The Lord’s Raids

"I have to come back alive!!"

Under a canopy of trees, a young man was running at full speed, his body gaunt and withered, having already sweated out all the moisture his body could produce.

From time to time, he glanced over his shoulder to gauge the distance between himself and his pursuers. Though he managed to maintain a decent gap, enough to prevent them from reaching him, the young man had reached his limit.

In his clan, he prided himself on being strong—strong enough to one day claim the title of patriarch. But outside the hamlet, he was just an ordinary ogre-human hybrid. This race, born from the union of ogres and humans, was not accepted by either side. His body was mostly human, save for the horn on his forehead.

The ogre blood coursing through his veins had gifted him with certain strengths that made him superior to normal humans. But here, in this cursed forest, he was little more than prey—near the bottom of the food chain.

"Shit... they're getting closer!!!" the young man shouted, his voice filled with desperation.

He was being chased by about twenty ravenous bats. They were large and monstrous, with eyes that gleamed a menacing scarlet. Once these carnivorous abominations had prey in their sights, they wouldn't stop until they had crushed every bone in its body.

The young man frantically searched for a way out of this dire situation, his body screaming in pain. He cursed himself for disturbing the creatures in their nest, and he cursed the Dhakat clan for waging war on them. He was overwhelmed by the mounting problems.

Two swords in hand, he scanned the area for shelter. In this vast forest filled with dangers, a single moment of recklessness—or bad luck—could mean death.

His eyes spotted a cave. He made a desperate dash for it. His mana reserves were depleted, his muscles ached, and hunger gnawed at him. The war had taken everything from him: comrades, subordinates. He had failed as a leader, failed as a brother. He hadn't been able to protect those who depended on him. He wanted to die, but his sense of responsibility wouldn't allow it.

He needed to be strong—strong enough to protect what was left of his clan, to mend the broken pieces, and to bring an end to this bloody war.

Once inside the cave, the young man turned to face his pursuers. With swords in hand, he fought to keep control of everything that came at him from the front.

But it only took a moment for everything to go wrong.

Focused on the threat before him, he failed to notice the trap at his feet—a pile of leaves that had been carefully placed to hide a pit.

His foot slipped, and he fell.

Unable to get up from the bottom of the pit, he struggled in vain until a figure appeared above him, emerging from the depths of the cave.

The young man laughed at his misfortune, no longer having the strength to fight. He closed his eyes and fainted.

---

Cliff quickly approached the source of the noise, pouring a large amount of mana into his legs to increase his speed.

He spotted a cluster of flying creatures circling above the pit, fighting over their prey.

Without hesitation, Cliff leaped at one of the creatures. Channeling a vast amount of mana into his arm muscles, he cleaved the beast in two.

Satisfied, he ignored the system notification in his head and continued the assault. His eyes bloodshot with determination, Cliff was focused solely on exterminating the invaders.

He rushed at another bat, aiming a slash. The creature dodged, but Cliff quickly reinforced his legs and jumped onto it, impaling the beast through its throat. Another bat charged at him, but Cliff used the corpse as leverage to spin toward his new target, slicing through its wing. The unbalanced creature let out a deafening screech that echoed through the cave. Cliff swiftly changed the direction of his sword, sending the bat's head flying.

[You killed a Moonbat]

"It was a bat? That thing was my size, damn it!" Cliff complained.

The Moonbats were large, powerful creatures. Cliff wouldn't have been able to defeat them without reinforcing his muscles by channeling mana. It required intense focus to manipulate mana through his body this way.

Cliff slashed and cut through everything in his path, not allowing the bats a second to retaliate. He strengthened his limbs to increase the force of his blows, performing a deadly dance in the midst of the abominations.

All that occupied his mind was the need to kill—to finish the job before the noise attracted any more threats. Cliff wanted to eliminate them quickly.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally cut down the last one.

[You killed a Moonbat]

When the notification ended, he flicked his sword, shaking off the blood. His expression was dark as he chopped up the corpses to retrieve his loot.

Cliff slowly approached the pit. Spotting a human form inside, he focused on its torso and saw movement.

"He's still alive!"

Cliff descended into the pit. He found a young man with brown skin and silver hair, his face bruised and eyes shadowed by dark circles.

"This poor guy must've been through hell to end up in this state," Cliff muttered.

He lifted the unconscious man, slung him over his back, reinforced his legs with mana, and leaped out of the pit.