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Volk's eyes swept over the group, his gaze sharp and calculating.

The gauntlet's system interface was still active, hovering faintly in his peripheral vision.

He could see their names, levels, and basic stats displayed in glowing runes.

Scarred Male: Level 18, specializing in melee combat and survival tactics.

Braided Female: Level 17, a swift and precise fighter with strong leadership instincts.

Young Male with Dagger: Level 14, an agile skirmisher, ideal for quick strikes and distractions.

Mace-Wielding Orc: Level 16, strong but slow, excellent for creating obstacles.

Spear-Wielder: Level 15, a defensive fighter with solid endurance.

Dual Knife Fighter: Level 13, skilled in stealth and ambush tactics.

These are the reasons Volk can beat them: he is level twenty-five and found it easier to fight.

He also had these advantages when he fought the Baron, which is why Volk can defeat him easily.

However, the Baron was also level twenty-five, just like Volk.

His men, or the cavalry that Volk destroyed, were not far in levels compared to their Baron.

Although the levels of the Orcs in front of him were respectable, they were not high enough to stand against a full human army.

Volk knew that their strengths lay in speed, cunning, and adaptability—not in direct confrontation.

Soon, he proceeded to the plan.

"We're going to split into two groups," Volk began, his tone even.

"I'll lead one group to the east, away from the humans' path. The other group will head west, creating a distraction. Your job isn't to fight them head-on but to mislead them, confuse them, and slow them down."

The scarred male frowned, his deep voice rumbling. "A distraction? What kind of distraction?"

Volk smirked.

"The kind that makes them think they've already found us. Start fires, leave tracks, break branches—make it look like a large group was traveling west. But keep moving. Never stay in one place for too long."

He pointed to the braided female and the young male with the dagger.

"You two are fast and resourceful. You'll lead the distraction team. Take the dual knife fighter with you. Your job is to keep them chasing shadows while we circle around and head south."

The braided female nodded, her expression serious. "Understood."

Volk continued, his voice steady and commanding. "Scarred male, you're with me. You and the spear-wielder will help carry supplies and cover our tracks. Mace-wielder, you're with them."

The mace-wielding Orc glanced at the braided female, then back at Volk. "Why me? I'm not fast like them. Plus, I have a name…"

"Introduce yourself later," Volk said simply. "You're strong, so it's better to make sure you'll make sure they can knock over trees, boulders, anything that can slow the humans down. Use your strength to leave a path of destruction that makes it look like an entire horde passed through."

The mace-wielder grunted but nodded, clearly understanding his role.

Soon, the preparation for the distraction commenced.

"Now, move quickly," Volk said, gesturing for them to scatter. "But remember—don't get caught. If they corner you, don't fight unless you have no other choice. Your job is to buy us time, not to die pointlessly."

The braided female, already taking charge of her team, turned to the others. "You heard him! Let's go!"

Her group moved swiftly, gathering sticks, dry leaves, and anything flammable. Within minutes, they had set up several small fires along their intended path, the smoke beginning to rise in thin columns that would catch the humans' attention.

The dual knife fighter crouched low, using his blades to carve false trails into the soft earth, while the mace-wielder toppled a small tree with a loud CRACK!

The sound echoed through the forest, a perfect bait for the approaching army.

Meanwhile, Volk led his group eastward, his pace steady but deliberate.

He moved with the confidence of someone who knew the terrain instinctively, even though he had not been in the area even for a short time.

The scarred male walked beside him, glancing occasionally at Volk's gauntlet. "That thing," he said, his voice low. "What is it?"

"A tool," Volk replied curtly, not breaking stride. "One that helps me see things others can't."

The scarred male grunted, accepting the answer without further question.

The spear-wielder lagged slightly behind, his sharp eyes scanning the forest for any signs of pursuit. "Do you think they'll take the bait?"

"They will," Volk said with certainty. "Humans are predictable. They'll chase what's obvious, especially when they're angry and looking for revenge."

Soon, the distraction should be taken to action.

Back to the west, the braided female's team was executing their part of the plan flawlessly.

The fires they had set were now roaring, sending thick plumes of smoke into the sky.

They left broken branches and overturned rocks in their wake, creating the illusion of a large, clumsy group on the move.

The young male with the dagger darted ahead, slashing at tree trunks to leave fresh marks. He turned to the braided female, his voice tinged with excitement. "Think this'll fool them?"

"It doesn't need to fool them for long," she replied. "Just enough to keep them off Volk's trail."

The mace-wielder, sweating from the effort of his labor, leaned against a tree for a moment. "How long do we keep this up?"

"Until we can't hear their marching anymore," the braided female said. "Now stop whining and push that boulder over. It'll block their path for at least an hour."

With a grunt of effort, the mace-wielder heaved against the boulder, sending it crashing down a slope with a thunderous BOOM!

Soon, their marched continues.

Volk glanced at the map as they moved, noting the positions of the approaching humans.

The distraction was working; the bulk of the army had veered westward, chasing the false trail. But a smaller group was still heading east, following what must have been the remnants of his original tracks.

"Scarred male," Volk said, his tone sharp. "We need to pick up the pace. The humans are splitting up, and some are still on our trail."

The scarred male nodded, his expression grim. "What about the others?"

"They'll be fine," Volk said confidently. "They're strong, and they know what they're doing."

For now, all they could do was trust the plan and keep moving.

After traveling for a short time, Volk stopped in his tracks as the youngest of the Orcs—the wiry male with a dagger always in hand—tilted his head and asked, "What are the humans?"

The question caught Volk off guard. His brow furrowed as he turned to face them, the forest shadows dancing across his rough features.

"What do you mean, what are humans? You don't know?"

They have been running for a while, creating distractions and now they are telling him that they have no idea what humans are?

Are these Orcs really from this realm or they were sent here from other dimensions just like them?

Are they really that wild?

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The six Orcs exchanged glances, their expressions varying between confusion and curiosity.

The braided female folded her arms, her sharp eyes narrowing. "Hmm?"

The mace-wielder grunted innocently, resting his massive weapon on his shoulder. "Uh?"

The spear-wielder was also curious, his tone cautious. "Humans?"