“Serves you right, you big meanie! Nyeh-nyeh-nyeh!” Taking the chance, the blonde loli ran, looked back, stuck out her tongue, and made a face at the orc whose jaw had face-planted.

“Huff—huff…!” He shoved his dislocated jaw back into place and stood. Realizing he’d been played by this little thing, he roared like a sick boar. Lust and rage tangled, blood boiled, and he charged after Tilisha. He didn’t even glance at the fainted Moon Elf as he thundered past. All his focus locked on Tilisha.

Right now, Tilisha hated that her legs just wouldn’t move any faster.

She wasn’t panting. Elf bodies weren’t that weak. This wasn’t her limit. But her legs simply wouldn’t pick up the pace. Maybe she hadn’t fully adapted to this body yet.

A Blindness Potion couldn’t kill. It wouldn’t save the world. At best it could trip a sturdy orc and turn him into a temporary blind man.

Such a flash might blind a human longer. But this was an orc. The blinding effect was weaker. She’d bought time, sure. But the gap was huge. The orc’s strides were long and fast. Tilisha’s were small, and not fast.

If she canceled her transformation, she worried she wouldn’t keep the orc’s attention. Besides, as a human she might still not outrun him.

What sin did she commit to end up with this mess?

Like a clay Buddha crossing a river—she couldn’t even save herself. She should’ve just minded her own business back then.

Even in panic, she didn’t lose her cool. She knew she could never outrun an orc.

She began calculating. Counting any chance to beat him.

Right now, hurting him meant relying on the Firearm that was almost done overheating. In a rush, she might miss. Even if she hit, it might not be a vital spot. A nonlethal shot would only throw her into the fire.

Nonfatal wounds only pump an orc’s bloodlust. In that case, it’d be better not to fire. At least if he pinned her, maybe he’d be a little gentler…

Yeah, right. Same difference in the end!

Her fingers brushed the Blindness Potion on her belt, and her mind steadied.

She had one Dazzle Potion left.

One last chance.

She planned to pull the same trick. She wasn’t worried he’d guard against it. Aside from fighting and raiding, an orc’s IQ was single-digit.

“Mr. Mean Orc, catch!” Tilisha pulled off the silver tube and flung the vial at his face.

Another point-blank full flash. This time he learned. He stopped, avoiding another spill. Exactly what Tilisha had wanted.

As he leaned back to dodge, Tilisha spun, dropped into a half crouch, and raised the barrel.

Boom!

Muzzle flash spat. The metal barrel smoked and overloaded. The scorching bullet smeared across his face. As the big brute howled in pain, Tilisha’s heart went a little cold.

She’d hit. But she had overestimated this world’s firearms. Or underestimated an orc’s hide and iron bones.

In her plan, with the blind, this shot would punch through his skull. Blood would spray, death on the spot.

Who knew his skull would be that hard. Hard enough a firearm couldn’t punch through.

An iron skull.

Worse, she’d aimed at his skull, not the fragile eyes. That meant even if it hurt, he’d recover. And when he came back to do her, he’d hit harder.

Isn’t that just screwing me over?

Now she knew why firearms weren’t mainstream here. You can’t even kill a low-tier Demonfolk orc with a head shot. Instead you buff him. It’s a hassle to use, goes limp after one shot, and its sustained power and damage both suck.

As she expected, the orc stopped wailing and came to. He bellowed.

Tilisha didn’t understand Orcish, but those bloodshot eyes told her the gist.

Something like “you filthy b—, I’m gonna tear your—” and so on.

She kept silent. She didn’t turn to run. She touched her waist.

No Dazzle Potions left.

Those white-tier items she always sneered at when drawing from the Treasure Pot suddenly felt priceless.

She finally understood. Strategic alchemy items buy time. One more bottle could buy so much more.

Was she truly out of options?

On paper, yes.

The orc closed in. The Firearm in her arms smoked with heat. The Elf girl was out of tricks.

In the last scraps of free time, she could already see her future.

Chained at an orc tribe’s gate, an Elf “hot weapon” on display…

But she didn’t give up.

Until the very last second, there’d be a way.

Believing that, she touched the Golden Chalice Butterfly at her temple and swiped to the Treasure Pot page.

Two hard-earned tokens glowed back. She pressed draw without hesitation.

No big deal.

Tilisha dropped the Firearm at her feet. One hand stroked her hairpin. The other closed lightly on air. She stayed calm.

Whatever came out, she’d accept it.

If it was a damaging tool, she’d use it right away.

Not on the orc. On herself.

