Adam and Luna stood—well, one of them sat—on the rock.
(It's not a rock, it's a boulder!)
They were facing the giant High Orc.
"High Orc? Going to need an explanation here," Adam stammered, glancing at Luna, desperately hoping for some kind of answer... preferably one involving a weakness they could exploit.
"These things are the epitome of brawn over brain," Luna said, voice tight. "No magic, no spirits, no tricks. Just rippling muscles—and judging by the size of those, that might not be as much of a disadvantage as we'd like."
She paused, then added with a strained shrug, "Aside from that... I'm hoping they're weak to magic. Most physical brutes are, right?"
Her voice carried a cocktail of fear, frustration, and a dash of that strange, offhanded calm she always had—even when staring down a hulking monster, which did support her case of 12 being 13 and thirteen being basically fourteen, it really did!
Unfortunately, though, this didn't really help Adam, who had no magic to speak off.
The High Orc roared—a deep, primal sound that shook the trees and scattered the birds. It leaned forward, hulking frame coiled like a spring, muscles tensing beneath scarred, grey skin. The bone necklace around its throat clattered violently, rattling with each breath. Adam froze. Escape wasn't an option. The orc could barrel through the jungle with brute force, while he'd be fighting branches, roots, and uneven ground. Even if he could outrun it, Luna couldn't. Not with that broken ankle. Carrying her would only slow him further. There was no path out of this—not for both of them.
He looked at her—hurt, trembling, but still holding on. Then he looked at the orc. Its eyes burned with hunger and intent. He didn't hesitate. Adam stepped forward, planting his feet. If the beast wanted her, it would have to go through him first.
Luna's eyes widened—just slightly—but enough to betray her surprise. His decision made no sense. The logical course of action would've been to run, to save himself and leave her behind to meet what would, by all accounts, be a very early and very unpleasant end. Yet here he stood, unmoving, between her and the High Orc—this towering mass of muscle and menace. He had no obligation, no reason, and no real chance of surviving. And still, he chose to stay. To fight. To shield her with his own life.
Yeah... he was definitely a paladin. She had suspected it before, but now, in the face of death, her theory felt confirmed—though she'd never realize just how far off the mark she actually was. Not that it mattered. In truth, she didn't believe they were going to make it out of this alive. That thing was too big, too strong, too fast. But even so, she had her answer now. And that brought her a strange, bitter kind of comfort. So she remained where she was, perched on the cold, hard boulder, spine straight, hands curling with quiet intent. She couldn't run. She couldn't stand it. But she could still cast. And as long as she could fight, she would. Even if it was only to buy him a few more seconds.
Yeah. He was definitely a paladin. The kind who found a broken girl in the woods and decided to fight a monster instead of walking away. Foolish... and maddeningly noble.
"Well then, Adam aka Mr Clumsy Hero who wouldn't run away to save his own life, if there's any chance we're surviving this, I'm going to need to help in any way I can" ,She spoke with a bit of a determined tone, swiping her pale hair to her back and bringing both of her arms and hands forward, with their palms open.
Adam was about to ask what she intended when a translucent green circle materialized before him. Its edges pulsed with intricate, glyph-like symbols, while runic letters drifted across its surface like whispers of forgotten magic. The circle expanded for a heartbeat, then began to shift—sections rotating independently, twisting and realigning in a mesmerizing dance. Within the glowing boundary, the shifting symbols coalesced into a complex, ever-changing pattern, roughly the size of a Formula 1 car's wheel. Luna's face was taut with concentration as the magic took shape, alive and humming with power. Small sparks of energy flickered across the circle's surface, causing Adam's expression to slacken in awe. So this was magic, huh?
The center of the circle pulsed with the image of a verdant green fennec fox. Its eyes glinted yellow for a fleeting moment before vanishing, leaving the magic circle unchanged—except for a subtle hum of increased power thrumming beneath its surface.
"I'll be able to immobilize it for at most half a minute using my Spirit-boosted magic, so kill this High Orc during that time or we're dead!" Luna shouted, physically straining to maintain the circle. She gritted her teeth as she rose unsteadily from the rock, the bandages on her ankle proving far more effective than ordinary ones. Her arms trembled under the pressure, her petite frame shuddering with the effort of controlling the mana.
Adam nodded grimly.
