Chapter 75
Gor'ashar Kargul
Adom felt a firm hand grasp his shoulder, snapping him from his dazed reverie. He looked up to find Zara peering down at him, her expression inscrutable save for the faint nod she offered. An invitation to rise.
He accepted her proffered support with a grimace, growling through gritted teeth as he leveraged himself upright. His battered body protested fiercely, but Zara's steady presence proved an anchor against the waves of pain.
Once standing, Aroth turned to regard them. "Go," he stated simply. "Wait for me until the fight is over."
Sarukel's gravelly bark cut through Aroth's words like a jagged blade. "The immortal is the one for whom Gor'ashar Kargul has been decided. He will stay." The ancient orc leveled a contemptuous look at Adom. "And as his champion, when you die, we will keep him with us."
Aroth tensed, but Sarukel was not yet finished, swinging his gaze to encompass Zara and Valiant. "The tiefling and the beastkin can leave if they wish."
A charged silence bloomed in the wake of the ultimatum. Zara remained impassive, though her eyes briefly found Valiant's. A fleeting exchange passed between them, glacial calm meeting roiling unease before resolving into grim solidarity.
"We will stay with Adom," Zara stated, her tone permitting no argument.
Adom felt his throat tighten at her words. He forced out a ragged murmur. "Thank you...sorry I brought you into this mess."
Valiant managed a strained half-grin, clearly not at ease yet committed all the same. "Well, for what it's worth, we're the ones who followed you."
Zara simply nodded, her steely composure unruffled. Around them, the atmosphere thickened with tension, the various factions shuffling into position like tectonic plates inexorably grinding towards an inevitable collision.
The orcs began to move with a ritualized cadence, shifting and rearranging themselves. There were no barked commands, no frantic gesturing - they simply knew what to do.
They formed a wide circle, footfalls heavy and deliberate as they arrayed themselves around the soon-to-be combatants. Aroth and Kovu stood facing one another, eyes locked as they systematically divested their battle-worn armor and layered garments until they were bare-chested.
Dojka materialized at Adom's side then, her expression drawn into an icy mask as she gestured for him and his companions to move. "As the defier, you have to stay and watch."
Her tone brooked no argument, though Adom had no intention of protesting regardless. He knew Dojka had wanted to avoid this very situation, but whether he objected or not, the outcome would have been the same. This was bigger than any one factor or circumstance.
What could he possibly say or do to halt this madness before it was too late?
The thought played on an anguished loop in his mind as Dojka guided them to a vantage point at the edge of the makeshift arena. Seka joined them, the old mage's presence radiating a weary solemnity.
He seemed to sense the tumult of Adom's thoughts, fixing the immortal with a measured look. "Do not think too much of this, Adom."
It was the first time Seka had addressed him by name, Adom observed. The orc continued, his gravelly tone laced with resignation.
"Whether you were here or not, this would have happened. You were just a spark...but the rot had been festering for long."
Adom could only nod mutely, his gaze dragging back to the two orcs - former brothers, possibly soon-to-be executioners of one another. Aroth and Kovu stood opposing, their immense frames equally hulking slabs of corded muscle and pitted scars.
Sarukel's imposing figure strode into the center of the makeshift arena, the gathered orcs falling into a hush so profound that every scrape of his boots against the hard-packed earth seemed to reverberate.
When he spoke, the Orc Lord's voice carried clearly to every ear, his gravelly tones outlining the rules of Gor'ashar Kargul in blunt succession.
"No magic shall be used. The fight ends when one combatant surrenders or perishes. Or if an outsider interrupts in favour of one fighter." His steely gaze raked over the assembled spectators, daring any to protest. "No vengeance shall be taken against the victor - such action will be considered a crime and punished by death."
As the final edict fell into smoldering silence, the orcs began the ceremonial cadence. The males pounded their chests with bone-jarring strikes, swelling into a growling chorus. The females stomped the ground in counterpoint, feet impacting with precision as the air throbbed.
Adom could feel the vibrations resonating through his very bones as the ritual reached a thunderous crescendo. Then, in the midst of it all, Kovu turned his burning glare upon Aroth.
"Remember, you have chosen this path, Aroth." There was no venom in his words, only the bleak finality of one embracing his appointed role with grim acceptance. "I will take care of your family after you are gone."
Aroth met his former brother's stare, his expression unreadable save for the intensity blazing in his eyes. He offered no retort, no parting words of his own. Only that piercing look laden with indiscernible depths.
