The orcs poured endlessly from the labyrinth in waves.
However, after repeated, mechanical sweeps, they were finally down to just one last longbow squad.
[“I’m leaving this place to you now, Gurup!”]
At Owen’s sudden shout, the ranger, who had been swinging his dagger, flinched and flailed his limbs.
[“What are you saying, Owen! As you know, the counter for the archer squad is melee…!”]
[“They’re almost out of life anyway. Gurup, you’re pretty good with a blade too, right?”]
[“Wait! Hold on, Owen!”]
But Owen, in his urgency, barely listened to Gurup’s words and ran straight toward the boss room.
[“Newbie! Titi!”]
However, what awaited Owen was an unexpected sight.
The massive Orc King, drenched in blood, was kneeling before the small goat, reciting his final lines.
—How lamentable, Thunderstorm Bone…
His battered body was glowing faintly, gradually fading away.
—Is this inevitable? Or was it simply my lack of strength? I gathered all the wisdom of my people to stop you, yet the wheels of the prophesied fate…