The village was quiet again, torches burning low and embers drifting lazily into the night. The raid had been repelled. Orc bodies were stacked near the edge of the woods, and the soldiers took turns patrolling the perimeter.
Ren sat alone on the well's stone rim, elbows on his knees, staring into the dark treeline. His knuckles were bruised and raw beneath the Soul Gauntlet's lingering warmth. Every heartbeat thudded like a war drum in his ears.
They'll be back.
He'd seen it in the way the last orc looked at him before fleeing — not fear, but challenge. There was something organized about the raid, something more than just mindless plundering. Someone was leading them.
Ren's gaze sharpened. Take out the head, and the body falls.
It was a stupid idea. He knew that. Darian would call it reckless. Lira would probably slap him.
But waiting around for another raid? Sitting behind fences and playing defense? That wasn't him. He'd spent his life punching problems head-on. And this was no different.
He stood, tightening the straps on his gauntlets. The soldiers on patrol gave him puzzled looks as he strode toward the edge of the village.
"Hero? Where are you going?" one asked.
"Taking a walk," Ren said without breaking stride.
The forest was silent except for the crunch of leaves beneath his boots. Moonlight filtered through the canopy in fractured beams. Ren moved like a predator, low and focused. His instincts guided him more than any map — following broken branches, muddy tracks, and the faint smell of smoke and blood.
After nearly an hour, he found it.
A crude camp built in a clearing — spiked fences, roaring bonfires, and dozens of orcs sleeping or sharpening their weapons. At the center, on a raised stone, sat a massive figure.
The orc chieftain.
He was easily a head taller than the others, his tusks curved like daggers, wearing a mantle of wolf pelts and a necklace of human skull fragments. His axe looked like it had been forged from a chunk of meteorite.
Ren crouched behind a tree, watching. His heart raced — not with fear, but anticipation.
If I take him down, the rest scatter. Simple.
It wasn't a plan. It was an urge.
He broke from the treeline like a shadow. No battle cry, no warning. Just speed.
He slammed into the nearest sentry, crushing his throat with a single punch before the orc could grunt. Another turned — Ren leapt up, drove a knee into its jaw, and sent it crashing into a pile of crates.
The camp erupted in shouts and guttural bellows.
The chieftain rose slowly, his heavy footsteps shaking the ground. His burning yellow eyes locked onto Ren like a wolf spotting prey.
"You…" the chieftain growled in broken Common. "Little human… die."
Ren grinned. "Yeah, we'll see about that."
The chieftain swung his massive axe, the force of it splitting the ground where Ren had stood a heartbeat earlier. Ren darted around him, fists flashing like fireflies. He drove a flurry of punches into the chieftain's ribs — Iron Fang Combo— but it was like hitting a brick wall. The monster grunted but barely flinched.
The return swing came like a storm. Ren barely managed to block with his forearms, sparks flying as the axe met his reinforced guards. The impact launched him backward into a tree, splintering bark.
Pain flared through his body — but he was smiling.
Finally… a real fight.
He charged again, this time aiming low. A Groundbreaker punch cracked the dirt beneath the chieftain's feet, throwing him off balance. Ren followed with a flying hook to the jaw, then a brutal uppercut. The Soul Gauntlets flared brighter with each strike, the ground trembling beneath them.
The chieftain roared, blood spraying from his tusked mouth, and slammed both fists down in a shockwave that sent Ren sprawling.
Ren coughed, spat blood, and pushed himself up with a grin that was half-mad. "That all you got, big guy?"
He didn't notice the orcs closing in behind him.
Back at the village, Lira was making her rounds when she noticed the empty post by the gate. Her stomach dropped.
"Where's the Hero?" she demanded.
The guards exchanged nervous looks. "He said he was… taking a walk."
Lira's eyes went wide. "Idiot."
She turned to Darian. "He's gone after them. Alone."
Darian cursed. "Mount up. Now."
Back in the forest, Ren stood surrounded — a ring of snarling orcs closing in, the chieftain towering at the center. His chest heaved, his fists ached, and adrenaline roared in his veins.
This was either going to be his greatest moment… or his last.
He cracked his neck, raised his fists, and whispered to himself:
"Let's finish this."
The orcs closed in, forming a loose circle around Ren. The chieftain bellowed a command, and two of the warriors charged. Ren ducked low, pivoting on instinct, and used their own momentum to slam one into the other. Both fell in a tangle of limbs.
The chieftain swung his axe again, a horizontal sweep that could've cut him in half. Ren dove forward, rolling under it, dirt spraying behind him. He came up inside the chieftain's reach and drove a heavy uppercut into the monster's jaw. The blow rattled through his entire arm — but it worked. The chieftain's head snapped back, and he staggered a step.
Ren didn't hesitate. He darted behind the brute, using the larger body against itself. He jumped up, locking his arms around the chieftain's thick neck in a grappling hold.
The chieftain thrashed violently, roaring in fury, trying to rip him off. But Ren's grip only tightened. His legs hooked against the monster's shoulders, anchoring himself in place.
"Not so tough up close, huh?" Ren hissed through gritted teeth.
The Soul Gauntlets flared brighter, heat radiating through his forearms. With a surge of strength, he wrenched the chieftain backward, leveraging every ounce of technique he'd ever taught himself in alley fights and underground gyms.
There was a guttural roar — then a heavy, final impact as Ren twisted and slammed the chieftain down with brutal efficiency. The massive body hit the ground hard enough to shake the camp.
For a heartbeat, silence. Then the orcs broke. Without their leader's roar to drive them, their courage cracked. Some fled into the forest; others dropped their weapons and backed away.
Ren stood over the fallen chieftain, chest heaving, sweat and blood streaking his face. His arms trembled, but his eyes burned with that ember-red glow — the Soul Gauntlets pulsing like a heartbeat around his fists.
"Yeah," he panted. "Who's next?"
From the treeline, the sound of hooves thundered. Lira and the squad burst into the clearing, blades drawn, expecting a massacre — and stopped short.
The camp was in chaos. Orcs scattered. And at the center stood Ren, victorious and wild-eyed, the chieftain's body lying at his feet.
"Ren!" Lira shouted, half furious, half stunned. "What the hell were you thinking!?"
Ren turned, breathless, a grin splitting his face. "It worked, didn't it?"
She stared at him for a long moment — then let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "You're insane."
Darian rode up behind her, surveying the camp. "Insane… but effective."