Chapter 74
A Clash Of Generations
The world seemed to grind to a halt at Aroth's words, an eerie chill permeating the air as everyone stood frozen, the silence deafening. The stillness was finally broken by the approaching footsteps of Valiant and Zara, who had likely been drawn by the sounds of battle.
As they arrived, Valiant made his way over to Adom, taking in his battered state. "Oh boy..." he said, his voice full of concern . "We're in trouble, aren't we?"
Zara remained silent, but her somewhat sympathetic gaze settled on Adom, her eyes speaking volumes.
Adom mustered a pained murmur, "I-I have made a mistake by coming here."
It was then that Lord Sarukel, the ancient Orc Lord, spoke up, his voice filling the air with a weight that hinted at his dwindling years. Even from just hearing him, Adom thought, one could sense this old one nearing the end of his life.
"General Aroth," Sarukel addressed the orc who had intervened. "Are you going against me?"
Aroth met the Orc Lord's gaze levelly. "I am going against the system, my lord," he declared, his tone resolute. "For far too long, have we let our hatred for the outside world stop us from advancing."
He raised his voice, projecting to the assembled orcs. "How low have we, the proud Ka'ui orcs stooped, to be ganging up on a human boy?"
Sarukel's response was explosive, his aura flaring with such intensity that a titanic boom assaulted Adom's ears, causing everyone to wince and clutch at their heads in pain. "HE'S AN IMMORTAL!" the Orc Lord bellowed, his voice a thunderous roar that seemed to shake the very foundations.
Sarukel's voice resonated with an ethereal, immense power imbued with essentia as he addressed Aroth, yet spoke for all to hear. "Boy. Were you there those days? The days of the accursed Lich?"
A palpable nostalgia tinged his words as he began to recount a tale from ages past. "There was a time when our tribes were one, when we lived in peace in the verdant Valley of the Winds. Our warriors were strong, our shamans wise, and our children played without fear."
His eyes seemed to gaze inward, reliving those halcyon days. "I remember warm nights around the fires, the laughter of my kin, the sweet smell of roasting meats and the songs of honor that echoed through the valley."
Then his face darkened, a haunted look replacing the wistful memory. "But that all changed one fateful day when I was but a boy. I can still hear my mother's screams, still see the terror in her eyes as my own father..." He swallowed hard, the memory clearly still raw after all these years. After three thousands years.
"He was ensnared, you see, enslaved by the vile sorcery of the Lich King. And on that day, he slaughtered her. Butchered her like a beast before my eyes." Sarukel's voice took on a guttural rasp, the anguish of that moment searing through his words.
"The blood..." He seemed to shudder, reliving the horror. "It was everywhere. Covering the ground, staining her beautiful face, and I watched as the light faded from her eyes. My own father did that to her, and he didn't even seem to recognize us in his thrall."
Sarukel clenched his fists, his green knuckles whitening with the intensity of his rage. "That monster, the Lich King, He took everything from us that day. Our peace, our unity, our loved ones...all in his ravenous quest for power."
His voice rose to a guttural roar. "The valley ran red with the blood of our kindred! Infants were dashed against the rocks, warriors fell screaming as their limbs were rent from their bodies. I can still remember the raw effluence of their bowels mingled with the stench of massacre!"
Several orcs shifted uneasily at the visceral recounting, but Sarukel's fury would not be contained.
"Our entire world was shattered, our tribes scattered to the winds in a single day of unimaginable cruelty and slaughter...all at the hands of an immortal who had transcended the natural order!"
Sarukel's gaze then fell upon Seka, his fury undimmed. "Little brother!"
Seka met the Orc Lord's stare with defiance, but Sarukel pressed on, undeterred. "You were but a child when I found you." His words took on a haunted quality. "They had put you in the ground, you...a child barely a month old, buried alive!"
He raised his gnarled, scarred fingers, the ravages of that day etched into his flesh. "For hours I clawed at the earth with these hands, at the expense of my own fingers, to dig you out!"
A tremor seemed to run through the ancient orc as he bellowed, "I saved you! Me!"
Seka averted his eyes, unable or unwilling to confront the anguish burning in Sarukel's eyes.
