The Record of Orc Civilization - Chapter 451: The Alraune’s Scalpel

Leon slowly pried open his eyelids, which felt as stiff as charred crust. His body was still struggling to mend the wounds that by all rights should have claimed his life. Suddenly, fresh blood erupted from his mouth—the residue of shattered internal organs regenerating while he was unconscious. The black, clotted mass was forced out just as his awareness returned in full.

Leon’s condition might have been considered far better, were he not currently lashed to a basalt chair by living muscle-tendrils of a ghastly, mutating plant. The vines gripped his wrists and ankles with crushing strength, reacting with an automatic tightening every time he attempted to struggle.

Leon had seen the prisons of Wilwatikta before, but they were never used to incarcerate fellow monsters. Those cells were typically reserved for Mana Species captured before the “brainwashing” process began. Yet, the room where he now awoke bore no resemblance to any prison he could have imagined.

The sharp scent of sulfur mixed with the metallic tang of dried blood made the air feel thick and suffocating. The chamber felt so cramped he struggled to draw a breath. Every time his heart beat, the entire room seemed to throb in unison. Whatever Mana Organ powered this place, it certainly wasn’t designed for the comfort of its occupants.

Though his mind remained hazy, fragments of memory began to resurface. His last memory was vivid: returning to the abandoned district with a mounting fury. He blamed the failure of the ambush—an operation he considered flawless—entirely on the incompetent humans, though the sudden surge in Kuja and Diru’s power had been well beyond his calculations. After that, he felt his body slip from his control, and everything became a blur.

Logically, upon realizing the ambush had failed, Leon should have erased every trace of his existence before the “hounds” of the intelligence agency sniffed him out. However, he never imagined that such a colossal rage could drive his body to act on its own, independent of his will.

Then, Leon remembered the shadowed faces of Nedira and Nerphyl. He knew both Queens well, especially Nedira. For Goblin children, Nedira and Ez were true idols; they all dreamed of growing up to be just like them. But as an adult, Leon had realized they were not allies. They were merely Asura lackeys, sycophants groveling for power—just like his mother, who had abandoned him and his father to marry an Asura.

Leon knew that the moment he faced Nerphyl and Nedira while out of control, his fate was sealed. Even though he was now far stronger than an ordinary Hobgoblin, strong enough to kill an Asura from Diru’s group, he was still no match for the two Queens.

Leon assumed he was in an interrogation room of the Royal Intelligence Agency. Given that his betrayal had nearly killed Kuja, he was certain Swa himself would intervene. Strangely, instead of fear, Leon felt a flicker of curiosity to see the face of that mysterious Director of Intelligence.

However, when he heard the soft voice of a woman—a voice that simultaneously triggered a surge of lust and a wave of primal terror—Leon’s face went deathly pale.

“Tissue assimilation at eighty percent. This object is acting as a second heart.”

Leon’s pupils darted toward the source of the sound. Standing there was a figure of such exquisite beauty it made his skin crawl. The woman possessed a countenance so lovely that the most renowned poets would find themselves speechless. Her smile was so captivating that even a master painter could never hope to capture it. Her body was draped in foliage like other Alraune, yet her leaves were a pure, virginal white, blending seamlessly with skin as smooth as porcelain. Her beauty seemed to insult anyone else who dared feel attractive; she was like the moon, whose very existence dimmed the starlight around her.

Recognizing her, Leon knew he had arrived at the worst possible outcome. Although the Alraune were a reclusive monster race rarely known to the common public, one name was legendary among those who studied the history of Wilwatikta’s founding: Rafflesia Luna Arnoldii.

Luna was the most beautiful Alraune to ever exist; to see her once was to have the memory etched into one’s soul for a lifetime. That was what the history books recorded, and now Leon had to admit the words in those books had vastly understated the reality. Yet, it wasn’t her beauty that made Leon’s eyes bulge—it was the implication of her presence.

Besides being Moku’s adoptive sister, Luna was the Director of R-18. To the people of Wilwatikta, R-18 was the center for the most advanced technological and weapons research, a gathering place for the kingdom’s most brilliant minds. Unfortunately, no race other than the Alraune was permitted to join, not even the Asuras.

Behind the grandeur of its reputation, horrific rumors also swirled about this mysterious department. Rumors of dangerous experiments that turned problematic monsters into research subjects. As an adult, Leon knew there was a high probability those stories weren’t just fairy tales to frighten children.

Leon groaned, trying to recoil from her. The red obsidian gem in his chest pulsed slowly—thump… thump…—as if it possessed a heartbeat independent of its host.

Under the cold glow of the mana lamps, Luna stared at Leon’s chest with wide, unblinking eyes, filled with a clinical, academic obsession. Her long lashes seemed to comb over every inch of Leon’s chest, sending a chill deep into his bones.

Her fingers, seemingly soft and supple, slowly drew closer. In the center of her palm, a shimmering scalpel caused Leon’s pupils to contract in horror. He could almost hear the cold ring of metal as the blade neared his skin.

“If I slice the sternum area with a precision of zero-point-two millimeters,” Luna murmured, as if speaking only to herself, “I can extract this stone along with its primary neural network before the host expires.”

“Hold your scalpel, Luna.”

A heavy, cold voice saturated with authority halted the scientist in her tracks. Swa, the Director of the Royal Intelligence Agency, stepped out from the shadows. His black leather trench coat rustled softly. Swa’s face was as hard as a cliffside carving, and his dark eyes pierced through Leon as if he were staring at an enemy cipher that had to be broken.

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Bonus Chapter Event: Let’s Finish TROC This Year!

It looks like sticking to just one Chapter a day won’t be enough to hit my goal of completing TROC by the end of the year. But here is the good news: I currently have a stockpile of over 20 Chapters locked and loaded!

To speed up the releases and show my appreciation for your incredible support, I am officially opening a Bonus Chapter System!

You can unlock additional Chapters instantly by hitting any of these milestones:

– 10 Power Stones = +1 Bonus Chapter

– 5 Golden Tickets = +1 Bonus Chapter

– 1 “Ice Cola” Gift (or any gift worth 10 Coins) = +1 Bonus Chapter

Let’s break the limits and reach the climax of the story together! Drop your stones, tickets, and gifts, and I will unleash the stockpiled Chapters. Thank you for reading and for your massive support!