Return of the Woodcutter

Attracted by the sound of shield breaking, screams of pain, more and more orcs gathered around Aito on a rampage. Lessening his team's burden, but also Sam's.

Hacking, slashing, hammering, bashing. He did it all. Bones shattered, head dropped. His heart pumped blood at a rapid pace.

Engrossed within the moment, little did Aito know three hundred corpses already laid on the ground around him.

Since he was mostly using his hammer, his mana reserve was still half full. Pursued by more than a hundred orcs, his teammates had retreated behind the illusionary fortifications where they stood their ground.

However, he wasn't aware of it.

The feeling of power stemming from killing was exhilarating, clouding his mind over what was happening.

He killed, killed, and killed. Until five hundred armored corpses around him remained. His blurred vision finally cleared.

'Shit… not again,' he thought. It was something that had happened when massacring the hobs army days ago.

It was like being in an obscure tunnel with a tiny light at the end. Once he finally exited it, only then would he be able to see what happened around him.

His attention immediately directed one hundred meters away from him, towards his team's fortification. At first, he had thought they would be able to apply a hit-and-run tactic, with him at the head, to deplete their numbers. But the orc proved to be more tenacious.

He took one step towards his team's location and realized how badly his armor was dented. Steel plates barely hung on his body, some hammered tight enough to impede his joint's movements.

Fortunately, it appeared the weavedmail had held firm. Other pieces like his breastplate, helmet, pauldrons, vambraces were in tatter.

'These are useless now…,' he thought, rapidly getting rid of almost everything, only keeping his articulated gauntlets and greaves that were still functional.

Lighter, decreasing his added weight, he darted rapidly, crossing the distance separating them in barely four seconds.

As per before, his team had conjured a water wall to block the entrance. However, by helping each other, orcs managed to slowly get inside.

Sounds of battle, swords against shield, orc war cry, resonated in the fortifications. Dozens of orcs saw him coming. Aito bashed them away, paving his path to the entrance with orc blood.

Stepping on an orc's shoulder, he jumped past the water wall. Up there, he could see the orcs swarming his allies.

Multiple corpses were spread around the corridor. Frozen arrows were lodged in some of them. With the two suns' heat, the ice started melting, creating small ponds of dirty, sandy water mixed with blood.

George had summoned numerous water walls in the corridor to slow down the enemy's advance, creating small pockets of enemies stepping on their comrades' corpses.

Aito increased his weight, bringing him downward at full speed, ramming into orcs waiting for their turn to advance. 

He massacred them, then jumped past the next wall, and killed again. Repeating this process, he finally arrived at the last pocket, surprising the orcs from above.

BAM! 

Aito dropped hammer first. Ripples of shockwaves spread on the sand while orcs dropped dead. He rapidly finished them off and used his hammer to disperse the water wall, revealing his teammates covered in wounds.

The semi-circle room was littered with arms, heads, legs. Sand had absorbed the greenish dark blood, almost turning entirely black.

Dozens of orcs surrounded Sheyla, George, and Ogoro who looked exhausted. Aito dashed and powerful hammer swings to send the orcs to their glorious death.

Tired, the siblings fell on their butt. George leaned against his huge club, regained his breath.

"Thanks for… the help, boss," George said, drawing a mana bead out of his inventory bag.

Aito nodded, glad to see they were alive, then frowned when he got a closer look at their injuries.

Blood profusely gushed out Ogoro's armor. Sheyla was lacerated on all sides. Her foot was bent at a weird angle. George's armor was dented in most places, holes everywhere.

The three immediately took recovery beads, stopping the bleeding. Sheyla clenched her teeth when she adjusted her foot at the right angle.

Ogoro then proceeded to administrate emergency "sewing" to his wounds.

Aito's face, covered in black blood, turned grim. He realized he had underestimated the orcs too much. Thinking his powers would be enough to keep his team safe.

How wrong that was.

They were cunning and capable of taking advantage of his weaknesses. That has cost him a good armor and almost his teammates' lives.

Thanks to his little adventure in the caves on the fourth floor, they had plenty of mana beads and recovery beads. But divided by four and at the rate they were using them, Aito feared they would exhaust their supply before reaching the ninth floor.

For the first time since he entered the Tower, he felt afraid. Afraid of causing the death of the siblings who followed him and George, who joined recently.

His shoulders felt somewhat heavier, the gazes of his teammates were glued on him as if waiting for their next order.

'Am I that trustworthy?' Aito thought, sighing heavily. He had long questioned others' trustworthiness, but his? Never.

Aito grabbed a nearby orc's armor pieces and equipped himself with them. These were too large for him but better than nothing.

He put the wide square-shaped helmet on his head and pressed it like an orange to adjust it to his size.

Then finally, he said to his teammates, "Rest for now and gather the cores once you're able to move. I'll take care of the remaining orcs."

Aito didn't even wait for their replies as he set for the outside.

Sheyla watched his lonely back grow smaller in the distance, sparking a small bead of worry in her heart. She steeled herself, and, despite her many injuries, extracted the orcs' soul cores.

***

Two hours passed since the start of the second day.

The orcs were all dead, and challengers went back to the waiting room. Aito had collected what he thought was his team's share of the kills. A little over seven hundred soul cores. He could even feel a third of them were more powerful than others, probably level 2.

Sam's team had suffered a heavy blow. Now down to three members, heavily injured, they felt hopeless about the next day.

Lucius kept stealing glances at Aito for a while until he finally couldn't hold it in anymore.

Seated on a bench wearing almost an entire set of orc armor, Aito lifted his head when he sensed someone approaching him.

"Who are you exactly?" Lucius asked.