Before any race of monster, intelligent or not, made their way to the forest, there was the temple. Among the civilized races, it’s rumored that the temple came from the previous world, the Primera, as they call it, and that it was one of the first objects to ever exist in this new world.

The first races that made their way to the forest used the temple as a place of worship; communing with the gods of Primera through sacrifice and prayer. After centuries, the gods answered back, bestowing three orbs to the races they deemed most worthy, bringing them knowledge and power. These orbs are known as the Hearts of the Forest. There is no greater treasure—no greater jewel—in their eyes.

Legend has it there will come a time when the races must return the Hearts to the temple to bring balance to the forest, but millennia have passed since the inauguration of the civilized races, and no threat has forced the orbs back to their rightful place.

“Is that the gist of it?” I asked.

The skeleton leaned back and stretched. A strange thing. “I pride myself on my storytelling skills, I’ll have you know. That’s more than the gist of it. That’s the best darn tale you'll ever hear of it!”

The Vision mentioned these civilized races would be demented in their worship of these fake monster gods, but there was no guarantee he was telling the truth though. The possibility of the monster's gods actually existing wasn’t zero.

But the future he had shown me… didn’t feel fake. I looked down at my left hand. It wasn’t as if I had the luxury of not believing him.

“So, the reason the orcs are touchy about the Hearts is because they…care about them too much?” I said.

Skele wiggled his finger. “That, my crimson friend, is a different tale. It is a story of betrayal, war, and hatred. The orc’s we—”

“I don’t need the theatrics, bone boy. Just tell it to me straight.”

He let out a disfavorable noise but abided anyway. “About a month ago, a small group of humans came stumbling through one of the outposts. The guards apprehended them and took them before the Lord, but it turned out they were captives of the ashen and had escaped, making their way through the woods to the orc city.”

“Ashen?” I interrupted.

“Yes. Yes. The Ashen. One of the three civilized species of the forest. And all three, mister I-know-nothing, have been at odds with each other since the dawn of time. Don’t ask me why. I’m sure not even they know why. Anyways…you know what, you wanted a long story short, so here you go. The humans lied, they weren’t prisoners, they were part of an army that made its way into the forest, the humans that infiltrated the city sabotaged it from the inside, a fight broke out, the humans made off with the Heart. Orc Lord mad. Short enough for you?”

“You could’ve just said the orcs lost the Heart to an army of humans, but I guess the extra details were nice.”

I ignored his curses and grumbling as I tried thinking over it all. The humans had been in the forest for over a month, so there clearly wouldn’t be any earth humans among their ranks. Were they the intruders the Vision was talking about? It only made sense that they were. If they stole the Heart from the orcs, it wasn’t farfetched to assume they’d be going after the other two. That had to be the reason the darkness would awaken.

He wanted me to stop an entire army…? Was he serious?

“So the orcs and the ashen; what’s the third civilized race?” I asked.

“The treants. A lumbering folk. Well, not really folk. Trees. Lumbering trees. Very slow-paced and genteel. It pains me to say, but I don’t really know much about them. So? What do you plan on doing with this information?”

I sighed. “I have no idea. There isn’t anything I can really use to leverage, and I doubt a bluff would do me any good.”

That human from earlier was most likely a hostage from the army the skeleton had mentioned. Could I use that to my advantage? How?

There was all the time of day to think of what to do. I spent a sleepless night in that cell, turning down the gruel they brought us to eat and pondering to myself how I was going to worm my way out of this.

Morning came and many of the captives in my cell were dragged out into the arena, made to fight the same stone creatures, and turned into paste. Hours passed. Many people died. But I still hadn’t come up with a solution.

The door to our cell creaked open. Waltzing into our holding with his hand tight around his hulking sword was the pale, fat orc with his posse behind him.

“Oh! Oh! Is it my turn yet?” the skeleton shouted, jumping from where he lounged and coming to meet the orcs. “I’ve been terribly bored. You guys used to send for me thrice a day. It’s been a whole week since I last went out there!”

The pale on shot him a disgusted expression and a crack from one of the posse’s whips lowered bone boy’s shout to a mumble.

“Vampire…” the pale orc said, making his way towards me.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Shit! Shit! Already? I hadn’t thought of what to say yet. The orc grabbed me by the arm and yanked me with less force than I expected. Was he weaker than me?

[Identify], I thought.

Orc Warmonger|Power: 124

Dammit. Perhaps I could outsmart it one on one? No. It had an entire entourage at its back. And even if I beat them, where the hell would I go?

“Skeleton!” I shouted as the orc dragged me from the cell. “Quick! Tell me what I should say out there!”

