Chapter 123
Though it was only for a few minutes, staying submerged in the cold river while holding my breath had chilled my body.
For a moment, the thought crossed my mind—I’ve felt something like this in a game before—but I pushed it aside for later.
Suppress your breathing. Blend into the surrounding nature.
Feel the textures—the atmosphere of the trees, the sensation of the ground, synchronize your breath with the orcs.
Stealth skills are abilities that reduce the information perceived by the enemy.
So, did such techniques not exist in reality? Well, professions like ninjas and spies were likely adept at such skills.
And if that’s the case, then there must be people—myself included—who thought, Couldn’t we apply those techniques in games too?
To perfect my preferred playstyle, I immersed myself in stealth-based games, importing those techniques as out-of-system skills.
I became a ninja. I became a spy.
Even if it was all in a virtual world, the systems designed for those settings were incredibly useful references.
Though those skills had rusted over time, they still remained within me.
"First, one."
I slipped behind the orc at the rear of the group.
Matching its breathing, I calmly—yet without sluggishness—eased my scythe-spear forward from behind, positioning it at the orc’s neck. In an instant, I formed a magic edge along the blade, swiftly drew it back, and severed the orc’s head.
I quietly counted the number of enemies I had taken down. Due to my rustiness, I could still feel a faint resistance from the orc, but the outermost and rearmost orc of the group had vanished just like that.
Don’t let your breathing falter.
Changing my footwork to avoid making noise, I advanced through the forest.
Blend into the orcs’ footsteps.
My clothes, soaked in the cold river water, clung to my body, dripping. But thanks to that, the orcs didn’t notice my scent.
Don’t enter their line of sight. When moving in groups, individuals unconsciously assume that as long as they’re vigilant within their own field of vision, it’s enough—blind spots are covered by their allies. They offload responsibility, blindly trusting in that.
"Two."
The task was simple—exploit the gaps in their vigilance, gently dismantling the completed puzzle from the outside.
That was all.
Think of their vision as the sweep of a searchlight. Their footsteps are my silencer.
Timing my movements, choosing hiding spots.
With that in mind, I slipped into another blind spot, took position behind an orc that had turned its back, and quietly harvested its head.
Perhaps because there were so many of them, or maybe because they lacked the intelligence to notice, the orcs showed no agitation even as their numbers dwindled by one, then two. They didn’t even enter combat mode.
Their slow, habitual vigilance only restricted their movement range—it didn’t hinder my actions at all.
Hiding my body between trees and rocks, I used the sound of orcs trampling through bushes to mask my own movement through the undergrowth.
Three.
An orc was wary of the treetops.
Maybe something’s up there, it seemed to think, looking upward.
I passed behind it, and the moment it gave up and turned its attention elsewhere—I took its head.
Four.
Here, one orc suddenly grew suspicious.
Wasn’t there a comrade here just a moment ago?
It takes a while for dead monsters to turn to ash, but if you’re not paying close attention, you might miss it happening.
The orc looked around restlessly, wondering if its ally had moved somewhere else—while I held my breath behind a nearby tree.
After a quick scan, the orc, unable to find its comrade, resigned itself and resumed moving. That’s when I silently approached from behind and took its head.
Five.
I whittled them down, one by one. It was less efficient than going on a rampage, but my stamina and mana consumption were kept to an absolute minimum.
Six.
The rust was beginning to fade.
I recalled the way I used to move, the tactics I had mastered—my options expanded as I thought, Here, I can do this.
Seven.
And here, complacency struck.
At the worst possible moment, I stepped on a dry branch, producing an unmistakable crack.
Three orcs turned at the sound.
Is something there? They stared intently, sniffing the air with guttural grunts.
They weren’t sure yet.
One orc approached the bush where I was hiding.
Fight or stay hidden?
Faced with that choice, I chose to remain concealed.
Barely avoiding an arm thrust into the bush, I held my breath as the orc’s probing limb passed dangerously close. After a few seconds of searching, it withdrew its hand.
I was certain my posture in that bush had been ridiculously awkward.
Luckily, the bush was large enough to easily hide a child, so I managed.
"Now then..."
Striking when they let their guard down was fine, but the surrounding enemies hadn’t fully relaxed yet.
As my favorite black guy once said, "Wait for your chance like a snake."
Their vigilance waned.
The moment it did, I took another head.
Eight.
I spotted a nut on a tree.
Picking up a small stone, I aimed, hit it, and knocked it down—right in front of an orc.
Maybe it was a little hungry, because it bent to pick it up.
That’s when I took its head.
Nine.
By now, even the orcs were starting to notice their dwindling numbers.
They began looking around, tilting their heads in confusion. Wasn’t someone here? Weren’t there allies over there?
Their movement slowed as they started regrouping.
A sign that their alertness had risen.
At this point, one might think the assassination phase was over—but surprise! Let me teach you another way to exploit their heightened vigilance.
Picking up another suitable stone, I threw it in an arc over their heads.
Since they weren’t looking upward, and I timed the throw when their gaze was turned away, the stone traced a perfect parabola, landing in a bush on the opposite side with a loud rustle.
Their attention snapped toward the sound.
Ten.
In that moment, I took another head.
Concealing myself again, I picked up another stone and threw it in a different direction.
Another bush rustled.
Realizing something was there, the group began moving toward it.
I took the head of the rearmost orc.
Eleven.
While a weapon-wielding orc smashed a bush with its club, checking for intruders, the orc I had killed turned to ash and vanished.
Amid the sound of relentless thrashing, I threw two more stones to the right.
Two bushes rustled almost simultaneously.
