At the outskirts of the Sorcerous Forest.

  The two Demon Legions were making splendid progress, cutting down the forest and delving deeper to its inner edge.

  It was all fine. Just fine. But then it wasn’t. The see of darkness spilt from the forest as if a dam holding the shadows of midnight had been breached – turning the afternoon hues to ebony blackness in an instant.

  The battle drums were signalling a retreat. Why a retreat, and why so sudden? – few demons could tell the reason. Sure, the sudden darkness was unnatural, magical even, but it wasn’t a thing that would bother a demon. So why a retreat?

  A Kenku Scout, her wings sooty and her feathers clumped together, descended to caw an urged message – a cry of Retreat.

  Retreat... Retreat... RETREAT!!!

  And so the Legion retreated. Or at least they hoped to do that. Many dense trees bordered the narrow corridor they had carved within the forest, and strange mutated monsters would often spill from it, but now, the forest was eerily quiet.

  There was only choking tyrannical darkness. Darkness and silence. Soon enough a scream broke that silence. An ork dying somewhere in that sea of inky black.

  Ambush.

  The drums and a Kenku Scout heralded as much, but it wasn’t a simple ambush – it was a slaughter in darkness accompanied by a roaring fire. The flames would conveniently break the veil of the magical night, but the sight wasn’t welcome at all. Each time the flames roared, they revealed a gruesome scene.

  Flash. Fire. A line of orcs bellowed as their flesh was seared, the air filled with the scent of a morbid feast. Roasted Ork Meat.

  Flash. Fire. The flames licked at the wings of the fleeing Kenku Scouts. Their feathers burned, clumping together and melting to their flesh. A few of them fell, consumed by the searing heat, but others flapped despite the inferno, intent to survive. The air filled with a scent of grilled poultry – Grilled Kenku Wings.

  Flash. Fire. The angry tongues of flames licked at the Succubi and Tiefling mages. The women matched the raging attack with a fiery attack of their own. They were the only ones untouched by a sudden blaze. They were the ones to shield the Legion as it retreated. They were the real MVPs.

  Keen to avoid further ambush, the demons had finally ushered out of the treacherous forest. However, there was no respite for them. The darkness was waiting for them. It had expected their urged coming.

  The pastoral plains bordering the forest were cloaked by an oppressive shroud of the unnatural midnight. Not only was it dark and unpenetrable, but it was also thick and sticky like the ink from the bottomless abyss. It clung to the skin like an oily coating, cooling it in an unpleasant chill. Unpleasant enough to be Draining.

  This darkness here...

  It felt different from the darkness permeating the Sorcerous Forest. It was a beast of the same cloth but with entirely different abilities.

  This darkness here...

  IT FELT ALIVE!

  The Legion ignored the Dread and Terror. They pulled themselves together. They regrouped. The Orcs formed back their rank. They were intent on fighting the unnatural phenomenon, or profane sorcery, or whatever this was.

  At the helm of the orcish ranks, there was the Master of the First Legion, Orcus the Bloody – a towering figure of an orc-turned-demon. His body was a mountain of fat and muscle, his head an ivory skull adorned with the curling horns of a demon. In the darkened eye sockets of the the skull, two red orbs glowed with unrestrained rage and anger.

  In his hand, he held the iconic artefact: The Wand of Orcus. Despite its name, it was actually a mace. Its shaft was a long, bony spine. It dripped with fresh blood as if freshly ripped out. The mace was topped with a skull – a spitting image of the skull that passed for Orcus's head – its eye sockets were empty and lifeless. The artefact was a powerful tool of Necromancy and Death.

  Yes, Orcus the Bloody dabbled in foul magic himself. That’s why he was one of the few who understood the true – Chaotic – nature of the darkness. That’s why he called for the RETREAT.

  The darkness here, this living shadow, it...

  'It feeds on the souls it slays, I know! On Orc and Demon souls alike. And those souls... They are mine, and only mine to claim. This is a brazen, shameless theft!!!'

  “[Rahh!!!]” Orcus the Bloody roared a mighty battle cry. “Enough of your games, Dark Sorcerer. Show yourself!” He taunted the inky darkness.

  His taunt was met with silence, but he knew that twisted life lurked there, somewhere hidden in the darkness. His necromancy skills detected multiple souls, black and inky in colour. Even darker than the Demon Lord's! Those souls were likely the Minions of the Dark Sorcerer, this Monster King or whatnot. Those corrupted pawns were silently observing Orcus and his Orc Legion, mocking them with their silence.

  “Coward! Meet me in a straight battle! I challenge you, to a [Duel]!” He roared another taunt, a skill impossible to shrug. He latched it on the biggest soul he could see, assuming it belonged to the Dark Sorcerer.

