CHPT 533: Got It Out The Mud

Five…..

Eight…..

CRNCH!

AARP!

Seven….

The Orcs are heartless fu—

Twelve…

Twenty…

Twenty PitWolves. An adolescent Primal and Glorian Lion. They'd fallen into combative step with Claude a while ago. A whole new mapped out network of interpersonal animalistic linkage and magical tissue coursed through his brain like the threads of a HexBlade. A magical mesh laid over his mind.

He was plugged into the world. It was wrong minutes ago. As he ran his spear through another Orc— he dodged the oncoming blow of a fist only to realize it was from a punch thrown by an Orc a mile away at one of his wolves.

That mistake cost him that wolf. But like the heads of a hydra, three more came in stride. Only they weren't a hydra. They were Wolves, taken out of their norm and forced into a war at his behest.

"Worry about it later."

Warzones didn't make good moral debate locations.

And Orcs didn't make good training dummies for your newest abilities. They hit too har—

CRACK!

An Orc swung the base of a broken tree at Claude knocking him and a handful of PitWolves through the sparse woodland like tumbleweeds. Like musclebound rugs.

The smell of fire tickled his nostrils as Isaac lit the dry land around the attacking Orc— only giving its tree-staff a new damaging component.

He could hear Ursula tank a blow from the fire staff to freeze dry it to wooden shards.

Claude exploded to his feet in a burst of green life waves that sewed closed the PitWolves injuries and torn ligaments. Then he was in for the kill, going reptilian in abandonment of his wolffish form as Diamondback joined him. Scaled head low and septic teeth bared.

He whistled and the other Wolves circled, guarding off Maris Warren and Ursula in circular shields of dominating force.

The Orc welcomed him, digging his hoof-nailed bare feet into the dry floor and mustering up the Orcish magic pool simmering in his flabby gut. Frothy magical saliva spilled from his snout and down his tusks. Magical bile smells filled the air like firesmoke.

The source. Elves had Aether. Humans had Systems. Orcs had Diets. What they ate was their power. It's why Goblins were sometimes called Low-Orcs. The two are uncannily tied to greed. Gluttony and greed.

"WRAUGH!"

The Orc swung its hammy fist preemptively as Claude and Diamondback veered left.

Knuckles ate up the wind as Claude jumped, flipping over the attack to go back right.

FWIP!

He landed with his Malevolence Tether wrapped around the boar-monsters arm and Diamondback biting down on its left leg.

With two yanks from opposite ends, the creature fell with enough force to make a man want to yell timber.

The moment its face hit the ground, Loba fell from the trees in a blinding pounce of dee auburn claw and fury.

CRSH!

Her jaws clamped down on the back of its neck. But he didn't hear bone sna—

"MOVE!"

Loba jumped but the Orc caught her backleg— seemingly attempting to give her a chance to outdo Frosty in the leg scar department.

Before it could stand Claude threw his spear into its face, ramming it deeper with a front kick.

CRSHH!

[+400 EXP]

The PitWolves dispersed like sand under wind. Weaving through the dry land chaos on a predestined path mapped into their brains.

Ursula and the others by now learned the tempo of their battle and followed them.

Claude stayed behind.

There was that feeling again.

The one Maris had with the Vampires before her ancestors came to say hi. Before Claude learned to Wood-Weave. Or anything of importance.

That itch.

His eyes closed and the world so focused it was deafening. He was back in the forest. Back to being a Druid and not much else.

"Claude what are you doing there's like ten Orcs coming, man!?"

Claude shoved aside the Orc corpse with his foot and held his hands out over the ground. Mapping out the floor. Feeling his toes brush the grass. Feeling how the wind changed shape against his skin as it blew around and through the world. Shaping. Mapping through the eyes of Wolves.

The tips of his fingers glimmered embers tipped his claws.

He began wood-weaving. No nature moved in his immediate area but the grounds shook and monsters roared as vines and branches from the trees began moving with the attacking PitWolves and students.

