“Why is this thing here?!”
On his way back to the watchtower, Camille encountered a monster: a humanoid giant, easily over two meters tall, with rock-hard skin the color of sand. Two horns grew from its distorted, humanlike head. The monster, which blended in with dust clouds, was a sand ogre—a local variety of ogre.
Standard ogres were powerful monsters ranging from the upper end of Rank 3 to the lower end of Rank 4. Sand ogres were always Rank 4, and though they were endemic to this region, they normally stayed deep in the ancient ruins of Reisveil. Very rarely, groups of ogres would wander out during territorial disputes—but this one was alone. It had likely been driven out of the ruins, like those shell dragons, but by what?
“Groooar!”
Ogres were a man-eating species. This one, likely starving, roared with joy at finally finding prey. Not only that, it somehow possessed a rusty greatsword with a broken tip. Unarmed ogres were trouble as it was...
Camille figured battle was unavoidable. His expression turned blank as he drew his two magical blades. He and the ogre had roughly the same combat power, which made it a significant threat. But more importantly, he couldn’t let this man-eating monster reach the watchtower where Ron and the others were.
“Grr...” Sensing something shift about Camille’s aura, the sand ogre now seemed to view the dark elf as an enemy, not food. “Groooar!”
“Haaah!”
Clang!
The broken greatsword collided with one of the magical blades, scattering sparks of aether into the desert air. The impact chipped the blade of the ogre’s weapon and sent Camille flying back.
But the dark elf used the force of the blow to counter, spinning to slash at the sand ogre’s arm with his remaining blade.
“Graaah!”
The sand ogre’s face twisted into a smile as Camille’s blade connected with its arm. The cut was shallow, unable to do much to the ogre’s rock-hard skin.
Startled, Camille chose to establish distance instead of pressing the attack. It wasn’t just that the ogre’s raw stats were higher than his—it probably had more practical experience as well. It was the same with Alia, whose rank was similar to his, but whose combat experience vastly surpassed his.
The ogre’s combat power neared 1,000. Camille had means to bridge the experience gap, but it would take time that he wasn’t sure he had.
At that moment, a projectile came flying from somewhere and deflected off the ogre’s skin with a shrill sound. A small cloaked figure burst out from behind a rocky outcropping and rapidly fired an array of crossbow bolts at the sand ogre while circling to the side.
“Graaah!!!”
Roaring angrily at the interloper, the sand ogre raised its broken greatsword to deflect the projectiles. But another attacker emerged, exploiting that opening to strike the back of the ogre’s head with a blunt weapon.
“Gaaaaaaaaah!!!”
The sturdy monster staggered slightly, its roars growing angrier still. Its attention shifted to the two newcomers, who were about Rank 3. It would be difficult for them to beat a sand ogre with that level of skill, but their interference created an opening for Camille to unleash his trump card.
“Release.”
With the invocation, the seals placed on Camille’s magical blades were lifted. The accumulated experience from the swords flowed back into him, and the sensation was sickening—Camille felt as though his very brain were being eroded. Still, he endured it and leaped forward, unleashing the technique etched into the blades.
“Dancing Reaper!”
“Graaah?!”
Camille waltzed in the air as he delivered a furious eight-hit combo with his two daggers. Caught in the vortex of strikes, the sand ogre bled from countless cuts in its rocky skin as it collapsed onto the dry ground.
“Ngh,” the dark elf groaned, pain shooting up his arms from the exertion.
His magical blades had the ability to store experience, and within them was engraved the Level 5 dagger technique Dancing Reaper. The blades carried with them the skills necessary to use the technique as well, but since Camille was of a lower rank than the blades, the process was highly taxing on his body.
“Are you hurt?” asked one of the interlopers.
Camille’s gaze went to the Krus man and his dark elf daughter. Their hoods were now down, their faces visible in the desert sun.
“Kadri...? Izelle?”
Kadri and Izelle offered small smiles as they walked closer. The two knelt and bowed their heads.
“We’ve come to escort you, Your Highness.”