Orcs Who Drag Down the Average IQ

Orcs Who Drag Down the Average IQ

The Borderlands could never harbor any enormous Orc tribe.

Even Blackleaf Forest's enormous Elven settlements lay thousands of kilometers from Border Town. Nearby, there were only two Human Duchies and some small- to medium-sized settlements of other races.

The advancing Elven soldiers moved lightly, making almost no sound. No matter their profession, every Elf moved with extreme caution while appearing utterly relaxed.

Because Elves were the true masters of the forest. No enemy force of equal size could defeat them there.

Climbing trees was practically something they had been born knowing how to do.

Otherwise, those Pure-Blood Elves would not have regarded the incident of William falling from a tree as such a disgrace...

To be honest, William was rather annoyed as well. He refused to believe that no Elf had ever fallen from a tree before. Was it really necessary for them to look at him every day as if he were mentally challenged?

Besides, he had not even been the one who fell. The one who had fallen had already returned to the World Tree.

Ahem. The Elven Rangers were the best archers. They had climbed into the treetops long ago. To them, battle meant infusing every arrow in their quivers with battle aura and firing them all. If the enemy still was not dead, perhaps they would finally get to use their swords.

Under the watch of Ranger scouts, the Hunters carefully began digging pits near the Orc tribe and filling them with sharpened wooden stakes. Nearly invisible cords were tied between pairs of trees. If an enemy carelessly kicked one, something might come crashing down from who knew where.

Among them, the huge iron traps were the most vicious.

Those were clearly meant for catching beasts and magical beasts. No matter how thick an Orc's hide was, stepping on one would leave him a mangled mess of flesh and broken bones, crushed by its serrated jaws.

William could use Insight to examine the attributes and even health bars of NPCs whose levels were not too outrageous.

But other NPCs could not. This was an ability exclusive to players...

Every race, creature, and animal had its own weaknesses. Before they became strong enough to defend against everything, those weaknesses were fatal.

It was like this world did not have that absurd situation where you slashed someone's neck, nearly severing it, yet only dealt 100 points of damage because your attack power was insufficient—unless your blade had not even broken the skin.

For example, if William shot an Orc in the skin, it would only inflict a harmless wound because his draw strength was too weak. But if he shot through an eye, mouth, skull, or the like, it would be fatal.

"William, just stay in the rear for this battle. I'll protect you!" Lotner did not want him to fight. William's level was too low. By Elven standards, he was still just a child...

"It's fine. How can I grow without experiencing battle? My archery is quite good!" William smiled, took out his white-quality bow, and lightly climbed onto a tree trunk.

Clearly, he had become a mature Sprite who no longer fell from trees.

Lotner helplessly shook his head. Seeing that the Warriors were ready, he shouted, "Fire!"

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

A series of piercing shrieks rang out.

The Elven Rangers and Elven Hunters, all positioned in the trees, launched their first volley. Almost the instant the Orcs heard the shout, a hundred gleaming arrows tore through the air with shrill whistles.

More than eighty Orcs fell backward with their heads tilted up, white and yellow brain matter splattering everywhere. Cries of shock and furious roars followed, because quite a few Orcs had escaped fatal hits.

After all, arrows striking their crude breastplates did not have much effect. If the force was insufficient, they might not even cause damage.

But!

How could the sudden appearance of a group with high-tech aimbots not terrify ordinary player Orcs?

After the first volley, the Elves in the trees began firing freely before the Orcs could retaliate.

The dense rain of arrows sent the Orcs scattering across the ground, making it impossible for them to organize any effective counterattack from their Orc archers.

If one asked who had the strongest archers on Gods Continent, none could compare to the Pure-Blood Elves. Even Half-Elves fell short!

They were born Sharpshooters.

But the truly surprising one was William!

Quite a few Elves standing on tree trunks looked at their lord in astonishment. Every time he drew and fired, he accurately knocked down an Orc.

Knocked down, mind you. Even if he did not kill them in one shot, they were seriously wounded.

These bows used by Elven children had very little killing power. They were decent against soft-furred animals and wild beasts, but these were thick-skinned Orcs—Orcs with battle aura! How could such a bow pierce a Battle Aura Shield?

Yet what followed truly left them wide-eyed.

