Chaos Plateau

In this strange new world, Lei Mo had possessed his complete memories from the moment he was born.

As he grew a little older, he still didn't like playing with the others around him and showed some signs of autism.

Lei Mo wasn't bragging. Anyone else who'd had the same experiences probably wouldn't have handled them as well. What he'd been through was simply too bizarre.

He spent every day among creatures from fantasy, his nerves taut all the time, always feeling they might eat him.

"Creatures from fantasy" was just Lei Mo's tactful way of putting it. To be blunt, he spent every day surrounded by monsters.

If someone's mind began as a blank slate, then even the strangest figures, encountered from childhood onward, would eventually become familiar.

But Lei Mo couldn't do that. His soul was nearly forty years old, trapped in a baby's body. He'd tried hard to fit in, but he just couldn't.

That was why Lei Mo seemed so out of place. And with his underdeveloped build, he was practically disabled in the eyes of his peers.

He wondered how his parents from his previous life were doing. Was there another him living their life in his place?

His companions stood four or five meters tall, with huge, menacing black horns that gleamed, curved bovine legs, and towering backs.

Every one of those things reminded Lei Mo that this was a fantasy world, not Earth.

For eighteen years, Lei Mo had done his best to live. He looked at his "little" two-meter frame, the tiny horns that barely poked out atop his head, his straight back, and his long legs.

If not for his handsome little hooves and the pretty nose ring the tribe elders had given him, Lei Mo might have thought he'd been reborn as a human.

Now he looked fierce and heroic, with well-defined muscles and a burly two-meter frame. He had an air of distinction about him.

Facing the sympathetic gazes of the Tauren around him, Lei Mo could only sigh helplessly. He wisely kept his mouth shut.

Lei Mo's height and straight-backed build were completely at odds with the Tauren tribe's mainstream sense of beauty. He really wasn't popular.

No young female Tauren liked him, but that didn't bother him much. What did bother him was that the hunting party wouldn't let him join, even though he was plenty strong.

After years of hard work, his battle qi had long since reached Level Seven.

He could handle the tribe's giant weapons with no trouble, but trying to reason with a bunch of muscleheads was pointless!

Lei Mo had given up struggling. This world was dangerous, and all he knew so far was that the place he lived was called the Chaos Plateau, which stretched for millions of kilometers in every direction.

His tribe was called Bloodhoof. The entire tribe was also a clan, and everyone bore the name Bloodhoof. So Lei Mo's full name should have been Lei Mo Bloodhoof—or Nemo Bloodhoof.

It sounded impressive, but the Bloodhoof Tribe was a small group of only a few thousand people, unknown even across tens of thousands of miles.

The Tauren looked savage, but they were a people close to nature. They fought fiercely when hunting, but they weren't bloodthirsty.

They had to hunt to survive; without it, they'd starve. Their farming was primitive, and they relied only on simple fishing, hunting, and gathering. Their smelting skills were poor, too.

Fortunately, this was a fantasy world. The Tauren consecrated Totem Pillars in the resting places of their ancestors and worshiped them from generation to generation. In time, the pillars gained miraculous powers.

The Totem Pillars had originally been made from all kinds of materials: wood, bone, stone, and metal. Passed down through countless generations over countless years, each pillar had become neither metal nor wood.

Every Totem Pillar in the tribe was therefore a weapon passed down through the generations. A "weakling" like Lei Mo wasn't qualified to own one.

There were also some metal weapons in the tribe, mostly acquired through trade with dwarves from the Wildhammer lands in the west of the continent.

The Bloodhoof Tribe wasn't important enough to trade directly with the dwarves of Wildhammer. The metal weapons they used had passed through who knew how many hands, making them extremely expensive.

So Lei Mo wasn't qualified to own a metal weapon either. For now, all he had was a pillar of unknown wood.

It was about as thick as a bowl, more than three meters long, and black as ink. Crude yet mysterious runes had been carved into it.

These were ancestral runes handed down by the tribe. After countless years of offerings and blessings from generation after generation, they had long since gained transcendent power.

The runes on Lei Mo's pillar were fairly simple. They were Sturdiness Runes, carved to strengthen the material. This crude, simple rune had only one function: to make it sturdy.

Thanks to the Sturdiness Rune, Lei Mo's wooden pillar was almost as tough as ordinary steel.

He'd received it when he came of age at ten, and now, eight years later, it had suffered no damage—or even wear—from all the stabbing, smashing, and swinging he'd put it through.

Yes, in the Bloodhoof Tribe, children were considered adults at ten and had to fend for themselves.

Strictly speaking, ten was still half-grown for a Tauren, but that was simply how things were in the tribe.

Their productivity was terribly low. If this weren't a supernatural world, the tribe would probably have ceased to exist long ago.

Though the hunting party wouldn't let Lei Mo join, he could still gather basic supplies and hunt ordinary beasts.

The tribe's hunting parties went after magical beasts and giant beasts, and a single mistake could mean death. That was how Lei Mo's parents had died.

Even so, Lei Mo wasn't treated unfairly in the tribe. The scorn and sympathy he received were simply a matter of differing tastes.

