The Record of Orc Civilization - Chapter 419: Three Brothers

Because right now, Artur was not getting the satisfaction he wanted. Kuja was not afraid to die.

With a dark expression and teeth grinding together, Artur vented his anger on Kuja. He sent small currents of electricity through the boy—enough to torture him painfully without killing him outright.

“Why are you so quiet, HUH?!” Artur barked. “Are you mute? Are you deaf? Hurry up and curse that bastard rapist you call your father! Say he’s a disgusting creature! Say he’s a rapist! Say he forced Anna to give birth to all of you! You filthy little bastards who don’t know your place!”

Kuja swallowed his screams.

His body trembled violently, and Artur could already see the signs of approaching death in his eyes. Yet he did not beg. He did not plead for mercy.

There was only hatred in his gaze—and the certainty that his death would mean something good.

Artur’s fury flared even higher. His anger reached its peak.

He no longer wanted to torture Kuja.

He wanted to kill the little bastard as quickly as possible.

But before he could do so, a fist wrapped in crimson energy shot forward and slammed into his face.

Even with reflexes enhanced by lightning, Artur couldn’t react in time.

A burning sensation exploded across his face. His skin felt like it was melting. Artur was sent flying.

His body crashed into the ground and rolled several times. For a moment, he nearly lost consciousness from the blow.

But Artur quickly forced lightning through his body to stimulate his brain. Mana surged violently within him, striking the ground beneath his feet and launching his body backward.

Just as he moved away, the spot where he had been standing exploded.

“Oh, you managed to avoid it? Looks like Artur the Blue Beast really isn’t someone to underestimate. Your reflexes and speed surpass every mage I’ve fought. You might even be able to compete with Uncle Kagan. His Padakacarma is seriously unfair!”

A calm, joking voice drifted into Artur’s one remaining intact ear.

He opened his one good eye and looked at the enemy who had ambushed him.

His face instantly twisted with hatred and overflowing rage.

Standing before him was Nash, Anna’s first son, casually smiling.

“You!”

Artur roared with fury.

Just moments ago, he had been only a hair’s breadth away from death. If he hadn’t kept his body constantly wrapped in a lightning shield, that punch would have shattered his head instantly.

Even so, half of his face had still been destroyed by the heat of the blow.

Artur steadied himself and silently cast a healing spell with his mana.

Slowly, his left eye and ear began functioning again.

Nash simply watched him heal without interfering. He didn’t attack, nor did he try to stop Artur’s recovery. It would have been pointless.

His chance to kill Artur instantly had already passed.

Now Artur was fully alert and ready to receive any attack.

Besides, there were things far more important at the moment than killing Artur.

Artur glanced past Nash.

Kuja, who had been on the brink of death moments ago, was now being supported by another arion.

Acel.

Nevare’s second child.

Artur wanted to stop them. He had been so close—just a little more and he could have killed Kuja.

But he knew Nash would never allow it.

So the two of them seemed to silently agree on a temporary ceasefire.

Not long afterward, Artur rose to his feet again. His face had already returned to normal, without a single scratch remaining.

However, Kuja and Acel were nowhere to be found.

They had already retreated too far for Artur to track them.

Even so, he could still sense Anna’s presence.

His sister’s battle was growing increasingly fierce. Soon, the victor would likely be decided.

But if Artur wanted to reach her—

He would first have to deal with the obstacle standing in front of him.

Nash.

Artur surged forward. His speed now far eclipsed his earlier encounter with Kuja. Arcane lightning danced across his skin, turning every stride into a jagged trail of light that scorched the earth beneath him.

In one fluid motion, Artur reached into the void. A sword materialized in his grip. At a glance, the weapon appeared humble—a simple steel blade no different from those carried by common infantry. Yet, to anyone with the slightest mana sensitivity, the sword radiated the aura of a bloodthirsty predator.

This was Rabi’s Fang.

Forged from the fang of an Orichalcum tier danger mutated serpent known as Rabi, this weapon was a nightmare for magic users. Its power lay not just in physical lethality, but in its ability to pierce mana shields and inject a “venom” capable of destabilizing an opponent’s energy control. While it might not have been the strongest piece in Artur’s collection, in terms of versatility against elusive foes, the blade was peerless.

