Mistakes were made.

  As much as I hated to admit it, even with my three-digit Reasoning, an inference I should have made was completely missed.

  The orc chieftain detected me the moment I'd looked at him, despite my [Expert Stealth]. How much sooner, then, would he have noticed my presence without that Skill? We'd all implicitly assumed that [Expert Stealth] had no effect on his abilities, but what evidence did we have for that conclusion?

  A howl went up before the camp even became visible through the trees. First one, but within seconds it was taken up by others, ten, twenty, and then we lost track.

  Daniel paused, but took less than a second to reach a conclusion.

  "Run," he declared.

  The decision wasn't wrong. A surprise attack, starting by dropping their oversized roof on them, was a very different task to fighting an entire village of prepared orcs.

  The howling cut out as soon as we began fleeing.

  "Shit," muttered Daniel, slowing down. "Think that was the chieftain?"

  "I can't think of anything else that could have been," I replied. "We were too far away to be seen. Maybe there was a patrol of some sort we didn't see?"

  "You didn't describe the orcs as stealthy. I'd have expected to see them before they saw us."

  "Maybe they could smell us?" suggested Felicity.

  I didn't know. I'd only read stuff in the library that I'd believed to be immediately relevant. I thus hadn't included D-rank monsters. I'd been expecting to return before I got into serious fights with orcs.

  "In the end, I don't think it matters," said Daniel. "Whatever the method, they can detect us, and I don't want to lead this party..."

  "Quiet," interrupted Stacy.

  Stacy speaking was rare enough, but to interrupt someone else was completely new. The incongruity stunned us all into silence.

  And, in the silence, every one of us could hear the pounding footsteps.

  "Shit," repeated Daniel, picking up speed.

  "I can't keep this up for long!" pointed out Felicity.

  "Me either!" agreed Ryan.

  It wasn't as if I could keep running indefinitely myself.

  "The entire village wouldn't be chasing us, surely..." muttered Daniel. "Could we ambush them? If only we'd known they'd chase us, we could have set up traps beforehand."

  I peeled off sideways, [Expert Stealth] turned up to full. Maybe the orcs would give up before catching up, but I didn't want to bank on it. I needed to slow them down, or make sure that by the time they caught up, the rest of the party could deal with them. Hit and run tactics, picking off their rear.

  And that was the remainder of my stat points gone. I just hoped it would be enough.

  "Robin!" yelled Daniel, realising I'd slipped off, but I ignored him. There was no advantage to me sticking with them, for me or for them.

  Taking shelter behind a tree, I listened to the hammering feet of the orcs sprinting past, peeking around the trunk the moment I was certain everything I could hear was receding.

  And there I locked eyes with the chieftain.

  He'd come to a halt, flanked by half a dozen orcs, and while those orcs were peering unseeing between the trees, their chief was staring straight at me. A corner of his mouth curled up, revealing the pointy teeth surrounding his tusk. The smirk of a monster.

  Of a highly intelligent monster.

  He grunted something unintelligible and pointed, and the six other orcs turned to stare. I felt [Expert Stealth] shatter as it failed to do anything about me being literally pointed out, even partially covered as I was.

  This wasn't going as planned. I hadn't slowed the horde down at all, even if I had taken away its most important member and half a dozen grunts. The only question was whether I could win.

  Against six goblin chieftains and something even stronger? Not a chance. But these orcs weren't as tough as the goblin chieftain. They were worth less experience than even the kobold chieftain, who I'd one-shotted. I'd taken one out in one stab without even using [Stab].

  Admittedly, I'd had stealth on my side that time, but even so...

  In the end, it was the unnerving way in which the orc chieftain was grinning that sold it. He looked too confident, and from what I'd seen thus far, he could back it up. So I turned and ran.

  Straight back toward the village.

  As Daniel had said, it seemed unlikely that the entire village was chasing us, but from the sound of their footfalls, it must have been a decent chunk of it. Would they still have sentries keeping watch in every direction? I knew for a fact they didn't have their chieftain to hand. And with how close to the next level I was...

  At my full speed, no longer needing to hold myself back to the slowest pace of the party, I outran the chieftain. I could hear him howl, not far away, but enough to give me half a minute to tear through the village.

  Actually, if I could hear him howl, presumably so could any remaining orcs. I took a sudden turn, curving away from the village rather than approaching it from the front, and rushed in from the side instead. A great decision, it turned out, because ten orcs were gathered in a line two rows deep, waiting at the tree line. The chieftain had apparently included a lot of information in that howl, because they seemed ready and waiting for me to run straight into them. I wouldn't have—I'd have seen them in enough time to break off sideways—but it would have been the end of my plan. I'd have needed to seriously run for my life.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Instead, with [Expert Stealth], I sprinted past their neat back row, stabbing each orc as I passed.

  It really was kind of them to bunch up so tightly that I could take out half of them before the first corpse had hit the ground.

  And with my new combat Skill and evened-out physical Stats, now it was time for the rest.

  The experience of evolving a skill to C-rank was still jarring, even if my increased Processing helped to blunt the experience. It cost me precious seconds. Seconds that I could have used to whittle down the numbers of my foes before the chieftain caught back up. Worse, seconds that the orcs used to realise that their back line had been decimated, and to reorganise themselves and begin charging me.

  This time, I'd fight them head on. I didn't wait for them to come to me, but actively ran towards them, a fact they seemed somewhat amused by. Why? I'd just killed half of them in one go. On what grounds were they so confident? They thought that just because they could see me, I was no threat?

