I didn't know much about orcs, but based on how similar this one looked to the goblins of the third floor, they couldn't be too different in regards to actual battle experience. Granted, the unknown wellspring of knowledge did help me to understand that orc society was built entirely around power, and who had it. They wouldn't simply negotiate with someone who hadn't proven themselves. Furthermore, they all had a bloodlust that was extremely hard to satisfy, so getting them to actually work as a disciplined group would meet with failure nine out of ten times.

The only thing they respected was power, yet they also feared it. Disloyal, conniving, power hungry, and savage. In my eyes, they were worthless as allies or as cannon fodder. However, they could prove to be dangerous enemies if handled incorrectly. If it came down to a direct confrontation, the expeditionary force wouldn't stand a chance against them. The only way to survive on the fourth floor would be to avoid the dungeoneers, and fight the orcs, or do the opposite. Either way, there would be casualties, but I didn't see any other alternative. It was either fight the dungeoneers and avoid the orcs, giving up on a massive amount of potential equipment, or fight both dungeoneers and orcs to try getting better weapons and armor.

I want that damn shield...

I looked at the scout that had come with me, before pointing to the orc that was now putting the axe and shield down against the wall of a nearby hut, before beginning to urinate. The scout gave me a small nod, readying a knife that had been pulled off some poor soul in the last week.

I moved slowly, keeping [Stealth] activated as I inched closer and closer to the unaware orc. I had slipped my axe into a small loop that I had cut with my sword earlier, so that it wouldn't get in the way. The scout was close behind, ready to lunge forward in case something went wrong. I was focusing entirely on the orc's head, so that I could leap toward him in case he turned around.

He never got the chance to do so, as I moved forward quickly once I was less than five feet away. My free hand reached around and clamped around his mouth to keep him from screaming, while my other hand shoved the shortsword through his back and out his front, avoiding the strips of metal bolted onto the leather armor. His muffled scream became a weak groan in moments, as the pain was simply too much. Before he could even struggle, I yanked the sword out, brought it around, and slit his throat. He went silent and limp in my arms.

I nodded to the axe and shield, which the scout quickly grabbed as I dragged the body away. I dumped it behind an unoccupied hut so that it wouldn't be discovered too quickly. I then stripped it of the armor it had been wearing, silently thanking whatever gods had decided to make skeletons unable to smell. We snuck away without anyone knowing we had been there.

I couldn't bring the body back to the expedition camp to hide it, as the smell was most likely too strong, and could possibly attract dungeoneers or other orcs, which was something we couldn't afford to deal with at the time. It was better to let the orcs discover their fallen comrade, thinking he was killed by dungeoneers.

I took the shield as my own personal prize, leaving the axe and armor for others. I couldn't have all the nice toys, seeing as how most were using scraps taken from the dead, or junk taken from chests. I then sent the scout back to see if he could discern how many orcs were currently in that area. The skeletons who had followed the expedition to fight for it needed some exercise, and I felt it would be nice to oblige them, especially since it could get us the very equipment we needed in order to start properly arming ourselves.

It didn't take long for the scout to come back. Apparently we had discovered a small band of wandering orcs, and they numbered three, not including the one that had already been killed. It felt like a lucky break, considering how often we had to hide away, fearing discovery. Of course, the strategy I had decided on was a bit hypocritical, considering we were trespassing in the home of the orcs for their equipment, killing them in the process. However, I didn't let that stop me from leading the twenty skeletons to the hut, where the orcs were quickly butchered by the overwhelming numbers.

We took their equipment with us, leaving the bodies where they fell. Some were confused as to why we weren't hiding them, but after I explained they didn't push the issue. Personally, I'd have hidden them if I could've gotten rid of the smell, but I hadn't wanted to bother looking for a hidden pool of water to dump them into. I assumed there had to be something like that, since the main material used in the construction of the huts was dried mud. If there wasn't any source of water, then I'd have to give up on using logic while inside the dungeon itself.

I sent the scout out again to see if he could find other small groups of orcs that we could overwhelm. The other hadn't come back, which had me a bit worried, but I couldn't afford to send anyone out to look for them, since our numbers were so few.

Eventually, another wandering band of orcs was discovered, numbering five. They were further away from the camp than the last group, but I figured that it was fine, so long as we didn't let ourselves get lost, which wasn't likely to happen. I thought we would be alright, since we'd already managed to bring down a single group so far without any issues.

