Aelira watched Azrael creep forward, his hand signaling them to follow.

She exchanged a glance with Astrid who was perched silently in the branches above. Astrid gave a tiny shrug, a gesture that spoke volumes. They both knew.

Astrid had seen the larger group of orcs from her vantage point in the trees. A whole pack, not just the lone one Azrael had spotted.

Aelira, with her heightened elven senses, had felt the heavy, brutish presence nearby long before Azrael even noticed the single scout. It was dangerous, stupidly dangerous to engage here.

She had wanted to tell them, to order a retreat. But then she saw Azrael, playing the leader, gesturing for them to follow the sound of the lone orc. He was so confident, so oblivious. And Astrid… Aelira could practically feel the simmering amusement and annoyance coming off the catgirl.

When Azrael started gesturing for an attack, Astrid played along perfectly. She acted attentive, following right behind him, mimicking his cautious steps. Aelira sighed internally.

This was Astrid's cruel little game.

Aelira felt the presence shift to their left. Through a gap in the leaves, she could clearly see three more large orcs moving through the underbrush. Then she saw Azrael looking back, nodding at them, whispering his countdown.

'How foolish,' she thought, a flicker of contempt crossing her face.

Astrid caught her eye again, a manic, predatory smile briefly flashing across before vanishing. Aelira knew instantly what the plan was.

Azrael turned his back, focused entirely on the lone orc. "Two… One…"

"Now!" he shouted, rushing forward with his single sword drawn.

The moment he charged, Aelira and Astrid didn't follow. They turned and melted back into the shadows, moving swiftly and silently away from the clearing, leaving him completely alone.

They rushed back towards the village.

"That was almost too easy," Astrid purred, lighting a fresh cigarette as they broke through the tree line. "He really is an idiot."

"He is reckless," Aelira stated coldly. "And now he is likely dead."

They reached the village outskirts send letter for their other team to retreat then just as Aria, Silas, and Selyne were returning from their own fruitless patrol around Kerua.

"Where's Azrael?" Selyne asked immediately, her eyes scanning behind them.

Aelira put on a mask of grave concern. "Orcs. We were ambushed. There were too many."

Astrid added, shaking her head sadly, "He fought bravely. Tried to hold them off so we could escape."

"He… he didn't make it?" Selyne whispered, her face paling. Gulp.

Aelira placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, a gesture completely at odds with her usual demeanor. "We did what we could. We need to inform the village elders immediately. We need backup."

They knew it was impossible for Azrael to have survived alone against a dozen orcs. He was dead weight, eliminated from the mission. Good riddance.

-- -- --

Azrael wasn't dead well not yet.

Yet. He was unconscious, slung over the shoulder of a massive orc like a freshly killed deer.

He had done everything he could. When he realized he was alone, facing not one but over a dozen hulking green monsters.

He had charged the nearest one, his sword swinging. The blade hit the orc's thick hide and bounced off with a dull thud, the metal bended into a useless crescent shape.

He used his threads, sending them whipping through the air. The orcs just looked confused, swatting at the shimmering lines as if they were annoying insects. They didn't even feel them.

He used Puppet Bind, trying to control their limbs, but their raw strength snapped the threads instantly. He used Cutting Line on surrounding rocks and vines, sending showers of debris at them.

It did nothing but annoy them. A small stone hit one orc in the eye. It roared in anger, and a massive, green fist slammed into the side of Azrael's head.

Darkness.

Now, he was traveling deeper into the forest, a feast being delivered to the Orc Queen. Saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth as he remained lost in his dark and dreamless sleep.

The orcs reached their village, a crude settlement of timber huts and animal hide tents hidden deep within the Alora forest.

They dumped Azrael unceremoniously onto the muddy ground in the center of the village. One orc remained to guard him, leaning on its massive club and watching him with bored, beady eyes.

The others dispersed, one heading towards a larger, more decorated hut at the far end – the Queen's chamber.

After some time, Azrael's eyes fluttered open. Pain throbbed in his head. He looked around, his vision slowly focusing. Huts. Furs. The smell of woodsmoke and something vaguely unpleasant. Orcs moving around, working, sharpening crude weapons.

His mind processed the situation. 'Orc village. Captured. Great.'