He was rough. His ability to ride the minds of others was one he didn't train directly. He used it on instinct if at all. So he made missteps. He tripped as his surroundings changed from still grounds to mid-air attacks or skirmishes through spiked bushes.

His wood constructs knicked wolves or got in Maris' way in between acrobatic swordswings and evades.

But eventually.

"Fuck..."

[+250 EXP]

[+700 EXP]

[+500 EXP]

[+370 EXP]

[+500 EXP]

DING!

(You have Leveled Up!)

(You are now Level 58!)

(5 Stat Points Available)

(+2 Stat Points)

(Your Companion has tamed an uncommon Number of PitWolves and has now gained the status of High Pit-Alpha! All Canine Based Abilities increased!)

Claude opened his eyes and shook off the sweat, swatting away his System screen in the process to find his team standing in front of him.

All of them were trashed.

Bleeding broken and crazy eyed.

He sent another healing pulse.

(40% Mana Remaining)

"You look terrible." Ursula commented.

"I feel terrible." Isaac said from his steaming knights helm. He was so hot his armor was glowing.

"I smell terrible…. PitWolf spit was in the air like rainfall….. I can't even wash this smell out, dude. These things gotta be eating poop…"

"I'm going for the Boss." Claude huffed.

"That makes the most sense. Where we headed."

Claude pointed at the mountains lining the whole area like a frosty barrier.

"I'm going there. You guys are going to join the others in the center field." Claude explained.

Ursula and the others looked ready to protest.

"They need you guys."

"Not where I thought that was going." Warren whispered.

"Once I get the Boss— the Tangent opens. You get the hell out. Don't look for anyone but yourselves. Run. Once you're out don't stop running."

"This relating to that problem…?" Isaac inquired.

Claude nodded once.

"Vampires. The problem is Vampires." Maris cut in with the quickness of a slash attack in the night.

"Woah woah WHAT?!" Warren snapped to attention, "I thought we were done with Vampires after last event?!"

"We're not." Maris said, eyeballing Claude. Contending with him.

"Why…?" Isaac pressed.

"Because I'm still human. I'm still…. Weak."

"Maris what the f— now is not the time to have a full on come out! They aren't ready for that discussion."

"Who are you to say we—" Isaac stopped as Claude stood over him.

"HEY! I've progressed enough in one day. Don't push me. YOU are not ready. Neither is Warren. Focus on the fight."

Some of the PitWolves snarled and nipped at eachother as Claude's mind translated the anger and panick incorrectly.

"I- I'm sorry. Focus on this. People are dying."

"Right…." Isaac gripped his sword and shield.

DING!

(The Orc Warband has grown susceptible to the Swine Hunger! If more Human blood is spilled in battle your odds of survival will decrease exponentially!)

The group left the outskirts.

The thin collections of trees and greenery became even thinner as they approached the center field.

In a rush, Claude hopped and flipped over chopped down stubs, regrowing them as his fingers grazed their ringed tops.

All the while him and the rest of his team eyeballed the horrific display.

A massive wooden shack filled the field. Large enough to block out the sun with barnyard doors covered in spikes and chains where dead PitWolves laid to rest. The exterior was covered in a mixture of dry mud and bark that made it look even worse…. But ultimately sturdier.

Even so, it was up in purple flames. Sand and stone constructs ripped and tore through the walls covered in Orc blood.

"Tanks stick with your ranged partners outside! Do not come in!" Tufani yelled down at the circle before being swallowed up by a purple fiery explosion.

"ACK!!"

Down below Conroy sent a rampant wave of ice but they did nothing to the wild flames from the middle floor.

"[He's losing his mind in there.]" Arne commented.

And it wasn't only him.

A Trio of Orcs at the front of the castle-like barn shack sloshed around in a bloody magic blood pool. They fought eachother, sending shocking punches and tusk stabs to get the student remains off of one another. The more blood they ingested, the more their hairs stood on end and magic danced on their skin.

