The morning broke with a sky the color of old bruises—gray and purple, stretched thin above the trees. The wind carried the scent of loam and moss, but beneath that, something sour lingered. Koda smelled it before anyone else did. Not rot, not blood—something unfamiliar.
They moved through the outer reaches of the trade roads, one column in front, the second trailing at a staggered angle behind, meant to keep coverage along the treeline. It was a standard patrol formation, one drilled into squads across the Shield. But the ground was soft and uneven, the woods quiet in a way that unnerved even the veterans.
Koda's primary unit held tight formation. Eno moved with predatory stillness, flames already dancing faintly along the curve of his summoned bow. Vren's spear rested against his shoulder, calm but coiled. Seta's drones hovered above the canopy, silent watchmen that streamed sensory data to her visor—eyes that never blinked.
They didn't speak. They didn't need to. A year of patrols, of hunts and assignments—each of them had bled with Koda. Trusted him. Their steps were steady, measured. No one wasted motion.
The second unit… was not the same.
Thrown together in the scramble to cover more ground after the scar appeared, they were a half-formed ensemble. One had only just reached Level 3, his armor still stiff with polish. Another dragged her halberd like it weighed more than she did. A third constantly looked up, as though expecting something to fall from the trees. They lacked the quiet rhythm that only time and survival forged.
Koda kept glancing back. They weren't incompetent. Just… green. Still bright-eyed, still whispering nervously when they thought no one could hear. Vren stayed near them, a quiet anchor. He'd volunteered to split from Koda's side to walk with them—steady the waters.
The forest around them thinned, but the trees still bent with windless motion, their bark slick with moisture. Shadows seemed deeper than they should have been.
And that smell—thickening.
Seta's voice cut in through their line-channel, low and urgent. "Movement. Thirty meters northeast. Not fauna. Size… large."
Koda halted the line with a raised fist. Eno dropped to a crouch. Flame hissed as it sharpened on his bowstring. "Visual?"
"Negative," Seta replied. "But it's moving upright."
Vren's voice came next, calm. "Something's tracking us. Not closing in yet."
Koda gave two quick hand signals—disperse and prepare. No more talking.
The underbrush was too quiet. No birds, no insects. Just breath, heartbeat, the faint crackle of flame on Eno's fingers. Koda's blade hadn't yet been summoned—but already he could feel it in the marrow of his bones, waiting.
Then they heard it.
Not footsteps. Drags. Wet, deliberate pulls against the earth. And then—breathing. Loud. Labored. Close.
A tree cracked. Bark exploded into shards.
It burst through the shadows with impossible speed for something that size—9 feet of corded muscle and sickly greenish-gray skin, tusks like snapped femurs curling upward from its malformed jaw. Its arms were too long, ending in thick, clawed hands that dragged across the earth even when it stood upright. Its eyes—small, beady—glowed faintly with a light of cruelty.
The younger squad panicked. One screamed.
It was on them in seconds.
Koda moved without thought. The blade of conviction burst into being in his grip, white and gold, singing with pressure and purpose. He brought it up to intercept a claw meant for one of the rookies—steel met flesh with a wet crunch. The thing staggered, but did not fall. Blood sprayed—black, oily, smoking.
"Down!" Koda shouted. Eno loosed a shot. It hit the thing in the neck, flame blooming—and it kept moving.
Seta's drone dove, disorienting the creature as Vren drove forward—one of the only in the second squad who didn't hesitate. His shoes bit into the monstrous creature's stomach as his shield caught the beast's follow-up strike, the force lifting him off the ground and throwing him back.
Koda darted in behind the distraction, heart hammering. His blade burned hotter now. He didn't hesitate. He believed.
He leaped onto the creature's shoulders and drove his blade straight into the creature's eye.
It screamed—high and furious—and spasmed, clawing wildly. Koda twisted the blade, pulled out, and fiercely stabbed the blade down, biting into the horrors neck. It finally fell, legs twitching.
The ground shook.
Black blood pooled around its bulk, burning holes into moss and stone.
Everyone was breathing hard.
And then the system pinged, tone sharp and cold.
[New Species Identified: Fallen Orc]
Classification: Uncatalogued Threat
Warning: Threat Level High
The name meant nothing to them. But the sound of it was enough to confirm what they already feared.
This was new. Unknown. Dangerous.
And more were likely coming.
Koda looked around at his team—Eno already checking for more targets, Seta directing the drones wider, Vren groaning but upright. Then he looked at the second group, shaken, but alive.
It wouldn't be enough next time.
They needed to prepare.
They needed to warn Oria.
And they needed to pray that whatever this was… it hadn't truly begun yet.
The wind was colder now, sharper, carrying a low metallic scent that clung to the edges of breath like rusted wire. Koda felt it before he saw anything—an instinct rising from the marrow, whispering that something was wrong. The squads pressed through the low brush, scattered trees bending gently in the windless silence.
"Captain," Vren murmured from ahead, spear already lowered.
Koda moved up beside him, boots pressing softly into the earth, still damp from the morning's frost. His joints ached—remnants of the last fight still clinging to his body, his stamina strained, his mana not yet caught up with his soul. He hadn't even had time to fully process the name that echoed in his system.
Fallen Orc.
The first of its kind in recorded memory. Not just a new variant. A new species. Bred in darkness, hardened by something ancient.
Seta's voice crackled through the thin scroll clutched in her palm. "Two—coming fast. South-southwest. Same as before. Big."