The skeleton tilted its head. “Say? Oh no…you poor thing. Did you think your trial came before the fighting?”

“What?”

“You fight first. If you’re lucky enough to survive, that’s when you’ll get your trial. Well, on the off chance you do survive the fights, I recommend maybe…” he scratched his chin, “showing the Lord that sigil of yours?”

I stared at him dumbfounded as I was dragged away. “How…” I mumbled.

The skeleton chuckled. “If you're lucky enough to make it back here alive, I think we’ll have quite a few things to talk about. No short stories this time, okay?”

Did my sigil appear at any time during the conversation? No. There’s no way it did. How the hell did that thing know about it?

I was brought to the edge of the alcove where the gate to enter the arena slowly raised.

“You choose weapon when start. Good?” the pale orc said. I gazed into the arena and saw an assortment of racks with crude weapons: bent axes, dented swords, frail cudgels, and twisted maces.

“Listen. There’s actually been a huge misunderstanding. Whatever you think I did, I didn’t. Good?” I said back, pleading. He probably didn’t even understand me. The orc pushed me out onto the compacted dirt and lowered the gate to lock me in.

A cacophonous mix of horns and cheering set the stadium into a rumble. As I made my way into the open ground, trees blocking any sunlight from touching my feeble skin, the roars only heightened.

Three blaring sound-offs from a massive horn up in the spectator's seating brought a hush about the crowd.

“My brothers and sisters!” a large, female orc shouted. Her voice carried across the entire coliseum. “For this next trial, we have the honor of watching judgment be passed by the Lord himself!”

Their cheering erupted. If I weren’t standing here watching it all unfold, I would’ve thought an earthquake struck.

Perfectly centered in the spectator stands was a sectioned-off veranda. Three chairs sat tall and mighty, decorated with furs and skulls of their victims, but even in their fancy adornment, none of the chairs could compare to the monsters that sat in them. Two orcs sat in the outside chairs, one purple-skinned and one black, with a multitude of boney necklaces and tooth bracelets covering their arms and neck. Feathered visors wrapped around their foreheads, veils covering their eyes.

In the center chair, stretching the marked wood to its limits, was a gargantuan, dark-orange-skinned orc with black and white stripes streaking across him like claw marks. His tusks were long and pointed, bedazzled with translucent jewels. His head was shaved except for an extremely long ponytail that sprouted from the top of his scalp.

“The Lord…” I mumbled.

“This…outsider, has made a mockery of us. Rampaging through the forest and slaying camps of helpless goblins, our allies, like it were some child’s game,” the announcer orc said. She glared daggers at me. The crowd spat insults and curses.

“They attacked me first! I had no intention of harming any of them if they—”

“Silence!” she roared. “You will not speak unless ordered to! Your words carry no meaning here, vampire. If you wish to have your trial, I suggest you keep your mouth shut!”

Thundering applause surged through the crowd. “Two fights! If you can survive through two different battles against our creatures and champions, then you will earn the right to speak your part. But this is the coliseum. I’ll have you know there are no innocents here.”

I grit my teeth. They had no intention of letting me speak; they never let anyone speak. Is this how they did things? Give their captives a chance at explaining themselves but lock it behind an impossible test of survival?

“Release the rock golems!”

A gate at the edge of the arena clattered open. Three amalgamations of stone clambered out into the arena to the thunder of applause. They were multicolored, an assortment of rocks making up their bodies. Their legs and arms were thick slabs of gray stone. Yellow light filled their eye sockets; no mouth graced any of their faces. Each bore a sapphire gem in the center of their chest.

I quickly identified them as I ran towards the rack of weapons. I had the rusty sword equipped, but it would do nothing against these dense boulders.

Lesser Rock Golem|Power: 103

The gap wasn’t terrible, but I would be under the effects of my weakness. If I suffered any damage from them, it would be severe. There was no way I’d win this head-on.

I clambered through the rack of weapons, identifying each to find which had the highest power rating. A round, iron mace sported a nice +11 power rating, so I quickly unequipped my rusted sword and equipped that instead. It was a blunt weapon, making it potentially useful against the golems. I found an old, wooden shield that had a rating of +4 and equipped it as well. The frail thing would probably shatter if I ever used it to block an attack, but the boost to power was what I was after.

My power level reached eighty-six with the new items equipped. Still quite a gap between myself and the golems, but it would serve me far better.

I dismissed the shield to keep it safe and turned to face the approaching golems with the mace in hand.

Despite their oafish bodies, they ran with tremendous speed, shaking the ground beneath them. The image of that human being squashed beneath their feet played over in my head.

I had no idea how I was going to do this, but there was no way in hell I was dying here as some entertainment for these orcs.