Orc Tyrant

They left the ruins and followed the rutted road behind the imperial defense line.

The sun gradually rises in the sky, and on the fortifications that stretch for several kilometers, one by one firepower spot leaves a long shadow at dawn. Tens of thousands of tents cover the ground like blisters, and the campfires used for breakfast are lit up.

They passed by a banner, all hanging limply in the gradually hot air.

The infiltration site is about three kilometers west of Mihir Mountain, an outfall of an ancient mine system.

A few days ago, this location was exposed in the shelling, and has since been closely guarded.

In addition to the sentinels, there were a few wizards staring there day and night.

Oak also guarded the exit at the other end closely, but Glacas didn't intend to go all the way to the other end.

The captain introduced him to the officer at the outpost, a red-faced man named Mano.

Mano quietly walked away the sentry, and then watched Grakas slip through the broken cliff into the drain with the captain.

Darkness, an element that often appeared in his life, surrounded him.

Three kilometers, thirty minutes later, he crawled out of a drain, not far from Ok's camp.

He turned off the lantern, put it in his backpack, and hid it under the loose stone bricks of a canal with his canvas jacket and military boots.

The time he traveled in the dark mine tunnel was almost enough for him to complete his identity conversion.

He is no longer Nickel.

On the whole, he doesn't have many real camouflage methods: a pink silk shawl on the outside of a desert suit, felt shoes replaced with military boots, and a sand mask expertly wrapped around his face.

His skin was tanned, although it was not as dark as an ordinary Aksum.

To pretend to be a real Axum, you need to tie up your hair with a net, and apply a scented ointment to your forehead, armpits, crotch and stomach.

Gracas has never done it to such extremes, although his superiors suggested it.

He knew that his mind could easily make up for any flaws in his technique, and the ointment seemed disgusting, and he didn't intend to participate in it.

He hung the machete on the sash and fastened a wide belt with three pockets on it, each containing water, salt, and Ouke’s teeth.

He rubbed his hands with the sand on the side of the road and soiled his nails.

Apart from the small scimitar, he did not carry any weapons, of course, except for the ring.

The sun had already climbed into the sky while he was walking through the dark and humid underground world.

He felt the scorching sun on his head and shoulders, but he was so close to the valley that he could smell and feel it.

Fresh wind came from the coast, passing through the gaps of the Grand Canyon.

He smelled the humid air and started to walk towards Oak's camp.

On a new day, the war is about to begin. This area that was once the main human position has become a boiling ocean. More than one hundred thousand euros will stay here, and they will set off here again, sowing their enthusiasm for war.

There are tens of thousands of such camps in the entire canyon, but this is the most special one.

The huge king flag in the center of the camp declares that there is an extraordinary existence here, and the silver helmets shining in the sun indicate the identity of the master.

Guk, the king of Ouke, the white tyrant.

This is his royal court.

No matter how you look at it, a human being here is an extremely dangerous suicidal behavior.

But Grakas knows that Ok is not the only camp in this camp. In fact, after looting more than half of the Gramatia province, Ok, in addition to plundering a huge amount of supplies, has a larger population. .

Guk did not completely slaughter all the humans he encountered. In fact, he still left some of them. Most of them worked to the death in the factories behind, but there were very few people with special talents who would be killed by him. Take it around and be managed by his harpy servant.

This is Gracas' opportunity.

All humans were collectively placed in a camp, guarded by the overlord guards, but Gracas knew the layout of the entire camp, he easily found a guard gap, and escaped into this tent under the cover of shadows and obstacles. Area.

Whether or not war comes, life must continue.

Between the tents, merchants and vendors were selling things, and the currency they used here turned out to be Oak’s teeth, and Gracas had to lament the adaptability of human beings.

Most of the people who are alive are craftsmen, and their main job is to complete some "detailed work" that artisans cannot.

For example, he made some small decorations for Guk's armor, or carved some unidentified carvings on the helmet, and Guk has also fallen in love with statues recently.

Under his order, the masons tried to complete a statue of the same height, preparing to erect the statue on the highest point of the city after Guk captured Tyre.

So everyone in the camp is busy, because only by proving their own value can they live and their family members can also live.

No one even pays attention to a strange outsider-after all, there are new strangers in this place every day.

As he walked, Gracas recited the psionic prayer silently in his mind. This was the final step to switch to another set of language habits and cultural background.

"Who are you, friend?"

When he approached a side door of the camp, a swordsman suddenly asked.

Although the outside of the camp is guarded by guards, Guk also prohibits Ok from entering it, so the order in the camp is maintained by the humans themselves.

Such groups are usually called gangs.

In a sense, Gracas doesn't think that human beings are more civilized than Ok, at least in terms of treating similar people.

The swordsman had originally leaned the long knife on the black breastplate, but now he raised the weapon.

Some of his companions are also alert, other swordsmen are stopping some water merchants who are walking towards this entrance from outside the camp, asking them for their identities, and collecting protection fees.

Glacas glanced at each other.

Duck, this is his name.

"Duck, my good buddy, I have to tell you sadly that my supplier is like a goat's mouth."

Glacas answered politely.

"I can only get in, so I have to ship some good goods by myself."

Then, he took out a piece of salt and a few teeth from his pocket and handed them to the other party.

Duck waved his fat hand and accepted the thing with a disgusting smile.

"Oh, don't worry! I understand that in such turbulent and difficult times, this kind of thing cannot be avoided."

After licking the salt block with his tongue and confirming the purity, he looked at Gracas more sincerely.

"Dude, it seems you have a way out, right? Very good, we can do business in the future! I look forward to receiving your goods."

"I will always serve you, Dark."

Glacas whispered:

"But now I have to do business."

"Oh, of course, I will buy you a drink if I have the opportunity."

The swordsmen gave way. This is a way to the outside world. Although it is generally inevitable to eat those green skins when going out, there are some lucky guys who are familiar with the guys outside and can come and go in a short time. They are also most of them. Merchant's source of goods.

Glacas tried to play exactly this role, but he didn't know the guards guarding the outside, so he chose another path.