That Unique Monster Who Just Got the 'Consciousness' Passive Skill

The elf was bold.

White-haired was pissed off. Hence why he was intent on severely calling them out. And so, reacting to his meager presence, a few of the orcs turned to him with dumb, blatant looks. The same dumb and oblivious looks that were adorned on a child's face after he was being told off for having eaten all the chocolate that had been bought for the cake.

Like fools, they all stared at him, their faces full of chocolates and dumbness too, their necks stuck out and their mouths were gaping. And this reaction was the only feedback the poor elf had been given. Staring fools. The rest of the orcs, quite honestly, didn't even mind the elf's presence. He was no bigger than an insect in front of the team.

White-haired had, for that reason, to heave a long, deep sigh. Shutting his eyes tight, he crossed his arms upon his chest and kept clicking his tongue. That was one good sigh of exasperation. Still, the elf wasn't done here, was he? Though reluctant to go and face the sturdiest of the orcs and his bastard sword from any nearer, he still went and walked up to him like he was a big guy himself.

Noisily clearing his throat—to the best of his ability—he addressed the big guy with some words. "You there! The big— The strong one!" He called the orc out. But unfortunately for the elf, he wasn't nearly as good as I was when it came to naming people. I would have walked up to him and rather said, 'You there! Robustorc The Fortress, isn't it?' right off the bat before calling the orc out, but White-haired didn't know better.

The elf greased the orc with a petty compliment first and greeted him before growing hostile. Even from this up-close, the orc couldn't care less about the elf. Robustorc in fact just sluggishly shrugged, having lost all the strength and momentum from earlier, and stepped away from the insect—no, elf. The orc had considered crushing it first but thought better of it since 'it' was an elf.

"H-Hey, you! The strong one! I'm talking to you!" Addressing them individually was no different. White-haired was at a loss regarding what to do. He was still pissed, however. I say if White-haired had called him Robustorc at least, the orc would have listened. But no. What a useless elf. And at any rate, the sturdiest orc looked even dumber than the rest of the group. When the others, with their dumb, childish faces full of chocolate breathed of utter stupidity and low intelligence, that one orc looked like a retard.

In front of the retarded orc, the elf heaved yet another sigh of exasperation and nervousness. Robustorc's large hands went back to the hilt of his long sword. Fiercely gripping the weapon, he tried to yank it off the wooden structure. He'd just busted our chariot. He still needed his sword, though. Far more battles were to come. Getting down to it, he grunted with no end, unable to get the sword off. Of course, he had cut through it with all his muscles and strength. The funny trick that consisted of spinning around wildly with his bastard sword, laying waste on every person or object that came his way wasn't so funny now.

"Maybe it's time for us to go and help your colleague, Hideous." Up until this moment, we just stayed patiently waiting in the carriage for the other elf to resolve any issue there was. We stayed in our chariot like it would magically be repaired in a few and would depart again. That clearly wasn't going to happen. Accompanied by the hideous elf, I stepped out. Or rather, I was about to step out. One orc acted at the same time, though.

That orc was different from the rest of his group. With a quick jerky thrust of his orcish blade, he wiped the blood off the lame. He called out to the sturdiest orc and gestured with his chin. He spoke of orcish and this time, I couldn't understand. That orc didn't look quite so dumb. Maybe White-haired's issue would be addressed properly now. I waited to see. White-haired's eyebrow raised. He kept strong eye contact with the orc. Maybe he would help things along. It was only now that the blood had drained from his face that the elf shook his head at himself. Help what? What was there to be helped with? A complaint?

His hope was immediately blown away anyway. After a few words from the smart-looking orc, the sturdiest orc's head sluggishly nodded. The whole chunk of muscles let go of his bastard sword, still stuck in the chariot, and approached the elf.

"Me…" he mumbled, with a dull, slow voice. "Don't gib shit 'bout you's problem." That was hardly understandable.

The smart orc seemed to be the leader here. After his friend answered the elf's complaint, he smirked and scoffed. "You heard the man, elf." That one orc too seemed not to give a damn either. White-haired's fists clenched and trembled again. The rage he felt moments ago had been reborn. His brows twitched.

"I…" he bit his lip. "You. Orc," he faced the orc leader. "Yes, you. You hardly seem any smarter than your troop, but… you could explain to me, couldn't you? What's the meaning of all this— You know what, never mind. We'll just travel on foot now." He had the maturity to call his little, and vain, rant off by himself. Like I said, how would we even be helped?

What would calling these dumb-looking boys out have amounted to anyway? The horses died, the chariot blew to pieces, and that was it. Would the orcs revive them or provide us with any new vehicle? Certainly not. They hadn't anything to give aside from swords and men. Hell, even if they could give us back what we grieved, did they look like the kind of guys who would say 'Yes yes, absolutely, here have some new horses'?

They didn't even talk— "I don't like it." Oh, they did talk just now though. It was the orc leader again. Only he was learned enough to speak the human tongue. "You do realize I could just cut you guys right there, don't you? The way you talk to us, elf, I don't like it."

That was the moment when White-haired had to bow his head in deep apology. Even perform a kowtow and beg for his and his friends' lives if that was needed. After the elf thought better of throwing a fit, he turned back and walked away to the chariot, but to the orc's words, he turned back to the orc and shot him burning eyes.

Such a heated reaction from the elf was no commonality. I never saw him like this. The orc leader had said he could cut us all down if he so pleased; that's what set the elf on fire. Who would dare even lay a finger on his princess?

"And what is it you don't like, orc?" he coldly observed. The elf didn't shy away from confrontation, eh?

"The horses' death's on you, elf," he calmly asserted.