- Oliver -

  "What is a glob?rz human doing on this ship?"

  Oliver barely had time tister the guttural shout before a massive Ork fist collided with his chest. The impact was like getting hit by a speeding freight train. He was unched backward, crashing through the cockpit and shattering the ship's front viewpss fragments and twisted metal shards spiraled around him as he hurtled outward.

  Gravity seized him, and he plummeted to the ground outside the ship. The hard surfaocked the wind out of him, pain radiating through his body. As he pushed himself up, he gnced down to see the state of his armor. The protective pting on his arms was in tatters.

  "Dammit," Oliver hissed, wing. He began eling Energy through his arms, willing the armor to self-repair. Threads of luminous blue light wove across the damaged ses.

  His eyes flicked back to the transport ship. Smoke billowed from the gaping hole where the cockpit used to be. Electrical fires sparked, and warning lights fshed erratically along the vessel's hull. The ship was most likely a lost cause.

  But that was the least of his problems.

  The otion had drawn attention. Dozens of Orks now surrounded him in a tightening circle. Their hulking figures loomed menagly, green skin glistening uhe lights of the dog bay. Yellowed tusks jutted from snarling mouths and heavy ons in their grasp. None of them looked particurly formidable individually—standard grunts by the look of them—but their numbers posed a signifit threat.

  Except for one.

  Perched atop the wrecked ship stood a red ork, his crimson skin a stark trast to the others. Spiked armor adorned his massive frame, aowered over his kin. His cold, calg eyes watched Oliver ily, like a predator sizing up its prey.

  Oliver let his rifle slip from his grasp, the on dropping to the ground. ‘The rifle won't help me with them,’ he decided. Instead, he drew his Energy Pistol. The pistol hummed to life, its barrel emitting a faint azure glow.

  He took a deep breath, quickly assessing his surroundings. Approximately twenty Orks encircled him, the Red Ork from his vantage point. Beyond them, he noticed several Orks handling cages and crates—likely filled with traband or captured beings.

  ‘I'll start with them,’ Oliver resolved.

  Without waiting for the Orks to make the first move, he sprang into a. He charged toward the cluster of cargo-bearing Orks in a burst of speed, pistol raised.

  "Get the human!" one of the grunts bellowed, his voice gravelly and rage-filled.

  "Don't let him get he cargo!" the Red Ork anded from atop the ship, his tone id authoritative.

  A sly grin tugged at the er of Oliver's mouth. ‘Uanding their nguage sure es in handy.’ The fact that the Orks were so protective of the cargo piqued his curiosity. ‘What could be so important?’

  "Don't attack him individually! He's one of those armored ones!" the Red Ork warned, his eyes never leaving Oliver.

  The grunts hesitated, their expressions flickering with uainty. In his peripheral vision, Oliver could see the Red Ork sitting calmly as chaos unfolded—a puppet master pulling strings.

  ‘Is he usio train them, or is he simply not ied?’ Oliver wondered, gng at the imposing figure of the Red Ork, who stood the skirmish from a distance. ‘Well the's give him a reason to get involved.’

  Without hesitation, Oliver leveled his pistol as he advanced. eling energy into the on, he prepared a shot potent enough to cause an explosion. But instead of aiming at one of the charging Orks, he directed his fire toward one of the massive cages the creatures had been hauling moments before.

  The rea was immediate. Panic fshed across the faces of the Orks—or at least that's how Oliver interpreted their guttural excmations and frantients. One even threw himself into the bst's path, sacrifig himself to protect the cage.

  ‘So whatever's in there is that important?’ Oliver mused as the explosion obliterated the Ork.

  The remaining Orks didn't wait to see what else the young human might do. Each drew their ons, r as they charged straight into close bat.

  Oliver didn't o activate [Observatiohese oppos were far less challenging than those he'd faced before. ‘Is this difference just because I'm wearing a Ranger Armor?’ he thought, sidestepping a swung axe. ‘Or have I just gotteo fighting in near-impossible battles?’

  A sword sliced through the air close to his head, but Oliver effortlessly dodged, tering with two point-bnk shots that exploded the attacker. If not for the sheer number of foes and their simultaneous assaults, he could elimihem without breaking a sweat.

  "e on, damn it! He's just a human! Yonna disgrace our entire race fighting like this!" The Red Ork's roar resohrough the hangar, dripping with pt.

  "Yes, master!" several of the Orks responded, or at least those still capable of speech.

  ‘He traihese guys? Doesn't seem like the training did much good,’ Oliver thought dryly, dug under atack.

  Despite the odds, he felt fident these grunts wouldn't pose a real threat. Still, he was serving his strength for when the Red Ork decided to join the fray. ‘No point in wasting energy before the mai.’

