Chapter 210: The Rat Among Orcs
The Dragonblood Orc shrank back slightly, a flicker of fear appearing in his eyes...
"Alright, first question: your name."
"Shuban, sir—my name is Shuban Uranos!" The Dragonblood Orc did indeed understand the common tongue, though his accent was thick, making his words somewhat unclear.
"Uranos? So you're a Highland Orc..." Uranos was a typical Highland Orc surname. For generations, they had lived in the Dark Highlands, their dark red skin and thin, wiry bodies marking them unmistakably.
"Sir, you... you know about the Highland Orcs?" The Dragonblood Orc was clearly surprised.
"Of course I do..." Leon curled his lip, thinking to himself: Know about Highland Orcs? I know more than you think. You lot are called the rats among orcs. For countless millennia, the two great mage factions of the Dark Highlands have dumped every derogatory word on your kind—opportunists, despicable, shameless, thieving, filthy... Tsk tsk, with a reputation as infamous as yours, and you still ask if I know you...
"Second question: why are you at Razor Rift?"
As it turned out, Leon's question was the trigger—Shuban immediately burst into tears...
"Sir, save me, please, save me..." Shuban clung to Leon's calf, sobbing and smearing tears and snot all over the mage's pristine robe as he wailed and accused the Razor Trolls: "I... I was captured by those damned Razor Trolls, sir, please, have mercy, save me... Those damned trolls killed seven of my brothers and eight of my sisters, and I was next—if not for your timely arrival, I'd be dead. Please, send me back to the Dark Highlands, our whole tribe would be forever grateful..."
"Is that so? I suppose you'll thank me with stone axes and spears, won't you..." Leon Merlin kicked the Dragonblood Orc aside. "Speak. Where is the Razor Trolls' ancestral relic?"
"Ancestral relic?" Hubert, who had been about to lunge again, instantly stepped back a few paces at Leon's words, his eyes flashing with wariness. "What ancestral relic?"
"Looks like you don't want to talk..." Leon smiled, not pressing further, and simply pulled an alchemy potion from his pocket. "Then drink this."
The Dragonblood Orc took it, asking reflexively, "What's this?"
"Sleeping draught. One bottle will knock you out for eight hours. In those eight hours, you won't feel a thing—even if I'm dissecting you."
...The Dragonblood Orc gasped, instantly tossing the glass vial back as though it were a venomous snake, not an alchemy potion.
"I'll ask one more time: Where is the Razor Trolls' ancestral relic? If your answer still doesn't satisfy me, I have more than ten ways to make you drink this sleeping draught."
"It... it's on me."
"Good." Leon finally smiled with satisfaction and reached out his hand. "Hand it over."
"It took me a lot of effort to find this..." Hubert grumbled, reluctantly fishing a necklace from his pocket. It was strung with the teeth of various beasts—thirty or forty at least. When Leon took the necklace, he seemed to hear a distant rumbling, like countless wild beasts running through the jungle, or perhaps a thousand beast souls howling within the necklace itself.
Leon knew this was the power within the Beastfang Necklace itself. He quickly shook his head, pocketed the Razor Trolls’ ancestral relic, and nudged Hubert with his foot. "A lot of effort, huh? More like a lot of effort to steal it..."
"Stealing and finding aren't that different..." the Dragonblood Orc muttered under his breath.
But Leon had no time for him now. He simply infused a surge of mana into the Soulwalker. "Lord Shaun, I'll leave the rest to you."
"Who are we tricking this time?" Lord Shaun's half-real, half-illusory figure slowly materialized in the carriage, his voice even lazier than before—very different from how he'd sounded in the Prince's Crypt.
According to Lord Shaun, this was the 'refined laziness' that came with superior living...
Back when Leon signed the contract with him, Lord Shaun had been reluctant, wondering how a human Archmage could possibly provide for a true soul artifact like him.
But it turned out this human Archmage's capabilities far exceeded Lord Shaun's expectations. Not once had his mana supply been interrupted, and just recently they'd struck a deal that might net dozens of soul crystals.
