Borzak roared like a maddened boar and lunged forward, his thick, scarred arms bulging with raw strength. But as he leaped, a sudden gust of wind caught his ragged beast skirt, tearing it at the back and exposing his green, hairy rear.
No time to care about that now. The most desirable female of the clan was watching—and nothing proved an orc's worth better than triumph in battle!
Borzak crashed down with all the force of a boulder falling from a cliff, his spiked club whistling through the air like a hurricane.
Hulk narrowed his eyes and raised the Bone Cleaver horizontally to block the strike.
With the boost from his Basic Cleaver Mastery, Hulk could feel the difference. The heavy cleaver that had once felt clumsy now moved like an extension of his arm, its weight more manageable, its edge sharp with promise.
CLANG!
The impact rang through the open arena like a war drum. Hulk slid back, boots digging trenches in the dirt, arms buzzing from the force of the blow.
"Borzak's strength is unmatched!"
"No wonder he's the strongest youngblood in the Blood Fang Clan! I'm backing him to win!"
The gathered orcs bellowed, baring tusks in excitement.
Borzak sneered, raising his spiked club toward Hulk. "I'll give you this, runt—you're sharper than me. But strength is all that matters on the battlefield! You can't match me!"
Hulk flexed his sore fingers, a crooked smile forming on his lips. Borzak was strong, but now Hulk knew his limits.
"Again!" Hulk growled, stepping forward.
The clash resumed, each strike shaking the ground, sending clods of dirt and broken roots flying. Trees bordering the wasteland snapped and tumbled like grass before a storm.
Hulk gritted his teeth. He could withstand Borzak's strikes—for now. But Borzak was winning. If nothing changed soon, he'd be broken and bleeding in the dirt.
Then, a familiar chime in his mind.
[New Trial Unlocked: Strike your opponent 10 times with the
cleaver to obtain Intermediate Cleaver Mastery.]
There it was. His way to victory.
Hulk adjusted his stance, drove the glaive into the ground for balance, then swept it around to intercept the next swing of Borzak's club.
1/10
A wicked grin split Hulk's face. Even striking weapons counted. Good.
Now it wasn't just a duel—it was training.
Slowly, steadily, he worked to meet Borzak's strikes with his own. Each clash brought another tick on the unseen counter.
The battle raged, sweat flying from their bodies, muscles trembling, but Hulk endured. His mind was iron, focused solely on that counter ticking upward.
9… 10!
[Trial Complete: Intermediate Cleaver Mastery acquired!]
Immediately, the Bone Cleaver felt lighter in his grip, an extension of his own fury. Its stats flickered before his eyes:
[Bone Cleaver - Standard]Attack Power: 20-55
Borzak, oblivious to Hulk's internal triumph, charged with reckless abandon. His tusks gleamed with spit, and his rage echoed across the barren field.
"RAAAGH! I'll end this with one blow!"
The spiked club rose high, Borzak's huge form airborne like a falling mountain.
Gasps and roars erupted from the crowd.
Gorrka clenched her fists, ready to jump in if her brother fell.
But Hulk didn't move.
Just as the club came crashing down, Hulk twisted his body, spinning the cleaver with unnatural grace. The club met nothing but air.
Borzak's eyes went wide as his momentum betrayed him, his massive frame slamming into the dirt like a dead ox.
Hulk moved with practiced precision, twisting his body and bringing the cleaver in a wide arc, its edge humming like a storm wind.
Whirlwind Slash.
But at the last second, Hulk flipped the weapon, striking Borzak's side with the flat of the blade.
BOOM!
The blow sent Borzak flying across the clearing, his limp form skidding and tumbling before coming to a halt in an unconscious heap.
Silence.
And then:
"He won?!"
"Borzak lost! That scrawny whelp actually beat him!"
Even the older warriors gathered at the edges stared in shock. A runt winning a strength match against a warrior? Impossible.
One burly veteran stepped forward, clapping Hulk on the shoulder with a rough grin. "Good job, whelp. Earned your honor today."
Gorrka strode forward, eyeing her younger brother carefully. "That move at the end—was that a technique?"
Hulk met her gaze with confidence. "Yeah."
"Picked up a cleaver for the first time and already using techniques, eh? That makes up for your scrawny frame." She crossed her arms, nodding in approval. "Stick with the cleaver. Forget the rest."
Hulk didn't answer. Instead, he stooped and picked up a heavy hunting spear from the ground. He had no intention of limiting himself.
[New Trial Unlocked: Swing a spear 10 times to acquire Basic Spear Throwing Mastery.]
He casually swept the spear through the air, fulfilling the requirement with practiced ease. In an instant, instincts sharpened—calculations, angles, trajectories—all crystal clear in his mind.
Gorrka glared. "Oi, you listening? Don't think that winning one fight makes you invincible. Don't get arrogant."
But Hulk was already looking upward.
A black shadow passed overhead—a massive carrion hawk gliding over the camp, its wingspan enormous.
Without another word, Hulk hurled the spear like a bolt of thunder.
THUNK!
The bird screeched once, then fell like a broken kite, crashing dead into the dirt outside the camp.
Gorrka's mouth hung open.
Maybe it was time to start seeing her little brother differently.