Pinned against the wall by Beatrix's magic, Ethan felt the invisible force pressing into his chest, making it hard to breathe. He realized it must be decree magic.

The distant roar of the Orc rave—drums pounding, chants rising and falling like a reverie. It was funny to be deep in enemy territory with his own allies turning on him.

"Calm down, both of you," Ethan said. He locked eyes with Beatrix, refusing to look away. "I get it. You think I'm crazy or foolish. But listen to me first. I can't tell you every detail right now. At least, not here, where walls have ears. But I have an understanding with someone in the Orc Queen's army. It's not as wild as it sounds."

"Her side isn't like Garkash's bloodthirsty outfit. They're different. If we forewarn the Queen about this assassin plot, we could flip them to our side. Get them to join the humans and Elves to protect Gulchtown."

Beatrix's grip on his collar tightened, her nails digging in slightly. She searched his face, as if trying to spot the lie. "An understanding? With an Orc? What does that even mean? Did you bump into one during your little solo adventure earlier? The one where you came back looking guilty and smelling like a wet dog? Is that why you were asking about ivory-skinned Orcs?"

Ethan kept his expression neutral, though his mind flashed back to the stream. Luka's warm mouth around his genitals, and her ivory skin glistening in the water, was a permanently pleasant memory.

He couldn't tell them everything. Not yet, maybe never. It would only make things worse. "Don't get too paranoid. My point is, they're not all monsters. The Orc Queen likely wants peace, or at least a way out of the endless fighting."

"On the other hand, Garkash wants her abducted, violated, and turned into some breeding tool to claim the throne. If we warn her and save her from that ending, we will gain permanent allies among Orcs. Think how that would turn the politics of this world."

"But they are Orcs—" Athena began.

"Strong ones who know Orc raid tactics inside out. If we want to save Gulchtown and my mother, we need every edge. Trust me on this."

Athena let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head slowly. Her arms remained crossed. "Do you really think we can trust you after that stunt? You're dreaming, Count. Orcs will never join humans and Elves. They've been raiding villages and slaughtering innocents for centuries. What makes you think one 'understanding' changes a damn thing? You're grasping at straws because you want to play the big hero."

"It's a real chance," Ethan insisted. He pushed against the magic holding him, but it didn't budge. "Garkash is the real monster here. If we help the Queen, we can turn the tide in our favor."

Beatrix stared at him for a long, tense moment. Then, without warning, she released the magic. She reared back and slapped him across the face, harder than was appropriate.

Ethan's JELLYSKIN passive skill was already at level 2, and hence, he barely felt the slap. However, her action hurt him.

"You're delusional, Ethan Cromwell!" the witch raged. "Completely crazy! Orcs are savages! They rape, pillage, and eat their enemies alive. Your 'contact' is probably laughing at you right now, setting a trap to gut you like a fish!"

She stepped back, rubbing her hand as if the slap had hurt her too. Athena nodded sharply. "She's right. You're acting like a hero because you're helpless otherwise. A weakling prince, cooped up in that fancy castle your whole life, nothing to do but read books and play with your sisters. Now you're out here in the real world, and you think volunteering for suicide missions makes you tough? It's pathetic, and it'll get us all killed. We should've left you behind."

Ethan's jaw clenched, and for the first time, he felt anger towards the warrior and the witch. After everything he'd been through—the reincarnation, dying and coming back, fighting off Orcs with spells he barely understood. He'd clawed his way through this world, system or no system. "You don't know a damn thing about me," he growled, his voice trembling with rage. "I've handled more than you could imagine. And I'm not—"

Beatrix pushed the air with her hand, intending to slam the Prince into the wall with magical force. However, this time, Ethan's instinct took over before he could realize what was going on.

His GHOST HANDS skill activated on its own, phantom arms surging from him like extensions of his will. They slammed into Beatrix, shattering her passive defense spell. They struck her in the shoulders with surprising force, throwing her back across the alley.

The witch crashed into the opposite wall with a grunt, dust and bits of clay crumbling around her. The impact knocked the wind out of her, and she slid down, eyes wide in shock.

Athena's sword was out in a flash. "What the hell was that?" she demanded, pointing the tip at Ethan's chest. Her stance was ready, her muscles coiled like a spring, poised to kill him.

Beatrix coughed, scrambling to her feet. "You... you threw me without touching me? That felt like shadow hands grabbing me. What kind of dark magic are you into, Ethan? Demons? Curses? Did the ivory-skinned Orc teach you something? Answer us!"

Ethan's anger simmered. Did he just hurt his allies? The Ghost Hands faded as he regained control. He rubbed his slapped cheek, glaring at them both.

The skill had kicked in without him even thinking, which was odd. "It's none of your business what it is," he snapped. "But yeah, I can defend myself. Don't underestimate the value of books and private experiments in teaching you valuable lessons. Not everything is learned through practice."

Athena and Beatrix looked scandalized and taken aback by Ethan's outburst. In their eyes, he had been a perverted fish out of water. Now they saw him in a new light, slightly intimidated.

"I don't need babysitting like some helpless kid," the Prince added. "I've got tricks you don't know about, and they've kept me alive so far. If you think I'm weak, fine. But don't underestimate me."

"Count Cromwell—" Athena began, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Enough!" Ethan thundered. "If you don't trust me, that's your problem. I'll go to the white caves by myself if I have to. I'll join the Orc assassins, do the reconnaissance, and warn the Queen. You two can head to Gulchtown your way, without me slowing you down. Do what you think is right."

Athena lowered her sword slowly, exchanging a long look with Beatrix. "Are you serious? You want to split up in the middle of Orc territory? That's suicide. We are responsible for keeping you safe—"

"You've done a bang-up job of that," Ethan snapped. "I almost died twice, and you were still figuring out how to save your own asses. I'm done with your pontification and superiority complex. Girls, both of you are deadbeats. I don't need your help or your company."

The room fell silent for a moment. Even though the Cromwell heir's outburst was justified, he felt instant regret. Beatrix and Athena had been sincere in trying to protect him. They meant well.

Beatrix sighed, rubbing her shoulder where the Ghost Hands had hit her. "Fine. Go and play the hero if it seems like fun. But if you die out there, we're not responsible. We'll head to Gulchtown at dawn and try to rally with Lady Velma's guards. We'll tell her that her son didn't survive the expedition."

Athena wanted to protest the witch's decision, but thought against it. Much toxicity had already been broiled between them. It was perhaps too late to mend things.

She sheathed her blade with a click. "Our group is disbanded as of now. Watch your back, Count. Orcs don't play fair. And if your 'tricks' fail... We'll come back to burn your corpse before it is eaten."

Ethan nodded curtly. "Same to you." He pushed past them, feeling a vacuum in his chest. He missed Artis Lupine. She was the only one who truly understood him, and he didn't defend her when the witch and the warrior hounded her. Served him right to be alone right then.

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