Tossing a glance at the chaos he had just unleashed, Benimaru began striding forward. He was perfectly casual, as if taking a stroll in the park, and the two ogres with him were the same. There was nobody left to challenge them, and now they could see the army that engaged Ranga and his comrades.
The orcish soldiers, to them, were no longer an obstacle.
✦ ✦ ✦
Just as he had come to terms with his upcoming death, Gabil found himself saved. He turned around, intending to offer a word of thanks. These figures looked familiar, but it took a moment for the memory to return to his brain.
Ah! Yes! The ruler of that village that tamed the direwolves!
Gobta’s dimwitted expression matched Gabil’s recollection of the noble hobgoblin that had defeated him in battle.
“Ahh!” he couldn’t help but blurt out. “You! You are the master of that village, yes? Have you come to our assistance?”
Gabil had dismissed him as a scheming coward before, but now that his reinforcements were here, he figured he had the wrong impression all along. Gobta, meanwhile, wasn’t sure how to respond. What’s he goin’ on about? he thought, dumbfounded. This lizardman made so little sense to him that he decided not to grace his madness with a reply.
This completely unexpected gift allowed Gabil a moment to survey his surroundings again. There was a great commotion from afar, indicating something else going on. Probably had something to do with that rumble from before, Gabil imagined. But Gobta knew what it really was—a signal from Benimaru that the ogres were on the scene.
“Oops! Guess we’re getting started. Ummm, you’re Gabil, right? Bring your allies together and get back in defensive formation!”
“Mm. Yes. I know.”
Each had no idea what the other was talking about, but they still had the mental capacity to unite toward a common goal. They both hurried off, both with a new responsibility to handle.
✦ ✦ ✦
Outside of Gobta and Gabil’s scope of attention, Ranga was sizing up the orc general.
“You wish to get in my way?” the fighter said, spear pointed straight at the wolf, a little unnerved by these new events but still in control of his wits. “Who are you?”
These wolves were a concern to him, certainly. The orc general had a feeling that the low rumble from before was a sign of even clearer danger, but he couldn’t simply leave the wolves unchallenged.
“I am Ranga,” came the low, half-growled reply, “the faithful servant of Sir Rimuru!”
The two glared at each other.
“Rimuru, you say? I’ve never heard the name, but if this Rimuru seeks to defy us, we will destroy him.”
Now the orc general had no interest in Ranga. If he wasn’t aligned with a demon lord or high-level magic-born whose name he was familiar with, he felt free to kill him without regret. That rumbling roar suddenly seemed a lot more important to investigate.
He distractedly thrust his spear forward, attempting to skewer Ranga and end this fast. Ranga effortlessly reared back, dodging the strike.
“Crafty little dog!”
Now the orc general gave Ranga a closer look. Then he noticed—this wasn’t any regular wolf at all. What? Come on. Just a simple magical beast… Why am I letting him worry me so much…? He assumed his sudden trepidation was just his mind playing tricks on him.
“How dare some lowly animal bare its fangs at me!” he shouted, giving orders to his team of elites. The orc knights fanned out, surrounding Ranga in a perfectly timed maneuver. Following their general’s direction, they focused each of their spears on the wolf. There was no point challenging some animal to a one-on-one duel, he thought.
✦ ✦ ✦
Ranga chuckled. He hadn’t felt this heartened in ages, able to release his full instincts as an apex predator.
With a howl as long and loud as he could muster, he unleashed his aura. After spending so long in the shadow of Rimuru, he had been heavily exposed to his beloved master’s aura and used it to picture himself as the magical beast he was. Something drove him to pursue this form of himself, and now Ranga realized it was time for his instincts to awaken.
He could feel the power surging within. His muscles grew, propelling him to his full, sixteen-foot-tall frame. His claws enhanced themselves, his fangs transformed into steel-like daggers—but what stood out most were the two horns that now grew from his forehead.
This was the form of his master, the one he saw in the past. The tempest starwolf. And now he had evolved into that.
✦ ✦ ✦
The howl made the orcish soldiers shudder, but they felt no fear from it. Their orc general was right by their side, and the Ravenous skill had dulled their hearts. Ranga gave them a disinterested snort as he glanced at their leader. This was no threat to him now. He could feel his true strength, and it was time to show it off.
Sensing the flow of power, he focused his magic on his horns. The orc general picked up on this higher-level transformation, and he knew the danger involved. He hurriedly ordered his soldiers to spread out, but he was too late.
A flash of light ran across their ranks. Then the sound came—the crack of thunder as pillars of electricity shot up from the ground to the heavens, accompanied by a small army of tornadoes.
Ranga had obtained the Dark Lightning skill—and while he couldn’t directly control lightning the way Rimuru could, his two horns allowed him to define its range and power. And he had something else—the extra skill Control Wind. This was, in a way, an inferior version of the Control Particles skill Rimuru had picked up. It let Ranga raise and lower the local atmospheric pressure to generate wind gusts, and combining it with Dark Lightning provided a lethal one-two punch.
Ranga knew that—his instincts told him so—and he used it on his foes without a moment’s hesitation. Control Wind was his now, and he used it to generate a staggering pressure difference in the air above. This was the area he used Dark Lightning on, and the ensuing beams of electricity filled the exact area he wanted. The result was a writhing maelstrom of upward and downward air currents, eventually gathering themselves into a single massive vortex.
This led to several large tornadoes, exuding electricity as they ran roughshod across the battlefield like a great death-dealing storm. The orc general was instantly rendered into a pile of carbon, and his nearby soldiers were quickly picked off by the storm and thunderbolts.
Once the tornadoes left the scene, there were no more orcs nearby. Ranga’s broad-range attack skill—Deathstorm—thus made its first impact on the world.