What is despair?

It's when you flee from what terrifies you, only to find that behind you…

is darkness too.

Over ten thousand Orcs were now surrounded by roaring fire on both sides of the valley. Thick, choking smoke coiled around them like a noose.

"Run left!"

"Run right!"

"Anywhere there's no fire!"

Panicked Orcs surged like ants on a scorching iron plate, darting madly through the forest. Towering Trolls barreled forward, uncaring of who stood in their way—crushing their own underfoot in the chaos.

They scattered in desperation.

Some were caught in the flames, screaming as fire consumed them. Others managed to dodge to the flanks, temporarily escaping the inferno. But in this enclosed valley, sealed by sheer cliffs, where could they run?

….

Night fell deeper.

The entire valley was ablaze, transformed into a colossal furnace.

Upon the fortress walls, Kaen, his commanders, and his soldiers stood silently, watching the devastation unfold.

They saw Orcs writhing in the firelight, but felt no joy, no sorrow—only solemnity.

Rough and bold as ever, Caden sighed. "What a shame. Such a beautiful valley…"

Mundar casually took a swig from his flask and shrugged. "If it means wiping out the Orcs, it's worth every flame."

Zakri nodded gravely. "Indeed. A scorched valley can bloom again come spring, but a scorched darkness… may never return."

Cathril's gaze remained fixed on Kaen's silhouette. She whispered, "Maybe one day, a bard will sit in a tavern somewhere in Middle-earth, and sing of how we purified the Troll-woods. Our names will be spoken with reverence. That will be our glory."

….

Atop a hill in the center of the valley, Lairon and eighteen Dúnedain Rangers stood watchful.

Twelve bodies lay nearby—comrades who had fallen earlier in the battle.

By now, the surrounding forest had been completely consumed. They stood in a sea of fire and smoke.

One of the Rangers asked, "Lord Lairon, what do we do next?"

Lairon's voice was calm. "We wait. Let the fire purge every last trace from this valley."

…..

The blaze lasted three full days and nights.

What was once a lush and vibrant valley was now nothing but a vast field of ash and white-grey silence.

It was impossible to tell whether the flakes floating in the air were the remnants of burnt leaves—or snowflakes descending from the skies.

All around, the flat, open valley showed barely a single scorched stump remaining. Yet even this inferno hadn't annihilated everything.

Some of the monsters had survived.

By digging pits with weapons, a number of Orcs and Trolls had managed to avoid the worst of the flames. Now, filthy and battered, they regrouped—over a thousand strong. Seven Trolls among them. They had fed on the corpses of their fallen comrades, regaining much of their strength.

The Orc King still lived.

With a fraction of his once-mighty army, he formed ranks again, silent and grim. He stood waiting for the enemy to come.

The air still shimmered with waves of heat, searing their pale-grey skins and burning into their glowing green eyes.

On the ash-strewn battlefield, a human army—well-equipped and disciplined—marched forward in perfect formation.

Neither side exchanged words.

Kaen saw no need. The Orc King believed there was none. At this point, only one truth remained—this would be a battle to the death. One would fall. One would survive.

"Charge!"

Caden and the others roared, leading their troops into a sharp, spearhead formation.

"Raaaaagh!"

The surviving monsters bellowed defiantly, throwing themselves forward with blind rage. The two sides clashed like titans upon a field of ash.

….

In the heart of battle, Kaen stepped forward, blade in hand, facing the Orc King. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"How was the fire?" he asked mockingly. "Did it illuminate the darkness festering in your heart?"

"You vile human!" the Orc King growled, his voice thick with hatred.

Watching his warriors fall one by one, he knew the tide had turned against him.

Once, he had envisioned a future built upon the mithril veins of the mountains—a powerful Orc kingdom rising from the depths. But this human, with a single inferno, had reduced all his ambitions to ashes and dreams.

Twisted with rage, the Orc King raised his massive warhammer and charged. "I'll devour your flesh and blood, and bury you with my kingdom!"

The duel began.

To be fair, the Orc King was powerful. That great round-headed warhammer swept through the air like a storm, every blow brimming with brute force. Even Kaen did not dare to take him head-on.

But to Kaen, his movements were clumsy—far too slow.

Ducking, weaving, sidestepping—Kaen waited for an opening. With a sharp pivot, he spun around, sword flashing.

A single streak of silver light.

The Orc King halted mid-swing, his eyes wide with disbelief. Then, he collapsed—forever still.

EXP +20.

Kaen turned and plunged back into the fray. His sword struck down Orc after Orc—none could stop him.

Ever since his panel reached Level 3, and he had begun tapping into magic, he had become something more: an epic-tier hero.

A Mountain Troll thundered from behind, raising a massive iron club.

Kaen didn't even glance back.

He murmured an incantation, and the sword in his hand shimmered with magical light. He thrust backward.

Schlunk!

The Troll's head split open like soft cheese. Its massive body crashed down, sending ash into the air.

EXP +8.

From the edge of the battlefield, Lairon and his Rangers surged in to join the battle.

The remaining Orcs—over a thousand of them—and the seven surviving Trolls were slaughtered to the last.

Level: 3 (184/400)

….

The cost of victory was not small.

Wounded, crippled, and slain—around two hundred soldiers had been lost. Every unit had taken casualties.

Out of five hundred men deployed, only three hundred remained.

But compared to the scale of their victory, this was a small price.

With this single fire assault, they had almost entirely purged the monsters from the Troll-woods.

Over two thousand square kilometers of forest were now part of the Kingdom's domain.

Yet what captured Kaen's interest most… was this valley.

Sheer cliffs on all sides. A single narrow entrance. Inside—plentiful water, and over a hundred square kilometers of land.

It reminded him of the hidden city of Gondolin, the ancient Noldor stronghold—a majestic Elven city veiled in the mountains.

If a capital could be built here…

As that thought took root in Kaen's mind, Lairon approached him.

He bowed low, then produced a shimmering piece of silver metal.

"My lord," Lairon said quietly, "we discovered this inside the hill."