The western alarm refused to fade. Its deep metallic cry rolled endlessly across the plains, carried by the wind like a warning that grew heavier with every passing minute.
Chrono and the others pushed forward without stopping.
The road back to MistHaven had grown crowded. Farmers hurried east with carts piled high with whatever they could carry. Mothers held frightened children close while elderly men struggled to keep pace. Several wounded guards stumbled alongside them, armor stained with soot and blood.
"They're evacuating..." Lin murmured.
Captain Rowan's expression darkened. "They shouldn't have reached this far."
One exhausted soldier recognized Rowan's insignia and nearly collapsed in relief. "Captain!"
Rowan caught him before he fell. "What happened?"
The young guard fought to steady his breathing. "The western gate... They broke through."
Everyone fell silent.
"Were they demons?" Kael asked.
The guard shook his head slowly. "No." His voice trembled. "They were giants."
Chrono exchanged a glance with Vael. He already suspected the answer.
"They carried axes bigger than men," the guard continued. "They smashed the gate apart. They weren't monsters." His eyes widened at the memory. "They were Orcs."
---
No one spoke after that.
The pace quickened. Gran sprinted ahead until his gray body disappeared over the next hill, while Glask followed with surprising speed despite the heavy armor covering his skeletal frame.
Smoke soon appeared beyond the horizon. Not a thin trail — a wall. Black smoke rose above MistHaven, twisting like a storm cloud.
Then came another sound. Steel. Even from this distance, the clash of weapons echoed faintly through the valley.
"They're still fighting," Elarion said quietly.
Chrono's expression remained calm. Inside, his thoughts raced.
The Beast Shepherd attacked from the east. The Orcs struck from the west. Perfect timing.
Someone had planned this.
---
The western district came into view. The sight stopped several soldiers in their tracks.
One watchtower had collapsed completely. The massive western gate hung from shattered hinges, its thick oak beams split apart as though struck by a giant's fist. The buildings nearest the entrance burned fiercely — blacksmith workshops, warehouses, supply depots.
Chrono immediately noticed what remained untouched. Homes. The market. The central well.
His eyes narrowed. "They're selecting targets."
Rowan looked at him. "What?"
"They're avoiding unnecessary destruction."
Lin stared at the burning supply depot. "...Why?"
Chrono answered without taking his eyes off the battlefield. "Because supplies win wars."
---
A thunderous roar shook the district. Everyone turned.
The flames near the broken gate parted, and one enormous figure stepped through the smoke — nearly three meters tall, his dark green skin crossed with scars like old trophies over powerful muscle. Thick tusks curved upward from his lower jaw, and crude iron armor covered only his shoulders and chest. Resting casually across one shoulder was a greataxe whose blade alone stood taller than most men.
Behind him marched dozens of Orc warriors, their footsteps striking the ground together. Not a disorganized charge — a disciplined advance. Axes. Hammers. Heavy spears. Massive swords.
No one shouted. No one roared. They simply marched.
The silence unnerved the defenders far more than any battle cry.
One city guard whispered, "...There's so many..."
The Orc leader surveyed the burning district slowly. Then he smiled.
"So." His voice rolled across the battlefield like distant thunder. "This is the kingdom that keeps delaying our advance." He looked toward the soldiers gathering before him. "I expected more."
---
Captain Rowan raised his sword. "Form ranks!"
Shields locked together. Spears lowered. Archers climbed the nearby rooftops. The defenders assembled quickly despite the chaos around them.
The Orc Commander watched without concern. He rested the greataxe against the ground, then took one step forward.
The air changed.
A heavy pressure burst outward from his body. Several inexperienced guards staggered backward; one dropped his spear altogether.
Chrono felt it instantly. Not mana. Not killing intent. Force. But unlike the Force humans used, this one refused to stay close to the body — it erupted outward like invisible flame, pressing against everyone nearby.
Kael narrowed his eyes. "...This pressure."
Elarion reached slowly for another arrow. "It feels alive."
Vael stepped forward quietly. The hexagonal mark on the back of his hand slowly appeared.
Combat Force.
The Orc Commander's eyes immediately caught it. His grin widened.
"Oh?"
At last — something interesting stood before him.
The Orc Commander studied Vael for a long moment. Then he laughed — not loudly, not mockingly, with genuine amusement.
"So." He lifted the greataxe from his shoulder with one hand. "A human who knows Force."
Vael said nothing. His breathing slowed until it became almost imperceptible. His feet settled naturally against the broken stone beneath him, his grip firm but relaxed. The hexagonal mark across his hand glowed faintly as Combat Force flowed through his body.
The Commander nodded once. "Good. Then don't disappoint me."
Without warning, he vanished — the enormous body crossing the distance in a single explosive step. His axe descended like a collapsing mountain.
BOOM!
Vael met the strike. Steel screamed. A violent shockwave tore through the street, cracking the stone beneath both fighters. Nearby soldiers lost their footing as dust exploded outward.
Vael slid backward several meters before digging his heels into the ground. His arms trembled — not from fear, but from the sheer weight behind the attack.
"So this," Vael whispered, "...is Orc Force."
---
The Commander grinned. "You noticed."