Reacting to the multiple sounds, the orcs realized there were multiple threats. Two of them stepped forward.
Now, apart from the one smashing bushes, the other armed orcs were drawn out.
With their attention divided, I took yet another head.
Twelve.
No matter how much they smashed the bushes, there was no response.
Was it nothing? The orc growled in frustration at the wasted effort.
Irritated, it exhaled sharply—then turned and froze.
Tilting its head, it pointed at the spot where I had killed another orc.
Wasn’t there an ally here?
Realizing something was wrong, it looked around—only to find that the orc that had been standing there moments ago was gone.
One that had been just out of sight, hidden in a blind spot.
The orcs, now alarmed, gathered in one place and scanned their surroundings.
I stayed still. Held my breath.
When sudden silence falls, even a familiar forest feels unnaturally eerie.
Something is here. But they didn’t know what.
There’s a debuff effect called Panic.
It doesn’t work well on boss monsters, but it’s fairly effective against their underlings.
For example, if you defeat the boss while leaving the minions alive, they enter this state, leaving them open to attacks.
And if you kill more monsters while they’re panicked, the effect extends slightly.
This time, I was intentionally inducing the Panic debuff by hiding and killing them, creating the illusion of an unseen enemy.
By my estimate, taking down two or three more orcs would push them into full panic.
Ideally, I’d target the weapon-bearers, but their positioning was bad.
Panic is easier to shake off if the elite units—like the armed orcs—are still standing.
But conversely, taking out those elites prolongs the effect.
Staying hidden, I waited silently.
The orcs, trying to reassure themselves, muttered that their missing comrades must have gone elsewhere.
Then, they began to leave.
Fifteen orcs remained in the group.
With numbers like these, they must have felt safe. The herd started retracing their steps.
Let’s get out of here.
Sensing their shared urgency, the orcs moved faster than usual, their steps rough.
Their loud footsteps masked my own, rendering them insignificant.
Breaking into a jog, I caught up to the rearmost orc—and took its head.
Thirteen.
But the orcs ahead, focused solely on moving forward, didn’t notice.
They didn’t even glance back.
As if convinced that following the three armed orcs at the front was enough, they charged ahead like wild boars.
Soon, I took another head.
Fourteen.
More than half were gone.
Still, the orcs didn’t look back.
Fifteen.
This time, the orc was slightly closer to another.
The angle was borderline—almost a blind spot, but not quite.
But when an orc suddenly stops and loses its head, even its neighbor would notice.
"Bwooorgh!!"
I don’t speak Orcish.
But it sounded like a cry of "Enemy attack!"
As the shout echoed, I climbed a tree, took a short running start—and leaped.
Using the head of an orc that had halted abruptly as a stepping stone, I bounded across their frozen ranks. Like boars unable to stop mid-charge, the orcs stumbled over each other as I used their heads as platforms.
I landed behind the armed orcs, who were just beginning to turn.
Something’s here.
Realizing this, they tried to stop their turn—but it was too late.
A single swing of my scythe.
The first armed orc’s head flew.
Sixteen.
There was still time before the others fully turned.
A returning slash sent a second armed orc’s head rolling.
Seventeen.
Finally, the orcs’ eyes locked onto me.
But at that very moment, my scythe-spear was already in motion for a third strike—aimed at the last armed orc’s neck.
The instant they saw me—
Was also the instant they witnessed their last remaining leader’s head leave its shoulders.
Monsters typically attack humans driven by instinct, a survival impulse to slaughter threats.
But that doesn’t mean they’re mindless automatons.
Though their existence is unnatural, monsters are, in a sense, living beings.
They don’t need to reproduce, spawning instead from mysterious "spawn points"—but they do have emotions.
They grow angry when attacked, furious when their territory is invaded.
And now—
"Now then, eighteen. Nine left—let’s go!!"
The moment the once-large horde was reduced to a third of its size, what filled the orcs’ hearts was—
Fear.
The boar-like orcs, known for their reckless charges, stepped back.
Their brutish faces, modeled after wild boars, twisted in dread.
Seeing that expression, I knew.
They had entered Panic status.
Without hesitation, I charged forward.
Normally, closing the distance with a furious charge was the orcs’ specialty.
But now, they stood frozen, their faces screaming, What do we do?!
If an enemy approaches, kill it—that was their monster instinct.
But fear had overwritten it.
Orcs that don’t charge are nothing more than wooden dummies.
When I thrust my spear, they crossed their arms in a feeble attempt to block—but that only delayed their counterattack.
And the other orcs? Not a single one thought to attack me in that opening.
With complete safety, I stabbed a thick orc’s right arm, withdrew the spear, and plunged it into the now-exposed stomach.
"And now, the neck is wide open."
Counting nineteen, I swung my scythe, severing the orc’s head.
The remaining orcs stepped back again.
But I wouldn’t let them escape.
Pouncing on the nearest orc, I found it flailed wildly, trying to drive me off.
But with a spear, I could safely stab through the gaps in its frenzied swings.
A deep thrust—and its arm froze mid-motion from the pain.
"Twenty."
That pause was fatal.
The magic-edged scythe cleaved the defenseless orc’s head from its shoulders.
"Seven left."
When I first stumbled into this monster horde, I’d worried about what to do—but surprisingly, even at this level, I could handle it. A dry laugh bubbled up.
"But even after all this, the drop items are just the bare minimum... really?"
The laugh was at my own actions and my terrible drop rates—not meant to intimidate the orcs.
"Well then, it’d be a pain if they attacked me later. Meeting me was the end of their luck."
Since I needed to pick up the items at my feet, I couldn’t let them flee.
Time for you to exit the stage.