Kashi. Please, save the orcs. Five words. Five mere words sent tremors across Destia’s lands! The continent gaped at their screens, disbelieving their eyes and ears! ‘Save the orcs?’ No one was lost as to the implications of that plea. If Kashi played his cards right, Rosendun would most likely absorb the orcs’ strength! The Twilight Wolves were already a terrifying force. What would happen if the orcs joined them!? It would be like giving wings to a tiger!

Ironically, contrary to the continents’ expectations, several orcs protested in anger and disgust upon seeing Renark kneeling before another. Several orcs called for his head on a pike as they glared at the screen as if doing so would transport them to the battlefield. An orc should never bow to another unless they had been defeated in battle!

Renark surrendered to Kashi without a fight. Furthermore, he dishonored the orcs by begging outsiders for help. There had never been, and would never be a problem the orcs could not solve themselves. This ironclad belief ingrained within every orc’s bones fueled their disgust and rage.

However, even among the orcs, there was one whose rage exploded into an uncontrollable inferno.

Unfortunately, the orcs’ anger would have nowhere to go as every screen around the world disappeared, shutting off the live broadcast.

“Ragelock!” Durst’s enraged cry nearly shattered everyone’s eardrums as he burst out of the crowd. The orc’s eyes, blazing red with fury, widened as he swung his ax at Renark’s exposed neck.

Clang! Sparks, instead of blood burst out, causing Durst to narrow his eyes. “Step aside, Ragnar.” Dursts’ voice trembled with barely controlled fury. Only his final shred of clarity prevented him from chopping down Ragnar where he stood.

Nngh ! Ragnar grunted, his veins bulging as he held up the sword blocking Durst’s ax. Still, he managed to grind out a warning. “Cutting a defenseless opponent brings you no honor, Durst. Do not sully their memory with your rage.”

“Do not bring them into this!” Durst snapped at Ragnar, the flames in his glare threatening to roast the young orc alive.

Ragnar did not falter under the larger orc’s death glare. “I did not.” He looked pointedly at Durst’s arms, and then softly rebuked, “You did.”

“I did?” Durst first muttered in confusion, but then he looked at his arm. “… I did.” The orc visibly deflated as he looked at his ashy-white skin. Indeed, he still wore the ashes of his mate and child. If he killed, it would be in their name. He could not dishonor them once more.

“I am in your debt, Ragnar.” Durst acknowledged as he reluctantly raised his ax. He then looked at Renark who had not moved an inch, as if in acceptance of his death. “My ax shall yet drink your blood. State your case, and then raise your ax. I will not cut down a defenseless orc.”

Renark looked up at Durst. “I will give you the fight you seek.” He then turned to look at Ragnaf. “Ragnaf, you fought well. I and every orc here bore witness to your glory. You have proven to be more than an abandoned beast. Thus, with my authority as Orc Chieftain, and with Durst as Witness, I propose a name change. Ragnaf Banbeast will be henceforth known as Ragnaf Bonecleaver, with the authority to form a clan. Ragnaf, do you accept?”

Durst, Ragnaf, and Kashi stared at Renark in disbelief. Many onlookers did not realize what was happening, but these three knew the significance of Renark’s declaration. Unlike most species, surnames were deathly important to orcs. The first orcs gained surnames from their feats. Some were named after the feats they performed, while others were named after a distinct trait or personality that defined their legend.

Every generation of orcs wore their surnames with pride because it proved they were born of great warriors or legends. Orcs without surnames were usually shunned for not being born from a warrior’s lineage. As a result, orcs without surnames often fought in great battles to finally gain a surname of their own.

However, not all surnames were great. Just as they were tools to praise, surnames could also be used to shame or demean a lineage. Children of traitors or cowards often had terrible surnames like ‘Fleetfoot,’ ‘Scarechild,’ ‘Deserter,’ and many more. Also, babies without parents were given the moniker ‘Banbeast,’ which meant abandoned beast.

