Ethan's world narrowed to the chaotic roar of the Orc camp, with grotesque shadows of the green-skinned beasts surrounding him.

[Challenge: Prevent the Rape of the Orc Queen]

Garkash's veined erection throbbed in the firelight. It was like a monstrous club aimed at the helpless Luka Voltha. The mighty Queen hung helplessly against the conjugal mast. Her white hair blew wildly amid embers in the wind while her wide eyes showed a mix of fear and defiance.

[Challenge: Prevent the Rape of the Orc Queen]

As if he needed additional motivation to stop his girl from getting pounded by force. He didn't even have the inclination to look at the rewards. There was no time for hesitation.

[MP: 120/160]

He had more than enough magical power for action, since there was only one target to finish. Ethan barged through the crowd of Orcs and cried out, "Garkash! Stop it! Let her go! Or I'll kill you!"

The Orc leader half-turned to see the human, as one would when disturbed by a mosquito. There was no way he'd put off lovemaking to the Queen for a puny creature. Instead, he flicked his wrist, and in response, hundreds of Orcs converged on the boy.

Ethan took a deep breath. He had only one chance to land his attack. He focused on the surface beneath Garkash's feet, whispering the incantation under his breath. "Magmatis stagnum!"

A glowing rune materialized, erupting into a seething puddle of magma. The heat blasted outward, scorching the wooden platform's edges and melting nearby stones to slag.

Ethan almost did a fist bump. He imagined that within seconds, he'd hear the Orc warlord's screams as the lava consumed him.

But Garkash didn't scream. In fact, he laughed a deep, rumbling bellow that made Ethan's heart sink. Something was off. Why wasn't the Orc leader troubled by the magma below his feet?

Stepping forward casually, Garkash's rune-etched boots sizzled against the molten rock but held together. Enchanted boots? It must be of the shaman's craftsmanship!

The magma bubbled harmlessly around the Orc leader's ankles. "Pathetic human trick!" Jibreel mocked from the sidelines. "My enchantments make the future king walk on fire, on lightning, on anything! Your silly magic doesn't work here, boy!"

Ethan's stomach dropped. The spell had drained him to [MP: 70/160], and for what? It was a completely wasted effort. Not only could he land a scratch on the target, but Luka was still in danger.

The crowd erupted in jeers and clanged their axes against shields. The Cromwell heir had grossly underestimated his opponent.

Garkash watched him from the corner of his eye. "You dare interrupt my mating? Your fortune ends now. As my army rips you to shreds, you will watch me breed the Queen!"

The platform swarmed with Orcs at his word. It was a tidal wave of muscle, tusks, and steel. Ethan backed up, staggering his feet, with his heart pounding like a hammer.

What could he do at this point against such a large number? Regardless, he couldn't let them touch Luka, not after everything. "Ghost Hands!" he shouted.

Invisible limbs exploded from his form. They latched onto the nearest two Orcs, crushing their throats with spectral force and hurling them into the bonfire. Flames roared up as the beasts screamed, and their bodies twisted in agony before going still.

But how much dent did two kills make? There were probably a thousand more surrounding Ethan.

[MP: 60/160]

Jibreel chanted in Orcish, sending a dark bolt of energy towards Ethan. He dodged, rolling to the side as it scorched the ground where he had stood a second ago.

"Secas!" A razor-sharp wave of cutting magic sliced through the air, severing an Orc's arm and bisecting another in a spray of red-green blood. The severed limb twitched on the platform as a deterrent, but more Orcs surged forward.

[MP: 50/160]

Ethan fought off many of the advancing creatures with his natural strength and speed. This enraged Garkash. He jumped into the fray, still sporting an erection. He charged like a rampaging bull, swinging his club in a wide arc.

"Leave him to me!"

Ethan summoned Ghost Hands again to parry the attack, but the force was overwhelming. The phantoms shattered mid-grapple, dissipating into nothing. Ethan was thrown back with the impact.

He somersaulted and leaped back, invoking "Lapor!". The club in Garkash's hand boiled and fried, the metal warping as super-heated oil sputtered from it.

The warlord roared, dropping the weapon with blistered hands, but he didn't stop. Garkash lunged at the boy with his bare fists.

[MP: 30/160]

The shaman wasn't idle either. Ethan had expected Jibreel to cut off his magic, but apparently that would limit all his own protections on the Orc leader. Instead, the shaman summoned shadow clones of Garkash.

Five identical versions of the Orc leader scattered themselves across the platform, surrounding Ethan. The boy now couldn't tell which one was real. He blasted one with "Liquisha!", melting it to a puddle of goo. Fake!

[MP: 10/160],

The real Garkash emerged from the shadows, landing a debilitating punch to Ethan's back. The boy's vision filled with spots while his limbs grew heavy, and he almost fell down face-first. Gathering his senses, he staggered away from the Orc leader's reach, while barely avoiding an ax swing from another that grazed his side. Jelly Skin protected him.

Orcs closed in from all sides, their grunts and snarls filling him with anxiety. Ethan fought like a cornered animal. One of the generals of Garkash swung wildly at him incessantly. Jelly Skin absorbed the first two strikes. The blades bounced off his flesh like rubber. But the third pierced through, and the spear tip gouged his thigh.

[HP: 85/100]

Blood welled out from the wound. He healed it partially with "Anima sans!" The self-healing spell knitted his flesh just enough to keep him standing.

[MP: 0/160]

His mana was gone now, the entire reserve tapped dry. There were too many, probably dozens in close proximity, with Garkash and Jibreel directing the assault like conductors of death.

Surrounded at last, Ethan pressed his back to the conjugal mast. "Can you talk?" he asked, laden with guilt and helplessness.

"You… are… an idiot…" Luka mumbled. "Get out of here before you die."

"So, it seems you're okay. I just… You know… maybe it is not the right time… but maybe I will never get to ask you again…"

"What… are you… talking about…?"

"Will you go out with me? Like, on a date?"

Luka raised her face and looked at Ethan as if he had lost his mind. Then she broke into a pained chuckle. "Just because I sucked your cock doesn't mean I'll be your girlfriend."

Ethan made a grumbling noise as he kicked a spear away with a split kick. "So I have no chance?"

Ethan smiled boyishly and winked at her. "My first rejection in Promiscua, but it feels good and warm."

Garkash snatched a whip from a nearby minion, cracking it through the air. "What are you heathens whispering about? Queen! How about some foreplay before our honeymoon, dear!"

Crack! The lash struck Luka's thigh, ripping her tattered prisoner rags and exposing more of her smooth white skin. Another snap. A red welt bloomed across her full, heaving breasts. She cried out, and the sound pierced Ethan's heart. The crowd cheered wildly, their lust and blood-thirst mingling in their roars.

"No!" Ethan growled, positioning himself fully in front as a shield, a human barrier. Garkash's lashes instead ripped into his body like venomous snakes.

[HP: 55/100]

This way, he was going to die first. Who asked him to be a hero of tragedy?

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