The Record of Orc Civilization - Chapter 442: The Rot in the Periphery

Ex-Hunter District, Bitter Maja

The mana lamps lining the corridors of this outermost district no longer shone with their former brilliance. Most of the light glands had decayed, leaving behind only a pale, sickly green flicker that pulsed like a dying breath. Gray dust, an inch thick, carpeted the stone floors that had once been perpetually slick with the fresh blood of the hunt.

There were no more cheers of celebration, no more rhythmic clinking of blades being sharpened. The absolute silence pressing against the ears was broken only by the steady drip of groundwater—tap… tap… tap…—falling from the cavern roof, echoing the hollow emptiness of a burrow labyrinth that had long since perished.

Technological advancement had brought rapid progress to Wilwatikta, but it also brought centralization. Resource access always began at the kingdom’s heart, The Capital, before finally trickling out to the fringes. This district had once been teeming with life; its proximity to the hunting grounds had made it the kingdom’s economic pulse.

However, as the populations of wild beasts and mutated animals in the Bog Forest dwindled, the district was abandoned. Its residents migrated toward the center in search of a better future. The old structures from Wilwatikta’s founding era still stood, though they were now nothing more than uninhabitable ruins.

The air here felt thick and stagnant. Without the cooling gusts from the giant “lungs” that refreshed central Wilwatikta, the atmosphere in the peripheral districts had curdled, carrying the pungent stench of damp mold and wet earth long hidden from the light. Every breath felt heavy, leaving a bitter, chalky aftertaste at the back of the tongue.

Deep in the heart of that dead district, behind the reinforced stone door of the only intact burrow, Leon’s shadow trembled against the cold floor.

His ten thin fingers were clawed deep into his own scalp. His nails scraped harshly against the skin, as if trying to tear a way into his own brain. The surface of the stone table he leaned against felt freezing, a sharp contrast to the hot sweat flooding his temples. The veins in the Hobgoblin’s forehead bulged and pulsed aggressively, while his breath escaped in ragged, strangled moans. The physical weight of his despair was so tangible it felt as though his skull would explode into fragments.

“DAMN IT! CURSE THEM ALL!! DIE! JUST DIE!!” Leon screamed, still clutching his head as if it were about to split open.

Red, vein-like networks erupted from his green skin, which was rapidly darkening to the color of charred coal. These veins throbbed rhythmically, as if something was alive beneath his flesh. His nails grew sharper and more tapered, yet they remained unable to pierce the scalp of an Orichalcum Tier Hobgoblin. His body was tall and muscular, now nearly reaching the three-meter height of an Asura.

Yet, the most jarring feature of his form was the obsidian gemstone protruding from his chest. Without a shirt to cover it, the red obsidian looked like the eye of a wild beast slowly fluttering open. The murderous aura radiating from his body was enough to make anyone’s skin crawl.

This transformation had begun after he met Furfur and accepted the demon’s bargain. He had grown powerful with terrifying speed; in just a few months, he had reached the Orichalcum Tier. His growth didn’t stop there; he grew stronger with every passing day. Yet, as his power swelled, his emotions became increasingly volatile. He could explode in a rage over the smallest mistake by his subordinates.

But the report he had just received was no small mistake. It was a catastrophe that could destroy everything he had gambled for. He knew that even now, a royal hunting team had been dispatched to investigate the incident.

“Useless monkeys! Incompetent fools! How could they lose just like that? And what was that—letting an Asura escape the encirclement! I should never have trusted them! Those humans are utterly blind and arrogant! ALL OF THEM ARE DOGS!!!” Leon roared, smashing the stone table before him into a thousand pieces.

He was acutely aware that he and the Hobgoblins under his command could not wound Wilwatikta through a direct assault. He knew exactly what kind of power was harbored within that kingdom. The Asura race evolved and strengthened at a horrifying pace. He had to act immediately before the kingdom decided they no longer needed the strength of the Hobgoblins and wiped them all out.

After accepting Furfur’s offer, Leon had returned to Bitter Maja and begun executing his plan. He spread rumors in the markets about the kingdom’s intent to slaughter every monster race except the Asura. At first, the rumors were hard to believe, but they spread like wildfire.

The number of single male Hobgoblins and Druids who struggled to find mates was swelling, and that dissatisfaction had become the perfect fuel to ignite hatred toward the kingdom. The trend of marrying into the Asura line to evolve into a Valkyrie—whose power far surpassed that of a Hobgoblin or Druid—could no longer be stemmed. Any sentient creature would choose a better future, and monsters were no exception.

Currently, the only thing preventing a full-scale social explosion was the limited Asura population and the strict law limiting each Asura to a maximum of four wives. That rule provided a small window for the lucky Druids and Hobgoblins to still secure a mate. However, as the Asura population grew exponentially, this natural protection would not last. The extinction of their bloodlines was written on the wall.

Furthermore, the Great War, which occupied the royal intelligence agency’s full attention, gave Leon a window to move. He began gathering followers in secluded places, reinforcing the rumors with twisted facts from the field. He incited them by claiming that the war casualties thus far were borne only by the Hobgoblins, while the Asuras hid in safety, waiting for the enemy to come to them. He started with his own kind, and his following continued to grow.

Leon didn’t dare recruit the Sylphs or Druids because he knew their memories could be read by Nerphyl through the Eyes of the Queen.

However, the discovery of EXP Potions had caused the Asuras’ development to accelerate many times over. That reality kept a traitor like Leon awake at night. Consequently, he had attempted to contact the human forces fighting Wilwatikta. Even at the cost of many Hobgoblin lives, he had managed to connect with a human commander. To prove his sincerity, Leon leaked the movement path of Kuja’s unit.

He knew that human commander held a deep-seated grudge against Nevare and his family. Offering up Kuja—one of Nevare’s sons—was bait too enticing to refuse. Kuja’s unit was surrounded and slaughtered one by one. Though he had to sacrifice dozens of his own kind, Leon felt no remorse. Their deaths were merely an offering to cement his alliance with the humans. With external help and internal sabotage, he was certain the Asura race would weaken. Afterward, the more numerous Hobgoblin race would be able to seize leadership.

But the bitter reality hit him hard. Although twenty-two Asuras were killed, the primary target had survived. Leon simply could not understand how Kuja had grown so strong so quickly. He could almost accept it for Kuja, who carried Moku’s blood, but what about Diru?

Not only did Diru survive, but there was even one Asura from the group who had managed to break through the encirclement. Had Leon not personally gone to the site to confirm the situation, that Asura would have escaped and reported back. Leon had managed to kill that Asura with the new power granted by Furfur. But while he waited for Diru to be finished off by the mage, Kuja had arrived to save him.

In a panic, Leon had managed to retreat and destroy the corpse of the Asura he killed to erase his tracks. But he realized that even with the body destroyed, the royal intelligence agency would inevitably begin to sniff him out.

“What should I do?” he whispered frantically.