Age of Adepts

Chapter 1491 A Slaughter

A lively and bustling orc camp.

Even though the curtain of night had fallen upon them, the camp showed no signs of quiet or sleep.

The boisterous orc warriors gathered around a campfire, drinking strong spirits as they beat their chests and tapped their weapons, singing to the heavy tune of some old song. They laughed loudly, and there hardly seemed to be any of the urgency and suspense that came with war.

A dozen orc powerhouses with savage auras were gathered in the camp center's largest tent, loudly discussing a matter.

Meanwhile, a particularly muscular werewolf sat at the very end of the tent. Two ancient-looking knives were sheathed behind his back, and he wore leather armor engraved with strange runes. He wore a bone necklace made out of bone fragments and fangs on his neck. His joints were all covered with tough leather adorned with vicious spikes.

A shaman sat by his side with feathers attached all over him. Several pieces of bone had been stuck through his nose and lips. His exposed body was covered in colorful ceremonial mud.

The only ones that were allowed in the tent were orcs of at least Third Grade and above. They were all incredibly strong, muscular, and even their weathered armor couldn't contain their savage aura.

As they loudly argued about how to exterminate the evil adepts hiding deep in the mountains, the orc shaman who had been sitting silently to the side suddenly lifted his head. His face was filled with shock and horror as he looked toward the mountains.

There were few orc shamans, but all of them enjoyed reverence and respect within the orc tribes. They could communicate with the orc gods through special ceremonies. Thus, they became the most authoritative individuals when it came to decisions within the tribe apart from the clan leaders.

"High Priest Sanger, did you discover something?" The strongest werewolf that sat at the head of the table reached out with his hand and stopped his subordinates' bickering. He frowned and asked.

Even though he could not sense the specifics of what was happening, the chilling waves he felt from the bottom of his heart alarmed him.

He did not have any divination abilities, so it was only natural that he couldn't see the movements of the evil adepts fifty kilometers away. However, as an advanced Fourth Grade, he already possessed the qualification to come into contact with the intangible planar consciousness.

It was almost as if…the Earth Mother was warning him through his sixth sense.

An unknown danger was approaching this squad!

"It's the invaders," The ugly face of High Priest Sanger twisted. He coughed violently as an unconcealable look of fear and horror reflected in his pure white eyes. "I don't know what they did, but they've infuriated the Earth Mother greatly! The Earth Mother just gave me a warning. We must escape immediately! Now, hurry…we won't be able to make it if we dawdle any longer!"

"Are those invading adepts here to attack us?" The werewolf leader said in shock. "Given their strength, that shouldn't be possible, should it?"

"Yes, let them come! Us orcs have never been afraid of them."

"I will go wake up those brats now. It's just in time to give those adepts a nasty blow."

A few of the orcs that were clearly more brawns than brains began shouting loudly as if they could cut down any enemy that came their way.

The entire tent started to bustle with noise again.

"Silence! Shut up, all of you shut up! Listen…what's that noise outside?" The werewolf leader abruptly perked his ears and seemed to be listening closely to something.

The orcs fell silent and listened closely.

As expected, they could faintly hear a series of strange explosions from the distance. Moreover, the explosions were getting closer and closer, louder and louder.

Out of nowhere, the orc shaman started coughing up blood from hearing the sounds. His voice trembled.

"Enemy attack!"

Dong, dong, dong!

The orc powerhouses broke through the leather tents and took to the skies.

They might not know Fly or have divine spells to support them, but their savage, violent Strength allowed them to overcome gravity and temporarily hover in the air.

Even more orc warriors emerged from the patched tents, shouting as they looked at the sky and pointed with their weapons.

Bright, beautiful fire halos erupted on the distant horizon like festival fireworks.

Judging by the sequence and direction of the explosions, something was heading toward their camp.

Greem arrived with the night winds and managed to find the orcs without much effort.

Compared to the other adepts, Greem's means of stepping onto a battlefield was too flashy and cool. With the long trail of fire he left behind in the air, people could see him coming from fifty kilometers away.

