Her efforts were in vain! The joyfully ringing voice of the enemy she had submitted to entered her ear and pierced her brain like an arrow. Sangre was truly dead. Why hadn't she given him the chance to make a sacrifice? She intended to end everything by surrendering herself. Why had events come full circle to this state?
She always thought that if she experienced something like this, she would go mad and slaughter anyone who crossed her path. This was the person she wanted to be in her mind; someone who didn't bow down, who made those who looked down on her bow their heads.
When the worst-case scenario became reality, Nafız faced a bitter truth. She didn't want to do anything she had planned in her head or constructed down to the finest detail. She was very sad; she just wanted to go to Sangre's side and stroke his head. Sitting there with her eyes closed, this was the only thought crossing her mind.
She was thinking about neither the joyfully ringing laughter of her enemy nor her own life and the lives of the other orcs; her only struggle was to stand up and go to the side of the person who had sacrificed his life for her.
She had no strength in her legs; her body weighed tons. Let alone standing on her two feet again, she didn't have the strength to open her eyes. She had fallen into bottomless pits and could find no way to get out. This situation would continue until a voice coming from the depths of her soul covered her agony.
"Nafız!"
"Person belonging to another world, sleep now!"
After a very long time, Nafız heard this voice again. The speaker was the person from whom she inherited her power.
"Have you realized that trying to be me is impossible? Let me shoulder the pain you are experiencing for you, my poor student!"
With every word, the pain burning Nafız's lungs eased a little more. Mora's voice was almost like a spring breeze. Her consciousness, seared with grief, could endure no longer; she collapsed to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
"Hey! Hey! Don't tell me you killed yourself. Where is your famous orc pride now?"
There was an arrogance in the Fifth Demon's intonations that would disgust listeners to their marrow. He was speaking shamelessly to humiliate the two orcs lying on the ground, one because he was dead and the other because she had fainted from sorrow.
His eyes were on the pair. Apart from disgust, the heavy shadow of his arrogance was also in his gaze. He removed the Fire Cage around the male orc, whom he was sure was dead, and began walking to learn the condition of the other orc lying on the ground.
He had taken only a few steps when he suddenly felt compelled to stop. There was no visible danger; he could prove he was completely safe with his five senses, yet somehow a distress settled inside him. His stomach began to ache as if his intestines were knotted together.
His gaze involuntarily fell upon the female orc; he felt a strange energy coming from her that he couldn't make sense of. A breath later, his premonition came true; the hair of the orc, standing bent over on her knees, was growing at an unimaginable speed. At the same time, the blood-red color that was only at the tips multiplied and covered all her hair.
Suddenly, a gasp was heard from the orc on the ground. It was deep and chilling, as if waking suddenly from a long sleep. The female orc slowly lifted her head, looking at the man coming toward her with eyes shining like two rubies in the darkness of the night.
"Blood Dome!"
A scream ripped through the silence. The person who had collapsed like a corpse just a moment ago was shouting madly while hitting the ground with her right hand. The sound that came out left everyone in astonishment. What made them so terrified wasn't its loudness or power. It wasn't the voice of the person they knew; someone completely different, whom they had never heard before, had shouted.
There was a red flow from the female orc's right hand on the ground into the soil. Designating this place as the center point, they were spreading to all four sides. As they advanced, they were forming various seal symbols. In no more than three breaths, they reached the Fifth Demon's Wall of Fire. They would extinguish them the moment they touched the flames. They didn't stop there; rising from the ground to the sky, they formed a blood-colored dome surrounding the battlefield.
"Who are you?"
Resbaladizo couldn't believe his eyes. The world around him had changed in an instant. They were inside the Orc Steppes; what was the percentage probability of encountering an expert of this caliber?
"You shitty brat of the Holy Fire Sect! How quickly my voice has been erased from that tiny brain of yours!"
The female orc, whose hair had grown down to her waist, spoke again, and the voice once more didn't belong to Nafız. This time the Fifth Demon seemed to remember something; his white face turned as pale as lime, and the sword he held in his hands was trembling violently.
"So you could only become the Fifth Demon, huh! I should have come to your laboratory, from which you fled with your tail between your legs that day, and killed you too!"
The female orc had already stood up. She was speaking while tossing her long blood-red hair, on which small sparkles wandered in the darkness of the night.
"Is this as high as you could rise, even though I tore all the bastards to pieces? You were always worth as much as a small rat in my eyes, but did you live all these years just to prove the truth of this, you loser!"
The air she emitted changed completely; she no longer stood slightly hunched. Her head was upright as if challenging the skies. The arrogance her gaze harbored was so intense that those exposed to it could do nothing but be crushed under it. Likewise, her words and the intonations she made while speaking changed, and this state was very ruthless. She was rolling over her interlocutor like a tank with her words.
"You died! You died a very long time ago!"
The black-cloaked man, who had been ranting from a high pitch a short while ago, began to stammer.
"If you surrendered to me, I would spare the lives of the other orcs, didn't you say? Then why did you not withdraw the pressure on the orc lying on the ground, even though you realized he would kill himself? You dishonorable wretch!"
The female orc didn't even deign to hear the fearful words of the Fifth Demon; she continued to interrogate the person opposite her.
"You died, Mora! You died a hundred years ago!"
The goatee-bearded man, whose eyes looked as if they would pop out of their sockets from fear, suddenly exploded. He repeated the sentence he constantly repeated inside, this time shouting at the top of his lungs.
"So you remembered me, huh, shitty brat! You finally remembered the name of Mora, the first slut in history to call herself The Blood God!"
Nafız was in a deep sleep. The person the female orc was right now, with her way of speaking, tone of voice, and the aura she emitted, was the woman who was once the Leader Heir of the Holy Blood Sect, one of the most important Sects of the Hell Realm.
"You rotten filth! I was saving the last crumb of my soul for the bitch who took the life of the first Blood Warrior I created, but now you caused the second one to kill himself!"
"You didn't witness what happened in the Royal Family's castle, did you? Because of your cowardice, you disappeared just before Misericordioso breathed his last, but don't worry, today I will show you what you missed!"
Mora completed her words, which she started calmly, almost spewing fire from her mouth. The Fifth Demon had been silent for a while; the fearful ravings spilling from his lips had been cut off like a knife. Since realizing the moment of life and death had come, only the struggle he would make was in his mind. Forcibly restraining his trembling hand, he raised his sword, whose flames were fanned, above his head.
"Look at this! Are you seriously thinking of fighting me?"
Mora's tense mood changed dramatically after the white-skinned man's movement. Leaning her head back, she let out a sultry laugh.