Held the Masses

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The blood from Elloise's shoulder slowly trickled down her arm, the crimson liquid dripping to the ground as she readied herself. She stood in the shadows, eyes narrowed as she watched the Orcs moving through the trees, drawn by the scent of her blood.

"This will surely do the job," Elloise murmured to herself, a twisted sense of satisfaction creeping into her voice. She had played her part—now it was up to the chaos she had unleashed. Her blood had lured the beasts, and Nyx would handle the rest.

From the front of the group, Nyx stood still, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. The wind rustled the leaves around him, but he paid no mind. His eyes were locked onto the battle unfolding before him, but it wasn't the physical fight he was concerned with. No, Nyx was focusing on the unseen, use of the skill that others could never perceive.

Through his Vital Sight, he saw what no one else could.

"Control," Nyx spoke softly, his voice blending into the morning breeze.

The Skill Activated, and in the next moment, seven of the Woodland Orcs, the ones closest to the camp, were enveloped in a faint, glowing aura. It was a light that only Nyx could see. Their eyes glazed over, their will crushed beneath his power. They had been claimed by him, their minds no longer their own.

"Guard him," Nyx commanded, his voice cool and unwavering, his gesture pointing toward the sweating, terrified figure of Viscount Wellian, who had been cowering in fear as the battle drew nearer.

The Orcs that Nyx controlled lumbered forward, their steps slow but deliberate, pushing through the chaotic mass of charging Orcs that had not yet been taken under Nyx's influence.

Viscount Wellian watched, wide-eyed and trembling, as the massive creatures encircled him. His guards stood tense, weapons trembling in their hands, unsure whether to strike or wait.

"Th... They're coming closer!" one of the guards shouted, his grip tightening around his sword as beads of sweat dotted his brow.

"Don't attack!" Grall shouted, his voice cutting through the tension. He stood beside Nyx, his gaze fixed on the creatures surrounding the camp. Though his face was tense, a line of sweat dripped from his forehead, betraying his nerves. He knew something others didn't.

Orcs don't walk this slowly when they're hunting prey, Grall thought, his heart racing. This must be the work of Lord Nyx.

"Those seven Orcs are with us!" Grall shouted to his men, his voice laced with authority.

"You can't be..." one of the guards began to protest, his confusion evident, but the rest of the words caught in his throat as the remaining Orcs, wild and uncontrolled, charged in, slamming into the defensive line.

The seven Orcs that Nyx controlled fought back with brutal efficiency. They roared as they met the wild, charging Orcs head-on, swinging their massive axes and clubs to keep the camp safe.

"Defend!!" Grall ordered, his voice commanding as he pushed the guards into action.

"Where's the Lord?!" one of the guards shouted, his eyes darting around the battlefield.

At that moment, they all looked to the far side of the field, where the sounds of battle raged. A figure emerged from the chaos—Nyx.

Nyx was already in the midst of the Woodland Orcs, his movements swift and precise. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled his sword through the air, sending it straight toward one of the charging Orcs. The sword pierced the creature's skull with a sickening crack, and it fell to the ground, its body still standing for a moment before toppling forward.

Nyx didn't even flinch as he moved. In a single fluid motion, he leaped forward, landing on the fallen Orc's head, using it as a springboard to propel himself into the air. He grabbed his sword from the creature's skull, the blade covered in blood as he twisted it with a grim efficiency.

As he landed, Nyx wasted no time. His body flowed with the rhythm of battle, every movement calculated, every step purposeful. The second Woodland Orc charged toward him, its axe raised high. But Nyx was already behind it, his sword flashing in the air. He slashed twice—once across the creature's torso, once upward, severing its head from its shoulders in a single, clean stroke.

The guard watching could only stare in disbelief, the sight of Nyx's speed and deadly accuracy leaving him speechless.

"Amazing," one of the guards whispered, his voice full of awe. "How is he...?"

"Monster," Viscount Wellian muttered under his breath, his voice laced with fear. His eyes darted nervously between the slaughter unfolding before him and the Orcs still standing protectively around him. His fear of the Orcs paled in comparison to the terror he felt from Nyx.

"Focus on what we have!" Grall snapped, snapping the guards back into focus. He knew that the battle was far from over, even if Nyx was clearing out the enemies with terrifying efficiency.