  Admittedly, I was somewhat smaller than them, holding weapons that would have been laughably small in their huge hands, but why should appearances matter? Besides, they had no weapons at all.

  I'd never fought an orc head-on before, and five against one wasn't the best way to get that initial experience, but I'd watched a pair of them fighting each other, which gave me some confidence as to their style.

  Confidence that shattered when claws slid out of all ten orc hands. Obviously, the two I'd seen had not been fighting seriously, despite one pummelling the other unconscious.

  ... Well, obviously it hadn't been serious. The loser wasn't dead. Or hadn't been, at the point the fight ended. I'd gone and spoiled things a few seconds later.

  I swerved to the side, trying to catch the end of their formation and not get myself surrounded. The orc greeted me with a claw swipe, which I ducked, stabbing upward as the arm passed. Blood splashed over the clearing, but the orc didn't even flinch, stabbing with the claws of his other arm. Another orc made a swipe, which I evaded by stepping towards the stab.

  I could stab better.

  I wasn't close enough for [Stab] to hit anything vital, but I didn't need the Skill to perform a quick up-swipe, catching the orc between claws and cutting into his hand. A pirouette let me slash the arm of the orc swiping me from the side, and then a leap evaded a kick.

  Darn, these monsters had claws on their feet, too.

  I jumped back in, slashing at whatever flesh I could reach, but their long reach prevented me getting close enough to target head or chest. Nevertheless, I was winning. With [Dagger Mastery] twisting reality, combined with my Strength, my daggers slid through their flesh like butter. Even when my daggers met claws—I was forced to parry once or twice—I came out on top, fracturing their natural weapons without taking so much as a nick in return. If only I'd had better weapons, I may have been able to slice straight through.

  Alas, just because I was winning didn't mean I was fast about it. I hadn't taken out a single orc before their chieftain caught up.

  He glanced at the five corpses, then at the five still standing, and their lacerated limbs. Then he roared.

  The five immediately backed off, but I didn't have the chance to take advantage because their chieftain took their place. He was a head taller than his subordinates, with the longer reach to match. His strength was greater, with each blow tearing rents in the forest floor and, on the one occasion I attempted to parry, almost shattering my arm. The impact barely even nicked his claw. He didn't foolishly make wide swings, leaving me no opportunity to counter. Every thrust I made was parried, blocked, or dodged.

  Nevertheless, there was only one of him. Even if he was far stronger and faster than the other orcs, I could still keep up. I may not have injured him, but neither could he touch me.

  The six orcs he'd been with emerged through the trees, apparently having been left behind by their chieftain, but they didn't join the fight, joining the other five, vocalising in their weird orc howls. What the howls meant, I had no idea. Cheering on their boss? Jeering me? Shouting a warning to other orcs in the vicinity? It could have been anything.

  The chieftain slipped up. It wasn't much. Just a slight overextension, leaving the point of a dagger aimed straight at his forearm. I would never have been able to take advantage of it without [Stab] to lengthen my blade. From his point of view, it probably hadn't even been a mistake: he didn't know I had [Stab].

  "Stab," I declared.

  The orc was moving before my lips had even framed the first syllable, jerking his arm upward and causing my Skill to harmlessly strike nothing but air. I tried to respond, twisting my dagger upward, but the Skill was [Stab] not [Slice]. A single thrust, and nothing more. The opportunity was missed. He couldn't possibly have reacted to my voice or movements; he was already moving before I'd given any signs, and there were no movements. It must have been that danger sense of his.

  The orc chieftain sneered triumphantly, acting as if he'd already won.

  Our exchanges continued, again without either side drawing blood, but I was tiring. Was the orc? He didn't give that impression. Rather, he looked like he was having fun.

  What else could I do? Run again? Stamina would still be an issue. Pull off some unexpected trick? Like what? His danger sense would react to something like me throwing a dagger, and the only result would be me being down one dagger.

  How did that danger sense work, exactly?

  Were we really so evenly matched that we'd fought for this long without either of us putting a scratch on the other? It seemed unlikely. I almost screamed as realisation dawned.

  The damn monster was almost directly countering [Dagger Mastery]!

  My Skill told me that if my opponent moves like that, then I should move like this. But his ability must be doing something similar. If I move in this way, then him moving in that way would put him in danger.

  So how could I defeat that? How could I beat an ability that told him exactly what to do to not be in danger?

  A trap. Not in the conventional pitfall sense, but in a sequence of moves that culminated in a checkmate. A set of attacks that could each be parried or dodged, but that built up towards one final strike that would be unavoidable. He could turn the tables at any point, simply by tanking an attack, taking a minor injury in exchange for victory, but would he?

  I cut and sliced, and the orc parried and dodged. "Stab!" I shouted, and he smirked as he evaded. He countered, and I dodged, then swiped again. He kicked and I jumped. He struck out with his claws, and I parried, then sliced at him again. The exchanges continued, neither of us drawing blood even as my Stamina dwindled.

  And then I had him.

  By carefully controlling the direction of my strikes, I'd orchestrated his dodging to take him back toward his camp. Now his back was up against one of its supports. He may not even have noticed.

  He clawed at me, and I let it connect, darting forward despite the injury it would cause, exchanging my blood for his. A claw tore into my left arm, but my right was exactly where I wanted it.

  A brief look of confusion flashed across the orc's face before I intoned [Stab]. It struck him in the heart.

  A noise I'd been ignoring—the jeers and howls of the peanut gallery—suddenly made itself conspicuous by its absence.

  ... Right, there were eleven more orcs behind me.

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