I Became a Gallery Newbie Beloved by Transcendents

I realized something.

Up until now, the orcs I had been cutting down were weaklings in comparison.

The larger their bodies, the more white tattoos covered their skin—the stronger they became.

I had reached the point where landing three or four clean hits wasn’t enough to kill them.

The thick stench of blood dulled my sense of smell.

Even when I swung my sword horizontally, they didn’t die. Even when I stabbed into their guts, they didn’t die.

So I drew my black javelin and rammed it into their necks, twisting it violently.

"KRAAAAGH!!"

The screams of soldiers rang in my ears.

My gaze and senses had already moved far away from the orc whose throat I had just cut open.

In the distance, a massive orc was staring straight at me.

An orc—carrying a red banner—with a personal attendant.