"Formation split," Koda said quietly. "Veteran team takes flank. I'll intercept. Vren, second squad screens the back."
The second squad was newer. Less trained. One of them—Koda couldn't remember his name—was still limping from their last engagement. But they followed orders.
Koda moved up the rise alone, drawing his blade of will in silence. The [Blade of Conviction] hissed to life, flickering in his hand like a captured memory, gold light rimmed with something deeper—something darker.
The Fallen Orcs crested the ridge, shadows at first—then too solid. Nine feet tall, twisted muscle, thick arms dragging crude weapons behind them. Their skin glistened like stone slicked in oil. Their tusks curled upward, crusted with old gore. And their eyes—milky white, blank yet burning.
They didn't speak. They charged.
Koda met them in kind, screaming not a word but pouring everything into the edge of his summoned blade. The first orc slammed its club down with a force that cracked the ground beside him. Koda rolled, barely keeping his breath steady, blood hammering behind his eyes as he rose into a slash.
The blade cut deep—but not clean. The creature didn't scream. It just twitched, head lurching forward like it didn't register pain the same way.
"Down!" Eno's voice rang out. A flaming arrow streaked overhead and struck the orc's back, erupting into crackling fire. The beast stumbled, long enough for Koda to leap and drive his blade in deeper—this time tearing through the trachea.
It fell, the wound gurgling as its last breath released.
Another scream. The second creature barreled through the brush, knocking a second-squad member flat. Vren was there in a blink, intercepting it with the full crash of his shield, digging his heels into the dirt and roaring as he shoved the beast back.
"Now!" Koda barked, sprinting despite the pain screaming through his legs.
He reached it just as the creature swung its axe in a wide arc—Koda ducked low, then drove the blade upward through the ribs. It hissed—then grabbed him.
The air left his lungs as he was lifted off the ground, the creature snarling, pulling him in close.
Another arrow. Seta's drone streaked overhead and distracted it long enough for Koda to twist, plant his feet against its chest, and rip his sword out. The blood came in thick spurts, warm and reeking of iron and rot.
The beast dropped him.
Then collapsed under its own weight.
He stood there shaking, knees threatening to give—but the notification came clean and cold.
⸻
Level Up
Current Level: 17
Stats increased.
HP: 143 / 210
Mana: 191 / 210
Stamina: 138 / 210
⸻
The numbers surged, but his body did not lie. Torn muscles. Bruised ribs. Energy spent faster than it returned. He stumbled back and leaned on a tree, breath fogging in the air.
Seta landed beside him a moment later, holding out a waterskin. "You're bleeding again."
"Later," Koda muttered, eyes still on the corpses.
They weren't just beasts. They were coming.
And next time… they wouldn't come in twos.
They needed to return to warn Oria.
Koda's eyes then fell on the corpses.
Oria needed to see this.
____
The march back to Oria was a slow, grim procession.
The two fallen orc bodies had taken nearly every last reserve of strength just to bring down, and now, bound in reinforced chains and tied between wooden poles carried by six men apiece, they made the return trek a gruesome spectacle. Their heads lolled lifelessly, jaws slack and tusks caked with dried black blood, the stench of their insides leaking through tattered flesh.
Even dead, they looked as though they might rise again.
Koda walked at the front with Vren beside him—both streaked with ash, dried blood, and exhaustion. Seta's drone buzzed silently above, keeping an eye on the road and the trees. Eno's bow was unsummoned now, his expression unreadable, but his posture rigid, as if still expecting another ambush.
They crested the final ridge, and the tall silhouette of Oria's outer walls came into view—familiar stone and metal, crowned by watchtowers and pennants stirring in the late afternoon breeze.
The first shouts came from the wall.
Guards leaned over the battlements, their casual stance stiffening as their eyes caught the hulking forms of the corpses below. One of them dropped his spear in shock. Another stepped back so quickly he nearly fell from the edge. Horns weren't blown—but only just.
By the time they reached the main gates, a small crowd had already gathered—merchants, civilians, even other awakened stationed nearby. Curious eyes turned quickly to gasps and recoils as the fallen orcs were dragged into the open, each one lashed in iron cables so thick they looked more like anchors than chains.
One child began crying at the sight of a gaping wound still leaking from the creature's side. Another woman turned and vomited into the gutter.
"They're real…" someone whispered.
"Gods above. What are they?"
Koda's boots scraped against the stone road as they passed through the open gates, the wheels of the reinforced carts screeching as they rolled toward the inner processing yards. A team of city librarians awaited them—five in total, robes marked by the Archive's crest, hands gloved and faces grim. Even they hesitated before stepping forward.
"We'll prepare an immediate analysis," the lead librarian said, voice steady despite the pallor in his face. "Thank you for securing specimens intact. You'll be contacted soon for debrief."
Koda gave a silent nod, not trusting himself to speak yet. His fingers ached. Blood—some of it his own—clung to the hilt of his blade.
Vren exhaled beside him. "That was just two."
Koda stared down at the hulking form as it was lifted onto the platform with the help of multiple awakened and groaning winches. The tusks scraped stone as it rolled away, head twisted like it had been watching him even in death.
His jaw tightened. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Just two."
The crowd slowly dispersed as the carts vanished into the inner sanctum, but the tension lingered like smoke on the wind.
A shadow had crept closer to Oria.
And next time, it might not wait at the gate.