#68 - Chapter 68 This is a war

"Ahhh!"

As the searing pain in his chest jolted the orc priest awake, his eyes finally cleared.

The black altar from before had vanished.

Gone with it were the executioner, the fallen angel soaring in the sky, and the laughing demons gathered below.

As an orc with high mental fortitude and perception, the illusion lasted the shortest time for the orc priest.

However, when he truly regained his senses, he couldn't believe his eyes at what was happening before him.

A dagger was indeed lodged in his chest.

However, this dagger wasn't the one engraved with a black and red swirling eye, but a crude, crooked dagger clearly made from scrap iron.

Moreover, the wound inflicted by this dagger wasn't deep; because the dagger was so dull, it barely pierced his chest.

And the one who inserted this dagger wasn't the mysterious black altar executioner, but a giggling imp.

This imp was smirking, attempting to drive the obviously blunted dagger further in.

"Lightning Bolt!"

Without the slightest hesitation, under the duress of pain and mortal threat, the orc priest instantly cast a level 0 elemental spell, blasting the imp away.

Then, enduring the pain, the orc priest pulled the dagger from his chest, took out a piece of ancestral skull bone, and cast a spirit magic spell called "Ancestral Healing" on himself.

As the skull bone turned to ashes, the wound on the orc priest's chest rapidly healed.

Although his condition had improved, the scene before him plunged him into despair once more.

Because he discovered that the red lightning he had charged before entering the illusion hadn't struck the Imp Matron Caroline, who was about to devour Chieftain's son, Imon.

On the contrary, the red lightning he had accumulated had struck his own disciple.

An orc priest apprentice who had always been by his side!

The head of this poor, newly adult orc had been shattered into pieces by the red lightning he had unleashed.

And his corpse lay on the ground, being frantically looted by a dozen imps.

The instant he saw the corpse, an imp cruelly cut open his disciple's abdomen, pulled out the liver, and stuffed it into its mouth.

Seeming to notice his gaze, the imp turned its head, grinned at the orc priest, and revealed a cruel smile.

And at that moment, the imp still had fragments of organs falling from its mouth....

"No!"

The orc priest roared as he lunged at the damned imps, trying to prevent his disciple's body from being further desecrated!

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Not long after the orc priest awoke, the Black Blade Clan's Great Chieftain also regained consciousness.

However, the reason for his awakening wasn't due to his mental strength or perception.

But because the illusion had reached the brink of collapse.

This powerful orc chieftain maintained formidable combat power even within the illusion.

His method of breaking this damned illusion was to kill all the resurrected enemies once again.

Including his damned father, who dared to question his honor.

In the illusion, he proved himself to the "Orc Ancestor" who wanted to judge him.

But as he finished all this, wanting to see the Orc Ancestor's appearance clearly, the illusion ended.

And the scene he saw after waking up also made him unable to believe it.

Because lying around him were dozens of orcs and the corpses of his dire wolf mount.

Each of them had similar wounds.

"How is this possible!"

Sark Black Blade shouted!

He recognized these warriors, and even more so, he recognized the unique wounds on their corpses.

Because the corpses of these warriors told him that all these orc warriors had been killed by him!

Only his weapons could cause such unique wounds.

And more importantly, the number of these corpses matched the number of "dead" he had killed in the illusion.

Thinking of this, Sark Black Blade's head throbbed.

He couldn't believe that he had actually killed all the warriors around him in the illusion with his own weapons and his own hands.

And just as Sark Black Blade was still doubting himself.

Thump!

A mangled, bloody body slammed down in front of Sark.

"Father... save me..."

Sark stared intently, and the body, covered in blood and with an unrecognizable face, was actually his son, Imon!

This pitiful and brave warrior had been bitten into a meat stick by the Imp Matron Caroline.

As revenge for cutting her, Imp Matron Caroline only ate his limbs, without taking his life.

And this was far more evil than killing him!

"No, no, no!"

Sark futilely tried to cover the bleeding areas of Imon, but Imon's suffering only made him beg his father to grant him release.

Sark painfully raised his head after hearing this.

At this moment, more and more orcs on the entire battlefield were awakening from the Abyssal Illusion.

However, more orc warriors didn't have time to wake up.

Because they had already fallen into eternal sleep in the previous Abyssal environment.

Seeing this scene, Sark's spirit had reached the brink of collapse.

He had thought about dying in battle, and had even imagined the scene of his death, but he had never imagined that he and the warriors under his command would "die" in this state.

Despair, pain, bewilderment.

Sark, with bloodshot eyes and tears streaming down his face, looked at the Abyssal Lord in the distance and roared.

"Why? Why use such cruel and despicable methods to kill? There is no honor in this!!"

And he responded to the question with an evil smile.

"Because this is war."

"And war itself has no honor to speak of!"