In the midst of this triumphant moment, Ethan's voice rang out, a plea that carried the weight, “Dad, wait, Dad, don’t kill him yet.”

As Ethan's urgent shout cut through the chaos, Aldric, who had been mid-air with his sword aimed for the Orc King's neck quickly shifted his direction and landed directly on the ground. The imminent defeat of their leader threw the Goblin Shamans into a frenzy, their panic tangible as they realized their own powerlessness without their King's guidance.

Amidst the turmoil, Aldric's ears caught his son's voice, causing him to pause and turn his attention to Ethan. "What happened?" he inquired, momentarily distracted.

Ethan moved forward, Elara attempting to restrain him with a grip that he easily slipped from. His calm demeanor radiated a sense of reassurance. "Mom, it's okay now. Dad's here," he spoke gently urging her to let go.

Drawing closer to the battered figure of the Orc King and Aldric, Ethan's eyes took in the scene. His father's form was smeared with blood, sweat, and determination, his head marked by a cut. Nearby, Gareth lay unconscious against the wall, a testament to the battle's toll. The other battlemages breathed heavily, exhaustion etched on their faces.

Approaching the wounded Orc King, Ethan addressed his father, his tone confident. "Dad, wait. Let me talk to the Orc King."

"What do you mean you want to talk? Are you out of your mind?" Aldric's voice erupted strained yet firm as he mustered the last of his strength.

Aldric's incredulous response was cut short by Ethan's assurance. "Trust me, Dad. It'll be fine."

With a sense of purpose, Ethan began as he looked at Orc King, his words cutting through the tension, while his fellow defenders stood ready, swords drawn, their stance firm and resolute.

Standing before the Orc King, his eyes fixed on the battered figure on his knees and blood oozing from the gaping wound across his abdomen, Ethan's gaze held a mix of determination and resolve. The Orc King's weapons once mighty and menacing, now lay in ruins, a testament to the battle that had transpired.

Taking a deep breath, Ethan's voice broke the tension-laden silence. "Here's the deal," he began, his words carrying an unwavering conviction. "Should you pledge to safeguard our village, we'll cease our pursuit. Both you and the Goblin Shamans will be set free, and we'll refrain from launching any retaliatory strikes on your territory."

His gaze never wavered as he continued, "Consider this not just for your own sake, but for your kin—the children, the families, and the future of your tribe. Think about what fate might befall them should you fall in battle."

With each word, Ethan's gestures grew more purposeful, his hand motions reflecting the gravity of his proposal. "In return for this agreement," he emphasized "we offer you a daily ration comprising of sea fish and other sustenance. Additionally, you'll be granted the right to venture into our human territories to combat monsters or wild animals. However, you must swear off harming any humans or harming our lands."

Finally, Ethan locked eyes with the Orc King, his gaze steady and unyielding. "Are you willing to bind yourself to this oath?"

The Orc King's response carried the weight of a decision that could reshape the fate of both their worlds.

As the moment hung in the air, Ethan's eyes bore into the Orc King's, his unwavering resolve painted across his face. And then, the answer came—a muted yet unmistakable agreement from the wounded king.

"I agree to your conditions," the Orc King muttered, as he coughed up blood. He gave in after considering the proposal.

However, before the tension could dissipate, Adric's voice cut through laden with a concern that mirrored the doubts of others present. "But what assurance do we have that this accord will hold? What if, once released, they turn on us once more and attack our village?"

Taking into account the concern etched in his father's expression, Ethan nodded in understanding as he raised his voice, addressing the villagers with a firm determination, "Are you all prepared to embrace this agreement? A pact where no harm will befall the goblins and orcs even if they cross our path or territories, and in turn, the orcs and goblins will refrain from harming humans and causing destruction and will also safeguard our village from Pirates or other infiltrators."

A chorus of affirmations resounded, the villagers uniting their voices in agreement. Amidst them, the Chief Orc, the Orc King himself, nodded in accord his imposing presence signifying his comprehension of the human tongue.

In the midst of this moment, Ethan's mind flickered back to the countless hours he had spent immersed in texts, the wisdom he had acquired since his unexpected journey to this realm. Among those pages, he had come across a concept known as the "Mana Oath." In this world of magic, such an oath could be invoked voluntarily binding both parties through spoken words. A shiver of realization coursed through him as he contemplated the significance of this agreement, a magical contract that carried real consequences if violated and not like brazen lies of oaths that took place where he belonged to.

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Having ensured that every individual was prepared to embrace the terms of the agreement, Ethan stepped forward with a sense of gravity in his voice. "Dad, please step forward," he called to his father, Aldric, motioning for him to join him. Simultaneously, he gestured to the Chief Orc, silently requesting his presence as well. With their presence acknowledged, Ethan continued, his tone steady and commanding, "Both of you, extend your hands."

With palpable seriousness, Ethan's voice resonated through the air, "Now, speak the words that will shape our Heart Oath." The power of his intention, paired with the weight of tradition, hung in the atmosphere, a tangible presence that defied the mere utterance of words.

