183 Orcs I (2/2)

”Somethin' ain't right,” muttered Vahid. ”Ain't never seen orcs fight like that. No war cries, no clubs, nothin'.”

Li put a hand to his chin, his eyes narrowing. He had to agree with that statement. The orcs had charged in as if expecting to die, and there was zero hesitation on their end.

And it was not due to some extraordinary bravery, no, rather, the way they moved, the way they simply sprinted forwards without breaking pace for even a moment even when they saw the crushing walls of vines rising in front of them, felt unnatural.

A distinctively human shriek sounded below, and Li immediately saw that his hunch had been right. One of the druids fell backwards, clutching at his hand. It was blackened and pulsating, the flesh cracking forming hideous abscesses.

From the corpses of the two hunchback orcs, insects began to burst out. Small, flying insects that looked like black wasps, their compound eyes shrouded in a dark and wispy aura.

Li reacted quickly. Before the humans nearby could even register his movements, he had leaped down below, right beside the corpses. The wasps buzzed angrily towards him, and for a moment, he felt surprise.

This was unlike any Elden World spell he knew, and yet, it was strangely familiar. Emanating from the wasps was a distinctive chill, an unnatural, corrupting coldness that Li knew was eldritch in nature.

Regardless, he did not let his surprise prevent him from containing the wasps, and he cast [Fireplume Breath], breathing out a torrent of flame that engulfed the two corpses, reducing them and the insects that festered within them into ash.

”Fall back!” shouted Li to his druids. ”Away from the corpses!”

Ivo and the druids followed his commands, leaving Li at the frontlines. He looked to the crushed corpses of the orcs and realized that they were corrupting the overgrowth that had been summoned to kill them, the twisting the green vines into blackened, writhing masses of plant-like tendrils that oozed with malevolent power.

Li stepped forwards, and the tendrils reached out hungrily towards him. He cast [Fireplume Breath] again, incinerating every trace of the abominable presence. As streams of fire flowed from his lips, he noticed the rest of the orcs were scattering. Not to retreat, but to abuse the sudden chaos to try and circle around the creek.

Within seconds, Li was done sweeping the landscape before him in purifying flame. The fire died down when he stopped fueling mana into it, leaving barren patches of steaming soil. He shook his head, waving his hand to use his divine power to bid the grass to grow back.

He then checked on the druid that had been stung by one of the insects. The man was doubled over in pain, the corruption having spread up to his shoulder at this point, warping his flesh into something monstrous, something inhuman.

Ivo was by the man, his hands alight with green as he tried to heal the man.

”The healing is not working,” said Ivo, his voice worried. ”This corruption is far too foul. It reminds me much of the demonrot the demons spread among the forests during the demon wars, when they wished to rot down the forests and the guardians to aid in their invasion.

And yet, this is also different. Far stranger, far more sinister, far fouler.”

Li knelt by the druid and put a hand to the man's infected arm. Small tentacles of rotted and bubbling flesh emerged from the arm, wrapping around Li's fingers. However, Li himself remained completely unaffected.

”Calm yourself,” said Li. ”And brace yourself. This may hurt.”

Li's hand shifted form into a gray, bark-covered tendril as he cast [Root of the Devouring One], an eldritch spell that converted a part of him into a root meant to absorb all creation. It acted similar to spells like [Drain Touch] that absorbed life force, but it was more versatile, capable of even absorbing the power from spells, or as would be the case here, eldritch curses.

When Li coiled the tendril to the druid's arm, there was an immediate change. The blackening, rotting process started to reverse, shifting back down the arm and restoring the limb to its original state, almost as if time was reversing.

Li withdrew his hand, reverting it back from tendril to human digits. The druid's arm was completely healed, but the druid himself was pale from enduring pain. After all, eldritch spells thematically were never pleasant to deal with.

None of them were gentle, nourishing, and painless.

”The rest of the orcs!” shouted Launcelot. ”They have scattered around us. We shall pursue them along with the forces Li has stationed to entrap them!”

”No,” said Li firmly. He mentally bid all his Justicars and Iona to step down, for he did not want them to touch the corruption. Nor did he want the adventurers to face it either. ”This is my miscalculation. This is my fight. The rest of you, druid and adventurer alike, retreat.”

The orcs had never been here for Riviera. They were here to corrupt the Winterwoods, to turn it into a monstrous, infected entity. They were here to corrupt Li, believing him a mere forest spirit susceptible to such infantile tricks.

This was not the work of mere orcs, but of a higher power using the orcs as mobile and explosive bags of flesh riddled with a corrupting pestilence. That explained why they never had to raid or hunt for food, how they managed to come here unscathed, and why they ran into battle without any desire to fight - they were only here to place themselves in the correct areas to spread their disease.

Li stood up and began taking steps into the thick of the forest, towards where he sensed the orcs were. He would pick them apart one by one, cleaning these precious woods of their filth. As he took his steps, his druids quickly parted to make way for him, and the adventurers cowered backwards, sensing an aura infinitely more dangerous than any they had felt before.