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Frustrated, in search of who it was, attacked by his fake kin. The Khül roared, swinging his mighty weapon left and right. What looked like air blades spewed out of his ax, decapitating, cleaving the life out of the orc horde from a distance. 

"Fakes! Stay your hands or die by mine!" The Khül ordered, stopping his attacks for but a moment to give them pause for choice. 

At least a thousand bodies and more liters of blood covered the sand. It looked like the beginning of a genocide. 

Blinded by the now destroyed suicidal horn\'s power, thousands of orcs heeded none of his warnings and flooded the arena. 

Since most of them were spectators, they wore casual clothes. Deprived of weapons, they could only attack with their fists. 

But they never reached their target in time to even have the chance to land a hit. 

Female, child, young, and old orcs fell by the dozen under Krugan\'s horrified gaze. The orc leader, standing on the edge of the gallery, was trying to stop his people from entering the arena. 

His people were committing a grave crime. However, what saddened him most was the loss of so many lives. 

The number of his soldiers was too few and couldn\'t stop the inexplicable blood lust of his people. The Khül will certainly kill them all at this rate. 

After all, their ancestor was so strong they hailed him as a god.

Krugan lacked the power to prevent his people from jumping in the arena to their doom. But why should he do it? They were at fault for breaking the law and were paying for their actions by death.

They were weak, and death was the result of their weakness. 

However, Krugan couldn\'t help but disagree with his own thoughts. Thinking back on Aito\'s behavior in the cell, Krugan started to understand why the human had attacked him.

Why he had been so angry.

The human warrior had talked about his civilization during their previous exchange, where the weak people were allowed to live. Although it hadn\'t sounded perfect to him, it had intrigued the orc. 

Why would weak people be allowed to live? To which the human warrior had replied, "What the fuck? Why would you condemn your own people for being weak physically and or mentally when they could be strong in other fields? Does it matter if they fail where you succeed? Does failing mean you\'re weak? No, it means you\'re learning." 

At the time, Krugan had dismissed the human\'s claim, but now….

Was it because his people were weak that Krugan should allow a genocide to happen? All Krukhanon citizens were gathered here. Seeing the rate at which the Khül decimated them, there would barely be a few hundred souls left in the city by the end of the Grey Sun.

No matter how much it thought about it, his citizens dying because of an unknown cause felt… wrong. Krugan did not know how the current situation came to be. 

But what Krugan knew was... saving his people was more important than punishing their weakness.

For the first time in his life, Krugan was torn between duty and his own feelings, pleading him to do what was "right."

"Ekä," said an elite orc next to him, addressing Krugan by his rank. "What should we do?" 

The Ekä was the second in the line of command in orc society. Apart from the Khan and Khül, Krugan was the best orc warrior there was in the city of Krukhanon. 

Krugan grunted, pondering the question himself. His gaze traveled from the crazed orc horde to Aito and the Khül, then back and forth. 

A thought struck him. \'I can\'t prevent all of my people from getting in the arena… but I can prevent them from attacking the source. It\'s dangerous, and stepping in the arena during the Sacred Duels is against the law. However….\' 

"Call back our forces pursuing the fleeing humans and pass my orders," the orc leader said, "secure the perimeter around the human warrior and Khül. Prevent any of our people from intervening in the Sacred Duels." 

"But… Ekä that\'s—" 

"I know, but for now, saving our people is what matters the most. Can you imagine Krukhanon with barely a few hundred inhabitants? I cannot. Children are dying as we speak. Our future is dying as we speak. So run and pass my commands, soldier of Krukhanon. Run to save our city," Krugan declared, staring his soldier intently. "I will take full responsibility for this order. Now go before it is too late." 

"Yes, Ekä!" The orc said, standing straight, hitting his shield, then ran to spread the word. 

Krugan sighed, grabbed his weapon and tower shield, then jumped down in the crowded arena, followed by dozens of his elite soldiers.

Krugan stunned, bashed, and pushed aside the orc citizens around him. Female or children, it mattered not. Right now, they had to be stopped at all costs.

The orc felt his injuries from his fight with Aito flare. By now, most of them were healed. Orcs healed fast, after all. It was a racial trait. That\'s what, in part, made them fearsome warriors.

Ironically, today, his injuries were no longer marks of shame but reminders of what the human warrior had told him.

A reminder of what could happen if Krugan did nothing.

"Pierce through!" Krugan ordered. "To Glory and Death!"

His soldiers banged their shields in response.

Meanwhile, the man at the center of it all was struggling to keep himself from passing out. The giant orc was keeping a tight hold on Aito, enough to prevent him from moving. 

However, the Khül\'s anger appeared to cloud his mind as it put more strength in its forearm. Aito\'s face turned redder but just looked more grey because of the daylight. 

He felt the thick orc\'s fingers strongly compressing his throat. Unable to breathe, he redoubled his effort to free himself.

At that moment, he felt an incredible power coursed through his body, accelerating his bloodstream and devouring his soul power as fuel to increase his stats by one entire level

—Unique Skill: One Against Many— 

Plus his gift Fury, his strength skyrocketed to level 6, the limit of what an Ascender could reach. But even then, all he managed to do was loosen the Khül\'s hold enough for him to breathe again. 

\'Just how strong is that thing!?\' He thought, lifting his broken hand to assist the other. 

His body had temporarily reached level 5 and thanks to the recovery beads, he felt slightly less pain from his injury. But it was still ridiculously excruciating. 

The Khül held him like a ragged doll as it wielded his mighty ax. Aito\'s feet swung because of the momentum as if he was hanged to a moving tree. 

Unbalanced, it took him a few seconds to finally get a hold of the orc\'s fingers with both hands. Suddenly, the Khül movements abruptly stopped. 

"What do you want, fake?" The Khül asked, pausing the massacre.

Orc soldiers were forming a shield wall all around, preventing more crazed orcs from intervening in the conflict.

A familiar voice responded, that of Krugan. "Please hold your blade, mighty ancestor. We did not intend to interrupt the sacred event. Something incited our people to act this way." 

"The sacred event? Who cares about this sham!?" The Khül said. "I\'ll commend your effort from getting through this mess, fake boy, and will let you live. But do not give me orders like you do your soldiers." 

"I would never dare give you orders, ancestor. However, our people—"

"\'Our people?" The Khül asked. "Hahaha!"