It was the stronger party’s show of respect to attack first. Bazarath forced his hooves free from the mud and charged with all of his strength. The muscles all over his body bulged, and he swung his massive axe in an arc parallel with the earth. Durghan held up his much smaller war axe to block and adjusted his stance to divert as much of the force as possible, but he was sent flying by the fraction of power that managed to break through. His body turned over in the air, outside of his control. Only after one of his shoulders dragged through the mud was he able to extend one of his hands, push off the ground, and return to a standing position.

Bazarath forced steamy breath from his nostrils and tensed his body, charging for the second time. This time it was a diagonal slash; dissipating the force wouldn’t be enough to deal with it. Durghan’s body understood before his mind did, and he crouched down to avoid the blow. In response to that, Bazarath adjusted the angle of his swing. However, Durghan’s crouch was only the precursor to a backward leap, and he safely escaped the Fomor’s range of attack.

“It really is skill without strength,” Bazarath muttered despite himself, shaking his head. “Someone of your caliber should be training the next generation, not risking your life in battle.”

Durghan grinned and rolled his aching shoulder. “Funny you should say that. That’s precisely my job outside of wartime.”

Bazarath narrowed his eyes and squeezed the shaft of his weapon. “And your Lord send you to fight regardless?”

Durghan swallowed his nervousness and let adrenaline fuel him, struggling to keep his footing while running through the mud. He lifted his axe, “That was my,” and brought it down vertically, “decision!”

Bazarath casually deflected the blow with the shaft of his battleaxe, but that action held enough force to knock Durghan onto his rear.

“Guhaa!”

Bazarath sighed looking at that scene and propped his battleaxe against his shoulder. “So you’re just a person who doesn’t know his limits.” The look in the colossal goat man’s eyes was full of genuine pity and disappointment, but Durghan only chuckled while sitting in the mud.

“Not just that. I’m also very good at accepting challenges from unbeatable opponents. Like my sister, or you,” Durghan grinned, “or my niece.”

Bazarath noticed something strange in the armored Orc’s tone and saw that his eyes weren’t looking directly at him. Feeling a sudden shiver run down his spine, the Fomor did an about-face. Just in time, he was able to block the tip of an iron lance that was aiming at the back of his skull. The strike came backed by a massive amount of strength, such that he was forced to take a few steps back. Directly in front of him: a lean and well-muscled Orc-like woman. She had wild red hair, wrapped in tube-like shapes, huge tawny wings, and armor made from his kin. That flying Orc flapped her wings twice more before touching her feet to the mud.

“You, couldn’t be,” the Fomor stumbled over his words, his eyes trembling wildly.

The Orc-like woman responded to that with a friendly smile. “Well, you looked like the boss, so I figured it was my turn. My name’s Vyra.” She lifted up her short lance. “I’m the Orc Lord.”

***

Phew. That was kind of annoying. I put all the weight of my descent behind that surprise attack, but it got blocked just like that. I guess I’ll have to work on my stealth so that I don’t get noticed next time.

Whatever. It's finally my turn to fight, so I’ll try to have fun with it.

Or that's what I thought, but, after he got over the shock of my surprise attack, the huge Fomor swung his axe at me. I held up my short lance, an iron one I made just for this war, to block, but instead of diverting the blow, it bent.

“Urg!” I put more strength into my body to resist the blow, digging my feet into the mud to avoid being thrown to the side.

Or not. He’s stronger than I thought.

Of course, it doesn’t matter much to me if my weapon gets damaged. I just put in a bit of magic power and fixed its shape while casting a few rounds of <Harden> on it. In the breath of time I took to do that, the Fomor boss weighed his weapon in his hands.

“You aren’t taking me seriously, are you?" he scolded. "You should. If I defeat you, the West forest will fall out of Orc hands.”

Stolen story; please report.

He hit a nerve with that one, so I let out a sigh. Be more serious, no be less serious, no be more serious. I don’t get you people!
You could aim for a middle path.
I don’t wanna!

“Shut up and fight me,” I said with an eye roll. At the same time, I confirmed that Durghan had made his way out of range and into the forest.

The Fomor boss snorted and stepped into a swing. I leapt above his weapon while preparing my short lance for a very simple thrust. The boss immediately tried to dodge, but the mud around his hooves had turned into iron when he wasn’t paying attention. I’ve been practicing with iron lately.

Since he couldn’t move, the boss settled with blocking, though his stance wasn’t suited for that either. Veins bulged in his neck and arms, and his joints made some worrying sounds, but he blocked my strike a second time.

For some reason, that irritated me.

