Here's the thing about fighting Orcs with a kitchen knife: it's stupid.
Kael knew this. He'd killed thousands of Orcs in his first life with weapons forged from dragon bone and enchanted with enough magic to make a physicist cry. The idea of facing even one with an 8-inch chef's knife was objectively insane.
But Kael had two advantages no other human on Earth possessed right now.
First: ten years of combat experience burned into his muscle memory. His body was Level 1, but his instincts were SSS-Rank.
Second: he knew exactly how Orcs fought. Every species, every variant, every sub-boss. He'd written the damn guidebook — literally. In his first timeline, he'd authored the Hunter's Bestiary that became standard issue for every guild on the planet.
The Orc Warchief swung its cleaver in a horizontal arc — standard opening move, designed to create distance and establish dominance. Kael had seen it ten thousand times.
He ducked.
The blade whistled over his head close enough to trim his hair. He didn't flinch. Flinching was for people who hadn't died before.
While the Warchief was mid-swing and off-balance, Kael lunged forward. His target: the gap between the jaw guard and the chest plate, where a thick artery ran close to the surface. In a regular Orc, this spot was protected by a leather throat guard. In a Warchief, the larger jaw guard actually created a bigger gap because the armor smith compensated for skull size but not neck anatomy.
The chef's knife sank in to the handle.
The Warchief made a sound like a broken garbage disposal and staggered backward, green-black blood spraying in an arc. Not a kill shot — Kael's F-Rank strength wasn't enough to sever the artery — but enough to stagger it and buy time.
[Critical Hit! Damage: 47]
[Orc Warchief HP: 2,953/3,000]
Forty-seven damage. Out of three thousand.
Kael wanted to laugh. Or cry. Possibly both.
"Okay," he muttered, yanking his knife free and rolling sideways as a second Orc's club cratered the ground where he'd been standing. "So brute force isn't the play. Good to know."
He ran.
Not away from the Orcs — through them. Weaving between their legs, ducking under swings, using their own massive bodies as shields against each other. Twenty years of parkour training (first life hobby) combined with SSS-Rank combat instincts made him a ghost. The Orcs couldn't hit what they couldn't track.
But he wasn't just running. He was leading them.
The park had a maintenance building on its east side — concrete walls, a metal roof, and most importantly, a propane tank for the groundskeeper's equipment. Kael had cleared this park in his first life. He knew every building, every tree, every underground pipe.
He reached the maintenance building thirty seconds ahead of the Orc horde and ripped open the propane tank's valve with his knife. Gas hissed into the air, invisible but potent.
Then he grabbed the emergency flare from the building's safety kit, lit it, and waited.
The Warchief was the first to round the corner, blood still dripping from its neck wound, rage burning in its yellow eyes. Behind it, the horde funneled into the narrow space between the building and the park wall.
Kael met the Warchief's eyes.
"For the record, this is really going to hurt me too."
He threw the flare.
The world turned white.
The explosion launched Kael thirty feet backward into a hedge that did absolutely nothing to cushion his landing. Every bone in his body screamed. His HP dropped to a sliver.
But when the smoke cleared and his ears stopped ringing, the notification storm made it worth it.
[Orc Grunt defeated! +50 EXP]
[Orc Grunt defeated! +50 EXP]
[Orc Grunt defeated! +50 EXP]
[... x24]
[Orc Warrior defeated! +120 EXP]
[... x5]
[Level Up! Level 1 → Level 4]
Kael pulled himself out of the hedge, spitting leaves and blood. Through the settling dust, he could see the maintenance building was gone — just a crater now. Most of the Orcs were down. Charred. Done.
Most.
The Warchief stood at the edge of the blast zone. Burned, bleeding, missing one arm, and absolutely livid. Its remaining hand gripped its cleaver, and its eyes locked onto Kael with the kind of hatred that transcended species.
[Orc Warchief HP: 487/3,000]
"Of course," Kael said flatly. "You're the boss monster. You don't just die from explosions. That would be convenient, and the System doesn't do convenient. Not for me."
The Warchief charged.
Kael had 12 HP, a kitchen knife that was now bent at a 20-degree angle, and legs that felt like overcooked noodles. By any reasonable calculation, he should be dead in the next three seconds.
Fortunately, Kael hadn't been reasonable in a very long time.
He didn't dodge the charge. Instead, he stepped INTO it — inside the arc of the cleaver, so close to the Warchief that he could smell its breath (rotting meat and sulfur, in case anyone was wondering). His knife found the same gap in its throat armor, the same wound from before, and this time he didn't just stab.
He twisted.
The Warchief's remaining hand caught him across the chest, sending him flying. He felt ribs crack. His vision went red, then black at the edges.
But when he hit the ground and looked up, the Warchief was on its knees. The knife — his stupid, beautiful, bent kitchen knife — was still embedded in its throat, and this time the artery was open.
The Warchief fell forward and didn't move.
[Orc Warchief defeated! +500 EXP]
[Level Up! Level 4 → Level 7]
[Achievement Unlocked: First Blood — Defeat a C-Rank monster at Level 1]
[Reward: Skill Book (Random)]
[Skill Acquired: Shadow Step (Rare)]
Kael lay on his back in the ruined park, bleeding from places he didn't want to think about, staring at the sky through the slowly closing Rift.
A laugh bubbled up from his chest. Then another. Then he was cackling like a lunatic, alone in a field of dead Orcs, covered in green blood and hedge clippings.
The System had thrown him a C-Rank dungeon on Day One.
He'd cleared it with a kitchen knife and a propane tank.
"That all you got?"
The [Paradox Mark] pulsed once, like a heartbeat. Or a warning.
[The System is watching.]
Kael's smile didn't waver.
"Good. Watch closely."
[End of Chapter 3]
Next Chapter: Kael's impossible victory doesn't go unnoticed. The Hunters Association has questions. So does a certain information broker.