At last, Lord Shaun realized Leon hadn't lied—he really could restore Shaun to his peak power. Though Shaun's attitude was still as proud as ever, whenever Leon asked him to draft a contract, he was surprisingly cooperative...
Of course, this time Lord Shaun was a bit disgruntled—the target was just an orc!
Honestly, did Lord Shaun really need to bother with an orc's pitiful intelligence?
Without a second thought, Lord Shaun snatched a sheet of magical parchment from Leon, scrawling out a ruthlessly binding contract in the blink of an eye.
Leon glanced over the contract and couldn't help but admire it—Lord Shaun really was getting better at this...
"Hubert, right?" Leon forced a friendly smile, placing the contract before the orc. "Humans are different from orcs—we believe in fair exchange. I just saved you from an evil mage outside, so in return, you can sign this... no, sign this contract."
[Irrelevant platform passage omitted]
"M-milord, please spare me..." Hubert grabbed the magical parchment and saw it was covered in dense Nesserian script. He shook his head desperately.
He couldn't read a word—how could Hubert dare sign?
"Of course, if you won't sign, it's no big deal. You can always trade your organs. I've always wanted to study how an orc's heart differs from a human's. Oh, kidneys work too—maybe I can crack the secret of why orcs have such poor fertility. You'd be a hero, you know. Trading your kidneys for the prosperity of your entire race—what a contribution. And..."
With each organ Leon mentioned, Hubert's face grew a shade paler. By the time Leon got to the stomach, Hubert was practically losing his mind...
"I'll sign!"
.........................
Night gradually fell. Earlier, Lais had sent word that the team would rest at the Silvermoon Mercenary Camp. Leon Merlin and William Merlin, both mages, were used to deep meditation instead of sleep, so neither left the carriage—they simply entered deep meditation right there.
As for Hubert...
Before entering deep meditation, Leon released the Prime Flame Sprite, Saedus.
Truth be told, Highland Orcs—often called the rats among orcs—really weren't trustworthy...
At first, Hubert cowered in the corner of the carriage, terrified the evil human mage would find new ways to torment him. But after nearly an hour, he realized that once Leon closed his eyes, he never opened them again.
Was this the meditation state the elders spoke of?
So Hubert quickly recalled—supposedly, when mages entered meditation, they entered a mental realm. Hubert had no idea what that meant, but figured it must be a state where they couldn't be disturbed...
Thinking this, Hubert decided to test it out...
At first, Hubert just pretended to accidentally bump the carriage door, making a little noise. After a few tries, he noticed the evil human mage didn't react at all. Delighted, he tried standing up and pacing inside the carriage.
Aha—still no reaction!
Hubert's courage grew...
The Dragonblood Orc crept stealthily over and quietly opened the carriage door...
The fresh air of freedom—how wonderful. The world outside was so vast...
Hubert figured this was his best chance to escape. The evil human mage and his slow-witted companion were definitely in that meditation state. If he didn't escape now, when would he?
As for the flame the mage had released...
Hubert actually recognized it. Back in the Dark Highlands, he'd seen plenty of human mages use flames like that for lighting. Was it called Light Spell or Bright Spell or something?
Anyway, it wasn’t dangerous.
The carriage door creaked open bit by bit. Hubert had both feet outside—just one little jump and he’d be breathing free air. The thought made the Dragonblood Orc impatient; he stomped one foot to the ground...
Then—a miserable scream!
In that instant, Hubert felt his whole foot burst into flames. He looked down—suddenly, the ground had turned to magma! Thankfully, his Dragonblood lineage gave him powerful fire immunity. Stepping into the magma only left his foot half-cooked.
Shocked, the Dragonblood Orc yanked his foot up.
Too late...
Almost as soon as Hubert screamed, that flame—looking like a Light Spell—suddenly morphed into a fiery chain. In a flash, it wrapped the Dragonblood Orc up tight.
*****
[Irrelevant author note omitted]