Banbeasts lacked many rights and privileges of normal orcs, including the right to sire and raise their children and clan. Banbeasts had to prove themselves in battle, and gain the chieftain’s recognition before they would be awarded a new surname. Renark’s gesture was everything Ragnaf had been working toward since he was born.

Which begged the question: What was Renark’s angle?

A few weeks ago, he had no qualms about killing Ragnaf and Durst. Now, he was willingly giving Ragnaf the greatest honor an orc like him could envision? Something did not add up.

“What are you scheming, Ragelock!?” Durst wasted no time voicing his doubt. The aged orc subconsciously stepped between Renark and Ragnaf.

“This is no scheme.” Renark confidently matched Durst’s gaze. The proud orc looked at Ragnaf with admiration and praise. “The kid proved himself in combat. He deserves to be glorified by his peers. That is all.”

Durst searched Renark’s eyes, but he could not find a hint of deceit. Frustrated, but knowing what this meant to an outcast like Ragnaf, he stepped back and resolutely shut his mouth.

“I…” Seeing Durst’s retreat as acceptance, Ragnaf grimly nodded. “I accept.”

“Good. You can celebrate when you return.” Renark stated, implying that Ragnaf could return safely. He then looked at Durst. “Even more than my murder, I know what you want above all. You want to know why. Why would I betray our people? Why would I allow the massacre of so many orcs?” Durst’s angry silence did nothing to deter Renark. The orc had already made up his mind before lowering himself before Kashi. “I will explain, but first, I need you to understand.”

“Understand!?” Durst nearly shattered his arm from clenching too hard.

“Yes.” Renark looked over his shoulder at a slim orc shaman. “Do it, Dreamweaver.”

The orc shaman named Dreamweaver took out a small wooden charm from a bag. He whispered some prayers, as he blew upon and shook the charm. Then, once the charm began to glow with an ephemeral green light, he squeezed his hands, shattering it.

Kashi’s brows furrowed as he sensed rapidly shifting mana. He looked on in shock as Renark’s skin began to shimmer like a mirage within a desert. No, it was not just Renark’s skin. Every orc accompanying the Orc chieftain similarly shimmered like a veil was being lifted. The shimmering soon stopped, revealing the orcs’ true bodies.

“What is the meaning of this!?” Durst questioned in a mix of fury, and confusion. He could not believe his eyes as he took in the ashy-white skins on every orc present. How could he not recognize the markings and their meanings? He wore the same!

Renark let out a long sigh, but his eyes looked relieved like he had unloaded a large burden. Only for a moment though, as his gaze hardened once more with strengthened resolve. “Before I begin, I must make one thing clear: I do not seek forgiveness. I shall honor all challenges that come my way from all orcs, but I will not roll over and die. Those who seek to challenge me must be ready to put their lives on the line. My decisions might have been the wrong, but they are mine alone, and I shall live with them until the day my breath ceases to be.”

Renark took a moment, and when no one raised any objections, started talking, “A few months ago, my clan met Ederwood’s invasion forces led by Brilith Loneheart of the Silver Spears. Their armies…” Renark glanced at Durst. “You have spent some time with the Maggots… Apologies, Twilight Wolves. Tell me, if they chose to invade the orcs, would we have a prayer of defeating them?” Durst’s silence was answer enough for the Orc Chieftain. “Ederwood’s army was three times larger than the motley crew that came to Drakase. We did not stand a chance. I could see the orcs’ imminent subjugation, or knowing our attitudes, extinction.” Renark balled his hand into a fist. “I needed a miracle, something to save our race!”

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“What does that have to do with killing our kin!?” Durst angrily questioned.

Renark snorted at Durst’s anger. “You’re angry? Did you think I wasn’t angry when we threw thousands of our brothers at the Ederwood meat grinder without putting the slightest dent in their forces!? I have battled Ederwood’s armies at the southern border for five-dozen winters. Can you comprehend the level of loss required for someone like me to feel despair!? We had nothing that could threaten their forces. At least, until we found it.”

“It?”