He saw the guard, the same orc whose eye he had hit. It stood a short distance away, arms crossed, looking utterly unconcerned that its prisoner might try to escape.

Foolishly, Azrael pushed himself up. He took a small, hesitant step sideways.

Thud.

The orc took one heavy step towards him, slamming the butt of its club on the ground. It was a clear statement: Don't move.

Azrael froze. But before he could even think of another plan, rough hands grabbed him from behind. Another orc lifted him effortlessly, pinning his arms to his sides with an iron grip around his waist.

He was dragged away towards the large hut. Inside, the chamber was surprisingly decorated, in a brutal, ancient way. Torches flickered on the walls, casting dancing shadows. Skulls and bones were used as crude decorations. A beautiful, intricately patterned beast skin served as a rug in the center.

He was brought to a stop in front of a large, throne-like chair made of wood and bone. A female orc sat there, larger and more imposing than the males. She smiled, revealing sharp tusks, as she looked him over. She tossed a few chunks of raw meat towards the orc holding him. The orc bowed its head low, grunted its thanks, and left.

The Queen banged her fist on the armrest of her throne. Another orc entered. She barked something in a harsh, guttural language that Azrael couldn't understand. The orc grabbed him and dragged him towards a corner of the chamber.

There was a cage, made of thick, sharpened wooden spikes reinforced with crude steel bands. He struggled, trying to break the grip, but he was thrown down hard inside the cell. The heavy door slammed shut. The orc turned a thick steel rod mechanism on the outside, locking it tight. Then it left. The Queen also rose and departed, leaving him alone in the cage.

He was alone. He immediately tried everything.

He pulled on the bars, but they didn't budge.

He sent his threads out through the gaps, grabbing loose stones, pieces of bone, anything he could use to bash against the cage.

Nothing was strong enough. He tried manipulating the lock mechanism with his threads, but it wasn't a complex lock; it was just a lock which was made by bending the steel rod from outside the cage. His threads were too weak to turn it.

After losing all hope, he slumped to the floor, tired and defeated.

Ding.

A familiar blue screen popped into his vision.

[Path to Survive: Calculating…]

Azrael's eyes glowed. 'My savior! Almighty system, thank you! Please help me here!'

[Path Found. Host needs to spend points in the shop.]

Azrael looked at his point balance.

[1010 P].

Not even enough for a decent skill, let alone something to break out of an orc prison.

'Are you kidding me, system?! I'm practically penniless! Are you just trolling me here?'

[System: System can lend the desired points. However, the Host will have to repay double the amount.]

'Debt? I don't care about debt! Just give me points and a path to survive! If I don't do something, I'm dead anyway!'

[Accept loan of 100,000 Points? Clause: Double the amount (200,000 P) must be repaid within one month. Failure will result in Host's stats reverting to initial values.]

He barely registered the second part. One month? Double? Fine. Whatever. He just needed out.

'Yes!'

[System Processing… 100,000 Points added.]

[Balance: 101,010 P]

[Searching Shop for Optimal Survival Item…]

Azrael's eyes glowed with anticipation. 'Come on, system! Give me something good! A legendary sword! An explosion spell! I knew I'd become strong enough to destroy a whole damn village one day! What better place to start than this orc pit?'

[Item Found. Optimal item based on current situation and Host potential.]

[Confirm Purchase: Yes / No?]

'Hell yeah! Buy it!'

[Purchase Confirmed.]

He waited, bracing himself for a surge of power, a new weapon materializing, anything. Instead… nothing happened. Or, at least, nothing he could feel immediately.

'What? What did it buy?' He quickly checked his status.

[◈ STATUS MANIFEST ◈]

[Name: Azrael Ashveil]

[Rank: Expert]

[◈ CORE ATTRIBUTES ◈]

Strength: 40 / 100

Agility: 32 / 100

Endurance: 18 / 100

Intelligence: 13 / 100

Aether: 30 / 100

Luck: 50 / 100

Charisma: 70 / 100

He stared. And stared. His points were gone. And the only change…

[Charisma: 70 / 100]

'What the fuck?! Charm?! The most useless stat in this entire damned system?! Shit! This trashy system! I took a loan for this?!'

He wanted to scream. He wanted to break something. But before his rage could fully ignite, he heard footsteps.

The Orc Queen had returned. She stood outside his cage, looking at him with a strange, curious expression.

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