I had no choice but to reset my stance after that attack failed. The boss struggled with his hooves in that short time.

“I wouldn’t have guessed from those wings, but you were an earth magic caster?”

One of his hooves came free from the hard iron, momentarily shocking me to inaction. A moment later, the next hoof came loose, and that time I detected waves of Magic Power.

Motherfucker. This guy’s an earth magic caster too?!

“Yup. I was the one hiding in the sky while raining hell on your species.”

The boss’s eyes narrowed at my provocation, and I took a look at his Will stat. 103%; maybe I am a little too unmotivated. I’ll give up on using <Trill> for now, since I don’t want to keep checking his stats throughout the battle. I did still activate <Domain>'s aggro so that he wouldn’t be able to run away.

While I was preparing in my own way, I made a slight oversight. The boss used the iron I had transmuted as a platform and leapt off of it. Let’s see, is that about seventeen hundred pounds of goat? I don’t want to get hit with seventeen hundred pounds of goat. I sidestepped right away, just like Durghan taught me. The boss landed and swung his axe at me, but I leaned over at an impossible angle using the weight of my wings, and the blade passed over my head. Standing straight, I thrust my short lance at his open side. Making a split-second decision, the boss dropped his axe and used both of his hands to catch my attack.

Tch. He noticed.

I had turned the metal reinforcing his weapon into something incredibly brittle. If he had blocked with it, my attack would have broken straight through and gotten him.

The boss kept a firm hold on my short lance and pulled it toward him. I figured he wanted to keep it for himself, disarming me while obtaining a weapon, so I resisted. I held just as tightly as he did and flapped my wings to keep myself from being pulled forward. I never thought I would wish to weight more than three hundred pounds, but the weight disparity really hurt me this time, and I got pulled in after only a momentary struggle. With a jab of the boss’s elbow, both of my wrists nearly snapped. They bent far enough that I couldn’t keep hold of my weapon. It was taken and immediately turned against me. As a last instinct, I changed the iron into mud before the point could pierce through my throat. Mud got into my eyes and mouth, and I felt a pair of powerful arms wrap around me, binding my arms and wings to my sides.

[[<Domain> has produced a synergistic effect with unique skill <Trill>. If a creature within the <Domain> has a lower Will stat than the user, verbal commands will manifest as Law.]]

“Let. Go.” The iciest voice I had ever produced leaked off of my lips. The boss’s arms loosened, and I wiped the mud out of my eyes enough so I could see. The 12-foot-tall goat man stared down at me with more eye white than iris, his chest heaving up and down. I was breathing just as hard. There the two of us stood, weaponless, stunned.

After an awkward shared moment, the boss opened his mouth, speaking in a low voice, “Why are you taking things this far? For what purpose?”

I glared up at him and gave a violent shrug. “I don’t fucking know.” But I don’t know how to stop either, so I won’t. I’ll just press harder until the whole damn mess goes away.

The boss lowered his head at my answer, and I checked his Will stat again. After mine suddenly rose and he experienced my Law, his Will dropped significantly. Right now, I’m in control.

“Now then, get on your knees.” He did so. I’ll have you receive my pent-up emotions.

Grabbing his horns with my hands, I pulled down hard. At the same time, I drove my knee up. I hit his jaw with enough force to split a slab of iron in half, and his eyes rolled back into his head. I put <Trill> into the strike for good measure, so his brain must have been reduced to mush. The boss's limp body dropped onto the sopping ground, motionless.

Glaring down at the body, I spat out the remaining mud that had gotten into my mouth. I felt <Domain>’s synergy with the <Lord Spirit> still active in the background and noticed a response from my Holy affinity. Looking at where the response was coming from, I could only laugh self-deprecatingly. “Ah, I was wondering where you all were.”

Damn it. My aggro must have called them over after the boss was defeated.

I slowly turned to face the group of forty-something Small Baphomets that had been absent since the start of the battle.

***

Once all the weaker Fomors had surrendered or been killed, everyone besides Vyra had withdrawn to the forest. Oolga was among them, cheerfully piling up wood for a cooking fire. She also deterred any of the war prisoners from running away before they could be brainwashed: using <Fire Sense> to monitor them she would look over her shoulder and glare anytime they made strange movements.

It was peaceful work, and quite refreshing after a good fight. However, an <Oracle> came to her, making her stop her hands to listen. Ethereal voices swam into her head from all directions, speaking in many different rhythms and tones, and in more than a few different languages. By focusing carefully, Oolga was able to hear them synergize and deliver a single message with a single meaning:

"The next time <Undying Constitution> is used in an attempt to avoid instant death, it will fail."