From the time he could remember until he was able to move around on his own, and right up until he turned ten, the tribe had raised Lei Mo collectively.

Orphans were fairly common in Bloodhoof. Lei Mo wasn't the first, and he wouldn't be the last.

No one could tell a magical beast's level for certain until they fought it. After generations of bloody lessons, the tribe had long since compiled records of magical beasts and their strengths.

But there was still no guarantee. A Level Seven Velociraptor might break through to Level Eight or Nine, and no one would know until it used magic of that level.

"Lei Mo, it's time to head to the temporary camp."

A Tauren five meters tall shouted, his huge, knotted muscles bulging beneath a pair of broad, black, menacing horns. A metal ring hung from his enormous nose, and white steam puffed from his mouth.

This was one of Lei Mo's few friends in the Bloodhoof Tribe: Cairne. Despite his appearance, he was only fifteen, three years younger than Lei Mo.

There was only one reason Cairne didn't look down on Lei Mo and had become his friend: Lei Mo had given him a thorough beating. That was just how "straightforward" the Tauren were. Cairne's father was also the leader of a hunting party.

Lei Mo really was "scrawny," but he wasn't weak at all. He'd already reached Level Five at ten.

Eight years had passed. Nobody knew whether he was Level Six or Seven now, but Cairne couldn't beat him either way.

Every member of the hunting party was battle-hardened, but not all of them had reached Level Five.

The Tauren were born with great strength. The strongest in the Bloodhoof Tribe, its chieftain Leland, was a Level Nine expert.

A Level Nine expert could live for five hundred years. The Bloodhoof Tribe might be unknown across tens of thousands of miles, but it had never been without a Level Nine Warrior. The tribe also had a battle qi manual passed down through the generations: Bloodhoof Battle Qi.

As for mages, the Bloodhoof Tribe had none. The Tauren were close to nature, and some practiced nature-based magic.

But that was found only in large tribes. And they weren't called mages—they were called Shaman Priests, a powerful and influential profession.

Among the Tauren, or even the entire Orc Race, Shaman Priests passed their knowledge down from master to apprentice rather than through schools. That made magic users on the Chaos Plateau even rarer.

For some reason, magic existed in this world, but it wasn't very standardized. It differed greatly from the various schools and levels of magic Lei Mo knew about.

Was it because he didn't know enough?

He'd heard that the human kingdoms in the east of the continent and the Elf Forest were the true holy lands of magic. If he got the chance, he'd definitely go and see them.

"I'm just about ready, Cairne! I'm gathering the tools we'll need and supplies for the next few months."

As he spoke, Lei Mo slung on a leather backpack that was taller than he was, took up his comparatively small Totem Pillar, and headed toward the temporary camp.

The Chaos Plateau stretched for millions of kilometers, with the various Orc tribes scattered sparsely across it.

The Bloodhoof Tribe was small, but the area where they could fish and hunt was anything but.

Lei Mo's gathering party went out for months at a time, so they had to bring necessary supplies and camping gear.

A few strong young tribespeople provided security for the gathering party. The rest were middle-aged or elderly Tauren, along with women.

Lei Mo wasn't embarrassed. His size still made him look like a child in the tribe, which was quite deceiving.

Lei Mo had reached Level Seven two years ago. Gathering wasn't entirely without danger, but it was mostly physical labor.

"Cairne, is it your turn to lead the guards this time? Has your father's hunting party set out yet?" Lei Mo asked.

"They left a while ago. They're going to the Seti Mountains to hunt a lone Level Seven Magical Beast—a Velociraptor. It's been threatening a lot of the Bloodhoof Tribe's gathering parties."

"If they kill it, the bones can be made into weapons, and its sinews can be used for bowstrings. Every part of it is valuable."

Cairne said a little more, his eyes filled with longing and burning fervor.

What warrior didn't yearn for a bloody battle? That went double for Tauren, whose heads were full of muscle.

"It should be fine, right? The Velociraptor is only a Level Seven Magical Beast, and Uncle Thomas is a Level Eight expert. As long as they watch out for its death strike, they should be fine."

Lei Mo replied casually. The Velociraptor might only be a Level Seven Magical Beast, but its massive body gave it terrifying strength.

It was fast, too. The Tauren were known for their strength, but they had no advantage against a Velociraptor.

They also had to watch out for it breaking through to Level Eight. Otherwise, casualties were inevitable.

There was a reason the Chaos Plateau had that name. The Orc Race was divided into many peoples, living among magical beasts.

Clashes with magical beasts broke out all the time. After countless years of slaughter, the Orcs had generally come out on top, and the magical beasts had little advantage.

"By the way, Cairne, what do you think the strongest Tauren is like? Are they powerful?" Lei Mo asked.

"Father said our chieftain once told him that our Tauren people had experts who could live forever," Cairne replied.

"Live forever?" Lei Mo fell into thought.

What kind of world was this? It was clearly a world of swords and magic, yet people could live forever. Where was this place?

Many thoughts flashed through Lei Mo's mind. Some things seemed familiar, but this world differed greatly from the one he knew.

Either his strength wasn't enough, his talent wasn't enough, or this world was simply wrong. Lei Mo had no idea what to think.