If she couldn’t kill this thick-skinned brute, that would be the worst sin. She’d rather shatter to pieces than be defiled.

Turns out, some people stay cursed by RNG right to the end. What floated out of the pouch wasn’t white, but it wasn’t much better.

Blue.

A squat, round glass bottle appeared in her palm. It held a red liquid.

The shape was unfamiliar yet familiar. She didn’t need Divine Analysis. One glance and she knew what this alchemy potion did.

Too late. The vicious orc lunged.

Thud-thud! Tilisha was slammed to the ground, manhandled. Just like the standard ending in those doujins she’d read. The only difference: the nameless Elf girl had become her.

If I’d known even guys get treated like this in other worlds…

Was this punishment for all those times she mercilessly did the deed to unknown Elf ladies in doujins?

Powerless, reduced to spoils, she wished she could bite her tongue and die, but couldn’t.

What came next probably only involved biology. She had plenty of theory and zero experience. Dozens of possible foreplay, climax, and aftermath arrangements exploded through her mind.

After the first three moves, her life might not even be a question.

She couldn’t stand. But facing prey already in his hands, the orc wasn’t in a rush to enjoy. He didn’t need to do anything. This frail Elf couldn’t run.

Like a cat with a mouse, he wanted to play before he ate. He savored her fear. This tiny Elf had given him plenty of trouble. Now that she was in his hands, he’d do whatever he wanted.

He cackled lewdly over the Elf sprawled on her back. Then he noticed the vivid crimson alchemy potion that had slipped from her fingers.

“?” The orc grunted and picked it up. He turned it over. For him, this was high-tech he couldn’t parse.

He fiddled with the red bottle and sniffed it, trying to judge it by scent alone.

An orc’s nose wasn’t Divine Analysis. He sniffed forever and still couldn’t tell what it was.

Naturally. Orc learning is poor. They identify by experience. If they know it, they know it. If not, even drinking it won’t teach them.

But if he really dared to…

Watching him play with it more dangerously, Tilisha felt trouble coming. She scraped herself backward with the strength she had left, so she wouldn’t get caught in it.

Finally, the orc put his hand on the potion’s silver safety tube. He seemed very curious that it could move.

Seeing the red liquid inside, he had a sudden “epiphany.” His eyes raked Tilisha up and down with a crude, naked look.

This little Elf was so considerate. She knew he was about to do her, so she’d prepared a booster for the job.

Buy-one-get-one joy.

He tried to open the red potion, but the bottle was firmly sealed. Then he noticed the movable safety tube.

He poked it. It moved. He poked again. It moved again.

Poke. Poke. Poke…

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!!

Tilisha had already dragged herself far enough, expecting this. Even so, the blast rattled her pointed ears. The heatwave flushed her small face.

Pure idiot. He even removed the safety himself.

Just as she guessed, the squat vial held a volatile alchemical agent. Pull the safety tube and it explodes after a few seconds.

It looked like a grenade for a reason.

When the smoke cleared, the orc lay there, skin flayed and split. If a Firearm struggled to pierce an orc, this red alchemy reagent had plenty of punch. But orcs really were stubbornly alive. And thick-skinned. In every sense. It still hadn’t finished him.

“Ababa… ababa…” His face was a ruin, literally missing most of it. Bone showed. His chest and neck were a mess of broken vessels. And still he lived.

He stared blankly, bloody arm frozen midair, as if he hadn’t processed why he was suddenly dying.

He tried to push himself up. A pair of little feet, white and delicate like milk pudding, stepped on his chest first and pressed his heavy body back.

Before his anger could flare, a thick barrel jammed into his half-rotten mouth.

“Keeping you alive just hurts more girls. So, sorry, Mr. Orc.” Tilisha stepped on him and tilted her head, looking down with eyes like windless blue water. No highlights. As if he were already dead.

“I really can’t let a Demonfolk who does evil and never repents walk away.”

“So please, go see your Demon Lord.”

“Grr-woooo!!” The alarm bell of death finally rang. The orc realized disaster had come.

The alchemy blast had left him severely paralyzed. He bulged his bloodshot eyes, straining to say something. Begging or cursing wouldn’t save him.

Tilisha knew normal means couldn’t hurt an orc’s hide. So she’d shoved the barrel into his mouth. Inside, where there was no hide or corded muscle, the Firearm could tear through easily.

She didn’t hesitate. She pulled the trigger.

Boom!

After the single thunderclap, the orc stopped struggling. He fell back. Black smoke trickled from his mouth.

Tilisha tossed the Firearm aside and collapsed, drained.

The orc was dead. Dead for good.