122 067. New Fate -3 Part Two

I tugged at the camel’s reins.

We ascended to the peak of the dune and took a look below.

On a stretch of a barren terrain, around forty Orcs were battling against about twenty people who looked to be mercenaries and merchants.

The Orcs were at least two metres tall with brown skin and rippling muscles. Besides some dirty rags covering their important bits, the entirety of their attire consisted of clubs made out of wood or bones in their hands. That was about it.

Their physical prowess seemed over the top, too – when one of the Orcs took a swing with its bone club, a mercenary was flung away on his butt.

“Brown Orcs!” Damon cried out in shock before I could even say anything. “They belong to the upper tier of the Orc species, my lord. Although not as dangerous as the Red Orcs, they are still known to be quite vicious.”

“Oh, really?”

I was about to summon a musket, but belatedly stopped myself.

“We’re going to die. We’re all going to die!!!”

1

Although Hans was a merchant by trade, he was also an Alchemist by profession who crafted and sold potions alongside all sorts of magic tools. But at the moment, he was holding his head in desperation while looking around his surroundings.

The mercenaries were protecting the camels they rode on as well as the wagon carrying the cargo.

Meanwhile, a horde of Orcs were rushing down from a dune. At first, they numbered only around twenty, but as the battle continued on, that figure ballooned past thirty and eventually, reached forty.

The newly-appearing Orcs soon outnumbered their brethren lying on the ground as corpses.

“It’s over. It’s all over!”

“Will you stop with that unlucky babbling of yours already?!”

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A mercenary angrily shouted at his own client.

However, he still knew. Even his fellow mercenaries all knew it, too.

“There’s no freaking way we know how to use Mana or demonic energy!”

These mercenaries were only third rate – charitably speaking, barely second-rate, actually. Obviously, they wouldn’t know how to control Mana or demonic energy.

Hans, with an expression of a man left with no other choice, personally injected Mana into the crystal sphere. It began trembling right away.

When the item began working as intended, Hans’s complexion brightened in an instant.

Just as he was about to chuck the sphere at the group of Orcs, a hatchet flew in from somewhere and severed his hand holding it.

“Eh?”

With a thud, the sphere fell to the ground. After trembling for a bit more, the container exploded.

“Uwaaaahk?!”

Hans too knew this, yet he didn’t offer any greetings yet.

He was too busy alternating his gaze between the never-before-seen undead wielding divinity, and the three unknown individuals commanding them. The Alchemist’s eyes were already dyed in the greed of a researcher.

He must’ve already forgotten about the pain from his severed hand, because he was staring straight at the three unknown people and asking a question, instead. “M-may I enquire as to what your name is?”

1

Even before revealing his name first, Hans threw out this query. In a certain sense, one could think of his attitude as belittling the Necromancer.

Kasal freaked out and shot back up to his feet, trying to grab the idiot’s head and make him bow down, but then…

“It’s Allen.”

The boy suddenly opened his mouth.

“My name is Allen.”

Kasal and Hans both flinched a little as they stared at the boy.

While standing amidst the desert winds, the boy commanding the undead stood proudly and addressed them.

Fin.