The Orc Lord advanced towards Aroth and Adom, his presence overwhelming. An oppressive silence descended, the air thick with barely contained emotion. Adom could taste the tension, see it in the taut muscles and furrowed brows of the orcs surrounding them.
Sarukel's piercing gaze swept over each of his kin in turn, his next words dripping with bitterness. "For years, we had to survive in this world alone. Nobody helped us!" His voice rose in scorned outrage. "Not the great elves! Not the intelligent humans! Not even the brave beastkin!"
He shot a brief glance at Valiant, who shrank back behind Zara, clearly discomfited.
"For hundreds of years, we had only ourselves to count on," Sarukel's timbre took on a guttural rasp. "How many of us died of hunger? Brother Sit'ur?" He didn't wait for a response. "How many children of our tribe did not reach their first year?!"
His fists clenched, bones cracking as if to echo the loss. "They abandoned us! These outsiders you seem to love so much. Left us to die in their wars and petty politics, as if we were nothing!"
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The dam broke then, three millennia of anguish pouring forth. "I was there! I saw it all!" Flecks of spittle flew as Sarukel raged. "If we are where we are now, if we survived to this day, it is because we only counted on our own kind!"
His shoulders heaved with each ragged breath, the ancient orc's frame seeming to diminish with the weight of his painful memories. Several orcs shifted uncomfortably, their expressions a mix of simmering anger and the shame of past failings.
Seka kept his gaze averted, his face etched in weary resignation. Aroth remained steely, unmoved by the tirade. Adom felt the words like a physical blow, the vivid imagery of death and abandonment striking an unexpected chord of empathy.
Even Valiant seemed chastened, his usual bravado tempered by the palpable anguish on display. Only Zara maintained her impenetrable calm, though her eyes shone with faint sorrow.
The silence that followed was profound, the weight of ages bearing down upon them all. It was into this heavy stillness that Sarukel spoke again, his words laced with resignation and an undercurrent of righteous indignation.
"That is why we cannot...we will not..."
It was into this profound stillness that Aroth spoke, his voice carrying a solemn resolution.
"And yet we must, my lord." The respectful tone did not diminish the conviction behind his words as he met Sarukel's haunted gaze levelly.
"I understand the trauma, the anguish that has shaped our people," Aroth began, spreading his hands in a placating gesture. "The horrors you witnessed, the losses we endured...they are a wound that will never fully heal."
He shook his head slowly. "But we cannot allow that pain to calcify into an unending cycle of hatred and isolation. To cling to it, to let it fester, that is to grant the Lich King his ultimate victory over us."
Aroth's voice rang. "Our ancestors, you and your generation, my lord, suffered greatly, this is true. But they did not fight, bleed, and die so that we could simply survive. They sacrificed so that we could live...truly live, unbowed and unbroken. You taught me that yourself."
The orc general looked around, making eye contact with each of his brethren in turn. "Have we not lingered too long in the shadow of that ancient evil? Have we not let it pervert our strength into mere brutishness, our pride into arrogant seclusion?"
A murmur rippled through the gathered orcs, some nodding in reluctant agreement while others frowned stubbornly. Aroth pressed on, his voice resonant.
"We are more than the flag-bearers of our ancestors' suffering. We are the embodiment of their resilience, their defiance of a world that sought to exterminate us utterly." His fist clenched, the simple gesture brimming with barely restrained power.
"So I say to you, we cannot allow that defiance to curdle into xenophobic hatred. We must shed the chains of the past, but not by rejecting it entirely. Rather, we must recognize our failings and evolve beyond them while still honoring our legacy."
Aroth looked to Sarukel then, his eyes betraying a glimmer of plea. "The other races abandoned us before, this is true. But who is to say they would not be amenable to lasting alliance and mutual understanding now? Are we so set in our ways that we would deny ourselves that chance out of fear and prejudice?"
He gestured to the battered form of Adom. "This immortal came to us in peace, yet we responded with violence born of ancient, ingrained mistrust. Is that truly the orcish way? To strike first at any perceived threat without nuance or diplomacy?"
Adom watched Aroth in amazement, the charismatic general's words stirring something within him. He saw echoes of his own philosophy reflected back, the embrace of change and evolution while still respecting one's history.
