Orc Tyrant

"Give him my leather?"

The Ting Wei looked down at the reddish brown leather on his shoulder. The serpentine braid on the back of his head rose like a spear-throwing arm.

"This is my skin."

With a low snort, the other Ting Wei tore off the gray leather from his body and handed it to the Harpy.

"Come."

He said:

"For you, this is a gift from Bitul to the bird."

"Is this some kind of contract?"

Avril asked cautiously, she didn't want to owe a favor to a certain Oak in a vague way. Although she occasionally heard about it, she also knew that everything owed to Oak was good and never owed favor to Oak.

Facing the cautious gaze of the harpy, Ting Wei, who handed him the leather, shook his head.

"No, it doesn't involve any debt, but when you tell my story, you may remember this incident, by the way, I am very generous."

"As I tell your story?"

"Yes, don’t you keep remembering? Then you will talk about it. Then you remember to say more good things to me, saying that I gave you this piece of Skugepi, and remember to give Val K said as a selfish miser."

Avril raised her head to look at Walker who had just refused to give her warmth, and was surprised to find that his eyes flashed in the cold darkness like a lantern.

It seemed that he was planning to do Bitur, but he found that Kunderaka was staring at him, and he was immediately discouraged.

"I just..."

He muttered, but the harpy didn't hear much.

Avril wrapped Ok's gift on her body. The smell was not good, but at least it could withstand the cold. She had never felt so cold.

After breathing for a while, she looked up at Okundra Ka.

"I still don't understand."

"I know."

"No, no."

The harpy replied in frustration:

"At this time you should explain, at this time you should tell me that everything will be explained clearly."

"But I can't say that. Some things will be explained, but not everything, because it's never a good idea to explain everything clearly."

They came to the edge.

The long and dull journey came to an abrupt end. They stood in front of a tall building. Perhaps it used to be a mansion of a rich man, but now it has become silent, except for the occasional barking and roaring from the dark corners. , Will break this penetrating silence.

The road leading to the gate of the mansion continued to stretch forward, also hidden in the darkness, the winter wind blowing from bottom to top.

"Where to go now?"

"Go forward by yourself."

Avril walked from them to the depths of the mansion, through the devastated garden, she came to an antechamber, a strange space full of totems and pillars, and some kind of weird grunt.

She could perceive a gloomy figure in the front, a huge shadow entangled in the rosy firelight, and this was the source of that voice.

Avril could still hear a low, rapid and soft gasp, as if it were a behemoth that was troubled by the heat.

After a while, the figure spoke, and Avril felt the other party's voice shaking his diaphragm.

Fear poured directly into his heart, but what was interesting was that it was a clean and simple feeling, which was easier to bear than the disgust caused by those totems.

"I do not understand--"

The harpy shook her head and whispered:

"I do not understand what you are saying."

The voice rumbling again.

"Sir, I can hear your words, but I can't understand that language."

Avril explained again.

After blinking, the figure moved, looking directly at her, the harpy finally saw the other person's face by the sudden rising of the fire.

"I heard you know our language."

Mogdrogen said so.

After a while, the psionic boss straightened his body, like a rock giant awakened from an ancient sleep.

"Human language, our language, I heard that you speak both of these fluently."

Every syllable in his words was mixed with the low roar unique to Oak, and Avril was stunned by the huge body of the psionic warlord. He was far superior to the ordinary Oak in all aspects, which was like seeing a god.

It seems that a classical statue with exquisite craftsmanship is suddenly activated, looking down at all beings with a stalwart posture that exceeds 50 to 70% of the normal human body.

"What? You can't even speak anymore?"

"Sir, I..."

Avril hesitated for a while, then said:

"Your Excellency... are you speaking Occitan?"

"I am now."

"Then I don't understand--"

The Harpy shook her head, she eagerly hoped that her voice would not appear so pathetic and weak.

"Before I was brought here, I could speak Occitan, but then again, I couldn't speak it at all until I arrived in the sinister wasteland, so I don't know what's going on here."

The psionic boss pouted thoughtfully.

"I wondered that this confirmed my view all along, you have been touched by something, in your head."

"Your Excellency, this is not easy to accept. If it is true, then I cannot trust myself."

Avril knows that these Ok's brains, who use mysterious powers, are often abnormal. This is a well-known fact. Even Okers themselves know that believing a mad wizard is as stupid as sticking their heads into a fire.

"Imagine what happened to you before."

Mogdrogen's words seemed to possess some kind of magical power, and Avril suddenly found that his memories had become blurred. Everyone, familiar people, and their faces seemed to have no impression on him.

This fact has a deeper impact on her than the other party's words.

"Then why do you still tolerate me? I'm not worthy of trust."

"Oh, sit down."

The psionic boss said, he stretched out a huge palm and pointed to a stone chair beside him.

"Sit down, we talk."

Mogdrogen was also sitting on a stone chair, and within his reach was a silver bowl full of wine.

His armor only covered his torso, and it appeared dark in color, as if he had been smoky and scorched in a blacksmith's shop, but Avril felt that it was just the effect of the shadow of the fire. She believed that this armor would be in broad daylight. Gem-like light green color.

This is not the thickest and strongest armor that Avril has ever seen, but it must be the most scarred armor.

Various sword marks and gunshot wounds are all over it, and they play a decorative role as many leather knots and inscribed emblems. Mogdro's shoulders are covered with a piece of black wrinkled leather, and the fur seems to be wrapped around him, like a hill. Forests, or dark clouds guarding the peaks.

He is different from the average weak nerve boy, his muscles bulge, and his skin is like summer green leaves. After getting closer, Avril can still see a faint aura appearing on his head.

The old man of psionics has a very fashionable Scrooge hairstyle, with thick braids hanging from his breastplate, with polished stones tied at the end, and the rest of the hair is fixed by wax into a sharp mane.

Avril watched Mogdrogen sit down. He took a sip from the bowl from time to time and was still gasping softly with a grin, like a huge beast that felt so hot and couldn't get rid of its fur.