Page 52 of Orc's Little Human
"Twenty years of careful breeding programs," Rusk says, now close enough that I can see the satisfied gleam in his pale eyes. "Hundreds of failed attempts. But you... you were perfect. The ideal amplifier. A weapon that could turn any hedge wizard into a conqueror."
Thali makes a small, frightened sound. I pull her closer, trying to shield her from Rusk's words even as they tear through me like claws.
"I had such plans for you," he continues. "First, I would have used your power to sweep across Tlouz. Every orc clan, every human settlement, every resource-rich territory would have fallen before us. And then..." His smile turns predatory. "Then I would have sold you to the highest bidder. The dark elf kings pay quite well for unique weapons."
"You're not taking her anywhere."
Korrath's voice cuts through the valley like a blade, low and dangerous and absolutely final. He steps forward, placing himself squarely between Rusk and us.
Rusk laughs, the sound echoing off stone. "One orc against thirty trained soldiers? I admire your courage, beast, but this ends only one way."
"Then it ends with your blood on my hands."
I can see Korrath calculating, weighing options. But there aren't any good ones. Too many enemies. Too little cover. No escape route.
He's going to die protecting us. Thali and I are going to watch him fall, and then...
My hand finds Korrath's knife at his belt. The blade slides free with a whisper of steel.
"Selene, no." His voice holds a warning, but I'm beyond listening to warnings.
I've spent my entire life being shaped by other people's choices. Bred to be a weapon. Trained to be a victim. Marked to be a tool. Always reacting, never choosing.
Not anymore.
The knife bites into my palm, blood welling bright and red. Before Korrath can stop me, I grab his already-wounded hand, pressing our cuts together.
The effect is immediate. The brand on my collarbone erupts in fire, but not the burning agony I'm used to. This time, it feels like a door thrown wide, like chains falling away. Power floods through me—Korrath's magic amplified and transformed, fed by whatever twisted gift those bastards carved into my flesh.
"Selene—" he starts, but I cut him off.
"Together," I say, feeling the magic building between us like a storm about to break. "All of it. Everything."
I don't try to control the flow this time. Don't try to moderate or contain it. Instead, I tear down every barrier between us, letting his blood magic pour through me like molten gold. Our joined power reaches out, seeking the neptherium veins that run through these mountains like a spider's web.
The response is immediate and devastating.
The ground beneath our feet begins to tremble. Dust rains down from the cave mouths above as the stone itself starts to sing with power. Through our joined hands, I can feel Korrath's magic expanding, reaching deeper into the mountain's bones than it ever could alone.
"What—" Rusk's confident demeanor cracks as the first boulders begin to shift.
Korrath's eyes blaze molten gold, power radiating from him in waves that make the air itself shimmer. But he's not struggling to control it anymore. The magic flows through him like it was meant to, natural as breathing.
The neptherium responds to our call. Veins of the precious ore heat and expand, cracking the stone around them. What starts as hairline fractures spreads rapidly, spider-webbing through the mountain face with sounds like thunder.
"Kill them!" Rusk shouts, but his soldiers are already backing away as rocks begin to rain down around them.
Too late.
The magic builds to a crescendo, Korrath's will shaping it into something precise and terrible. The mountain face above the soldiers doesn't just collapse—it flows like water, stone reshaping itself according to his design. Tons of rock cascade down in a controlled avalanche that blocks every exit from the valley except the one behind us.
Screams echo off the stone walls as the avalanche swallows Rusk's soldiers. Some try to run. None make it far enough.
When the rumbling finally stops, silence settles over the valley like a shroud. Where thirty armed soldiers had stood moments before, only broken stone remains. Not even enough space between the rocks for bodies to be visible.
Rusk himself managed to reach higher ground, but he's trapped now on a narrow ledge with nowhere to go. His face has gone pale as chalk, all his earlier confidence evaporated.
"Impossible," he whispers, staring at the devastation below. "You can't... the power required to move that much stone..."
