Chapter 42: Horde's Decision
As Volk stood before the massive cavern, an oppressive energy pulsing in the air, he prepared himself for the challenge ahead.
His thoughts were focused, his senses heightened, every fiber of his being attuned to the task at hand.
However, just as he took a step forward, ready to confront whatever lay hiding in the darkness, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Volk, wait," one of the orcs behind him called out, his voice laced with hesitation.
Volk halted, turning to face his comrades.
The sight that greeted him was unexpected—expressions of uncertainty, fear, and doubt written across their faces.
It was a look Volk recognized all too well, a look that stirred memories from a life he had long since left behind.
He remembered being confined to a wheelchair, yearning to do things others took for granted, but being held back by his own limitations.
It was a look of someone wanting to speak, but unsure if they should.
"I am your leader," Volk began, his voice firm yet gentle. "You're all my responsibility. What is it?"
The orc who had stopped him hesitated, glancing at his comrades before speaking.
"We've been thinking... Maybe we should go back and apologize to the Bloodfang clan for what we did. We don't want enmity with them, Volk. They're one of the strongest clans, and... and we're just hunters, not warriors."
The words hung in the air like a stone dropped into a still pond, the ripples of their meaning spreading through the group.
Before Volk could respond, Lhum'Baggar, a fierce warrior with a fiery temper, stepped forward and shoved the orc who had spoken, nearly knocking him off his feet.
"Are you out of your mind?" Lhum'Baggar roared, his voice echoing through the cavern. "That's the talk of a coward! A weakling! You'd rather grovel at the feet of the Bloodfang than stand tall as an orc? Have you forgotten what it means to be one of us? We are the Dreadmaw! We do not bow! We do not apologize! To show weakness like this is the most shameful thing an orc can do!"
Lhum'Baggar's outburst sent a shockwave through the group, the raw fury in his voice silencing all but the bravest among them.
The orc he had pushed was quickly helped to his feet by his comrades, who glared back at Lhum'Baggar with defiance in their eyes.
"We're not all like you, Lhum'Baggar!"
One of them shouted back, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger.
"Not all of us were raised by a warrior father who taught us weapon-handling from the time we could walk! Your father had a name, a reputation! Our fathers were not warriors—they were hunters, farmers, craftsmen! We were never meant to be bloodseekers like you!"
Another orc joined in, his voice rising in support of his friend.
"We've followed you this far because we believed in you, but we never asked for this! We don't want to die here, in some godforsaken dungeon, just because you're too proud to admit when you're wrong! We don't want to make enemies we can't afford to have!"
The argument escalated quickly, the group dividing into those who supported Lhum'Baggar and those who sided with the hesitant orcs.
Grashk and Grok'Thar, both seemed loyal to Lhum'Baggar, stepped forward to back him up, their voices joining the fray.
"Lhum'Baggar's right!"
Grashk shouted.
"We've come this far because we're orcs, and orcs don't back down! We don't show weakness to anyone, especially not the Bloodfang! If we go back now, we might as well be dead already!"
Grok'Thar nodded in agreement, his voice booming through the cavern.
"This is a test! A trial to prove ourselves! If we turn back now, we'll never be more than hunters and farmers! We'll never earn the respect of the clan, never be seen as true warriors!"
The shouting grew louder, the tension within the group mounting as each side refused to back down.
It was a scene Volk had seen before, in a different life—a life where he had been a helpless observer to the arguments of his cousins, sisters, and brothers, each of them quarrelling over what was best for him, for the one who could not help himself.
In that past life, Volk had hated being a burden, hated being the cause of strife and division among those he loved.
He had vowed that in this new life, he would never be the source of such conflict again.
He would not be a burden to those who followed him. However now, he realized, the conflict was inevitable.
He could not avoid it by remaining silent.
"Wait," Volk said, trying to regain control, but his voice was drowned out by the continued shouting.
The argument raged on, neither side willing to give ground.
Lhum'Baggar's supporters accused the others of cowardice and betrayal, while the hesitant orcs defended their right to choose their own path, to survive rather than be sacrificed on the altar of pride.
"ENOUUUUUGH!!!"
Volk's voice cut through the noise like a blade, echoing off the cavern walls with a force that demanded silence.
The orcs stopped, turning to face their leader, their expressions a mix of shock and shame.
The sheer power in Volk's voice was enough to remind them of who led this group, of the respect they owed him.
Volk took a deep breath, steadying himself before he spoke. "I am not a warrior," he began, his voice low but filled with the weight of his confession.
"I am a Labor Orc. We are said to only strengthen ourselves in the second form once we're in the Grum-gar form, and even then, only one percent of us or one of my offsprings of one hundred percent, will ever awaken to that form. And because of that, when I return to the clan, my current partner will be taken from me."
His words hung in the air, heavy with the truth of his situation.
The orcs looked at him, their anger and fear momentarily forgotten as they absorbed the reality of what Volk was saying.
"But I won't just accept that," Volk continued, his voice growing louder, more resolute.
