Chapter 1042: The Grand Seer
As Leon and his two companions cast their spells, the Abyssal magic shield covering the Purple-Eyed Demon Overlord rapidly dissolved. In less than three minutes, the Overlord's flesh split open, sending torrents of purple blood spraying out, its stench laced with sulfur spreading through the air.
Above, Reina the Frost Dragon swooped down from the sky, unleashing a beam of icy blue light from her jaws.
The beam struck the Purple-Eyed Demon Overlord, instantly blooming into a halo of icy blue light. A layer of frost spread swiftly across the Overlord's body.
Suddenly sealed by the zero-degree dragon breath, the enraged Purple-Eyed Demon Overlord finally began to panic. Abyssal words spilled from his mouth, transforming into a cloud of abyssal runes trailing black smoke.
The two crescent moons in his eyes shot out of their sockets, merging with the cloud of abyssal runes above his head.
In an instant, a phantom of a massive, hundred-meter-wide purple evil moon appeared above the Overlord. Bathed in its sinister light, the Purple-Eyed Demon Overlord's body turned ethereal, as if the spells targeting him had slipped into another dimension—no longer able to reach him.
The Purple-Eyed Demon Overlord let out a furious roar, glaring at everyone before leaping into the purple evil moon and vanishing from sight.
The phantom of the purple evil moon gradually faded and disappeared as well.
With the battle over, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Demon Overlords aren't so easily slain—just breaking through the Purple-Eyed Demon Overlord's Abyssal shield had taken over ten minutes of relentless assault.
And this particular Purple-Eyed Demon Overlord was clearly built for brute strength. He might've even abandoned spellcasting altogether—making his body even more formidable. Any spell below Sky Rank would barely scratch him; killing this beast was out of the question.
The orc chieftain let the boiling battle aura fade from his body and exhaled deeply.
“I didn't expect this Purple-Eyed Demon Overlord to have fused with the twin moons, able to summon the phantom of the evil moon. He must possess royal blood among the Purple-Eyed Demons. If he wants to escape, there's no way we can stop him.”
The wounded orcs began tending to their injuries. Tyler, the chieftain, approached the humans, right fist pressed to his chest, and bowed deeply to everyone with solemn respect.
“Thank you all for helping us drive off these damned demons, sparing us from falling at their filthy hands. I apologize for what happened before. We have no way to properly thank you now, but I'd like to invite you to our tribe as honored guests. You've earned our friendship. My name is Tyler, though my people usually call me Eagle.”
As Tyler expressed his gratitude, Dida La quickly stepped forward. Orcs are always straightforward—this is not the time for polite refusals; that would only insult them.
Besides, everyone here was clueless about this place. One bizarre thing after another kept popping up. Visiting Tyler's tribe was clearly the best option—there, they might find plenty of useful information and clues.
Dida La glanced back at the group. The leaders of each faction nodded slightly. Once everything was settled, Dida La turned and offered a faint smile.
“Lord Tyler, we'd be honored to visit your tribe.”
Tyler was delighted by the response, warmly leading Dida La out of the canyon, eagerly introducing everything around them as they walked.
Not far outside the canyon, a dense cluster of buildings came into view—bold, rugged structures in classic orc style sprawled across the land. Some were towering, with the tallest rising well over a hundred meters.
These buildings were stacked from massive stone blocks, each layer six or seven meters tall. Ancient runes, etched in fresh blood, covered the exteriors, with some totem poles serving as pillars.
It was an ancient orc tradition to reinforce their homes this way—using blood to inscribe their old script. Not the prettiest look, but far sturdier than anything you'd find in a human city.
For orcs, their mounts are partners. They bring them indoors, and as the group approached, they even saw a massive Kodo Beast poking its head out from a window, curiously watching them.
A mournful wail echoed in the distance as the fortress at the mouth of the valley swung open. A column of orc cavalry thundered out to greet them.
Four or five hundred orc wolf riders burst from the fortress. Only then did everyone realize these wolf riders were no weaker than the squad they'd just fought—nearly every one ranked above level thirty-five.
Tyler rode up to parley, quickly explaining what had happened and how the humans had saved their lives. At once, the wary orcs broke into smiles, warmly ushering the group into the fortress.
Inside the fortress, many orcs lingered at the edges, watching the newcomers. Orc children, too, followed the group with curious eyes, as if they'd never seen humans before.
