"You're qualified." The towering orc guard grunted almost reluctantly as he stepped aside to let him in. He definitely preferred the other punchline.
Although the self-important nobleman was two heads shorter than the black orc in front of him -which was no small feat considering the orc warrior was at least three meters tall-, there was a degree of physical resemblance between them that was hard to define.
The man could be considered handsome, but he was rather broad-shouldered and muscular for his age with pale skin that tended towards a delicate muddy green. Two cute white canines protruded from his lower lips. His jaw was square, in contrast to the immaturity of his face, and he had thick eyebrows and black hair blowing down his back. He could have been mistaken for a weird human, but his thick, dark fingernails were identical to those of the black orc in front of him.
"It's a Dire High-Orc." Magnus revealed unheeded in his mind. "They are the equivalent of royalty and there is less than one for every 500,000 Orcs. One High Orc is born for every 1000 Orcs and they are always raised as the chosen ones by the horde they were born into. A High Orc looks more like a human, their physique and face being more pleasing and harmonious to the eye according to our standards of beauty. They are about as tall as humans but weigh twice as much as other Orcs, even though the latter are taller and stronger, while their physical and mental abilities are vastly superior. A Dire High-Orc like this one is usually raised and treated like a prince by his kind. If I am not mistaken, he must be connected to House Nezug."
Never once granting a glance to Danchun still sitting on the floor glaring at him, a faint, supercilious smile came over the aristocrat's face and he strode with his hands in his pockets into the store. His companions entered after him, dangling various silver and golden badges at the black orc's nose.
When the one who had pushed Danchun was about to enter, a terrifying grip crushed his collarbone, locking him in place. Stifling a throaty grunt of pain, he shook his arm off his shoulder and turned to the reckless man who had dared to attack him.
"What the heck are you doing? Do you even know who I am?" The culprit, who was a 20 year old uncommonly ugly man with most likely some mountain troll genes in his lineage, growled in anger, his glassy eyes bloodshot.
Ikaris scanned him with his Appraisal Spell and muttered inwardly, 'He's really Half-Mountain Troll...'
Suppressing his amusement, he shot back in a chilling tone,
"Don't you think you should apologize first?"
"To whom? You? Over your dead body?
"Please, do try." Ikaris retorted with a blood-curdling smile.
His slit pupils suddenly narrowed as his golden eyes also began to glow defiantly. His dormant Blood Energy flowed rapidly through his body while some Dark and Death Mana involuntarily leaked out.
The Half-Troll youth's expression changed immediately and he leapt backwards, brandishing the huge steel club slung across his back. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, his opponent had already disappeared.
All of a sudden, he felt his hair stand on end as he felt the air rustle a few inches from his neck. He hastily turned around and raised his weapon, but from the opposite direction a vicious shoulder slam knocked the heavy creature into the air for about ten meters.
As he realized in which direction the troll had been flung, Ikaris regained his senses and an expression of horror and panic distorted his face. The store!
When the one who had shoved Danchun was about to crash right into the shop window, the black orc standing guard appeared like a ghost in front of him and grabbed his skull with his huge hand. Like a soccer goalkeeper clearing a ball with his hand, he tossed it without restraint in another direction, the young troll crashing miserably into a currently vacant space.
The troll immediately got up, livid with rage, but as he met the black orc's warning gaze he swallowed his saliva. Dusting the dirt off his clothes as if nothing had happened, he walked past Ikaris without stopping. Still, the words "Next time we meet you're dead" reached his ear.
The Half-Troll flashed his silver badge at the black orc with an unexpected thick skin. He had neither blushed nor looked away from the one who had just thrown him like a baseball.
After repeating "You're qualified" one last time with a bad mood nearing its peak, Ikaris' group was left alone on the doorstep except for one person.
One of the aristocrats accompanying the Dire High-Orc had not yet entered and walked instead to Danchun to offer his hand and help her up.
"Are you okay?" He expressed his concern, flashing a smile that was meant to be friendly. "I want to apologize for the behavior of my friends. They only respect strength. They are more honorable than one might think at first."
Danchun swatted his hand away, taking Ikaris' hand instead with a nod of approval, "You've made progress. The timing of your Stealth Spell was perfect. But next time don't do that. If you step in every time one of us gets roughed up you'll have a hard time keeping a low profile."
A slightly stiff smile appeared on Ikaris' face after being reprimanded. It wasn't that he had wanted to fight, but that he had a rather explosive temper ever since his body combined four different bloodlines.
It was hard to tell which of the Crawling, the Nephilim, the Werewolf or the Vampire inside him had gotten mad first. For a fleeting moment, he had actually stopped thinking about the consequences.
He immediately swore to himself to spend the next three nights consolidating his I Am Me Spell.
Then staring at the nobleman who had just apologized for his despicable friends, Danchun retorted coldly,
"If he's that honorable, he would have apologized first."
The one who held out his hand to help her up was a young man of 17-18 years old with an androgynous physique, short black hair, sallow complexion, beardless, dark eyes slightly slanted and dressed entirely in black. He was holding a golden badge in his right hand, and his only weapon was a small cylindrical flask hanging from his belt.
The latter's face stiffened when he received Danchun's caustic remark, but a civil smile soon lightened the mood.
"My name is Jared Vi Loki, from House Gemini. The one who pushed you is one of Caim Nezug's minions, Hangek. He's not worth your time. I'll tell Caim to reprimand him later. Until then."
Without another word, he entered the store after his comrades, leaving Ikaris and his group alone at last.
"So which one is it?" Nardor sneered once those aristo bastards had left. "If this Hangek is the underling who pushed you, I'm guessing this Caim is the douchey guy walking at the head of this group who gave you a scornful look."
"Don't provoke him." Mira, the more rational and mature twin of the two, laconically dissuaded him. "The House of Nezug is known for its warlike tendencies. They never let an affront to their honor go unpunished, and to my knowledge they never apologize unless the victim is stronger than they are or important economic and political issues force them to make a concession. And most importantly, House Morgunis and House Nezug are allies. At least, officially. If I were you, I'd avoid causing any more trouble after what just happened yesterday."
"What happened yesterday?" Her sister Newen asked as her big doe eyes widened.
"Sigh..." Mira closed her eyes with an exasperated look. "You should read the paper more often. Yesterday, one of the new Lords who joined House Nezug last month killed one of the new Lords of House Morgunis after gaining his trust. This was in this morning's news. After having a few drinks together, the Lord from House Morgunis invited him to his territory through his Transportation Portal. Once there, the Lord of House Nezug kept the Tartarus Enforcer busy with his own escort and took the opportunity to kill the Lord and steal his Stele."
"Something like that happened yesterday?" Ikaris and the others were speechless.
Because Tartarus Shade looked peaceful, one might mistakenly think that the Ruling Houses and the Lords affiliated with them got along well, but the reality was quite different. This Lord who had been killed must have been one of those recruited by House Morgunis in the past 9 days after the fall of the Great Wall.
It had only taken one breach of trust under the influence of alcohol for him to lose his life.
And there was only one lesson to be learned. They should not easily trust. Even if a friend seemed trustworthy, he should never invite another Lord and his troops into his territory without a very good reason.
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