"Taylors, that wish of yours is easy to fulfill. I believe you'll soon get what you desire."
A familiar voice drifted down from the sky as a swirl of sand appeared, gradually revealing Rhett's figure, smiling as he looked below.
"Huh? Father, why are you back?" Tuck turned around, surprised. "Didn't you say that an orc Saint might attack the battlefield, and you needed to deal with it?"
"It's just the orcs. Ankust and I have already taken care of them," Rhett said lightly. He then descended to the ground, taking a glance at the execution site. The area was nearly deserted, with only a few crippled orcs kneeling behind Taylors. Rhett nodded slightly and said to Taylors, "Taylors, you've worked hard these past days. From now on, you won't need to stay here anymore."
"Really?" Taylors covered his mouth with one hand, his face lighting up with joy. "Oh, that's the best news I've heard, second only to you advancing to the Saint-level!"
"Hehe, since the war is over, does that mean we can go home now?" Tuck's large eyes gleamed as he grinned broadly.
Rhett looked at Tuck and shook his head. "Not just yet. There's still something important I need to do."
He then turned back to Taylors, gently ruffling his fluffy hair with a smile. "I'll need your help with this task."
"It would be an honor! I bet you're going to show me the magic of a Saint, and I'll be a good audience, watching closely," Taylors said, playfully placing a hand on his chest, striking a noble pose.
Tuck, standing nearby with his arms crossed, rolled his eyes and muttered, "Show-off. As if Father would call you for something so trivial…"
"Taylors, you guessed right. Now, come with me…"
As Rhett spoke, Tuck was left dumbfounded, his arms dropping to his sides. Taylors blinked in confusion—he had only been joking, but his father took it seriously? Joy quickly filled his eyes, and he cheered, "Hooray! Where are we going?"
"To some places suitable for a 'performance'…"
With that, Rhett mimicked how Hypast had once transported him, gathering a large amount of earth elements and compressing them into a sturdy rock armor that enveloped Taylors. This was to prevent Taylors' body from being harmed by the high-speed travel. With his incredible mastery of elements, Rhett ensured that the armor maintained its flexibility while being sufficiently strong.
Taylors excitedly spread his arms, lifting each leg in turn to admire his new 'outfit.' He hadn't imagined that one day a Saint would personally create a protective shell for him, let alone that this Saint would be his father.
Rhett smiled slightly, patting Tuck on the shoulder. "Tuck, wait for me here at the Coldstream Camp. Stay put until I return. No one will assign you any tasks outside the camp before I come back."
"But I want to go with you…" Tuck called out longingly, but he could only watch as his father took off into the sky with Taylors, quickly vanishing from sight. Sighing in resignation, he turned and left the execution site.
Suddenly, hearing the anguished cries of struggling orcs behind him, Tuck paused and glanced back at the prisoners awaiting execution. A strange thought crossed his mind:
"Maybe… I could take over as executioner for Taylors?"
Having been tasked by his father to kill magical beasts and orcs countless times, Tuck subconsciously believed—this must have its benefits. After a moment of thought, he drew his sword and approached a Level 5 Minotaur, stabbing it in the throat.
However, his first attempt was deflected by the rough, rock-like skin, and the blade slid off to the side. Undeterred, Tuck continued hacking at the Minotaur, finally delivering a fatal blow after several minutes.
"Tuck, what are you doing here? Where's Taylors? Why isn't he here?"
Ambyr, the officer in charge of transporting the prisoners, arrived at the execution site with a large group and thousands of orc captives. Seeing Tuck in Taylors' place, he looked surprised.
Swish.
Tuck decapitated another nightcat, then heard someone calling his name. Seeing Ambyr approaching, he straightened up and said respectfully:
"Officer Ambyr, my father returned briefly and took Taylors with him on an important mission. I was wondering if I could take over Taylors' role as executioner?"
"You want to be an executioner?" Ambyr was taken aback. Although the role of executioner wasn't particularly important, it wasn't a job just anyone could do. Usually, it required approval. But then, remembering that Tuck was Rhett's son, he realized that this request wouldn't face any obstacles and nodded. "That's no problem. Consider it done. But the war just ended, and here you are, already executing orcs. The Green family truly has outstanding qualities!"
"It's all thanks to my father's training!" Tuck replied with a grin, continuing to swing his sword at the orcs.
Ambyr chuckled, watching Tuck for a moment before saying, "Tuck, Commander Bomir told me on my way over that tonight there will be a grand celebration in the camp—a bonfire banquet. The last time we held a celebration of this scale was over fifty years ago. As a hero's son, you must attend."
"Haha, count me in."
"Father, where are we going?"
As they flew through the sky, Taylors, encased in thick earth elements, marveled at the wonder of Saint-level techniques.
"The Grey Ru Kingdom."
"What are we going to do there? Are we heading to the Dark Mountain Range again?" Taylors asked curiously.
"To wipe out the orcs!" Rhett replied calmly, the wind tousling his hair as they sped along.
"Wipe out the orcs?" Taylors repeated his father's words with a questioning tone, a sudden unease rising within him. He asked cautiously, "So… what do you need me to do?"
"Deliver the final blow to the orcs!" Rhett looked at Taylors and said firmly.
"Just as I thought!" Taylors' suspicions were confirmed. He clutched his chest dramatically, feeling the urge to cough up blood. He had only just escaped the execution site, thinking his days of daily orc executions were over, but now he found himself thrown into another fire pit. With a pitiful expression, he asked, "Father, how long will this take? Can't I have a few days to rest...?"