He swung again — horizontal, fast, far faster than someone of his size should have been capable of. Vael ducked beneath the blade, and the greataxe carved through a stone building instead. Half the wall collapsed instantly.
The Orc didn't stop. He drove his shoulder forward. Vael crossed his arms to brace the impact, but it launched him across the street anyway. He rolled twice before recovering smoothly.
The Commander laughed again. "Good! You survive!"
---
Elsewhere across the battlefield, Lin disappeared — Phantom Step. Her figure flickered between collapsing buildings as she reached trapped civilians before the burning roofs could fall.
"This way!"
A frightened child froze. Lin grabbed him beneath one arm and vanished again; the roof crashed down behind her.
Another woman stumbled beneath fallen timber. Lin drew her sword — one clean slash — and the beam split apart.
"Run!"
The civilians rushed toward the evacuation line while soldiers covered their retreat.
---
Gran charged directly into a group of advancing Orc warriors, Combat Force surging through his artificial body. He leaped.
CRACK!
One Orc crashed into another. Gran never stayed still — he moved through the battlefield exactly as Chrono had taught him. Not toward the strongest enemy. Toward the weakest opening. Every mistake became another fallen opponent.
Nearby, Glask raised one skeletal hand. Dark mana spread beneath the feet of several Orcs, and the ground itself seemed to resist them. Their movements slowed — only slightly.
Enough.
Gran struck again.
---
High above the streets, Kael folded his wings. Hundreds of hardened feathers burst outward like a storm, forcing the Orc archers to raise their shields.
"Now!"
Elarion had already drawn his bow. Three arrows flashed through the opening — one struck an Orc's shoulder, another pierced a thigh, and the third embedded itself through a wrist, forcing a massive hammer from the warrior's grasp.
The elf frowned. "They're tougher than expected."
Kael nodded. "They're not using armor. They *are* the armor."
---
Chrono watched everything — every movement, every formation, every command.
The Orcs never chased fleeing civilians. Never wasted energy. Never broke formation.
"They're soldiers," he murmured. Not raiders. Not berserkers. An organized army.
A smaller Orc rushed toward him. Chrono stepped aside. "Magic Missile." Five streaks of blue light burst forward. The Orc blocked three; the remaining two exploded against his chest and staggered him.
Before he could recover, Chrono activated Combat Force. Power surged through his limbs, and his fist slammed into the Orc's ribs.
CRACK!
The warrior flew backward into a shattered wagon.
Chrono exhaled slowly. Combat Force strengthened his body. Magic controlled the battlefield. Separately, they were effective. Together, they became seamless.
---
Across the ruined street, the duel intensified.
The Orc Commander attacked relentlessly, each swing carrying overwhelming pressure. Every collision shook the surrounding buildings.
Vael continued retreating — not because he was losing, but because he was learning. Every exchange revealed something new. The Orc wasn't simply stronger. His Force exploded outward before every strike, disrupting balance, crushing breath, shaking resolve. It wasn't merely physical. It was psychological.
The Commander noticed Vael's changing expression. His grin widened. "You understand."
Vael finally answered. "...You're using Force before the attack lands."
The Orc laughed. "Exactly."
---
Their weapons collided again. This time, Vael didn't move. His breathing changed. His grip shifted almost imperceptibly.
The Commander raised an eyebrow.
Then — for the briefest instant — a faint star shimmered beneath Vael's sleeve. Thin. Almost invisible. Mana gathered around the blade before disappearing immediately.
The Commander froze. His smile vanished. "...What..."
Vael released it immediately. Not enough — he still couldn't maintain it. The star faded. Only ordinary Combat Force remained.
Chrono had seen it. Lin had seen it. Even Elarion's eyes had widened.
"...That wasn't Force."
The Commander stepped back slowly. For the first time since entering MistHaven, his confidence wavered. He stared at Vael's sword. Then smiled once more — not arrogantly, but with curiosity.
"...Interesting."
A horn echoed from somewhere beyond the western gate. The Orc Commander lowered his axe.
"Our objective is complete."
Every Orc disengaged at once. No hesitation. No disorder. Like a single body receiving one command. They withdrew through the shattered gate, carrying their wounded with them. No pursuit. No unnecessary deaths.
Only discipline.
Chrono watched the burning warehouses. The destroyed smithies. The broken supply depots. Then his eyes followed the retreating Orc Commander.
"This was never an invasion," he whispered. "It was sabotage."
---
Far beyond the western hills, the Commander glanced back one final time. "The humans adapted faster than expected."
A cloaked figure emerged from the shadows beside him. "They always do."
The Commander rested his greataxe upon his shoulder. "It changes nothing."
The cloaked figure looked toward the smoke rising above MistHaven. "The Beast Shepherd moves next."
The Commander nodded once. "Then our task is finished."
As both figures disappeared into the distance, Chrono remained standing before the ruined gate, his eyes never leaving the horizon.
The Beast Shepherd. The Orcs. The hidden spy inside MistHaven.
Three separate enemies. One carefully coordinated war.
And deep within his instincts, he felt something far more unsettling.
These were not the commanders. They were only the first pieces on the board.