The two-headed orc snapped out of it with a deep frown. He mistook the unpleasant feeling in his chest for anger. Letting out a short growl, he raised all four muscular arms and brought his four large, heavy swords up in front of his body. The metal clashed together, a sharp sound cutting through the air.
He shouted in fury:
"Bastard, don't look at me like that… like you're better than me."
Lioran showed no reaction. Not a single brow moved, not even his breathing changed.
He calmly walked forward until only four meters remained between them, then stopped. His sword still hung low, as if he saw no need to even raise it.
"Stop talking so much…"
He lifted his gaze slightly and looked straight into the orc's eyes.
"Show me you've actually got something… or is it all just talk?"
The two-headed orc swallowed every word. The veins in his neck bulged, both faces twisting with rage. Saliva splattered from the corner of one mouth as it snarled hoarsely:
"You son of a bitch… you'll regret making me angry."
The other head clenched its teeth and said mockingly:
"You'll pay for that loose tongue with your life."
In the same instant, both heads roared together:
"Diiiiie, you bastard!"
The other head clenched its yellow, sharp teeth and continued with hatred:
"When you feel pain, then you'll understand you should've never fought me!"
The ground trembled beneath the orc's feet. With an explosive leap, his massive body tore through the air. All four arms rose, and four huge swords came crashing down from different angles, like the teeth of a deadly trap closing in on Lioran.
At that exact moment, Lioran slowly let out a breath.
"Dancing Sword Technique."
His body relaxed—not like someone preparing to defend, but like someone about to dance.
His feet moved across the ground. First step, short. Second step, gliding. His body slipped between the blades, so close that the rush of air threw his red hair back.
The first sword passed beside his shoulder.
The second grazed a few centimeters from his side.
The third split the ground.
The fourth… touched nothing.
Lioran spun, slid, and twisted—his movements neither defense nor attack, but something closer to a deadly dance, perfectly in rhythm with his heartbeat.
Each step came at the last possible moment.
Each turn felt practiced long before.
The orc growled in disbelief:
"Dammit… why aren't my swords hitting him…"
He brought the blades down again, but this time…
It was too late.
Lioran suddenly changed the direction of his spin. His body slipped beneath the strikes, his sword drew a red line through the air, and in one continuous motion—without pause, without hesitation—
All four of the orc's arms were severed from the shoulders, one after another.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then, a savage scream shook the forest.
The orc dropped to his knees, blood spraying from the severed stumps as both of his heads screamed madly in pain. His massive body trembled.
Lioran walked forward a few calm steps. No rush. No excitement.
He stopped.
Lowered his sword.
And with cold, emotionless eyes, stared at the creature that now looked more like a wounded animal than a warrior.
There was no pity in his gaze.
No anger.
Only silence…
And waiting.
Only a few seconds passed before the two-headed orc's agonized screams slowly broke…
and were replaced by loud, harsh, unnatural laughter.
A sound that didn't resemble the cry of a dying creature at all.
Its huge body shook. The severed shoulders began to move; flesh rippled like waves, bones reformed with a sickening sound, and veins bulged with a violent pulse.
In less than ten seconds, four new arms grew from its shoulders—still wet, still steaming, but completely whole.
One of its heads burst into laughter.
"What, you thought cutting off my arms meant it was over? Thought you'd already won?"
The orc clenched its newly grown fists together. The joints cracked, and the ground beneath its feet sank slightly as the other head continued with a grin.
"I have rapid regeneration. As long as my heads and heart are intact, no one can kill me."
One of the heads tilted slightly, staring at Lioran with a mocking look.
Then a strange, unsettling smile spread across its face.
"I think it's time I stop holding back in this fight."
Suddenly, a crimson aura burst from his body—not like flames, but like a furious, living mist. The air grew heavy, the leaves around them trembled, and an invisible pressure settled over the ground.
Both heads' eyes glowed a blood-red color.
The veins on his neck bulged, his breathing turned deep and uneven, and he ground his teeth together with an irritating sound.
"What's wrong… scared?"
The other head let out a short growl and continued:
"This is another one of our skills… called Madness. It doubles our strength for ten minutes. More than enough time to kill you."
Lioran only gave a slow nod—a brief motion full of contempt, as if the creature's ignorance wasn't even worth explaining.
With a calm, measured movement, he slid his sword back into its sheath. The sound of metal against metal echoed through the silent forest.
"How stupid can a creature be? Did you really think I couldn't cut off your heads when I cut off all four of your arms?"
One of the two-headed orc's faces clenched its teeth in fury, the veins on his neck bulging as he shouted.
"Don't lie, bastard! If you could, you would've done it!"
Lioran didn't even blink. His voice was calm, but heavy. "Yeah… I could've done it.But i just didn't."
The two-headed orc paused for a moment. Both heads glanced at each other, then a harsh, mocking laugh burst from their throats.
"Then why didn't you do it?"
"Don't tell me you felt sorry for us?"
Lioran's eyes darkened. The chill in his gaze felt like an invisible blade sliding over the orc's skin.
"Feel sorry? For you?Don't make me laugh."
He took a small step forward. Not in a rush, not in attack—just the steady approach of a confident hunter.
"I didn't kill you… because I didn't want to give you an easy death. I wanted you to feel pain… fear… and despair…And when the time comes for you to die…I want you to beg for it."
The two-headed orc suddenly felt that something inside his body wasn't right.
His legs—those thick, powerful legs—were trembling for no reason. The shaking was slight but constant, like a betrayal beginning from within. His breath caught for a moment, and a strange pressure settled on his chest, as if some invisible force were squeezing his heart.
This feeling…
It was the second time he had experienced it because of Lioran.
But he had no name for it.
He asked himself,
"What kind of feeling is this…?"
One of his heads slowly looked down. His legs were shaking. Drops of sweat slid down his forehead.
'Why… why are my legs shaking?'
At that moment, Lioran's voice cut through the silence like a cold blade.
"If you don't attack… your ten minutes will run out."
The two-headed orc snapped out of it as if waking from a dream. He clenched his jaw, tightened his muscles, and all four of his eyes locked onto Lioran.
'He's right… this isn't the time to think. If my ten minutes run out… I'm finished.'