  Then... A reply.

  Something shimmered within the oily darkness. Put of the void, a force of a hundred eyes blinked into existence. The eyes were purple and burned with cold almost indifferent anger. No, it wasn’t just cold anger, the burning eyes hungered. They hungered for... Souls. Demons and Orcs alike.

  The eyes were actually just lanterns, an arcane spell burned inside them. As a dark sorcerer himself, Orcus was able to deduce that. However, his Legion was but simple orcs. To them, the lanterns looked like the eyes of a hungering beast, a monster made and born out of a ravenous void – a malicious entity that somehow found its way out from the depths of the unforgiving abyss.

  “[Bahh!!!], mere tricks and illusions!” He cast a buff on his orcs, countering the mental attack coming from the void.

  As the purple light of the lanterns neared the Legion, encroaching on them like a hungering beat, the Orcs tightened their formation, huddling ever close together as if afraid.

  At the shortened distance, the shapes of the bearers of the lanterns became clear. They were men shrouded in web-like garb. The spidery cloth hid their features well, only a gaunt, spindly arm poked out of the spidery cloth. Long, grey fingers with blackened nails were holding the lanterns where that hungering, oh-so-hungering, evil flame burned.

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  Orcus the Bloody turned to the Beholder – a rare demon under his command. The demon was skilled enough to pierce the enemy’s magical veil of unnatural midnight and cast [Inspect] from a great distance.

  “Those are Lantern Bearers, a variant class of Corrupted Humans." Beholder undulated its eye stalks as it explained. They specialise in buffs and status effects.” The Observer helpfully notified, beaming it directly to the orcs' minds.

  'Humans? I know of humans. But Corrupted Humans... So those are the minions of this Monster King. A peculiar choice. A bad choice to pit against my orcs. He-he! Everyone knows the Orcs are superior!'

  However, it was apparent that there was more to it. Other souls were shimmering with the inky darkness; although hidden from the light.

  “And how about those lurking hidden in the shadows?” He asked the Beholder.

  “Dark Knights, another variant. Their class is similar to the human Paladin. Behind them, Scroll Squires, something akin to the Mage, but I can only assume. Much of their Status remains a jumbled mess of ??? and Error.”

  'So three kinds only. Their formation is: a tank, a damage dealer behind them, and a buffer/healer person at the rear. The odd classes aside, this is nothing out of the ordinary. And anyway, my Orcs are superior.'

  “Mere pawns. Nothing to be afraid of. [DemonicBlood]!” He further buffed his orcs, granting them minor resistance and minor health regeneration.

  Soon after, the lantern light encroached close enough for hostilities to start. Just before the Lantern Bearers could be struck by the javelins of orcs, the Dark Knights manifested out of their ShadowVeil. Their forms resembled the hunting spiders, their mandibled helmets glaring at the orcs with palpable hostility. The Dark Knights shielded the Lantern Bearers, javelins clanging off their Reinforced armour.

  'The javelins are enchanted with Piercing and still... What a formidable armour!'

  Moreover, his orcs weren’t stupid, they were superior! Even a fool knew that the higher physical defence an armour had, the bigger its weakness was against the magic. The Orc Shamans flung their spells, aiming a volley of CorrosiveBolt at the knights.

  “Ha!” Orcus the Bloody let out a cheery laugh, expecting the oh-so-sweet sight of melting flesh and armour.

  And yet...

  The impossible happened once again – the spell volley was miraculously... Deflected.

  “Bastards!” he glared at the Corrupted Humans, then at the Beholder under his command. “Why didn’t you warn me? You made me look like a fool!"

  The Beholder shrunk under his bellow, its tendrils flailing wildly. “My apologies, Master. Their skills and perks were mostly obfuscated by those ??? And other weird symbols. An anti-scrying measure, I assume. But now they're out of their shadows and I can [Inspect] them with clarity: Reflect, Devour, SpideryMagnificent...” Beholder listed an extensive list.

  'Eh? What is this? Way too many perks and skills for a puny human... Is this because they are Corrupted? Or is this due to their equipment?'

  Orcus the Bloody didn’t get the luxury to ponder such pointless things – either way, his Orcs were still superior! More importantly, the enemy was about to counterattack.

  Then, he felt arcane power surging out from what must be the Scroll Squires. Their forms suddenly became clear, well, clear enough to see their vague shapes. They were cloaked in oddly spiderish mantles, webbing made out of some inky strings. It was quite hard to tell their exact appearance because it shimmered within the lanternlight, blurring in and out of existence, constantly changing position. But one thing remained clear and tangible – it was an array of scrolls floating behind them. The scrolls were suspended in the air, trembling like flies trapped in an invisible web. It was beyond unnatural; even Orcus the Bloody couldn’t quite tell the source of such magics.

