Wonderful Insane World-Chapter 67: Orc Warrior

It wasn’t really a fight anymore. It was the start of a massacre.

Two orcs still standing. Three demonic tyrannosaurs — well, two fully active and one barely clinging to life. On paper, the numbers spoke for themselves. But numbers are for strategists. Orcs are all muscle, instinct, and fury.

And the grey-skinned orc... he was nothing ordinary.

Larger than his kin, his movements were surprisingly quick for such a hulking frame. He had that cold, contained rage — the kind that made him a monster among monsters.

Without a second of hesitation, he charged straight at the beasts.

His club — a crude weapon wrapped in iron — crashed down on the nearest head with a brutal CRACK, muffled only by skin and bone. The beast reeled, but the orc didn’t stop to admire the hit.

Behind him, his wounded companion surged forward despite the blood pouring from his torn side. He raised his axe, swung it in a wide arc from the ground to the creature’s throat.

SCHLACK.

The blade sank into flesh like an overripe fruit. A geyser of black blood erupted, sticky, filling the air with its rancid stench. The beast wavered... then collapsed in a heap of bone and scales.

They didn’t pause to catch their breath. No victory cry.

They immediately turned toward the second beast.

It opened its massive jaws, ready to clamp down on the grey orc. But he, with an almost animal precision, pivoted to the side and readied his club.

Like a pro batter hitting a fastball, he swung his weapon directly into the creature’s jaw. A BOOM echoed out, followed by a sharp crack. The beast staggered, snout misshapen.

But the third one... the largest... had waited for its moment.

It lunged at the second orc — the one with the torn side.

Too late to dodge. Too slow to counter.

The monster’s jaws clamped down on his head. And with a slow, methodical, almost cruel effort, it ripped it off.

The skull cracking. The wet rip of torn flesh. Then the wet plop of a headless body collapsing.

Blood splattered the ground like an offering.

The grey orc backed away a few steps — now alone against the two remaining beasts charging at him with raw ferocity. The ground trembled under their steps. freewёbnoνel.com

They were fast despite their size, jaws snapping like steel traps.

He had no room to run. The enemy was already upon him. Two creatures of his caliber — massive beasts, and one of them bleeding, but still deadly.

He wasn’t dumb. He knew these weren’t ordinary wild animals. They’d already killed two of his brothers-in-arms. Not because those brothers were weak. No. Because these beasts were powerful.

But his companions had fallen like warriors. Upright and refusing to run from death. Their eyes blazing with rage until the very end.

And he — he had no right to fail. No right to live or die without avenging them.

To bring back the heads of these creatures to his tribe. To lay their skulls on sacred ground, so his brothers’ souls could rest.

He clenched his teeth. Straightened his trunk-like back. His resolve flared.

He took one step back... then stopped.

With a guttural cry, he threw down his club.

And charged.

His hand brushed the earth. In one fluid motion, he snatched the axe of his fallen comrade — the handle still warm with rage and blood. Gripping it with both hands, he picked up speed, each step kicking up bursts of dust.

The ground between him and the beasts shrank quickly.

Two steps.

A deep breath like a trigger.

He leapt toward the third one.

His massive body tore through the air like a fleshy arrow. Axe raised high, arms swelling with wild strength, he came crashing down on the wounded demon tyrannosaur.

And with a war cry, he struck.

A loud thud exploded, followed by the sharp crunch of earth splitting open.

The orc had jumped straight onto the beast, axe first, without a trace of hesitation.

The impact was absolute.

The tyrannosaur’s skull shattered against the ground, cleaved open. The axe was buried dead center, sunk into crushed bone. The beast didn’t move. Dead instantly.

The orc rose, staggering. Dust swirling. Breath short.

He barely had time to stand when a shadow fell over him.

Both were thrown to the ground, bodies rolling in a storm of dirt. The first to get up would win. They both knew it.

But it wasn’t the orc.

The last demon tyrannosaur — the biggest — rose first. And leapt.

Its jaws clamped down on the orc’s shoulder with a sickening crunch. Pain exploded like fire in his nerves, and a raspy, feral scream tore from his throat.

Before the beast could get another bite, the orc rolled to the side. Desperate.

Blood poured from the gaping wound on his back, pulsing like a black geyser.

He rose with a roar, and punched. His fist — his last weapon — slammed into the beast’s skull. The tyrannosaur reeled, unbalanced.

The orc staggered back, eyes locked on the club lying a few meters away.

But the beast didn’t wait. It lunged again, this time its jaws sinking into his back, ripping flesh, tearing off whole chunks of leather and skin.

A bestial scream split the air. Brutal. Primal. Like something being skinned alive.

The orc, back torn open, dropped to his knees in mud and blood, and reopened his eyes. He knew. His breath was numbered. His body screamed for surrender.

But he refused.

He forgot the club. Forgot the pain. All that was left were his fists, pounding the beast’s skull.

Each blow cracked bone, split spine. His fists were stone, his voice a storm.

But it wasn’t enough.

The tyrannosaur roared, and with a flash of rage, opened its gaping maw, lunging for the orc’s head.

And then... the orc raised his arms.

Both hands — one trembling, the other on fire — stopped the jaws mid-air. Just before they clamped shut.

Teeth snapped just a breath from his skin.

But he held.

His arms shook, muscles screamed. He clenched his teeth, veins bulging. He pushed.

A guttural cry erupted from deep within him. A primal roar. Stronger than pain, stronger than fear.

He forced the jaws open.

Another centimeter.

And another.

The beast thrashed, but the orc roared louder. He refused to let go. He gave everything. Down to the bone. Down to his very marrow.

And with a horror crack, the jaw dislocated.

But he didn’t stop.

He pulled harder. Muscles blazing, bones in his arms on the verge of breaking.

Then — one final scream.

In a last effort.

The jaw tore open. All the way to the throat. A sickening, wet sound.

The orc ripped out a chunk of bloody bone and flesh. The beast’s neck hung, gaping like a living wound.

He fell to his knees, soaked in blood, breathless, the world spinning around him.

But the beast... didn’t move anymore.