"Did anyone notice? These orcs aren't from the Blazeforge Realm. They look similar, sure, but they're definitely not one of the eight Blazeforge orc clans—or even a branch. They're way too friendly. Look at those kids..."
While walking, Joey suddenly spoke in High Elvish.
High Elvish is a magical language every mage must learn—many spells are chanted in High Elvish, and plenty of advanced incantations include its musical syllables.
Joey's words caught everyone off guard. They glanced around, finally noticing that all the orcs nearby were genuinely friendly—once they'd heard about the humans saving a squad of orc wolf riders, they wholeheartedly welcomed the group.
Even the orc children showed no hint of hatred in their eyes—just pure curiosity.
That sort of thing would never happen in the Blazeforge Realm. There, every orc harbors deep resentment toward humans. Orc children, before they're even weaned, are indoctrinated to see humans as mortal enemies of the Blazeforge orcs.
So these orcs definitely aren't any known tribe from the Blazeforge Realm—they've never even seen humans before.
Joey's observation quickly won everyone's agreement.
Raphael nodded in deep agreement, replying in High Elvish as well.
"Indeed. Let's observe for now—this place is far too strange. If they mean no harm, we shouldn't stir up trouble. Earning these orcs' friendship can only help us."
Dida La nodded along as well.
"It's weird, all right. Let's keep a low profile for now. This tribe is strong, but we're no pushovers either. If it weren't for that tidal wave of undead, we wouldn't have been driven into such a mess. Even if something goes wrong, we can always run—just don't go looking for trouble."
They were led to a massive plaza at the heart of the tribe. In the center, a bonfire burned—over ten meters wide. Around it, dozens of large forks were stuck in the ground, each one holding a prepared game animal.
At the edge of the plaza, a group of orcs stood waiting to greet them.
The three leading orcs were all Sky Rank!
In the middle stood a towering orc, at least two-point-six meters tall, muscles piled like slabs of stone. Just standing there, he radiated a fierce, domineering aura. He wore a crown of beast hide—the mark of the tribe's Grand Chieftain.
To the Grand Chieftain's left was a 'small' orc, only one-point-eight meters tall, dressed in a rare robe and holding a short staff. His aged face was lined with wisdom, his eyes bright but world-weary.
This was the tribe's Grand Seer—the wisest orc, keeper of knowledge, and most respected elder. He oversaw all the priests and was the source of the tribe's lore.
On the Chieftain's right stood another burly orc, two-point-two meters tall, his body crisscrossed with scars like tree branches—remnants of lightning strikes, faint arcs of electricity still flickering along the wounds.
This was the tribe's Grand Shaman, leader of all shamans and warlocks; every shaman in the tribe was his disciple.
Tyler stayed close to the group, introducing the tribe's three most powerful figures.
To be received by three Sky Ranks in person—even knowing it was a gesture of goodwill—was enough to make even Dida La, the strongest among them, break out in a cold sweat. Three Sky Ranks, no aura at all, yet they pressed down like three mountains.
The stronger you were, the more you felt it—Leon sensed the terrifying presence of the three Sky Ranks ahead. The Grand Chieftain was like a sleeping volcano, just waiting to erupt.
Just standing near the Grand Shaman, you could feel thunder exploding in your soul. No doubt, he was a lightning shaman—his lightning magic so powerful, he'd even scarred himself with it.
The Grand Seer, on the other hand, was like a deep, tranquil pool—impossible to gauge, eyes brimming with wisdom. Like the greatest human sages, he radiated a soul-deep pressure even without magic.
But that wasn't all. Behind the three Sky Ranks stood a crowd of orc warriors, all above level thirty-nine but not yet Sky Rank.
In the Blazeforge Realm, any one of these would be a grand general commanding ten thousand troops. Here, there were dozens—if you weren't paying attention, you'd think they were just the Sky Ranks' attendants.
Further back, dozens more Ninth-Rank Sword Saints and Ninth-Rank Title Archmages could be seen.
Even the orcs sitting around the bonfire roasting meat were all above level thirty-five.
The group exchanged glances, each seeing shock in the others' eyes. With three Sky Ranks present, nobody dared speak freely—who knew if that wise-eyed Grand Seer could understand every word?
Leon, too, was astonished. This orc tribe was absurdly strong—easily on par with the mightiest Golden Orcs of the Blazeforge Realm.
Whoops, a thousand chapters already—how about tossing a vote my way, kid?