Lord of Entertainment

Chapter 57: Adventurers and Orcs

(Arthur POV)

After weeks of filming scenes that didn't involve orcs, I've finally decided it's time to face them head-on. I've been testing my powers with {Nether Surge} in private, and if I'm gauging this right based on the ancient power scales, I should be at Arcane Scholar level. That's enough juice to take on a hundred Arcane Students or a dozen Junior Mages.

The catch? I can only maintain {Nether Surge} for a limited time. Sure, practice will extend that limit and boost its power, but it's still a finite resource. Without it, I'm barely scraping by at Junior Mage peak tier.

It's a sobering thought. I'm about to walk into orc territory with power that's impressive by modern standards, but would've been considered entry-level back in the day. Still, it's what I've got to work with.

Truth is, power levels aren't what they used to be.

The old power level terminology is practically ancient history now. With billions of people in the world, mana's spread thin, like butter scraped over too much bread. These days, an average person can't even hit Junior Mage level, let alone reach Arcane Scholar status.

It's the upper crust - nobles, royals, and the kids of big-shot politicians and business tycoons in non-royal countries - who get to play with the big leagues. They've got access to those rare potions that cost more than most families make in a year.

It's no wonder "The Demonfather" struck such a chord. We're living in a world that's slowly leaving the "magical age" behind, focusing more on martial arts and military tech. Dwarven weapons are the new hot ticket - even the high-end stuff can tear through an Arcane Scholar's shield like it's tissue paper.

In a world where a good gun trumps most magic, those old power levels don't mean much anymore. It's a brave new world out there, and the rules of the game have changed.

***

Before confronting the orcs, I made a quick trip back to the city via portal. First stop: the weapon shop. With my newly acquired sword skills, courtesy of the Skills Shop, I needed a blade to match. I also picked up some decent armor - no point in being a walking target.

Back in Gloomstone Forest, I suit up. Decked out in gleaming armor, sword at my hip, face hidden behind a mask and hood, I feel like I've stepped straight out of a fantasy novel.

Strolling into the nearby town, I make my way to the Adventurers Guild. As I push open the doors, I catch snippets of conversation.

"Get a load of that armor. Must be some rich kid playing hero."

"Yeah, only nobles or bigshot business heirs can afford gear like that."

I stifle a chuckle. If only they knew.

But I'm not here just to show off. No.

I need a crew, fellow adventurers to back me up in orc territory.

Sure, I could probably take on a decent number of orcs with {Nether Surge}, but why tempt fate? Better to have backup and not need it than need it and not have it.

Plus, there are practical considerations. Someone's got to carry supplies, and it wouldn't hurt to have extra hands for hauling back monster parts to sell to the guild. A little side hustle never hurt anyone, right?

Having a few adventurers along means I can conserve my energy for when it really counts. The deep parts of Gloomstone Forest are no joke - we're talking miles of potentially hostile territory. I'll need to be at full strength when we finally encounter the orcs, which means pacing myself on the journey there.

As I scan the guild hall, I'm looking for a mix of skills. Maybe a tracker who knows the forest, a brawny type for heavy lifting, and someone with healing abilities wouldn't go amiss. It's like casting for a film, really - each role needs to bring something unique to the table.

I approach the guild master, keeping my voice low and mysterious. "I'm looking for capable adventurers for a dangerous mission into the deep forest. Any recommendations?"

The guild master eyes me skeptically, probably trying to gauge if I'm some rich kid with a death wish or the real deal. After a moment, he nods towards a corner of the room.

"Those three over there might be what you're looking for. They're experienced, and they work well together. But I warn you, stranger - they don't come cheap."

I smile behind my mask. Money's the least of my worries.

I approach the trio the guild master pointed out. There's a young man in worn armor - clearly a warrior type. Next to him, a hulking brute in mage robes, an interesting combo. The third is a young woman in ordinary-looking clothes, though I can sense the magical enhancements woven into the fabric.

"What's your deal, rich boy?" the warrior calls out as I near their table.

No point in beating around the bush. "I'm in the market for some capable adventurers."

The brute chimes in, "What for, mate? Lookin' to play explorer?"

"Maybe he wants a guided tour," the woman adds with a smirk.

They share a laugh at my expense. Fine by me - let them underestimate me.

"Actually, yeah. A tour sounds about right," I say, playing along. "You lot familiar with Gloomstone Forest?"

The brute's brow furrows. "Gloomstone Forest?"

"That's right. I need to get to the deeper parts. Looking for a guide who knows their way around."

The woman chuckles. "The deeper parts? What, are rich kids so bored these days?"

"Yeah, must have a death wish," the warrior adds.

I cut through their laughter with six simple words: "I'll pay well for the right skills."

That shuts them up quick. They exchange glances, suddenly all business.

"Now that I've got your attention," I continue, "let's talk specifics. What can you bring to the table?"

***

After some back-and-forth, I've got my team sorted. There's Gordon, the young warrior with a chip on his shoulder. Charles is our brute mage, built like a tank but with a knack for spellcasting. Marjorie rounds out the trio, a chatty young woman with healing talents.

Marjorie's non-stop chatter reveals she's an orphan from a Solarus Church. Her healing skills are top-notch, so I hire her on the spot. Charles, besides his magical prowess, is built like an ox. He's perfect for hauling our food supplies.

Gordon, it turns out, used to hunt in Gloomstone Forest for a living. His knowledge of the terrain could be invaluable.

With our roles set, we head out for orc territory.

Our first encounter is with a group of goblins. I hang back, letting my hired hands prove their worth. They handle it well enough without my intervention.

Later, we face off against a pack of hellhounds. This time, the adventurers struggle. Seeing them clearly out of their depth - and knowing they've been looking down on me - I decide to show my hand. Their surprised faces when they see what I'm capable of are almost comical.

Two days and nights into our journey, and we're still not in orc territory. I had no idea it would be this far. Even with our tree-leaping shortcut, we're still a considerable distance away.

***

The next day, we finally spot signs of orc territory. Gordon turns to me, his face grim. "We're here. These orcs are no joke. You sure you want to go through with this?"

We're crouched behind a bush, eyeing the orc tribe in the distance. I can feel the tension radiating from my companions.

"Of course," I reply, flashing a smile. "No point turning back now. We've come too far."

Marjorie pipes up, curiosity getting the better of her. "Why do you even need to mess with orcs anyway?"

I chuckle, keeping my cards close to my chest. "It's none of your business."

She rolls her eyes. "Ugh. You rich kids always do whatever you want when you're bored."

"Heh," is all I offer in response.

Charles, ever the pragmatist, chimes in. "We'll be ready whenever you are."

I shake my head. "No. You guys stay put here. Take care of the supplies. I'll face the orcs alone."

"Are you serious?!" Marjorie gasps, then quickly covers her mouth, realizing how loud she was.

"Dead serious," I confirm.

Before they can protest further, I leap from our hiding spot, facing down about a dozen orcs. I can hear Marjorie trying to stop me, but Gordon holds her back.

As I land, I can't help but admire the orcs. "Hey... Really perfect for my film..." I mutter, taking in their appearance. They're exactly what I need for "Lord of the Rings."

One orc, not appreciating my scrutiny, charges with an angry "Uga!"

I activate {Nether Surge}, easily parrying his attack and kicking him away. Time to show these orcs - and my skeptical companions - what I'm really made of.