Zara too seemed captivated, her usual stoicism giving way to an intensity of focus. Even the more belligerent orcs appeared swayed by Aroth's impassioned rhetoric, their anger banked to smoldering embers rather than raging flames.
Only Sarukel's expression remained unreadable, his weathered features an inscrutable mask as he absorbed Aroth's assertions. When he finally replied, his tone was thick with weariness and bitter resignation.
"You speak pretty words, boy...but some wounds run too deep to simply outgrow."
Sarukel's gaze settled on Adom then, his expression hardening into grim resolution. "I cannot forgive them," he declared, each word carrying the weight of immutable truth. "I do not want to. I will not."
The Orc Lord's decision was made, crystal clear, and Adom knew such words were not to be taken lightly. In that moment, the immortal looked to Aroth's immense frame, realizing the pivotal crux before them. If he decides to continue, there will be a coup.
The thought hung heavy in the air, and Adom could sense the shift in atmosphere as Aroth responded, his voice low but unwavering. "Then you have let your hatred take the best of you, my lord."
An audible ripple of shock and indignation ran through the gathered orcs at Aroth's daring words. Some grew visibly enraged, while others - the silent majority - seemed to hold their breath in tacit agreement.
This could turn into a civil war... Adom thought as his gaze swept over the assembled kin, realizing with a start just how precarious this situation had become.
It was then that Kovu stepped forward. "Brother of my wife, dearest of my friends," he addressed the orc general, his words dripping with accusation. "Have you decided to raise against us? Your own kind?"
His glare fell to Adom then, naked disgust and rage contorting his features. "For...this? Or are you so blinded by the love for your daughter that you fail to see the evil of his nature? "
Aroth met Kovu's stare levelly, the muscles in his jaw tightening minutely before he responded. "I do not speak as a father blinded by love for his daughter."
His words carried the timbre of grim finality, bereft of any familial sentiment. "I speak as an orc, worried for the future of our people."
The silence that followed was deafening, the gathered orcs collectively holding their breath as allegiances were painfully demarcated. Aroth stood tall, his immense frame exuding an aura of measured determination.
"You are not even able to see how this abomination is turning us against each other, just like his kin did 3000 years ago!" The words sliced through the tension like a blade, Sarukel's fury erupting in a resounding slap that cracked across Aroth's face.
In that visceral moment, the lines were indelibly drawn. Adom saw it play out with horrifying clarity - the camps solidifying, allegiances hardening into bitter factions. Orcs locked eyes with their kin, silent acknowledgments of which side they would take when the storm broke.
Movements flickered in his periphery like cornered predators tensing to strike. Aroth raised a hand, not towards Sarukel but to his own brethren. A simple gesture, but one freighted with desperate pleading - stop, do not even think of it. Do not draw the blood of your own.
Then the general met Sarukel's blazing glare, his own eyes unblinking in the face of the Orc Lord's fury. "My lord..." Aroth's words were measured, stripped of inflection. "There was a time I looked up to you. A time I wanted to become you, more than anything else."
Sarukel held the stare, his rage an almost palpable force scarce contained behind the dam of his willpower. Aroth continued, undeterred.
"But now I see the path you took is not necessarily a good one."
He hesitated then, breaking away to sweep his gaze across Seka and Dojka, the latter's eyes shimmering with unshed tears. When Aroth looked back to Sarukel, his next words carried an air of finality.
"I demand Gor'ashar Kargul."
The ancient orcish rite of honorable challenge. Adom felt the weight of those words like a lead weight in his chest. Aroth had uttered them before at his arrival, but now they rang with sickening inevitability.
For a frozen moment, Sarukel simply stared at his former protégé. Then the Orc Lord chuckled, a mirthless exhalation that seemed to leach what little hope remained. "Fine," he intoned flatly. "Then I shall permit it."
Kovu strode forward then, planting himself before Aroth with squaredsholders. The two orcs were of a height, warriors who had likely bled together on a hundred battlefields. Now they faced each other as potentially lethal adversaries.
"My lord," Kovu addressed Sarukel without breaking locked stares with Aroth. "Allow me to be your champion."
The request hung in the air, rife with implications. To utter it was to stake one's life on the outcome, a willingness to embrace the full brutal consequences should defeat find them.
Sarukel's gaze slid to his clansman, glinting with dark approval. "So be it."