"I, Volk Mog'ger, refuse to be constrained by what others think I should be! I refuse to let them take what is mine without a fight! I want to know how strong I really am, even if it means facing death! I won't stand idle while my fate is decided by others!"
He looked each of them in the eye, his gaze unwavering.
"I know it sounds crazy. I know what I'm asking is more than what most would consider reasonable. But that's who I am. I won't care if I offend the Bloodfang Clan, or even if I offend every single one of you. I am done living by the expectations of others."
Volk's words resonated in the hearts of his comrades, their earlier fears and doubts now overshadowed by a deep, growing respect for their leader. He had laid bare his soul before them, revealed his vulnerabilities, and in doing so, had shown them the strength of his conviction.
"You can decide," Volk said, his voice softening. "Go back if you want. I won't blame you. But I'm going forward. I have to."
The orcs stood in silence, their minds racing as they processed everything Volk had said.
They saw in him not just a leader, but a fellow orc who was willing to fight for his place in the world, to challenge the fate that others had tried to impose on him.
They saw a reflection of their own struggles, their own fears, and their own desires for something more.
One by one, they began to nod, their earlier hesitation giving way to a steely resolve.
Lhum'Baggar, Grashk, Grok'Thar, and even the orcs who had been most afraid, all found themselves moved by Volk's words.
They realized that in following Volk, they weren't just following a leader—they were following an idea, a belief that they could be more than what they were told to be.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, one of the hesitant orcs stepped forward. "We'll come with you, Volk," he said, his voice steady. "We won't let you fight this alone."
The others nodded in agreement, their expressions firm.
They had made their choice.
Volk felt a swell of emotion in his chest—pride, gratitude, and a fierce determination that burned brighter than ever. He had faced his fears, his doubts, and had come out stronger. And now, with his comrades by his side, he knew that they could face whatever lay ahead.
There was a long pause as they all looked at one another, the bond between them stronger than it had ever been.
Then, with one voice, they roared the words that had become their rallying cry, the words that signified their unity, their resolve, and their defiance in the face of any challenge.
"Lok'tar Ogar!"
The cavern walls shook with the force of their cry, the sound echoing into the depths of the darkness that lay ahead.
"Lok'tar Ogar!" "Lok'tar Ogar!" "Lok'tar Ogar!"
Together, they would face whatever waited for them, knowing that they were not just orcs, but warriors—warriors who had chosen their own path, and who would fight for their right to walk it.
"LOK'TAR OGAR!!!"
And with that, they turned as one, following Volk as he led them forward into the unknown
With the expression written on their faces, one could see their hearts must be filled with a renewed sense of purpose and a fire that nothing could extinguish.
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Chapter 43: Three headed dog, Dozer
The triumphant cries of "Lok'tar Ogar!" had barely faded when an eerie, bone-chilling laughter echoed through the cavern, reverberating off the dark, jagged walls.
"Kekekekeke…"
The orcs froze, their jubilation cut short as the sinister sound filled the space, setting their nerves on an immediate edge.
The laughter was high-pitched, almost mocking, and it sent shivers down the spines of even the bravest among them.
"Kekekekeke…"
Volk's eyes narrowed as he instinctively raised his Axe of Dissection, his body tense and ready for any sudden action.
The other orcs followed suit, their hands tightening around their weapons, their eyes scanning the darkness before them.
The sound came from deep within the shadows, where even their keen orcish vision could not penetrate.
Then, from the depths of the darkness, a pair of glowing red eyes appeared.
The eyes were large, blood-red, and menacing, staring at them with an unsettling intelligence.
A growl rumbled through the cavern, low and ominous, vibrating through the ground beneath their feet.
Before they could react, another pair of eyes appeared, then another, until five glowing red eyes stared back at them from the void.
The orcs took an involuntary step back, their hearts pounding.
Whatever creature lurked within that darkness, it was no ordinary beast.
The air was thick with an oppressive energy, and a sense of dread began to creep into their minds.
"Kekeke… An orc with good leadership," the voice sneered from the darkness, dripping with malevolence.
"But it's a pity. Your body is so full of hazardous magic particles, you're useless to me. But you're laughable. Do you really think you can make your dreams come true?"
The voice was taunting, cruel, and as it spoke, the shape of a massive beast began to emerge from the shadows.
The ground shook with each step it took, sending small rocks tumbling from the cavern walls.
As the creature stepped into the dim light of the cavern, its full form was revealed—a monstrous, three-headed dog, with a muscular body covered in brown fur that gleamed like polished leather.
Each of its three heads bore a pair of those malevolent red eyes, glowing with a hunger that could never be sated.
The beast was immense, towering over the orcs, its sheer size dwarfing them.
Its body was rippling with muscle, every movement causing the ground beneath it to rumble as if the earth itself feared its presence.
The three heads snapped at the air, one could see their massive jaws lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth that gleamed in the dim light.
Drool dripped from its maws, sizzling as it hit the ground, burning holes into the stone.