  A quice around the hangar brought a grim realization. ‘Damn, there's no other ship here. If that one isn't operational, I'll have to find another way out.’ Oliver began strategizing possible escape routes, all while parrying blows aurning fire.

  He finally noticed the muffled cries emanating from the cages and crates the Orks were moving. He couldn't see inside from where he was, but the sounds were unmistakable. ‘Time to see what they're carrying.’

  Dodging a flurry of strikes, Oliver broke free and sprioward the cages. Just as he was about to peer ihe ground exploded before him, sending debris flying and f him to skid to a halt.

  The Red Ork nded heavily before him, the impact crag the floor.

  "No. Fight them," the Ork anded, his deep-set eyes gring down at Oliver.

  "Tsk. Asshole," Oliver muttered, brushing dust off himself.

  ‘Let's check his level.’ Seizing the opportunity, Oliver tested using [Observation]. But as he expected, nothing appeared. ‘Damn. At least Bishop level, if not higher.’

  While Oliver weighed his options, the ten remaining Orks began to encircle him, ons at the ready.

  "Wait for my signal, then attack all at ohe Red Ork instructed. "Now!"

  As soon as the and was given, Oliver was already in motion. Anticipating their coordinated assault, he fired his pistol with unerring accuracy, targeting the Orks' faces as they charged recklessly with their guards down.

  "Something's off about him, master," one of the roaned, clutg his wounds.

  "It’s like he knows what we're gonna do before we do it," another snarled.

  "Leave him to me," the Red Ork decred, stepping forward with menace.

  At those words, Oliver turned his full attention to the t figure.

  "You son of a— you uand uage," the Red Ork spat, realization dawning. "You've been listening to our versation."

  Oliver shrugged nontly, a faint smirk tugging at the er of his mouth, firming the Ork's accusation.

  "What's your he Ork demanded, his voice a deep, guttural growl.

  "Oliver," he replied calmly, meeting the creature's gaze without fling.

  "Iing," the Red Ork mused, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes. "For the first time, I uand a human. What title shall I earn for killing the first human who speaks Orkish?" He seemed to pohis aloud, almost as if addressing an unseen audience.

  "The Great Dreamer, perhaps," Oliver quipped swiftly. "Or maybe 'He Who Had a Wild Imagination.' "

  "I preferred it when I couldn't uand you," the Ork snarled, spitting onto the ground with disdain.

  "I don't know," Oliver retorted, a sharp edge to his words. "I rather like that you uand when I call you a son of a whore."

  That was the breaking point.

  With a roar, the Red Ork lunged forward, unleashing a flurry of three rapid punches. Oliver's reflexes kicked into overdrive. He dodged the first strike and narrowly evaded the sed, but the third ected solidly with his ribs. Pain exploded through his side as he was lifted off his feet a hurtling backward. He crashed into a pile of debris, the impact rattling his bones.

  'Speed isn't his strong suit, but that overwhelming strength... damn it,' Oliver groaned, pushing himself upright. His chest throbbed where the Ork's fist had nded. ‘I still have Prometheus, but will it be enough?’

  Steeling himself, Oliver activated [Prometheus]. Energy surged through his veins, his fists crag with raw power. With a burst of speed, he charged at the Red Ork, aiming to catch him off guard just as he'd doh the Red Ranger.

  But something was different this time.

  In a split sed before impact, Oliver noticed a glint nition in the Ork's eyes—a realization of the threat he posed. Just timeters away from striking, the Ork moved with uny precision. He grabbed Oliver's arms, redireg their trajectory and sidestepping effortlessly. The bst of energy from Oliver's fists shot past harmlessly, colliding with a distant wall aing in an explosion that left a gigantic gaping hole.

  "Aha! So that's what you were trying to hit me with?" the Ork mocked, a sly grin spreading across his scarred face.

  Oliver's eyes widened. Not only had the Ork anticipated his attack, but he'd also mao ter it with minimal effort.

  Just then, a translut notification flickered in the er of his vision.

  | Left Eye of Learning| Learning …

  | [bat] Imperial Ork Style | Progress: 0.01%

  ‘So, my Eye is trying to learn his bat style?’ Oliver thought. He knew he couldn't perfectly replicate the Imperial Ork Teique—not with his human physiology—but uanding it might give him an edge iing the Ork's movements.

  "What's the matter, human? Realizing you're outmatched?" the Red Ork taunted, crag his knuckles. "I expected more from someone who talks so big."

  ‘Think, think. I need a new pn.’ Oliver weighed his options rapidly.

  He g the Energy Pistol in his hand. It might not be enough to take the Ork down, but perhaps it could create an opening.

  Suddenly, a distant cry pierced the air.

  "HELP!"