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墨書 Inktalez
When the sudden plunging motion of the ship shocked the entire fleet, Razal was disturbed from the dark corner of the rest cabin by this unexpected movement. His body lost balance, rolling across the floor like a thrown stone, and finally collided with the hard bed frame. The sudden impact caused him intense pain, but such pain seemed insignificant in the subsequent Huda'hu's roar.
The Huda'hu's voice once again echoed through the ship's broadcast system, filled with fanaticism and determination, spreading to every corner: "Listen, you fools! We will be the first batch of orcs to set foot on Asra Planet! Speed, go fast! Charge forward! Ugh, ugh, ugh!" His voice carried an immense passion and urgency, as if in this critical moment, every second was crucial, and any hesitation and stagnation would be the cause of their failure.
The entire ship echoed with the almost frantic command, emitting a deafening roar. It was the sound of the engines running at full power, as well as the Orc pirates' desire for the impending plunder. Every orc in the fleet was infected by this power, as if their blood was echoing the call of the Huda'hu, boiling and ready to engage in this unknown battle.
Driven by this impulse, the ship surged towards the direction of Asra Planet like a released beast. Amid this collective madness, only Razal remained somewhat sober. He tightly grasped the bed frame, trying to steady his body and mind. But under the determined and eager voice of the Huda'hu, Razal couldn't help but feel a hint of curiosity and anticipation for the future, even though he knew the outcome of this battle was filled with uncertainty.
When the sound of Huda'hu rang out again, carrying an unmistakable command and roar: "Damn it! Nerd! I see you! Don't think you can hide! Get out of there!" Razal realized that the captain had located his hiding place using the ship's monitoring system. He adjusted his slightly crooked glasses, took a deep breath, and prepared to face the impending situation.
He reluctantly stood up from the corner, his body not yet fully recovered from the recent collision, and moved unsteadily towards the armory on the ship. As he approached, the armory end was already filled with noise, as if a group of uncontrollable beasts were reveling there.
The corridor lights flickered with the ship's tremors, casting distorted shadows on the walls, as if foretelling the impending Chao'X. Razal continued forward, filled with doubts and reluctance, but as a member of the orc tribe, he knew it was not the time to resist. Before entering the armory, the noise inside was already giving him a splitting headache. The orcs in the armory, summoned by the captain, had begun frantically selecting weapons, preparing for the plunder they anticipated.
As Razal stepped into the armory's passage, a sudden scene made him stop in his tracks. A fellow orc was struck as if by a tremendous force, losing control and flying out, crashing heavily into the opposite metal wall, then sliding weakly to the ground, blood seeping from his mouth, eyes filled with fear and pain. The orc struggled, attempting to stand again, but it was clear he was seriously injured, each breath a battle with the grim reaper.
At this moment, Pierre's rough roar echoed in the armory, "Who dares to compete with me for this!" He tightly gripped a shimmering bomb gun, which stood out conspicuously among these orcs. A hint of doubt crossed Razal's mind, unsure of the weapon's origin. Was it an accidental spoils of war from a battle, or had they truly defeated Space Marines on the battlefield and looted it from their corpses?
The armory was filled with the unique coarseness and cruelty of the orcs, who didn't hesitate to resort to violence to settle disputes among themselves for a weapon. Razal looked at the fallen orc and couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness. Among this group of orcs who revered strength, reason and compassion seemed to have become scarce commodities. Razal took a deep breath, forcing himself to look away and continue advancing towards the depths of the armory, trying to find the weapon that belonged to him. In the impending plunder, even with endless doubts and repulsion in his heart, he knew that survival was the most important thing at the moment.
When Razal's footsteps echoed on the iron floor of the armory, it seemed to trigger a string of displeased hisses and taunts. A loud, burly orc voice cut through the air, "Hey! The magnifying glass isn't here, bookworm!" This remark seemed to act as a switch, instantly provoking a round of even more mocking laughter from the surroundings. The orcs cast disdainful glances, as if in their world, intelligence and books were nothing but laughable oddities.
Razal, however, seemed accustomed to this kind of mockery and lack of understanding. He didn't stop his steps, nor did he turn back to argue. His gaze was as calm as water, directly ignoring the surrounding noise, and he walked straight towards the shelves displaying various weapons. His hand swept over a row of rusty weapons, and eventually, he casually chose a very worn-out spear. This weapon had long lost its former luster, with its blade covered in dents, as if bearing witness to countless battles and the erosion of time.
Razal tightly gripped the handle of the cudgel, feeling its heavy weight, as if in this moment, he had established a subtle connection with this crude weapon. In the face of the taunts and jeers of the surrounding orcs, Razal chose the most powerful response - silence.
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