The Mede magician raised his finger in front of his mouth, gesturing for silence. The orc herder immediately fell silent and remained obedient. The Mede magician nodded in satisfaction, "Who are you? Where is this place?"
The herdsman stared at the Med magician with wide eyes, confused, not understanding what he was saying.
A warrior walked up to the Mede magician and said, "He doesn't understand our language."
The magician nodded, but murmured to himself in confusion, "It seems that this world has forgotten us and no longer believes in the glory of the ancestral gods, but why was that person able to understand us and even speak our language?"
"The coordinates must have deviated. This is not our temple."
The Med warrior glanced at the herdsman and asked, "What should we do with this man? Kill him?"
The magician shook his head. "Although I don't understand what he's saying, I can find a way to use him. We need to understand the language of this world."
After hearing this, the Med warrior understood. He gave a wink, and immediately two warriors came forward, one on the left and one on the right, holding the orc herder's shoulders, and pushed hard, forcing him to kneel on the ground.
The herdsman immediately felt something was wrong when he saw this. He struggled and shouted, "What are you doing? Let me go. I am a resident of Bandehill City. Let me go. Who are you?"
No matter how he struggled, the hand on his shoulder was like an iron clamp, pressing him down tightly and making him unable to move.
The magician came up to him with a wooden staff, smiled at him, as if to calm him down, then chanted a spell, stretched out his free hand, and pressed it on the herdsman's head.
As the light flickered, the herdsmen let out extremely shrill screams.
After a while, the light weakened until it disappeared. The magician also raised his hand above the orc herder's head, but the herder was already dead. If there were any undead present, they would know that the herder's soul had been shattered and dissipated.
Soul-searching magic. Magicians of many races have similar magic, but without exception, this magic will cause harm to the soul.
In milder cases, one may become seriously ill after the soul search.
The worse ones are like those performed by the Med tribe magicians, which are like torture. After experiencing a period of life worse than death, the soul is shattered and dies.
After searching the soul, the Med magician had learned a lot from the orc herder's memory and also learned the orc language.
He took out a crystal clear orb, muttered to himself, pointed his wand at the orb, released a spell, then turned around and handed the orb to the warrior leader beside him.
The warrior leader held the orb, and the magic took effect naturally. Knowledge passed through the orb into his mind, constantly stimulating him and distorting his face.
This magic of directly transmitting knowledge seems very convenient, but it is actually extremely dangerous. If you cram so much information into your brain directly, ordinary people will easily be overwhelmed by their consciousness.
Fortunately, the magician only hopes that the warriors can understand the language of the orcs, and no other information is needed.
After half a minute, the warrior leader wiped the cold sweat from his head and handed the orb to the next person.
"What should we do now? Do we need to call more warriors over?" the warrior leader asked the magician.
"No, let's take a look first. There is a city not far from here called Bandehill. Let's see what the situation is and then make a decision. The glory of the ancestor god will surely shine on this world again." The magician said softly.
He raised his head and looked into the distance, which was the direction of the orc city of Bandehill.
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