Volk and the others stared in stunned silence, their hearts racing.
This was no ordinary beast; it was a monster born of nightmares, a force of nature in its own right.
The orcs' confidence wavered as they took in the sight before them, and a deep sense of dread settled in their chests.
Suddenly, one of the orcs noticed something in one of the beast's mouths—a limp figure, barely recognizable through the blood and gore.
The orc's breath caught in his throat as he realized who it was.
"That… that's a Shadowclaw orc…" he mumbled, his voice trembling with fear.
The orc's green skin was barely visible beneath the blood and wounds, and his once-proud black leather uniform, adorned with animal claws as a symbol of his clan, was torn to shreds.
His lifeless body hung from the beast's jaw, as if his fate were now sealed in the beast's maw.
The sight sent a shockwave through the group.
The Shadowclaw Clan was known for their cunning and stealth, their members some of the most feared assassins among the orcish tribes.
If one of their own had fallen so easily to this beast, what hope did they have?
The voice laughed again, a cruel, mocking sound that echoed in their minds.
"This is Dozer, a distant relative of the legendary Cerberus. He's really hungry, and his favorite meal is rare Hornless orcs. He only needs seventy heads to reach his full rampage mode, but he doesn't mind starting with a few now. After all, who can resist a plate of food delivered right to him?"
The orcs looked around frantically, trying to locate the source of the voice, but the darkness was impenetrable, and no figure revealed itself.
The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, wrapping around them like a suffocating shroud.
Volk's grip tightened on his axe.
| Ding!
| Mission triggered.
| Defeat the foe with your tribe!
| Anything works!
| Failure: Random removal of one of your Elemental Nuclear Strikes.
| Rewards: Unknown normal ability in your Hornless Orc state. |
He was surprised with the system mission, but he could feel the fear spreading through his comrades, their resolve wavering in the face of this monstrous foe.
However, Volk knew they couldn't afford to hesitate now, or the mission would fail.
With a deep breath, he raised his Axe of Dissection high and roared, "Lok'tar Ogar!!!"
His voice cut through the fear, and the other orcs, rallying behind their leader, lifted their weapons and echoed the battle cry.
They had no choice but to fight.
Retreat was impossible with the beasts behind them, and the only way out was through this creature.
With a surge of destructive green adrenaline, Volk charged forward, with a gleaning axe as he aimed for the beast's massive body.
The ground shook with his steps, but the beast did not flinch.
It watched him with all six eyes, its heads cocked as if amused by the tiny figure charging towards it.
The size difference was staggering.
Dozer was four times larger than Volk, each of its heads as big as an orc.
As Volk closed in, the beast let out a deafening roar that shook the very walls of the cavern.
"ROOOOAAARRRR!!!!"
The sound was like thunder, a deep, guttural noise that seemed to come from the depths of the earth itself.
Volk was undeterred.
With a fierce cry, "HAAAAAA!!" he swung his axe at the nearest head, aiming for its throat. But Dozer was faster.
In a blur of motion, one of its heads snapped towards Volk with terrifying speed.
Swoosh!
Before Volk could react, the massive head struck him with the force of a battering ram, sending him flying through the air.
Bang!
His body slammed into the side of the cavern wall with a sickening crunch, the impact so powerful that it left a deep crater in the stone.
For a moment, everything went silent.
The orcs watched in horror as their leader lay crumpled on the ground, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. The voice laughed again, cold and mocking.
"Dozer doesn't need an overly hazardous orc. You're no use to him, little hazard Orc. Dozer's hazard is different from yours…"
The beast roared again, "ROOOAAARRRRR!!" its three heads snapping at the air, each movement filled with raw, destructive power.
The orcs were frozen, their courage draining away as the reality of their situation sank in.
They were facing a monster, a creature of pure carnage that could tear them apart with a single bite.
They glanced at each other, and they could see fear and uncertainty in their eyes.
Some of them were already thinking of retreating, of running for their lives, but the beasts that lurked behind them made it clear there was no escape. After all, Volk was the only reason those beasts were scared.
They were trapped, surrounded on all sides by death itself.
On the other hand, Volk stirred, his body aching from the impact, but his resolve remained unbroken.
He could see the fear in his comrades' eyes, he knew those were doubts that threatened to overwhelm them. But he would not let them fall to despair.
With a groan, he pushed himself to his feet, even if his muscles were screaming in protest.
"Lok'tar Ogar!" he roared again, his voice hoarse but filled with determination.
The words were a command, a reminder of who they were and what they fought for.
The other orcs hesitated, but seeing their leader stand once more, bloodied but unbowed, they found the courage within themselves to fight.
One by one, they raised their weapons, their voices joining Volk's in the battle cry.
"Lok'tar Ogaaaaaar!!!"
They knew the odds were against them, that death was likely, but they would not go down without a fight.
They would face this beast, and they would give everything they had.
"Lok'tar Ogaaaaaaar!!!" they shouted in unison, their voices echoing through the cavern, filling the darkness with the sound of their defiance.
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