They fell in with the rest of the group.

Warren joined the ring of Archers and Mages outside. Isaac and Maris took the bottom floor to help the other first years joined by Loba and Diamondback. The PitWolves held the outer perimeter led by Frosty. They could smell more Orcs on the horizon.

Claude and Ursula jumped on the walls and began climbing. Their Auras shook under the flames intensity.

(Dark Flame Status Effect (Dark Burn) Recognized: All Healing Abilities Nullified until Status is removed.)

He pushed deeper into the void-like flames. Taking in the burnt fur and enemy Lupine scents. But also burnt human skin. Like sweaty bacon.

He reached the first window and flipped inside. Brandishing his spears, noticing for a second how the blade ends of his spears were jagged and slimy like primal teeth.

"FFFIRE!" An Orc yelled as it crawled across the burning floor, dragging along intestines the size of human limbs from its gorged stomach.

The heat blurred his vision even with his Aura active. Slowly it bettered itself as Ursula rapidly cooled the place. But Samuel was somewhere. In the heart of the dark furnace, growing worse.

Claude pushed on, hoping over tables and weapon racks until he found movement.

A small circle of sand slowly heating into a glass dome where Tufani and three other students cowered under the flames.

He could see another familiar face.

Her and her twin Vulkura. He tossed a handful of seeds their way and began working. As Ursula made her way towards them.

"SAMUEL!"

THUD!

A hammer smashed into his back in the madness and knocked him forward rolling through flames and countertops. Nearly breaking the floor.

He got up just in time to see Samuel. Crouched over a dead Orc approaching full transformation as flames danced down his back and blood caked his claws.

Claude threw out his Malevolence Tether, wrapping it around Samuels growing neck. He yanked him off the Orc finding it was almost completely consumed.

Samuel went wild, spitting flames like a Dragon as he choked and swatted at Claude. The two rolled and slammed their way through the top floor. Claude picked him up and broke him through everything he could— even throwing him Ursula's way so she could arm arm bar him with a limb encased in ice.

"Stop!" Claude hammered fists into his face, uncaring of his Aura eroding away.

No use. Samuel shook. His skin stretched over shifting bones and wild eyes. He relished in the damage. He was at home in war.

Claude used his tether to yank his spears into his grip and slammed them through Samuels chest.

CHCK!

"UCK!….."

"No keep going. PLEASE!"

"He's….. done enough."

With the flames finally dying down, Samuel and Claude heard the shadows.

They both turned and found three shapes. Glowing fang and tusk. Eyes like blood-fire. Bone armor jingling with their giant steps. The fur on their backs so overgrown and made sharp by dried mud it looked like dragon scales.

And the smells.

The smells of death. Suddenly Claude remembered the lack of student bodies despite how many he swore he heard die. They were all in the room with the three Orcs.

DING!

(You have found the Orcish Mini Bosses known as The Razorbacks. Current Diet: Archer, Knight, Magic Tank.)

"EVERYBODY GET THE FUCK OU—" Claude ate a fist of magical dominance. It came with so much speed, all the flames went out the moment he was hit. Walls around them cracked from the impact. He swallowed his teeth and severed his tongue. His spine must've been damaged from the whiplash because for the life of him he couldn't move his legs to stop his fall with Samuel.

Instead, they flew out the front of the shack. Samuel shoved Claude to get ahead. and left him to land straight in the magical vat of mud.

If Samuels flames were hot. The mud was something entirely different.

The mud….

An Orc's second home. Where they went to grow their iron-like skin and temper their magics. Said to be so hot with magic it could liquefy a human in four seconds. Said to be where they were made and born. Simmering with foul fluids and histories.

If Claude was a human he would've been dead in two… one….

Nope.

Romulus had other plans.

DING!

(Orcish Mudpool Magics ingested!)

(Physical Form Priming….)

(Diet Recognized)

(Orc State Unlocked)

(Passive Skill Recognized Through Hybrid Requirements met: [Mud Skin LV1])