The Ork looked bored as he watched Oliver, expecting a more challenging fight. However, that wasn’t what he got. Still, he intended to finish what he had started.
Stepping forward, the Ork's massive form cast a looming shadow over Oliver, who lay sprawled on the cracked asphalt.
Oliver’s armor bore the scars of their skirmish; his helt was shattered into shards, and his chest plate was marred by deep dents, a testant to the ferocity of their encounter.
“Jiak wanted ve nak!” The Ork’s guttural growl reverberated through the desolate streets, a mocking taunt that underscored the futility of Oliver’s defiance.
‘I already told you we can't understand you, porky,’ Oliver mused silently, frustrated with the language barrier that separated predator from prey.
The boy yearned to retaliate, to unleash his pent-up fury, but each breath was a Herculean effort. Sensing his weakness, the Ork reveled in his prey’s suffering. With deliberate malice, he lifted a colossal gray foot and brought it crashing down onto Oliver’s ribs. The impact sent a searing shockwave of pain through the boy’s body, each stomp designed to break his spirit without claiming his life outright.
Nearby, another Ork returned from its hunt, dragging an unconscious soldier by the arms. The fallen warrior lay stripped of his armor.
As the second Ork approached, the first released a thunderous roar, followed by a series of indecipherable commands. Oliver could sense the underlying tone—a reprimand.
The second soldier was unceremoniously dropped to the ground, his insignia clinking softly against the pavent. The noise captured the attention of both Orks, their grotesque grins widening at the sight of the emblem. One Ork bent down, his clawed hand grasping the insignia, which now appeared minuscule in his monstrous grip.
With thodical precision, the older Ork retrieved a sleek, obsidian cube from within his armor's hidden compartnts. He placed the device on the ground, its surface pulsating with faint, otherworldly energy. Kneeling beside the cube, he deftly opened its lid and inserted the insignia. As the two Orks stepped back, the cube emitted a subtle hissing sound, its power briefly flaring before the entire device vanished into thin air, leaving no trace of its presence.
"I told you we needed to get here fast. Clearly, this isn't just another skirmish."
Oliver tried to turn his head to see who was speaking. Further down the sa path the older Ork had co from, three people were calmly walking toward them. One of them seed to be scolding the other two for the delay. He was much slimr than the others but still had the physique of soone from the military. His expression was serious, with a large scar across his face and one chanical eye, giving him a rather unfriendly appearance.
"Sorry, sorry. I thought it was just a regular patrol," replied one of the n. Although he was apologizing, he shrugged as if it wasn’t that important. His long golden hair set him apart, and his clothing indicated he was from so branch of the New Earth Army.
The other two appeared to be wearing civilian clothes, but the three had a thing in common: none seed the least bit afraid of the Orks.
"What do we have here? Just two gray Orks?" asked the third man. His short black hair, square jaw, and deep-set eyes exuded confidence.
For a mont, Oliver thought he might be hallucinating. ‘Maybe the pain is making see things?’ he wondered.
"I warned the Major that these Artificial Armors were too weak and only ant for training. What's the point of the Blue Squad reporting anything if our research is ignored?" The man with the chanical eye seed to analyze the entire combat scene.
"Before you continue your endless complaining... isn't that a civilian over there?" asked the man with the golden hair, pointing toward Oliver.
The three realized that he wasn’t even a soldier or a recruit. Their easygoing attitude disappeared as they turned serious. It finally dawned on the three n that one of the soldiers must have been taken down, and, unfortunately, a civilian had been forced to use the armor for self-defense.
"Hey, kid! Don’t worry. I’ll end this quick," the man with golden hair shouted. Still walking, he rolled up the sleeves of his jacket, revealing gauntlets on his arms, with a red crystal embedded in the center.
"Red Ranger. Activate," he said. From his gauntlets, strands of a red energy were expelled, gradually covering the soldier's body. In no ti, an armor had ford beneath the energy threads.
Although the armor resembled what Oliver was wearing, several details highlighted the difference in rank and power. The helt was the first feature the boy noticed that set them apart. His armor seed designed with protection in mind, while the Ranger’s aid to be lethal. With an angular shape, the dark visor glimred faintly.
The torso, in turn, was guarded by plates instead of an extended tal covering the body. However, the plates appeared to be sculpted from a robust, malleable tal, allowing quick and agile movent. On the shoulder was a small emblem of the New Earth Army.
Unlike the rest of his body, his arms had extra reinforcents, possibly to withstand heavier impacts and strike with force. On his thigh was a small holster that housed a pistol similar to the one he used, but it emitted a red light.
Above all, it looked far more imposing.
The other two n remained calm, accepting that their friend would take the lead against the two Orks. Both Orks, however, beca more alert the mont they saw the armor, a stark contrast to their deanor when facing Oliver.
