The morning light filtered through the cracks in the tent's thick fabric, tinting everything a deep amber. The embers from the night before still whispered warmly beneath a cauldron, giving off an earthy scent of dried herbs and boiled roots.
A respectful silence hung outside—the kind of silence that occurs when an entire clan has decided not to disturb something sacred.
Seth lay down. Or at least, trying to.
His body sank into a bed of thick furs and rough cushions, a jarring contrast to the chaos of the night before. The battle. Urog's aura. The sudden reverence. All of it still rang in his mind, like echoes reverberating inside a cave.
He stared at the roof of the tent, his eyes open, his thoughts far, far away.
"How do I get back home…?"
This question was no longer new. But this morning, with his muscles aching and his soul throbbing, it seemed even more urgent.~
More... empty.
The system didn't respond.
Bastet didn't respond.
Only the distant sound of orc chants, rhythmic drums, and children laughing in the village alleys.
"I hope the weather is different... I'm worried about those two... If too much time has passed, they'll kill each other in anger..."
He covered his face with his arm, trying to silence the world. But the world, as always, refused.
[STATUS]
[Name: Seth Chambers
[Class]: [None] (Anomalous)
[Title]: Desert Ruler (S-Rank), Sex-Rank (SSS), Bearer of the Primal Sin (SSS-Rank)
[Level]: 35
[Strength]: 99
[Speed]: 108
[Intelligence]: 75
[Stamina]: 78
[Extra Points]: 5
[Skills: The End (SSS-Rank), 'Usurper' (SSS-Rank), Deathblow (E-Rank), King's Presence (D-Rank), Escape Instinct (E-Rank), Storm Spear (A-Rank), Lightning Ascension (S-Rank), Void Flame (Rank-S), Gaze of the Sovereign (Rank-S), Touch of Dominion (Rank-S)]
[Storage] [Skill Slot: (3 of 3)]
[Temporarily Stored Copied Skills: [Lightning Manipulation (Rank-A), [Titan's Rage (Rank-C), Authority of Love (Rank-S)]
[Next Slot: Level 50]
[Gold: 38,198]
"Almost all of my skills are S-rank. While I think that's actually a good thing, I'll become stronger after all. I can't help but think that this sounds strange already. S-rank skills shouldn't appear this quickly. In fact, it's amazing that I have so many."
Seth's voice echoed softly inside the tent, mixing with the sound of the bubbling cauldron and the distant drums. It was as if the world was on pause—or worse, waiting.
He stared at the floating system panel hovering before him, the translucent light flickering softly. "I wonder how long until I'm overwhelmed by all these skills."
Seth closed the system panel with an almost irritated gesture, as if pushing an inconvenient thought away. The glow dissipated like mist in the morning light.
"Hey, Stranger! The Chief asked to wake you!" The voice outside the tent was gruff but respectful—a curious combination that Seth was beginning to recognize as typical among the Kahragorn.
He sat up slowly, his body still aching, and threw aside the fur blanket. He pulled on the overcoat he had improvised from thick leather and scraps of armor and stepped out of the tent.
The sunlight hit him full on, gilding his skin with warm reflections. The smell of roasting meat and wet earth filled his senses.
The orc camp was alive.
Orcs of various skin tones milled about among the rough structures made of stone, wood, and bone. Some were crouched over large circular fires, roasting the ribs of some six-legged creature Seth would never dare name. The smell was surprisingly good. Fat dripped into the flames, making them crackle in a welcoming way.
Orc children ran around, kicking a sphere made of woven leather and laughing loudly. The joy was raw, loud, but genuine.
In a far corner, some orc women were tending to wounded warriors—cleaning cuts, applying salves made from crushed roots, and singing softly, in a tone Seth recognized as a healing chant. One of the warriors was missing a leg and was smiling anyway.
Seth walked slowly among them, noticing how his presence was still felt—eyes followed him, some suspicious, some curious. But now there was something else: respect. Covert, silent... but present.
He found Gor'Magh leaning against a stone totem, drinking from a leather waterskin and squinting at the horizon.
Seth walked over and stood beside him.
"Good morning. It looks like no one slept well."
Gor'Magh snorted, the sound closest to a short laugh.
"Yeah… Sleep has become a luxury."
Seth crossed his arms. "What's going on?"
The warrior turned slowly, his eyes hard.
"During the night patrol… a monster attacked one of the groups to the north. Three dead. Two missing. One… returned missing half his face."
The silence between them was punctuated by the sound of flesh crackling in the fire in the distance.
"What kind of creature was it?" Seth asked.
Gor'Magh looked at the ground, then up at the sky. His jaw was clenched.
"We don't know for sure. The shamans say it wasn't of this world. That the air around it bled. That its flesh… fell apart before it even touched it."
Gor'Magh looked at him with a serious expression.
"It looks like we'll have to abandon this place again. Chief Urog is gathering the elders to decide on a new route. But… if that thing is roaming around here, it won't matter where we go." He said as he felt a little bad about not having participated in the fight.
Before Seth could comment, a figure shot past like a wild arrow—a young orc woman, dressed in light leather rags and with ritual paint markings on her face. She slammed into Seth hard, the impact sending her staggering back a step.
She tumbled to the dry earth, but got up as quickly as she had fallen, her eyes wide with panic and her breathing ragged.
Seth held up a hand, about to apologize. "Hey, are you—"
But there was no time.
"THE DEMON SPIDER IS COMING THIS WAY, BOSS!!!" she screamed, her voice cracking with desperation.
A sudden silence cut through the air like an invisible blade. The laughter of the children stopped. The drums stopped. Even the crackling of the fires seemed to falter.
Gor'Magh turned with a crash of leather and metal. The waterskin fell from his hand and rolled across the ground, forgotten.
"Shit… now?" he muttered, his fists clenching at his sides.
Several orcs were already running toward the makeshift village gates, grabbing spears, shields, and crude crossbows. Others were heading toward the shamans' tents, seeking instructions or hurried blessings.
Seth, for a moment, just watched. The urgency on their faces. The fear, contained but real. It was different from human panic—the orcs didn't scream in hysteria, didn't run aimlessly. It was a quiet, disciplined fear. The kind that only exists when death is an old acquaintance.
"Gor'Magh," Seth said, his voice calm but firm. "What the hell is a 'Demon Spider'?"
The warrior looked at him as if the very question were absurd.
"A living curse. It's the size of a house. It carries fangs that melt steel. It generates venom that kills even on touch… and too many eyes. Always too many eyes." He growled, as if just remembering the creature was enough to burn him inside. "And the worst part? Intelligent. Cruel. It likes to play with its prey before killing."
Seth exhaled, his chest swelling slowly. Inside, he could already feel the gears of combat turning. A part of him—the most dangerous—was beginning to get excited.
"So that's it." He opened the system panel with a gesture. The icons floated in front of him like live coals. "Looks like I'm finally going to test these beauties on something they deserve." He said, picking up the Two Axes of Kharizan.
Gor'Magh stared at him. "Are you going to fight?"
Seth looked at him, his eyes shining with an unnatural calm. "She's coming this way, isn't she?"
A smile appeared on his face. Almost imperceptible. Almost... sadistic. "Then I don't have to look for it."