Rhett turned his head, his gaze piercing through the earth elements encasing Taylors. He sighed inwardly. "I wish I could let you all rest sooner... but time doesn't allow it. The world is at a critical juncture—if we don't advance, we'll fall back. No force, no person, can stand by idly…"
He paused for a moment before speaking softly, "Once we've dealt with the orcs, I promise I'll give you all a surprise you won't expect…"
"A surprise? Could it be an exciting fantasy novel?" Taylors' pitiful look faded, replaced by curiosity and anticipation.
Rhett chuckled, "More than that. Much more." He responded as they soared around a mountain peak.
Hearing this, Taylors quieted down, his eyes sparkling with excitement. His father had never disappointed him before, and if he was making such a promise, it was surely something worth looking forward to!
At this moment, Taylors was no longer bothered by the task of eliminating the orcs. Instead, he found himself eager to reach the Grey Ru Kingdom and wipe out the orcs as quickly as possible.
Two days later.
The Dark Blue Line.
In a forest surrounded by mountains, hundreds of Blood Moon Werewolves and Bearmen were relentlessly pursuing a group of knights.
"Howl! You human cowards, didn't you just say you'd fight to the death? Now all you know how to do is run away with your tails between your legs!"
A Blood Moon Werewolf led the charge, its bloody figure flashing through the forest. Anything in its path was quickly shattered by its claws and powerful body. As it taunted the knights to demoralize them, it also made a few subtle hand gestures to the Shadow Tigers flanking it. The Shadow Tigers' eyes gleamed darkly as purple-black mist enveloped their bodies, and they vanished from sight in an instant.
A few minutes later, in the knights' ranks ahead, a knight in gray armor whispered in code to the one beside him, "Captain, how much longer until we reach the ambush point?"
The Wind Knight beside him, covered in wind-attribute battle aura, glanced at the pursuing Blood Moon Werewolves and replied grimly, "About a hundred kilometers. We're almost there. It's a deep, narrow gorge. If those royal orcs dare to follow us in, we'll trap them and wipe them out!"
Hearing this, the knight's tense expression relaxed a bit, and he exhaled deeply, though he quickened his pace, channeling more battle aura into his legs.
Soon, the terrain ahead began to dip, and instead of leaping over a ten-meter-deep ravine, the knights jumped down, bouncing off the walls to land smoothly at the bottom.
The light around them grew dimmer as the sound of their footsteps echoed loudly in the enclosed space, with faint, distorted echoes.
The Wind Knight captain led them into a narrow passage at the bottom of the gorge, his brow furrowing slightly.
"Why is there a scent of blood… Everyone, be on guard!" The Wind Knight captain sensed a faint trace of blood in the air and warned his men, who quickly drew their swords, their eyes scanning the surroundings warily.
"Hamp, where's our backup? Where are they?" The Wind Knight suddenly seemed to realize something critical. He turned sharply, shouting at his comrade.
"Hahahaha, your command was so brilliant earlier, but now, why naively believe there's backup?" A cocky, arrogant voice echoed from outside the gorge. Hundreds of black dots dropped from the sky, thudding onto the ground. The leading Blood Moon Werewolf stroked the tuft of fur on its forehead and slowly walked forward, its agile legs carrying it with ease. Behind it, hundreds of orcs formed a black wall, closing in menacingly in the dim light.
The Blood Moon Werewolf licked its lips with a long tongue. "You thought you had us trapped? Let's see who's really surrounded now!"
As its words echoed through the gorge, the Wind Knight's shoulders trembled. He looked at the Blood Moon Werewolf in disbelief, then turned to his deputy, his eyes locking onto the man's. But instead of guilt, he saw only cunning.
"Dallos, why? Why side with the orcs? What can they offer you?" The Wind Knight's voice shook with fury. As he spoke, he channeled his battle aura into his sword, which began to glow with a sharp, green light. He slashed at his deputy's shoulder.
Clang!
The deputy drew his sword, parrying the blow. Using the force of the impact, he leaped back, creating some distance. His expression was no longer tense but rather cold and disdainful.
"Why not side with the orcs? What's the point of resisting any longer? Look at our history—we've always been losing ground. It's only a matter of time before the human kingdoms fall. So why not embrace human wisdom and join the true rulers of this world early?"
"Hahaha, well said! Smart humans should abandon their rotting, crumbling huts and choose a stronger fortress! Because we orcs are the true masters of this world!" The Blood Moon Werewolf laughed wickedly, its eyes glinting with excitement.
"Light always brings hope before it fades! You've betrayed your principles. Die, you filthy traitor!"
The Wind Knight gritted his teeth, his hatred surging like a tidal wave. He knew escape was impossible, but before he died, he would see this traitor dead!
"Old captain, for the sake of our past camaraderie, I urge you to join us. Only then will you have a brighter future."
"Shut up! I have no comrades like you!"
With a flash of his sword, the Wind Knight charged at his former comrade. But Dallos showed no fear, only a hint of pity.
The next moment, three Shadow Tigers, shrouded in black-purple mist, suddenly leaped from the other side of the passage like three dark meteors, crashing into the Wind Knight.
With a loud thud, the figure wrapped in green light was sent flying sideways, spinning through the air dozens of times before crashing heavily to the ground. His armor cracked, and his ribs and thigh were visibly bent inward. Blood poured from his mouth as he coughed violently. Despite his severe injuries, he glared at Dallos with a murderous intensity, like a demon ready to devour its prey.