The younger Ork leaped at the Ranger, swinging his enormous arm toward the Ranger's head. But the Ranger only needed to raise one hand to catch the Ork's arm easily.
"Hey! You can do better than that," the Ranger taunted.
The older Ork's expression remained unchanged, maintaining the sa seriousness as the start. He moved quickly. It was so fast that Oliver couldn't keep up. The Ork delivered a powerful kick aid at the Ranger.
The impact of the kick was so powerful that it shook the ground. Chunks of stone were blasted into the air, scattering in all directions. A small cloud of dust hung around the Red Ranger.
“No, no. You're not facing a soldier, you pig-face. You will need more than that. Where's your axe?” The Ranger spoke.
As the dust settled, it beca clear that the Red Ranger had grabbed the Ork's leg.
"You're a bit better, so we'll fight later," the Ranger said, releasing the Ork's leg before delivering a punch to its stomach. Though the punch seed light, its power was imnse, sending the older Ork flying until he crashed into a building ahead.
"And you... let's finish this quickly," the Ranger said to the other Ork. He was still holding the monster's arm, but he increased the pressure, causing the Ork to start screaming in pain.
“Jiak liwo olk mat!” The younger Ork scread.
With a single yank, the Red Ranger completely tore off the Ork's arm. Blue blood gushed from the wound, splattering the Ranger. The Ork clutched the injury with its remaining hand, screaming in agony.
"Bye-bye," the Ranger said, making a swift motion with his hand and slicing through the Ork's neck. The Ork's head dropped to the ground and rolled, eventually stopping near Oliver.
Until that mont, despite so occasional attacks on the city, Oliver had never had the luck—or rather, the bad luck—of witnessing an Ork and a Ranger fighting face to face. The boy had already been terrified by the sheer power of an Ork and its aura of fear, and yet they seed like toys being tossed back and forth by the Red Ranger.
‘So this is what a Ranger is!?’ Oliver thought, amazed.
The older Ork erged from the rubble of the building he had been thrown into. His face was twisted with fury at the sight of his fallen partner. He let out a guttural roar, grabbed his axe, and charged at the Ranger.
The axe looked like a fusion of brutality and advanced technology. Its double blade was massive yet precisely crafted, as if each curve had been designed to cut through steel and flesh with unquestionable efficiency. Made of an unknown tal, it glead in a matte silver tone.
The axe's central core was even more intriguing. In the center, a tallic sphere seed to vibrate slightly, emitting an almost imperceptible hum.
The axe's handle was reinforced and constructed from a sturdy black material, likely designed to withstand both massive impacts and the blade's considerable weight.
A small detail that Oliver noticed as being quite strange was the almost faded runes engraved near the base of the blade, which contrasted with the high technology used in the weapon. For the boy who was a few ters away from the fight, the weapon's size was unthinkable—it was almost the height of a human being, yet the Ork wielded it as if it were incredibly light.
The Ranger remained impassive, waiting for his opponent's attack. As the Ork approached, he unleashed a series of rapid strikes, swinging the axe relentlessly. But none of the attacks managed to hit the Red Ranger, who dodged each swing by re milliters.
"Now you're taking it seriously?" the Ranger mocked the enraged Ork. While avoiding the attacks, particles of energy gathered in his hand, forming a rapier.
With a swift and precise move, the Ranger severed the Ork’s arm, which was wielding the axe, once more bathing the Red Ranger in blue blood.
Although it was a quick cut, the Ork neither stopped nor scread. Instead, the wound rapidly closed, and the lost arm quickly regenerated.
"Ah! You’re one of those, huh? You just want to make my life difficult," the Ranger said. Oliver thought he was speaking with a smile, but he couldn’t be sure as the helt covered his mouth.
For a mont, Oliver thought he saw a hint of desperation on the Ork's face. But it was fleeting, as the Ork quickly returned to swinging the axe and attacking the Ranger.
"Let's finish this before the kid passes out," the Ranger said. As the axe was swung at him, instead of dodging, he grabbed the blade with his hand. The Ork exerted all his strength to make the Ranger let go, but it was in vain.
Instead, the Ranger made several swift movents with his rapier, quickly slicing off the Ork’s limbs one by one until the monster was reduced to pieces.
"Fla Tower!" the Ranger scread.
Where the Ork's pieces had been, a pillar of fire erupted, sending huge flas that seed to burn everything, even the asphalt on the road. When the fire subsided, there was no trace of the Ork left.
Oliver’s breath was still caught in his throat when the fire finally vanished, and things started to make sense. But his consciousness could no longer hold on. Now that he knew there were no more opponents, he slowly drifted off, and his vision darkened …
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