Chapter 115: Orc Village

Name:Era of Players: Death God Author:


The familiar chime echoed in Noah's mind – {Ding! Level Up}. A surge of satisfaction washed over him, momentarily pushing aside the grim reality of the carnage around him. He wasted no time, his mind already set on his next move. With practiced efficiency, he opened his status window and allocated his two hard-earned stat points into Mana, exactly as he had meticulously planned.

■Status Window

Name: Noah Adler

Rank: Regular

Level: 39

Class: Angel of Death

Title:Goblin Slayer

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☆Stats☆

* Mana: 91 (→ 93)

* Strength: 102

* Intelligence: 81

* Dexterity: 102

* Luck: 77

Stat Points: 0

Coins:3060G

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☆Skills☆

Common Skills: {Basic Swordsmanship},{Basic Close Combat} {Presence Detection} {Master of Weapons} {Mana's Armor Lvl 1} {Shadow Steps Level 1} {Blood Flowers} {Splitting Ripple Slash LVl 1} {Fangs of Insanity} {Flame Art} {Telekinesis Lv1}

Exclusive Skill: {Seal of Death} {Night of Death}

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''Nice!"

A satisfied grunt escaped his lips, a testament to his growing control.

However, this transformation had come at a cost. Half of Noah's mana reserves were depleted, and a dull ache throbbed behind his eyes. Leaning against the rough bark of the tree, he took a few moments to replenish his drained energy. The orcs were not going anywhere. He had a brief respite to recover and ensure that his first strike would be accurate.

This was no longer just about brute force; it was about precision and orchestration. With a cold certainty, Noah realized that the symphony of death was about to begin, he was but after all the Angel of Death.

Fifteen agonizing minutes dragged on, each passing second fueling his determination. With a deep breath, Noah straightened his stance, his grip tightening around the transformed Nemesis. The ebony bow felt like an extension of his own body, a conduit for the meticulously planned chaos he was about to unleash.

The first step. With a silent command, he tapped into the power of Flame Art once again. But this time, the flames didn't engulf the blade. Instead, they gathered around the arrow's nock, forming a flickering inferno. The arrow itself, crafted from pure energy, pulsed with an ominous heat.

Taking aim, Noah focused on the heart of the village, where the largest hut likely housed the orcs' communal fire. His finger brushed against the release, and the world seemed to slow down. The panicked screeching of unseen birds, the rustling of leaves in the wind – every sound became painfully clear.

Then, with a sharp exhale, he let go. The flaming arrow shot forward, a hissing streak of destruction. It sliced through the air, faster than any orcish reflex, leaving behind a trail of scorched atmosphere. Like a miniature comet, it crashed into the center of the target hut.

**Boom!**

The explosion ripped through the night, unleashing a thunderous roar that reverberated through the Whisperwood. A towering pillar of flame burst from the hut, hurling burning debris high into the sky. The shockwave rattled the trees, showering the ground with leaves like a twisted celebration.

From the village, a chaotic symphony of shouts and panicked screams erupted. Disoriented orcish figures stumbled out of their burning homes, their faces twisted in a mix of terror and rage. The carefully orchestrated chaos had begun.

A wicked grin, brimming with feral intensity, danced upon Noah's lips. With the fluidity of a seasoned warrior, he swiftly notched two more arrows, their tips pulsating with an infernal light that mirrored the glimmer in his piercing golden eyes.

"Double Impact," he whispered, the words dripping from his tongue like a sinister oath.

With a swift and precise double draw, both arrows soared through the air, leaving trails of scorching heat in their wake. They found their targets with lethal accuracy, striking the heart of the orcish horde. The result was instantaneous - a horrifying explosion of flames that consumed several orcs in a relentless inferno.

KaBOOM!

Screams tore through the night, a symphony of raw terror that sent shivers down the spines of even the boldest creatures in the Whisperwood. The once-organized village now resembled a scene from the depths of hell. Flames danced in a chaotic frenzy, casting grotesque shadows that writhed upon the terrified faces of the surviving orcs.

Chaos reigned supreme. Orcs, their initial shock transforming into primal rage, surged out of the inferno,

''Graa!"

''Graaa!!"

their guttural roars a testament to their fury. Yet, Noah remained unfazed. He was the apex predator amidst the pandemonium, the conductor orchestrating this symphony of destruction. Another arrow, infused with an icy blaze, found its mark.

Boom!