The Insane Regressor: Throne of Pride

Air rushed back into Ravian’s lungs out of nowhere as the world re-formed around him, just as it had at the end of his Void Traverse. Distances settled into place, revealing the same orc seated behind the black pot, and the smell of meat being carelessly roasted over the fire returned to his nostrils.

Before the orc could make a single move, Ravian closed the distance in less than a second and seized its neck.

Crack!

Its neck snapped, bending at an unnatural angle as it collapsed, and Ravian immediately lowered the body behind the enormous log lying horizontally on the ground, which the orcs had apparently fashioned into a seat.

He promptly activated the unique ability of the Mask of Loftiness:

Exalted Identity.

Ravian’s skin immediately began changing from its human complexion to the same green as the orc lying before him. The color spread from his neck across his chest and arms as his skin grew rougher, taking on the fine details his eyes had picked out on the corpse, down to the slight difference in color between the backs of its hands and its palms.

He crouched behind the log the orc had been using as a seat, bracing one hand against the dirt as his fingers thickened before his eyes. His palm broadened and his knuckles became more pronounced, then the change spread along his forearm, its muscles swelling gradually until it matched the arm lying beside his foot, right down to the shape of the nails and the width of the wrist.

Comparing the two was easier than he had expected; the corpse he wanted to imitate lay directly before him, and he kept his attention on it as he guided Exalted Identity through the remaining details. His gaze moved from its hand to its shoulder, then to its face, and his body responded wherever his attention settled, exchanging its human proportions for the orc’s heavier, broader build.

His shoulders rose and spread farther apart, while his neck thickened until his collar pressed against it, prompting him to undo the fastening before the fabric could tear. As his legs lengthened and his proportions shifted, he felt his weight settle differently over his feet and had to reposition his knee to maintain his balance behind the log, keeping his head below it until the transformation was complete.

His face was the last part to settle into its new shape.

His jaw extended forward and his nose broadened, while his lips shifted over teeth that were changing inside his mouth. Two protruding tusks pushed his lower lip outward slightly, and he instinctively opened his mouth to accommodate them before slowly closing it again, watching the orc’s face and adjusting their length until they matched. His hair changed in color and length, and the crimson receded from his eyes, replaced by the same brown as the corpse’s, while his eyebrows and ears assumed the shapes he saw before him.

Ravian ran his thumb over one tusk, then paused as he sensed a change in the spiritual power others would perceive from him.

His presence as a Ninth-Rank Walker began to fade, replaced by a weaker signature bearing the characteristics of a Tenth-Rank Awakened orc—the same signature he had sensed before killing it. He watched it stabilize with his hand still near the corpse’s neck until both appearance and signature matched, while the strength of the Sovereign Pride Physique remained in his muscles beneath his chosen form.

He could feel it when he curled his fingers; if he squeezed the bones lying before him with his usual strength, his new appearance would do nothing to protect them.

Relaxing his hand, he hurriedly changed into the orc’s clothes, setting his own clothes and belongings behind the log while he worked. He had to straighten the fabric around his shoulders and secure the loose sections, then looked back at the corpse to make sure he had overlooked no visible detail that might spoil the disguise.

The body before him now bore precisely the same face as his own, though its broken neck remained bent at that grotesque angle.

’What am I supposed to do with this huge body now?!’

Ravian hurried to think of a plan now that he had completed the hardest part: taking the orc’s form without drawing attention by launching into another noisy fight the moment he regressed.

Then he remembered.

’The void space!’

He remembered the void space he had acquired when his Sovereign Pride Physique reached Basic Void Grade and immediately reached toward the corpse. Now that its soul was gone, the body counted as an inanimate object, allowing him to draw it into the void space within his own body, since he was now half human and half a being of the Void. He stored his discarded clothes and belongings alongside it.

And just like that, it was done!

Ravian exhaled through his nose, the breath coming out heavier than he was used to, then tested the movement of his jaw once more before cautiously raising his head to the level of the seat.

’This time will be different.’

His two previous attempts had taught him that fighting his way out without a plan would get him nowhere, even with his physique.

He did not even know the fundamentals of swordsmanship and had relied entirely on his overwhelming strength to kill the Ninth-Rank orcs. The moment he had been forced to fight an Eighth-Rank orc and his physique could no longer give him the upper hand, however, his opponent’s superior strength and fighting technique had become painfully clear.

So this time, Ravian came up with another idea, something entirely different from anything he had tried before. If his plan worked as he intended, today would become one of the most tragic days in the history of the entire orc race.

A broad, terrifying smile spread across the disguised orc’s face as he remained hidden, his eyes glinting faintly red before returning to brown.

He reached for the edge of the log and lifted himself into the spot where the orc had been sitting, then turned toward the black pot, allowing the firelight to fall across his new features.

Then he simply stood and headed toward the camp’s exit in his orcish guise.

Orcs were everywhere. Most were unawakened, and the majority of the rest were Tenth-Rank Awakened, with only a few Ninth-Rank Walkers among them.

Ravian estimated that there might be around a hundred and fifty in total.

Although that number seemed small, the sight of them filling every corner of the camp suggested otherwise, largely because of their enormous bodies. They stood roughly twice as tall as a human adolescent and were twice as broad as an ordinary human.

And now Ravian was devising a plan that would encompass all one hundred and fifty of these savages.

The worst part?

He was planning it all with a smile on his face, finding a strange pleasure in the prospect of wiping out these hired clowns who had come to exterminate his own kind—the human race.

He passed numerous tents and a large clearing in the center of the camp, dominated by a pot dozens of times larger than the one he had seen before. Ravian gave the imposing vessel a single look that lingered a little too long before continuing toward the camp’s edge.

At last, he reached the main gate, only to find two Ninth-Rank orcs guarding it—something he had not expected...