  He turned again to the Beholder. For answers. But...

  It was all too late.

  One by one, the scrolls burst into purple flames, shrieking like dying animals as they burned to a fine ash. In a mere second, an equivalent of a thousand scrolls were spent, each casting their inscribed spell.

  Luckily, the Orc Shamans were ready for a magical counterattack, which was within the natural expectations of the battle. He slammed the Wand of Orcus, erecting the BloodShield. The shamans did much the same, erecting various lesser barriers.

  'This should suffice, well, normally it would... But I can’t help but feel this bad premonition. My instincts are telling me to run. How infuriating! I'm Orcus the Bloody; I don't flee!!!'

  However, his instincts were on point...

  "..."

  Warding against a single element, no, even against two elements, was within his Legion's capabilities. But... But what came out of the scrolls was entirely unexpected.

  A rainbow of magic rained on the orcs shields and wards. A great variety of magic slammed at their defences. It was only natural that they couldn’t shield against ALL Elements, and ALL at ONCE. Magical bolts and arrows pierced through, dealing great damage to his orcs.

  'This isn’t good. This can’t continue. Perhaps if it was the Second Legion, they would be better matched. But my Orcs are a physical force. So... I have no othe choise.'

  Orcus the Bloody pointed his wand towards the ranks of the enemy, the vacant eyes within the mace’s skull finally burst with life. Life and suicidal anger. “[Rage of the Legion],” he invoked one of his master-skills.

  The Orc Legion roared as one; their eyes glowed red with Berseker’s scorn; they charged at the enemy like a landslide of flesh and armour.

  “Ha, ha, ha!!!” He laughed confident in the superiority of his orcs. Alas, this wasn’t the only triumph card he had. There was another. “Beholder, contact the Balrogs and tell them to come forth from their hiding.”

  The Beholder wriggled its eye stalks, contacting the Greater Demons through Telepathy.

  Demonic circles came alive throughout the pastoral pastures. Hellish fires disturbed the inky veil of darkness, forcing it to shrink back. Then, with a roaring inferno, creatures made out of flame and raging flesh stepped forth into existence. They manifested right behind the midnight-shrouded minions.

  Yes, the minions still had their strange scroll-empowered magic, and their buffing lanterns, but that wouldn’t save them. The Orcs were superior! And now... The humans were between an anvil and a hammer – mere pawns to be crushed into a pulpy paste.

  “Ha, ha, ha! Cower against the might of the Legion!” He started running towards the coward who refused to come out despite the Duel. “ Monster King, this is the END for you!”

  Orcus the Bloody shrugged the annoying elemental attacks, throwing Dark Knights away with his IndominableCharge, scattering them all away like pathetic bowling pins they were. With a quick swing of his wand, he crushed a nearby Scroll Scribe, pasting her like a punny welp she was, dousing the Lantern Bearer and his evil flame in fresh blood. The eyes inside the skull of his mace glowed, intent to Reap the souls and Turn the freshly slain bodies to the cause of the Legion.

  “[Reanimate]!” He invoked as he ran past the fresh slaughter. "???"

  And yet, for the first time ever, his special skill failed. His NecromancersEye saw the souls fly towards the blasted lantern. The purple flame ate the souls instead. As if fuelled by a sacrifice, the flame burned ever brighter.

  “Bahh! To the hell with you!” He dismissed it as of no consequence, choosing to continue his indominable charge towards his main Target.

  'Yes, if I end the Monster King, this annoying nonsense would end too. A solid plan. Ha-ha...'

  Trusting in his own superiority he charged towards the fattest, most tarnished soul within the battlefield.

  “Huh...”

  Momentarily he was surprised. It seems that the coward had finally made a move. The fool was charging right rowards him, him! Orcus the Bloody!!! What a moron!

  'Hah, what an idiot! I am a sorcerer, yes, but also I am an orc-turned-demon. My physical might is greater than my magical skill. With my IndominableCharge I will simply crush him beneath my orcish feat. Rahh!!!'

  As he neared towards his foolish Target, Orcus the Bloody was left surprised again “Huh?”

  His Target, the overly obese man, the Monster King(?), roared a command, “[UnstoppableCharge]!!!”, a challenge of his own.

  The boulder of a man charged towards the Orcus the Bloody, his body rolling like a raging hill.

  “...”

  Now... Which one was superior: IndominableCharge or UnstoppableCharge???