Artur swung.

The strike was so swift it barely left a shadow. But Nash was no amateur. The Arion spun half a step; the crimson biofield enveloping his body ground against the air, creating a shimmering visual distortion. Artur’s slash missed Nash’s shoulder by a fraction, leaving only a thin laceration on his cheek from the razor-sharp wind pressure.

Nash did not retreat. Instead of backing away, he lunged into Artur’s danger zone.

“Brajamusti.”

Nash’s right fist shot out. The air hissed violently as friction was forcibly amplified. Heat gathered at the tip of his knuckles, glowing as if his hand had just been pulled from a smelting furnace.

BOOM!

Artur crossed his blade just in time. The impact exploded like the collision of two meteors. The ground beneath them shattered into a thousand cracks. Artur was sent hurtling back, but the lightning flickering at his feet instantly anchored his position, halting his momentum.

Nash gave his opponent no room to breathe. He charged forward using the Padakacarma technique.

Atmospheric friction was stripped away entirely. Nash’s body glided without resistance, as fast as an arrow loosed from a bow. Yet, in that same heartbeat, Artur vanished. Lightning struck the spot where he had stood, and in an instant, he reappeared at Nash’s left flank, thrusting Rabi’s Fang toward the ribs.

Nash’s reflexes were near-instinctive. His left elbow slammed into the side of Artur’s blade, parrying the thrust. Even so, the tip of Rabi’s Fang grazed Nash’s biofield. Sparks of red and blue energy erupted as the two clashing energies ground against one another.

Nash leaped back, his eyes narrowing in caution. A strange sensation was crawling from his biofield into the very flow of his prana.

Artur offered a thin, cold smile. Ever since his first encounter with the Arion race, he had been drafting scenarios to exterminate them.

The human race—through the high officials of the Alliance—had long studied the mechanics of Dragon Prana and the biofields that were the Arion’s pride. Despite being formal allies, humans always knew that ultimately, trust only existed between the same species.

The investigation had been shockingly easy. The Arion were too proud; they never bothered to hide their strength. However, they kept one secret: how raw mana was converted into Dragon Prana. The Human Alliance might not have cracked that secret yet, but they had found the loopholes. All Arion mantras—be it Padakacarma, Brajamusti, or Brajadenta—remained manifestations of mana. And humans were masters at creating tools to disrupt it.

Rabi’s Fang was Artur’s answer to that absolute defense.

The battle reignited. Within seconds, dozens of strikes were exchanged. Artur’s sword moved like a bolt of lightning cleaving the air, while Nash parried and counterattacked with terrifying precision.

Unlike the inexperienced Kuja, Nash was a veteran of a thousand life-and-death struggles. Every one of Artur’s movements was meticulously read; every opening closed before it could be exploited. Several times, Nash nearly succeeded in locking Artur within a fatal range. A Brajamusti strike almost crushed Artur’s shoulder, and a Padakacarma leg sweep nearly shattered his ribs.

Artur gasped for air, but his gaze only grew sharper. It seemed Rabi’s Fang alone was not enough to bring down this Arion veteran.

“If one weapon isn’t enough…” Artur whispered coldly, “then let the entire arsenal speak.”

Artur began to open the gates to the rest of his collection.

Various artifacts and magical items began to emerge from the void, orbiting Artur like lethal satellites. Artur had prepared for this moment through thousands of nights of torment. In his mind, there was only one recurring vision: the death of those bastards. Moku—the disgusting creature that had defiled Anna. Nash, Acel, Kuja—they were all living evidence of his sister’s suffering. In Artur’s eyes, every green-skinned, sharp-eared creature was a stain that had to be purged.

Kill.

Kill.

Kill.

Artur would not let the Arion foothold in Heles stand. Tonight, he would sanctify Anna’s name with blood. Starting with the “first sin” standing before him: Nash.

Small magic circles flickered into existence in the air, vomiting forth his collection of magic items—runed daggers, mana discs spinning like saw blades, and silver chains inscribed with binding symbols. All moved in perfect synchronicity with his rage.