He wanted to ask questions—but this was no time for that. Realizing there was no way to talk his way out of this delightful mess, he grabbed a nearby jagged rock and pointed its sharp edge at the High Orc. The creature, unimpressed by his meager weapon, let out a roar that rattled his eardrums and caused Luna to stagger slightly, her magic circle flickering under the strain.
"I'm ready!"Adam yelled back determinately, gripping the rock harder to the point a sliver of blood was drawn on his hand.
Luna let out a nod, clearly relieved to not have to hold the magic at bay any longer and it burst forth.
From the magic circle, a great tangle of wooden vines burst forth—no leaves, no soft foliage, only raw, unyielding lignin. The beams twisted violently as they shot outward, intertwining and unwinding with rapid helical inversions, each strand spiraling and shifting with chaotic precision. They surged toward the High Orc at blinding speed, the sheer force of their release knocking Luna off her feet, sending her sprawling to the ground from the recoil. Mid-flight, the vines split apart in a wide, fan-like formation—a sweeping delta that surrounded both Adam and the High Orc, enclosing them in a barrage of organic fury as the tendrils closed in and blitzed the beast with brutal intent.
The Orc roared defiantly and attempted to punch and gnash the wooden beams to pieces using its brutish strength. It shifted its weight onto its right foot as it brought its fist forward toward the leading beam. However, the beams suddenly dropped lower, twisting and turning with fluid precision, twirling around the Orc's feet and pulling with a powerful jerk. The creature lost its balance and fell face-first onto the forest floor, a loud, deep thump resounding through the clearing like a drumbeat. Once the orc was grounded, the vines lost their stiffness and became flaccid, immediately coiling around its thick neck and muscular torso. They bound it tightly to the ground as if they were rope, clinging like living restraints powered by sheer mana.
Though they managed to enclose the Orc, the beast resisted with raw fury. It gritted its tusks against the vines, breaking some of them with brute force—but each broken vine was quickly replaced by another. Even so, the strain on the magic was obvious. Luna was panting hard, her breaths shallow and labored, her chest rising and falling erratically. She looked pale and drained, her strength all but gone. It was clear she wouldn't be able to cast a spell like that again—not now, not in this state.
Adam didn't need her to.
"The bigger they are…" he muttered under his breath, his gaze hardening. Grabbing the jagged, slightly blood-tinged rock that had become his makeshift dagger, he leapt into the air and aimed straight for the High Orc's back. He brought the rock down with a fierce cry, but as it struck, he felt it—a dull resistance, the sensation of hitting stone. No blood came out. "The harder they fall…?" he added, uncertain, almost sarcastically, as the rock once again failed to pierce the beast's thick hide. But he didn't stop. Again and again, he drove the pointed edge into the creature's ribcage, each thrust accompanied by a strained grunt. Still, no blood flowed—only anger rose. The orc howled in fury, its rage boiling over, and in one explosive motion, it broke free from the last of the vines on its right arm.
Sensing this was his final opportunity, Adam roared with all the desperation and will he could summon, thrusting the rock downward with all his strength. This time, it pierced flesh. The rock embedded itself into the Orc's back, and finally, hot blood spurted out. The orc screamed in pain, a sound that shook Adam's bones. With a roar of its own, the beast slammed its hand against the ground, sending a shockwave that blasted Adam into the air. He rose five feet, weightless for a heartbeat.
Time slowed.
As he floated midair, Adam saw it all in agonizing detail—the orc standing once more, arching its back to minimize the pain, a feral grin splitting its face, and a cold glint of menace in its eyes. It pulled back its fist and punched toward Adam. The strike was sloppy and awkward, its movement restricted by the injury and twisted posture. But it was enough.
Receiving a knuckle from this mountain of muscle—floppy punch or not—was like being hit by a battering ram. The blow knocked the breath from his lungs. Adam flew through the air and slammed into a tree trunk at the edge of the clearing. He crumpled to the ground in a heap. Four ribs snapped. Blood poured from his side. He was barely conscious, vision blurry, pain crashing through him like waves. He let his eyes close—just for a moment.
When he opened them again, he saw the orc, its back now turned to him, slowly approaching Luna. She was back on the boulder, but her strength had clearly left her. Her limbs trembled. Her face was ghost-pale. Still, she met Adam's gaze and gave him a singular, tired look. One that spoke volumes—'Well, we tried.' Her expression was not one of fear, but of resignation, and even as she lay back, closing her eyes, she kept them locked on the High Orc with a gaze of quiet defiance. It was a pitiful sight: a twelve-year-old elven girl, bruised and bloodied, accepting her death with dignity.
