After about an hour of running through the dense forest, I finally arrived at the battlefield where my party and I had fought the goblin army and the high orc.
The sight that greeted me was one of utter devastation.
The ground was torn apart, littered with craters and remnants of boulders from Grant's pillar spells.
Black spikes, remnants of the goblin shaman's magic, jutted out from the earth like jagged teeth.
The air was heavy with the stench of blood and death, and the early morning light cast an eerie glow over the scene.
The cleanup crew from the town was already at work, gathering the fallen soldiers who had fought bravely against the goblin horde.
Another group was piling up goblin corpses, preparing to burn them.
The sight of the dead—both human and goblin—was a grim reminder of the world I had reincarnated into.
This was a ruthless, merciless world where strength was everything.
A world where the strong ruled and the weak were crushed underfoot. A world where survival wasn't guaranteed, no matter how hard you fought.
I stood there for a moment, taking it all in. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional murmur of the cleanup crew and the crackling of the fires they had started.
Aro, perhaps sensing my somber mood, didn't say a word. I walked past the corpses, my steps calm and measured, but my mind was anything but.
And then I saw it.
The high orc.
Its massive body lay sprawled on the ground, its head severed cleanly from its shoulders.
Black spikes jutted out from its torso, and a peculiar energy signature emanated from its corpse.
My breath caught in my throat as I stared at it, my mind racing.
The high orc was dead.
But how? We hadn't been able to kill it. None of us had been strong enough.
"Aro," I said, my voice low and tense. "What happened? Did you… did you do this?"
Aro chuckled, his tone as mocking as ever. "What do you think, brat?"
I didn't respond. I didn't need to. The evidence was right in front of me.
The black spikes, the energy signature—it all pointed to one thing.
Aro had intervened.
Somehow, in the chaos of the battle, he had taken control and killed the high orc.
The thought sent a chill down my spine. I hadn't even realized he could do something like that.
I continued walking, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
The cleanup crew noticed me as I approached, and their reactions were… strange.
Their faces turned pale, their eyes wide with fear. Some of them dropped what they were holding and backed away, while others turned and ran, screaming.
"He's back! He's here! He's going to kill us all!"
I tilted my head in confusion, my brow furrowing. What were they talking about? Why were they so afraid of me?
Before I could make sense of it, I heard someone call my name—or rather, the name they knew me by. "Alex!"
I turned to see Katherine walking toward me, her arm in a plaster cast.
She looked tired, her face pale and drawn, but there was relief in her eyes as she approached.
I opened my mouth to ask her what was going on, but then I noticed something from the corner of my eye.
The dead bodies.
These were the corpses of soldiers.
But these were… different. They had black spikes jutting out of them, just like the high orc.
Some were burned beyond recognition, their bodies charred and twisted. And the energy coming from them—it was unmistakable. It was the power of chaos.
My blood ran cold as I realized what I was looking at.
These people hadn't been killed by goblins or orcs. They had been killed by something far more terrifying. Something that I now had an affinity for.
Chaos.