Martin’s heart raced as he caught sight of a towering figure—an orc warrior clad in steel armor, his green skin glistening in the dim light. The creature stood two meters tall, fangs protruding from its menacing face. Instinctively, Martin let out a startled, “What the—!”

  “What the?” the orc echoed in a gravelly voice, the absurdity of the situation momentarily breaking the tension. “I don’t call it that; my name is Asor.”

  Martin blinked, momentarily speechless.

  Asor surveyed the scene, his expression shifting as he noticed the lifeless body of Kerry sprawled on the ground, then turned his gaze to the charred remains of Busca nearby. “Who are you? Did you kill these two? How did Kerry end up like this?”

  Martin’s heart sank. Could this orc be affiliated with Busca? The brute’s imposing presence suggested a level of strength that made Martin feel vulnerable. Even with his magical armor, he doubted he could stand against this warrior in a fair fight.

  However, Asor showed no interest in Martin’s defensive stance. Instead, he approached Kerry, kneeling beside the fallen swordsman. Martin’s instincts kicked in, and he discreetly slipped the ring he had taken from Busca into the pocket of his magical robe.

  Asor examined Kerry’s body closely. “The wound is severe,” he muttered. “It looks like a powerful sword struck him from above, piercing his armor and pinning him to the ground. Judging by the direction of the wound and the footprints, it appears there was no elaborate attack. Kerry didn’t even try to dodge. Maybe he was too frightened to react.”

  Asor’s assessment struck a nerve. Martin felt a mix of dread and relief—this orc seemed to have a keen eye for detail.

  Asor then turned his attention to Busca, who lay charred and lifeless. “He was electrocuted,” Asor noted, his brow furrowing. “This isn’t the effect of a typical lightning scroll; it resembles the intermediate attack spell, [Lightning Strike].” He glanced back at Martin, his expression sharp. “So, who killed them?”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Martin couldn’t help but feel a dark amusement at the thought of Asor not realizing it was him who had dealt the fatal blows. But as a wise mage, he opted for a more low-key approach. “I don’t know that person… just some armored figure who moved like the wind. He mentioned his name was Steel…”

  His mind raced, searching for the right term. The language barrier made it difficult to convey “Iron Man.” He needed something that would resonate within this world.

  “...Swordsman,” he finished, settling on a term that felt appropriate.

  “Steel Swordsman?” Asor’s brows knitted together. “Is he a senior swordsman?”

  Martin raised an eyebrow, surprised that Asor seemed to equate the name with a level of skill.

  “He’s the only one around here who would carry such a title,” Asor explained, a hint of admiration creeping into his voice. “Only senior swordsmen earn nicknames. If he’s a swordsman and can cast spells, he must be quite powerful.”

  Martin nodded, pretending to bask in the praise while his mind wandered to the potential of creating more powerful armor. He recalled hearing that some armors could be enchanted with magical arrays. Could he replicate something akin to the Iron Man armor from his memories?

  Asor’s gaze shifted back to Martin, his expression turning serious. “What’s going on? Did that fool Kerry try to abduct you?”

  Martin assessed the orc carefully, realizing he was likely not an ally of Kerry or Busca. “I’m Martin, a mage,” he replied.

  “You’re the mage who defeated Kerry?!”

  Asor’s sudden enthusiasm caught Martin off guard. The orc’s face lit up with excitement. “I didn’t expect you to be the one who took him down! Kerry was a disgrace to the city guards. After you defeated him, we were ready to celebrate his downfall.”

  Martin felt an unexpected sense of pride mixed with confusion. He hadn’t realized he was gaining notoriety.

  But Asor’s expression shifted again, turning grave. “Wait. You look like you’ve been imprisoned. Did Busca and Kerry force you to create magic scrolls for them?”

  “Yes,” Martin confirmed, his heart racing. “But now that they’re both dead… will I get into trouble?”

  Asor slapped his chest, a hearty laugh erupting from him. “Don’t worry! You’ve done a service to our city. You won’t face any repercussions.”

  Martin breathed a sigh of relief. The weight of the situation began to lift—perhaps there was hope for him yet. The thrill of not being held accountable for the chaos he had unleashed was almost exhilarating.