Chapter 227

At night, under a moonless sky, Alex walked steadily toward the simple, crude camp.

The makeshift fortress was haphazardly constructed from uneven logs and splintered planks, bound together with fraying ropes.

Torches flickered along the perimeter, casting long, dancing shadows that made the walls seem even more imposing.

The air was thick with the scent of burning wood and the distant howl of nocturnal creatures.

As he stepped past the flimsy barrier that served as a gate, the camp's inefficacy became apparent—it couldn't protect anything, not truly.

Inside, a myriad of orcs turned their gaze upon him, their eyes reflecting the torchlight with a predatory gleam.

Conversations halted, and a tense silence settled over the camp.

The orcs were imposing figures: large, green-skinned creatures with muscles rippling beneath rough armor and scarred flesh.

Their tusks protruded from snarling mouths, and tribal tattoos adorned their limbs.

Stories painted them as mindless brutes who lived only