Orc Tyrant

Arkham shrouded in the night, like a ball of ignited scrap metal, with fire and smoke always shrouded in the sky above the city.

With the efforts of the technicians, this once the largest industrial city in Essex has become a huge arsenal.

Every day, tens of thousands of weapons are shipped out of the factories that work around the clock. At the same time, the same amount of waste is shipped back to the factory every day. This number is still rising.

Just like the abandoned city in the Waka Rainforest, Arkham has also become the center of the gathering of kids in this area.

The scale of the city has been expanded three times compared with the past. In addition to a large number of shanty towns, the houses of human beings have been transformed into strong fortresses.

Arkham is both an arsenal and a battlefield.

For the kids, it is more persuasive to be a leader in this place than to dominate in the wilderness.

So Arkham is very lively both day and night.

But few people know that under this bustling city, in the complex sewer network system, an endless hunt is being staged.

The hunter can smell his prey.

In the previous six months, they had many close contacts.

In the two contests, the prey immediately ran away after realizing that the hunter could hardly be ambushed.

The prey roared out from the darkness several times with a low growl, ridiculing the hunter, and would often have information from the blood book.

In the long hunt, after countless traps and counter-traps, he walked through the drained dark sewers, inspecting every shadow, hoping to find the only shadow that was not a shadow.

Originally chasing was not a hunter's specialty, he was more familiar with **** combat at close range, but this difficult prey made him have to become a special warfare expert.

Because this **** has already killed his three-figure boy and boss.

It must die!

"Ok?"

The hunter stopped, bent and squatted down, pressing his tight body against the wall, overlooking the valley-like exhaust shaft.

Below is a group of distant dark green gloomy light, and the exhaust pipes are opened one by one, letting the desert-like air currents sweep up along the shaft.

It blew the hunter's tangled hair and made him pause.

There is a hint of smell in the dry hot air.

One billionth of a content, but this hunter can smell it.

Old blood stains, pain... and hatred.

The prey is not far away.

It hides in a walkway that traverses the edge of the exhaust shaft below. In the past six months, hunters have never locked the target with such precision.

The hot wind rushed from below, and the hunter was downwind from the prey. There is no doubt that the noise echoing in the shaft made it impossible for the prey to hear his movements.

The hunter stood up and jumped silently.

He landed on a platform twenty meters away, ran along it like an acrobat, and then climbed onto a support attached to the shaft.

He descended quickly, stopping every few meters to observe carefully, using his eyes, ears and sense of smell to catch the trail of prey.

Very close, very close...

Right there!

The hunter was motionless, and he could see the prey.

He saw his opponent for the first time.

The prey crouched on a walkway ten meters below the hunter's location. It looked like a spiny lizard, but it had the head of a bird of prey, and the blurred colors flashed on the scales.

The prey was looking down deep in the shaft, and for some reason, it expected the hunter to appear from below.

Just this time, its intuition failed.

The prey leaned over and waited, ready to attack.

The prey had no idea about the hunter above him.

The hunter silently drew the dagger from the oiled sheath, and he adjusted his position to make a leap—in fact, a leap was more like a pounce than a leap.

The impact will end the opponent, the hunter's weight and kinetic energy will suppress the prey on the firm walkway, and his sharp blade will complete the killing.

That prey will die in the blink of an eye. It doesn't deserve it, but it should have died long ago.

The hunter stretched his arms, moved his neck, and prepared to pounce.

There is no room for error, the prey must not be underestimated, and then he leaned forward, supporting a bracket with his left hand, preparing to—

"Boss!"

The communication device in his shoulder armor suddenly rang.

This sound made the prey below suddenly look up, and the hunter saw the face of the prey-like a mixture of various creatures, ugly and hateful.

"Ok!"

The prey screamed at the hunter.

"Ok!!"

The prey began to yell, let out a wailing sound similar to a curse, and leapt from the aisle, arms open, and the ragged coat trembling like broken wings.

He fell into the dark abyss of the exhaust shaft, leaving a mocking laugh in the hot wind behind him.

The hunter's body leaned back abruptly.

He swallowed his anger and activated the communicator.

"speak--"

He said, his voice was as low as an earthquake.

"For your head, it's better to be an important thing."

"Bulltooth boss."

There is a voice from the communicator.

"A message came from the east."

"information?"

The hunter frowned and growled.

"It's the overlord, the overlord is here!"

He hesitated for a moment.

"You are meeting me at the exit."

Gu Ya put the dagger into its sheath, and let out a depressed breath.

"By the way, call Bal Zhijin and Naz."

"Yes!"

And the prey that escaped its fate went deep into the darkness in the darkness and curled up in a corner it thought was safe.

There are many Ouke’s bones scattered around, among others.

It doesn't know why it wants to kill them, it only knows that it must do so.

It doesn't even know what it is or what it is called.

Only when alone, something will squeeze into its chaotic mind.

Like now.

A waterfall-like illusion flows above reality, and the originally dry sink has become a school of fish jumping over the crushed clouds.

It wanted to stay there, to return to the place that only existed in his memory forever, to the time when he was a little boy, to the time when he felt that the world was so infinite and full of miracles.

boy?

Its claw-producing hands kept scratching its head, creating wounds, but also allowing them to heal quickly.

Who is that boy?

He looked around in a field, and there was a wooden house on a distant hill.

Accompanied by the golden waves, the afterglow is in sight, there is a home to return...

Home

The thought made it growl like a weeping.

It returned to the icy and dry quagmire.

There was only fire, blood, and Okna's roar and gunshots.

The stars are silent, and the night sky is gloomy, giving no comfort.

A voice told it that it wanted to go back and return to the quagmire, where there are things it left behind, not here.

It stood up, walked toward the depths of the passage, following the voice.

Maybe there is an answer, maybe there is only death, but it can only follow that voice, it knows that it is just a servant...

But where did this start?

It cannot think, nor can it think.