Renark’s eyes lit up with a fanatical glint. “Yes! The forgotten Berserker Tomes. A young warrior stumbled across a dungeon when fleeing from Ederwood’s forces. We found the Tomes after clearing the dungeon. It was like divine intervention. I knew that with the Berserker Tomes, we would be able to launch a comeback.”

“But you needed time.”

Renark looked at Kashi. His eyes narrowed in frustration as he admitted, “Yes. We needed time. It would take some time to master the Tome, and even longer to impart every orc with the Berserker Soul.” The orc let out an angry grunt. “We surrendered to Brilith’s forces under the promise that we would unite the orcs under her rule.” The orc chieftain gritted his teeth. “That should have been enough to buy us time, but Brilith wanted more. She needed proof of loyalty, or she would raze every orkish settlement to the ground.”

“She gave me a task. I had to eliminate an orc settlement to show my loyalty.” Renark’s eyes turned grim as he looked at his ash-covered hands. “I had already gained some insights into the Berserker Tome. With just a little more time, I could master it. This was not the time to hesitate, or we would lose every orc. So, with my own hands, I slew my clansmen. I slew my grandchildren. I slew my mate.”

Renark looked up at Durst with blood-crazed eyes. “My clan made this choice willingly. Those children died so that the orcs as a whole would live on. We took on their ashes with the promise that we would one day kill Brilith and the Silver Spears before perishing ourselves. That should have been the end. Our clan should have been the only sacrifice.”

“What changed?” Kashi asked, sensing in-between Renark’s tale and Durst’s tragedy.

“The dwarfs,” Renark angrily growled as he glared at Rudega Farvulian, who stood by Durst’s side. “…and you,” he then added as he looked at Kashi.

“Me?”

“Yes. You declared a dwarven king from the hybrids,” the orc explained. “As you know, there can only be one dwarven king. Many traditional dwarfs hated your declaration but lacked the armies to seek out and destroy the hybrid king. What they could offer were the incredible war machines the daeben armies once used to sweep through the continent. Sensing their displeasure, Brilith approached the dwarfs with a deal. They would get her armies in exchange for their war machines. Many dwarven elites readily agreed to this deal, but they wanted something to show her sincerity.”

Durst’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets in anger. “My daughter was a bargaining chip!?”

Renark clenched his fists. Bulging veins belied the intense emotions he struggled to suppress. “We all were.” Renark looked at Durst with a steadfast gaze. “I swear on my mate’s ashes, I did not know about the attack on the other villages until after the fact. By the time I found out, it was already too late. Despite my anger, I could not fall out with Brilith.” Renark gripped his forearm with desperate anger. “Not after everything we had sacrificed. The orcs were not ready for an open conflict with Ederwood – especially with the dwarfs already on Brilith’s side. I had to play along a little longer. At least, until I could impart every orc with the Berserker Soul.”

Durst’s eyes widened with realization. “I heard you became the new Orc Chieftain. Was that your aim?”

Renark let out a rueful chuckle. “Indeed.” He then elaborated for the confused Ragnaf. “Every Orc Chieftain can share a portion of their abilities with the under their rule. Often, it is something benign like better eyesight, sharper reflexes, or increased strength. Once in a while, however, we get an orc with unique abilities that transform orcs into a truly feared force. My Berserker Soul was one such unique skill. If everything went to plan, the empowered Berserker Orcs should have been enough to destroy the dwarfs and Brilith. Failing that, we would have at least been a force that they would think twice before casually attacking.”

“A deterrence,” Kashi praised. “But something went wrong?”

“It was my hubris, thinking I could outsmart that demon.” Renark let out a rueful laugh. “Everything I did. My sacrifice, the Berserker Tomes, everything went according to her plans. She purposely had my soldier find the tomes, and guided my actions until I took over the orcs. I do not understand how, but once I did, the Summoned gained the ability to enter this world as orcs. Not only that, but she had copies of the Berserker Tomes so she could grow her own Berserkers. Everything I did. All the sacrifices we made. They were useless. She has no more use for us aside from being meat shields in her wars.” Renark squeezed his fists. “Orcs have no problems with dying in battle, but we must die in battles of our choosing, not ones we are forced into.”