That image—that look in her eyes—sparked something deep within Adam. A fire. A rage. Not the kind born of hatred, but of something primal. Protective. Fierce. The kind of emotion that comes when someone you care about is about to be taken from you. It burned through his pain and boiled in his chest like magma, and somehow—somehow—he managed to push himself up onto his feet once more. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to lie down, to give up, but he refused. He couldn't give up.
Something inside Adam snapped.
Not with fear. Not with despair.
But with rage.
And something more.
A fierce, burning need to protect.
It flared in his chest like a second heartbeat. A primal instinct, raw and untamed—like a parent watching their child in danger. The pain was still there, but it was distant, muffled behind the roar in his soul.
Through sheer force of will, he stood.
Every muscle trembled, every nerve screamed, but he rose. One thought burned through his mind like wildfire:
"I won't let you hurt those I care about!!!"
Because he did care. In just a short time, he had grown to feel something for Luna—something deeper than friendship or gratitude. Facing death together had forged an unspoken bond between them. And he knew she felt the same.
Suddenly, a voice echoed in his head—mechanical, emotionless, yet vaguely familiar. It was her.
Dea.
Great. Now he was hallucinating.
{Notice}
{Conditions have been met. Desire to protect has been acknowledged as an act of true kindness. Last Resort: Dea Core has been Activated}
A sudden burst of raw mana and strength filled his body, strengthening him beyond what his body could bear. He burst forward in a speed-blitz, going at speeds faster then he could bear, ripping out the soles of his footwear.
His eyes glowed with a pinkish-blue hue. As he dashed through the clearing back to the Orc, he had no thoughts in his mind, running off pure instinct.
He jumped upwards and caught Luna's countenance in his peripherals, on the boulder, lying down with her eyes closed, resigned to her fate-or rather, death.
His yell as he jumped alerted the Orc of his presence, yet before it could react and turn to punch him once more, his fist bore into the back of the Orc, at the precise spot that the stone had been embedded during the previous scuffle, digging it in deeper.
Every single bone in his right arm and wrist broke, with joints cracking and ligaments spraining, the pure power surging through his body thanks to the Dea Core being too much for his body to bear.
Luckily, The High Orc Broke too
The High Orc's torso erupted in a violent burst, the impact sending a geyser of blood arcing through the air. Thick, dark crimson splattered across the clearing in wide, jagged streaks, painting trees, stone, and soil alike with brutal finality. The initial blast struck with such force that flecks of gore pelted the boulder behind Luna like shrapnel. A dense mist of blood hung briefly in the air, catching the light with an eerie shimmer before falling in heavy droplets, pattering softly onto leaves and flesh. Adam and Luna were caught in the center of it—soaked head to toe, the blood seeping into cloth, hair, and skin. It was warm, almost sickeningly so, a sharp contrast to the cool forest breeze that followed.
There, right next to the boulder, standing atop the lower half of the behemoth of pure muscle, his eyes covered by his long golden hair, which was covering his eyes as it drooped from the weight of the blood now covering his entire being.
He let out a large, loud roar that echoed through the clearing, shaking the tree leaves and branches with pure force, and then the energy left his body. Yet, he remained standing for a few seconds longer, his left fist raised above his head with his arm outstretched in a classic heroic pose.
"Catch me"
He said suddenly.
And then fell backwards.
Luna, startled yet still understanding what had happened, moved quickly. Having recovered enough to act, she caught him and cushioned his fall with her arms, gently laying him down on her lap. She wasn't about to let her stupid, idiotic saviour rest on the cold ground—absolutely not.
And this confirmed it.
"You're definitely a Paladin. The most selfless one ever, it seems. Let's hope you don't die on me," she chuckled, a warmth in her voice that usually only bloomed between people who had known each other for years. But after what they'd just been through, hadn't they earned that?
She paused—then turned pale.
He was still bleeding. A hundred bones shattered, at least.
He couldn't die on her. Not now. Not after everything.
"Don't you dare give up now, Adam!" she cried out into the clearing, desperation and panic etched across her otherwise composed face. She hugged his unconscious body tightly to her chest, tears spilling freely down her cheeks, mingling with the orc's blood and falling onto his face.
And then, light.
A blinding brilliance washed over the blood-soaked battlefield, forcing her eyes shut, squinting against the searing whiteness.
Those weren't... sparkles, were they!?