I was wrong. When we finally managed to catch up with them, we tried to overwhelm them with sheer numbers, but two of them had way more experience fighting than I had expected, and they cut through our numbers with ease. Currently, I was fighting one of them, and the bastard had managed to push me back a bit further from the group than I would have liked, although I hadn't been wounded yet. We'd only managed to bring down two orcs so far, but we'd lost half our forces, and it was taking six skeletons everything they had to just hold back one of the orcs, while I faced off against mine alone.

A rather large cleaver whistled past my face as I leaned away, pushing my sword toward the orc's unprotected stomach, the armor of which I'd managed to cut and tear open. There was a loud bang as my sword was slammed downwards by a heavy club that had been reinforced with iron, the force propelling my sword forward being completely overpowered.

There was no real defense to the orc's fighting style, but I couldn't find any openings, and I was on the defensive for the most part, only throwing out an attack every now and then as I desperately ducked, dipped, dived, and dodged out of the way.

Why the hell do I always end up having to fight the strong fuckers!? Why can't I just face off against the weak ones, then stab the big guys from behind!?

The answer to my question was a club swinging toward my face, which I promptly avoided by dropping to the ground, before swiping at the orc's legs with my own axe. He took a few steps back, and my weapon cut only air. A cleaver came down and I was forced to drop the axe so I wouldn't lose my hand. Pushing myself back, I scrambled to my feet as the orc began to move forward again. Suddenly, I had an idea, and I swung my sword at him again to keep him at bay, while I shoved my free hand into the dirt, grabbing a fistful. Then, I threw it at his face.

Pocket sand, motherfucker!

He leaned to the side, and the dirt didn't explode into a small dust cloud like I'd been hoping, instead simply flying right on by.

Shit.

I was out of ideas at this point, so I grabbed my new shield, and figured that either the other skeletons would win their fights and give me a hand at some point, or I'd end up dead, or I'd be forced to run away. I mulled my options over while I blocked another swing from the club, and swiped at the cleaver that came at me from the right. While I could potentially fight forever, I couldn't guarantee that the other skeletons could do the same, even if they had limitless stamina. They might not win their own battles, although I was too preoccupied to bother trying to figure out how they were doing at this point.

If I ran, then I might risk the orcs rallying and then attacking the floors above, which I felt would be a very bad thing, since it'd probably mean another dungeoneer floor purge, which I likely wouldn't survive a second time.

Then there was death. Probably the worst outcome, worst plan, and all around worst thing I could possibly think of in this particular situation.

The club and cleaver came from both sides at the same time again, and as I blocked both the orc stepped forward, bringing his head to slam against mine. At the same time, I desperately sent my leg up to kick him in the chest. However, my bony leg instead slammed into something relatively soft, and the orc stopped moving altogether for a moment, before I looked down at where my kick had landed. Right between his legs.

Yikes.

I was a little dazed at the sight of this beast of an orc trembling in pain, but not dazed enough that I didn't take advantage of the opportunity, shoving my sword into his chest while he could barely move. I looked over his shoulder, and saw that my skeletons had the upper hand at this point, as the scout that had come along with us was sitting atop the other nightmarishly strong orc, whose face was planted into the dirt with a dagger sticking out the back of his head.

Looking back at my now fatally wounded opponent, I didn't bother with saying any triumphant words, and simply slammed the edge of my new shield into his face five times, turning it into little more than a bloody paste.

Level increased to 7! Hp, Mana, Stamina restored! Injuries fully recovered!

Enemies killed at Level 6:

Novice Adventurer, Experience received; 300.

2x Average Adventurer, Experience received; 2000

Novice Orc, Experience received; 150

Average Orc, Experience received; 500

I stared at the level notification for a moment, before I went ahead and helped mop up the last of the orcs.

After the battle, I found out that we had lost a grand total of twelve skeletons in that one fight. It was a pyrrhic victory. I was furious at how many we'd lost, but I didn't let it show as I ordered the remaining survivors to pick up the bones of their comrades, along with the equipment of the orcs. We then proceeded to spend the next hour bringing back the equipment and the bodies of our dead.

It was then, that the missing scout returned with their report.

The orcs had a fortress of their own.

Damn it.