“And yet you come to me?” Kashi’s gaze narrowed as he studied the orc. “Do you not find your actions contradictory. This is simply swapping one master for another, isn’t it?”

Contrary to expectations, Renark cracked a smile. “If I asked you to be our master, would you dare accept?” Kashi hesitated, prompting Renark to burst out in laughter. “That is precisely why I chose you. I care not what happens to me, but I could see it in the eyes of the one you call Stryke. Though there was mistrust and caution, he never once looked down on me for being a Resident or an orc. It is something I have seen in every Wolf’s eyes. Even now, you regard me as an equal despite me lowering myself before you. That alone is enough to know that you will not mistreat my kin, nor use them as meat shields in the coming wars.”

Kashi glared at Stryke, blaming the young man for throwing this hot potato in his lap. Why were his guildmates such good people? Damn it! “Fine. Let’s say I believe you. What is your plan exactly? What do you want from the Twilight Wolves?”

Renark nodded. “I know you have the King’s ear. Grant us asylum and the orcs will immediately flee for Serisis.”

“I doubt orcs will willingly run from a fight.”

“I am the chieftain. Any orc who refuses can challenge for my title. Until then, they must follow my orders. I will not die until every orc is safe.”

Kashi frowned. “I’m guessing this is urgent, isn’t it?”

“Brilith is not to be slighted. I am certain she amasses her armies to wipe out the orcs as we speak.”

“Of course, there is no time.” Kashi groaned. Accepting the orcs was a major political issue. He did not think he was qualified to make a decision on King Parissius’ behalf. Especially when this also considered Serisis’ national security. If this was a ploy, the Serians would be in mortal danger.

“Orez.”

“Orez.” Kashi repeated, but then stared at the taciturn Suzuki in shock. Did Suzuki just offer help without being prompted? What the hell was happening today? Kashi wanted to say so many things but held back out of fear that he would push the recluse back into his shell.

Kashi shook off the stray thoughts and took out a scroll from Orez. He tossed the scroll to Renark. “You won’t make it even if you attempt to flee to Serisis. There are too many orcs. Use that instead. It will put you in my world. You can wait there while I discuss with the king.” Kashi made sure the orc understood the implications of this choice. “In doing this, you’re essentially trapping your people in my world. Your release will depend on my whim. Are you fine with that?”

“Brutal honesty only makes you appear more trustworthy,” Renark praised, much to Kashi’s chagrin as he took the scroll. “I failed my first gamble. For the sake of the orcs, I can only pray that my second gamble pays off.”

Renark gripped the scroll, and then looked at Durst. “Wait a little longer, Durst. I will grant you the battle you seek. First, I must save our people. I cannot die until that mission is complete.”

Durst tightly gripped his ax. Veins bulged on his arms and head as he glared at Renark with abject hatred. However, around that hatred, elements of uncertainty appeared after hearing the hated orc’s story. “…I will wait.” Durst holstered his axes with an angry grunt. He then turned away, afraid that looking at Renark further would set him off.

Renark nodded without a word and stood up. He revealed a grim smile towards Kashi as he took out a talisman. “You shall not regret this decision.” With those words, he shattered the talisman, teleporting him away from Drakase.

After Renark’s departure, only the Wolves and Rosendun’s forces remained on Drakase. Fortunately, Kashi did not need to open another portal to send them back to Orez. A few dozen wolves chose to return via the two Skyboats, while the rest returned to Orez through the Dimension Keys.

Eventually, only Kashi and Suzuki remained in Drakase. The two could not leave.

Not yet.

Not when they had yet to satisfy two impossibly overpowered individuals.

“My child,” Skyrm asked as he flew down and landed before the duo. “Where is she?”

Rider landed next to Skyrm, his dilating pupils revealing his anxiousness. “Where is Zeno?”