and half an inch thick, Leo's steel sword seemed but a small dagger. Dodging two mighty cleaves, he was forced back several steps before he had no choice but to meet the next blow head-on.

Sword and saber clashed, and the tremendous force sent Leo's blade flying aside. Pain shot up his wrist; his grip barely held, and the sword almost slipped from his grasp.

Had it not been for the thick, northern-forged blade, the impact would have snapped his steel sword in two.

Then, as if inspiration struck him out of nowhere, a technique unlocked itself in his mind.

Following the force that knocked his sword aside, Leo spun, as if swinging a heavy flail. Gripping the hilt with both hands, he turned in place, then suddenly released one hand.

His sword, moving with twice its usual speed and thrice the force, swept across the orc’s neck.

A single blow—beheading!

The orc warrior, having just knocked aside Leo's weapon and yet to launch his next attack, was instantly decapitated. His head, propelled by the surge of blood, soared skyward.

Another orc warrior, charging forward, stared in stunned silence with Leo as the head arced through the air and thudded to the ground.

Snapping out of his daze, the orc roared, “Waaaaag!” and turned to charge Old Pete.

Leo gazed at his handiwork in shock, a chill running down his spine.

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Am I really this strong?

The power of that strike far exceeded Leo’s usual strength. It was as if the sword had dragged him into slaying the orc, rather than being a conscious choice of his own.

The tremendous force behind the blade, even after cutting down the orc, nearly wrenched it from his grip and sent it flying.

He was still reeling when three more orc warriors broke past Lynch and Fischer and charged straight at him.

“Watch out!”

Far in the rear, Dannis chanted a spell in a low voice. The tip of her staff glowed, steadily drawing in fire elements.

Her spellcasting materials had been exhausted, leaving her to rely solely on her own magic to gather the elements. Without reagents, the speed of casting attack spells was drastically reduced.

Ten whole seconds passed, and the fireball still hadn’t formed.

Seeing Leo in grave danger, Dannis bit her lip. While gathering fire in her left-handed staff, she reached for her waterskin with her right, drawing forth a stream of clear water that floated into the air.

The water quickly condensed into a sharp icicle nearly a foot long.

With a push of her palm, the icicle shot toward the orc attacking Leo.

The icy spike pierced the orc warrior’s abdomen, driving deep into his entrails and wringing a bellow of agony from him.

A heartbeat later, a fireball slammed into his face, turning his horned helmet and head into a blazing torch.

The remaining two orc warriors tangled with Leo, neither side able to gain the upper hand.

Leo’s previous fighting style had been conservative: blade following the man, always keeping a reserve of strength to react to the unexpected. Now, it was the man who followed the sword.

He gripped the sword as if it were a whirling flail, or a rambunctious hound straining at its leash, his steps dragged and unsteady, as though he might be flung away at any moment.

The price for sacrificing balance was a surge of power. His thrown sword matched the orcs’ brute force blow for blow.

Moreover, his blade was far more nimble and devious than the cumbersome orc sabers. In just a few exchanges, he’d already carved several bloody gashes into his foes.

Still, Leo was not unscathed. The lack of balance made his movements wildly unstable. Attacks he once dodged with ease now required every ounce of effort to avoid—every moment was a roller coaster of peril.

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For a time, chaos reigned; both sides fought in a frantic, desperate struggle.

Dannis, her magic spent, could no longer cast spells. Wearing a serious expression, she stepped to Leo’s side, gripped her staff with both hands, and leveled its end at an orc. The other end, with its curved grip, she braced against her shoulder.

A thunderous bang erupted as the staff’s tip belched a foot-long muzzle flash!

The orc warrior’s chest exploded in a hand-sized bloody crater, and he stumbled back, battered by the force, before crashing to the ground.

Leo’s remaining opponent, startled and terrified by the strange attack, began swinging his blade wildly.

Seizing the moment of distraction, Leo slashed the orc’s calf, then followed with a decapitating blow.

Just then, the sound of horns echoed through the canyon. The two dire wolf knights, who had been locked in combat with Barrett and Harkins, abandoned their fights with a reluctant roar and retreated first.

The last two orc infantrymen hurried after them, chasing the dire wolves’ tails.

The adventurers, exhausted, did not risk giving chase.

The orc chieftain who had sounded the horn gathered his dire wolf knights and remaining comrades at the foot of the mountain, then vanished into the wilderness.

They had fought a fierce battle with the bearfolk guardians but, having lost half their force to the adventurers’ interception, had failed to achieve the victory they anticipated. Instead, the mighty bearfolk guardians slew more than a dozen dire wolf knights, forcing the orcs to retreat in defeat.

If orc warriors matched low-ranked human supernaturals in strength, then dire wolf knights were mid-tier, while the bearfolk guardians ranked among the upper echelons of the mid-tier.

The snow-white bearfolk, who could unleash enormous lightning chains, possessed power comparable to high-level human supernaturals.

With a single bolt, he felled five dire wolf knights at once, then fought on with thunder and lightning crackling around his paws.

Each swipe sent both rider and wolf sprawling, paralyzed and helpless.

His claws easily rent dire wolf pelts and orc chests alike; his roars were deafening, striking terror into all who heard them.

In just a quarter of an hour, more than half of the twenty-odd dire wolf knights had fallen.

As the orcs disappeared into the distance and before Old Pete could voice his sentiments, Leo was quick to declare, “It’s all thanks to my brilliant command and decisive leadership that we drove off the orcs. Truly, I am an experienced adventurer.”