However, given his identity as a Fifth Grade legendary adept, there was no need to be too careful in a mid-sized world like Plane Mutas.

Greem appeared above the orc camp with Fire Teleportation and reformed his body. He looked down upon the dozen muscular orc powerhouses and the many orc warriors scurrying behind them.

"Ants."

Greem betrayed the unique ferocity and heartlessness of the adepts on his face. He raised his hand as a Meteor Shower wide enough to engulf the orc camp appeared.

Even though his power was limited to a Fourth Grade level, his superior knowledge, technique, and aura allowed him to face off the dozen orc powerhouses with no fear on his face.

He summoned the peak Fourth Grade Meteor Shower with a wave of his hand and instantly engulfed everyone in his sight.

Meteors filled with fire energy and carrying a hint of the Undying Flames' aura crashed down from above like raindrops. Dozen-meter-tall pillars rose into the air wherever they landed, turning into red waves of fire that enveloped the orc warriors.

Whether it was the shockwave of the impact itself or the beautiful halo of fire that spread out after, the attack was lethal against these ordinary orcs.

The rugged leather armor and hard shields that the orcs prided themselves on were as thin as paper before the golden flames.

Their robust bodies couldn't endure the heat of the fire either. They screamed in agony as they scampered about the field of flames. It wasn't until the same flames burst forth from their orifices that they collapsed to the ground like burnt charcoal, quickly crumbling to ashes.

The tents ignited. The carriages and the carts ignited. The sky and the earth ignited. And, of course, every single orc between the sky and the earth ignited as well.

This army of three thousand orcs-who were at an average of advanced First Grade-was a tremendously powerful force in Plane Mutas. Even tossed into a large planeworld, they would be able to wreak endless chaos and destruction.

They were as ants before a legendary fire adept like Greem. They couldn't even look at him without burning their eyes, let alone mount any kind of effective retaliation.

The ordinary orcs couldn't retaliate, but that didn't mean the dozen orc powerhouses couldn't do so either.

Roar!

Aooooo!

Battlecries could be heard as the dozen orc powerhouses took out their weapons and charged at Greem from every direction.

However, Greem's gaze cut across the orcs and landed on the large tent.

The smell of divine spells…there was an orc shaman here?

Greem chanted his spell without any hesitation. One and a half seconds later, a Fire Core Explosion detonated within the camp, sending a mushroom cloud into the air. The life aura of High Priest Sanger, who had been secretly attempting to communicate with headquarters, weakened instantly.

A single spell wasn't enough…then one more!

Greem was about to continue casting when the dozen orcs arrived next to him, led by the werewolf.

"Fools!" Greem grunted, and his Burning Domain that had not appeared in a while instantly engulfed everything within a thousand meters.

The orcs that had just leaped into the air felt flames burn all around them. Every metal object they had on their person instantly turned as hot as fire. It was almost as if they had been tossed into a furnace. Even breathing was painful and arduous, let alone fighting.

The Fourth Grade orcs could still gather some of their might and were barely able to keep the terrifying flames at bay. However, nearly half of the Third Grade orcs weren't able to stop the fire. They were turned into living torches, howling as they fell from the skies.

"Cut him!"

"Hurry up and kill him!"

The Fourth Grade orcs roared and charged forward, mustering their Strength and striking at Greem's body with their variety of weapons from several different angles.

The werewolf leader even flashed through Greem's body in a bolt of silver lightning and appeared in the skies behind.

Seven or eight gray cuts instantly appeared on Greem, and his body started to fall apart.

"Yea! You're the best, Hava!"

"Amazing!"

The orc powerhouses immediately started cheering upon seeing this.

Only the werewolf who had 'executed' the evil fire adept showed no joy. He turned back abruptly and shouted, "Spread out now! That's not his real body!"

The reminder came too late.

The next second, Greem's fire clone exploded, and an even larger wave of fire devoured all the nearby orcs.

Greem's actual body slowly appeared from the sea of fire below. He held the charred body of the orc shaman in his hand.

The werewolf leader howled and charged down from the skies once more when he saw this.