Aldric's voice, steady and resolute, broke the silence. "We humans willingly agree to this oath." His words hung in the air, a declaration etched with determination. The Orc King, his deep voice carrying a weight of conviction echoed in response, "We and our kin agree to this oath." Each utterance was more than mere sound; it was a binding promise, an irrevocable pact.

As the final syllables of their agreement reverberated, the culmination of their spoken words evoked an immediate response. A mesmerizing magic circle materialized before their outstretched palms, its intricate lines blazing to life in a vivid display of otherworldly luminescence. The circle expanded, engulfing both Aldric's and the Orc King's hands within its radiant embrace. In that instant, a profound connection was forged.

Ethan's insights, gleaned from "A Beginner's Guide to Magic," unveiled the concept of constructing a contract through an oath. His voice, guided by both knowledge and determination, pursued its course, "Should anyone from our village or your orc community breach this pact, the contract's magic shall be invoked." As he spoke, it was as if the words themselves ignited the latent magic within the contract, sparking to life a connection beyond mere speech.

The contract's words hung in the air, a fusion of magic and promise. Ethan locked eyes with the Orc King and his father, underlining the gravity of their accord, "Transgressors from our village shall face the judgment of the Orc King. Similarly, should any violation originate from your side, the consequences shall be meted out by human judgment."

The final threads of the contract wove together, and a collective exhale seemed to ripple through the crowd. The lingering aftermath of battle clung to the air, a palpable reminder of the recent turmoil. The atmosphere, however, had shifted. The chaotic storm had subsided, and the favor of victory had settled upon the village.

The Goblin Shamans, once caught in the whirlwind of panic, now moved with a hesitating determination. Their hurried motions had stilled, replaced by a reluctant understanding that the course of events had changed. Amid the clearing smoke and debris, they gathered around the Orc King, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity etched across their features.

Ethan's voice, a rallying cry that cut through the remaining tension, echoed in the air. "Bring water, food, and medicines!" he commanded, his words serving as a call to action. As his voice reverberated, his friends sprang into motion, each step purposeful and driven by the urgency of the moment. The village had transitioned from a battleground to a sanctuary of compassion.

With a seamless synergy, his comrades delivered the requested essentials, each item a tangible offering of support. The cool refreshment of water, the nourishing sustenance of food, and the comforting embrace of medicines were all proffered as tokens of goodwill. The scene resembled a vibrant tapestry, woven together with care and compassion.

Amidst this organized flurry, villagers stepped forward to tend to the wounded Orcs. The gestures were deliberate, born from a newfound understanding that transcended the boundaries of race and rivalry. Calloused hands that had once brandished weapons now cradled bandages, gently binding the injuries inflicted by battle. The act of tending wounds morphed into an unspoken acknowledgment—the acknowledgment that empathy and shared vulnerability could bridge even the deepest divides.

As the Orc King and his companions prepared to depart, their silhouettes stretched long in the soft hues of the setting sun. Their retreating forms were a tangible representation of a new beginning. The villagers watched them vanish into the distance, a sense of achievement mingling with the fading light. And as twilight enveloped the land, a chorus of triumphant cheers burst forth, a testament to their hard-won victory.

Within the celebration, Aldric's voice rang out, a mixture of pride and genuine admiration. "You did it!" he exclaimed, his embrace enveloping Ethan in a moment of shared achievement.

Ethan's response was a testament to solidarity. "No, we all did," he countered his smile a beacon of unity and camaraderie that had carried them through their trials.

Aldric's gaze shifted to encompass the villagers, his words laden with purpose. "Please, let us honor the commitment we've made. In return, we we will get protection from the Chief Orc King himself."

"We will not break today's oath!" The collective proclamation resounded and carried on a wave of emotion that brought tears to their eyes. It marked an unprecedented moment, one where humans and monsters had forged a unique contract—a commitment that transcended their differences.

As the raid drew to a close, the sound of hurried footsteps filled the air as patrolling warriors hurried to assist in transporting the wounded to Aldric's place for treatment. On the veranda, the fourteen frontline fighters now lay, their forms etched in various stages of injury, being tended to by the gathered villagers. The scene before them depicted a heartening display of valor and bravery, as individuals moved about, pulling together their knowledge of makeshift medical aid and offering assistance to those in need.

Gareth, the most injured among them, lay on the veranda, his body swathed in bandages. Thanks to his robust physique and innate self-healing abilities, he had already regained consciousness. Other battlemages sat nearby, recuperating from the battle.

"Dad, you were so cool back there," Orrin remarked, using Gareth's cloth to wipe his booger. A playful gesture turned into a scolding when Gareth responded, "You idiot, don't wipe it on my clothes!" A quick tap on Orrin's head followed.

"Even you kids were pretty good," Gareth added, acknowledging their contribution.

Aldric chimed in, "Indeed, without the help of these children and their ingenious idea, it would have been nearly impossible to handle them." Heads nodded all around in agreement. He was sitting with his back against the wall, his head wrapped in bandages, bearing the aftermath of the blow he had taken from the Orc King. Apart from that, there were no visible injuries on him.