Their lord looked even more like a Sharpshooter than they did. Each arrow was faster than the last, and every one struck an Orc in the eye. Every hit was a fatal critical strike. Other than a few powerful Orcs with deep-set eye sockets that kept them from being killed, he had not wasted a single arrow.

But what William really wanted to say was that his attributes were pretty damn good. Besides, after playing games for so many years and gaining a player god-tier skill like Insight, how could he fail to recognize the weakest Orcs in the bunch?

He simply targeted the ones without battle aura. The old, young, women, and children among the Orcs were his favorites. People might say he bullied the weak, but he had clearly seen the ferocity in those Orcs' eyes...

Watching his experience rise bit by bit made him rather happy.

After all, in Gods, players could still level up early on by killing people and monsters. Later on, though, it was utterly miserable. Without quests, leveling up was as hard as ascending to heaven!

"Damn Elves! You dare disturb your grandpa's tribe? I'll skin you alive and turn all your thighs into roasted meat!" An incredibly muscular Orc charged out in fury. Wearing heavy armor and exuding a savage aura, he stood nearly two and a half meters tall. With a casual swing of his massive spiked club, he smashed through a tree as thick as a bowl.

"William, be careful! The Orc tribe's leader!" Lotner was closest to the tribe. He frowned and shouted for William to retreat.

"You little bastard, don't run!" The Orc tribe leader roared, leading more than a hundred Orc Warriors in a mad charge. He had never experienced an Elven attack before.

But the elders in his tribe had once said that when encountering Elves, the worst thing to do was hide and evade. Instead, one had to launch a direct assault, though there might be traps...

But why should he think so much about that now?

He was an Orc!

Just charge!

"Damn Elven monkeys, why are you hopping all over the place?" Seeing the many Elves fleeing at high speed and weaving endlessly through the forest, he charged onward in uncontrollable rage.

But before they had run even a hundred meters.

The Orcs who stepped into traps began screaming without end. Sharpened bamboo stakes, barbs beneath their feet, giant animal traps, and three-meter-deep pits filled with pointed logs instantly sent them into agony...

There was no helping it...

This was generally how Elves dealt with small Orc tribes.

Set traps.

Shoot arrows.

Enrage them.

The Orcs stepped into the traps...

Then the Orcs angrily waved their fists, realizing they had been tricked. But with the enemy right in front of them and nearly within reach, their rage burning endlessly, they continued charging forward.

And what came next was...

They encountered a group of well-equipped Elven Magic Swordsmen, along with Elven Warriors defending the left and right flanks.

A hundred terrifying sword auras erupted at once, flattening swaths of trees and smashing them heavily to the ground. Quite a few unlucky Orcs were crushed beyond recognition.

Before the Orcs could even form up, even those who used battle aura for defense were cut into pulp with overwhelming force. Dozens of figures flew backward, dripping with blood.

In almost a single exchange!

The remaining Orc Warriors were nearly all dead or wounded. Then the Elven Warriors surged forward and launched a full-scale assault on the tribe.

There was no helping it.

Orcs generally had worrying intelligence. Not only were they below the average intelligence of the races on Gods Continent, they even dragged down the average intelligence of all major races...

Someone had once specifically cracked open an Orc skull. After studying, studying, and studying it some more, he ultimately concluded with certainty that Orcs were not only missing a screw in their heads, but also had quite a lot of water in there...

Unless they had an Orc priest or Warlock. Their intelligence was generally about the same as humans', and they would not easily be lured into places with traps.

Such priests and Warlocks were the military advisers of Orc leaders.

Under normal circumstances, priests commanded battles and dealt damage from the rear, while leaders led their troops into the charge.

As for whether the leader died?

As long as the priest did not die, it was fine. He would just choose another leader!

But for an Orc tribe with only a few hundred members, it was difficult for an Orc priest to emerge.

Still, sometimes ridiculous things happened.

An Orc leader's intelligence might be just a tiny bit higher, and he might suddenly remember that he could step on traps.

Then, through all sorts of unimaginable maneuvers, he might coincidentally lower the enemy's intelligence. Relying on his long experience at this level, it was not impossible for him to defeat the enemy!

Feel free to discuss the plot in the comments, liven things up, and maybe drop an investment while you're at it~