Adom's mind raced, taking in the combatants now circling one another with predatory slowness. Levels flickered at the edges of his perception - Kovu a towering 789 while Aroth stood resolute at 503.
The disparity lanced through Adom like a physical blow. By all objective measures, the odds were stacked horrifically against Aroth. This could easily become a public execution rather than a duel of equals.
A ragged exhalation escaped Adom's lips as the combatants moved steadily closer, muscles tightening in anticipation of the first strikes to be thrown.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
The rhythmic percussion of pounding chests and stamping feet reached a fever pitch, the air practically vibrating with raw energy. Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the ritual cadence cut off in a silence so profound it bordered on the visceral.
That was the only cue needed.
Kovu exploded into motion, a bestial bellow ripping from his throat as he closed the distance in the blink of an eye. Aroth met the charge head-on, his own wordless roar joining the din as their massive frames collided with bone-jarring force.
They grappled for a brief, brutal instant - pure brute strength slamming against immovable object as muscles bunched and tendons creaked under the titanic strain. Then Kovu wrenched an arm free, his meaty fist cracking across Aroth's jaw in a blow that snapped the latter's head violently to the side.
Blood sprayed the ground, but Aroth had no opportunity to recover. Kovu battered him with another thunderous haymaker, this one slamming into his midsection and doubling him over with a pained wheeze. He smoothly transitioned his motion, planting his shoulder into Aroth's sternum and driving them both to the ground in an avalanche of flesh and fury.
"You were a fool to challenge me," Kovu snarled as he rained bludgeoning strikes down onto Aroth's head and body. Each concussive blow landed with sickening impacts that made the spectators wince. "A misguided whelp blinded by pathetic notions!"
To his credit, Aroth weathered the onslaught without offering a sound beyond his ragged, labored breathing. He managed to get his hands up, forearms taking the brunt of Kovu's blistering assault as he sought an opening.
It came in the form of a fractional overextension, and Aroth seized it without hesitation. His legs whipped up, corkscrewing around Kovu's trunk and using the latter's own momentum to violently buck him off and create just enough space to surge back to his feet.
"Notions like mercy?" Aroth spat a gobbet at Kovu's feet, his words edged with scorn. "Like seeing our people endure rather than shatter beneath our own crushing arrogance?"
He didn't give Kovu a chance to respond, instead lowering his shoulder and charging like a brahmin bull. They clashed again in an explosion of force that made the very earth quake underfoot, pure physical dominance made manifest.
But as Adom watched, he slowly became aware of a subtle shift. Though Kovu's ferocious offense showed no signs of slowing, his energy reserves were depleting at a marginally faster rate than Aroth's.
It was barely perceptible at first, a hairline fracture in Kovu's overwhelming dominance. But as the exchange raged on with neither combatant willing to yield, that razor-thin disparity steadily widened into an unmistakable gap.
Aroth took his licks, sustained blows that would have felled any mortal ten times over, yet he refused to go down and stay there. Bit by brutal bit, he steadily clawed his way back into the fray through sheer, indomitable determination.
"You think...you can lecture me...about mercy?" Kovu punctuated his words with jabs that snapped Aroth's head from side to side. "Your ideologies brought... only death!"
"And yours...desires to perpetuate it!" Aroth wheezed out the retort, his words nearly lost amidst the sounds of flesh striking flesh. He was giving as good as he got now.
As the bloody maelstrom raged on, Adom's lips parted in a silent expression of awe and dismay. Aroth's level continued its inexorable climb even as Kovu's steadily drained, the arc of momentum bending in his favor.
It was clear Kovu could sense the shift as well. His bludgeoning offense turned desperate, fueled by rage and desperation as Aroth's stamina outlasted his despite their earlier disparity in power. Flesh rendered and bone cracked, but still they battled on with every ounce of their beings.
Zara shifted her weight almost imperceptibly, features betraying not a whisper of emotion as she watched the gruesome spectacle play out. Valiant's reaction was visceral, a visible shudder rolling through his frame whenever one of the combatants landed a particularly bone-shaking strike or howled out in agony.
For Adom's part, he simply could not tear his eyes away from the steadily evolving tide. Against all conceivable odds, Aroth was winning.
With a muffled grunt, Kovu staggered backwards from the latest blistering exchange - chest heaving and eyes wild as Aroth pressed his sudden advantage. A hideous welt was already blossoming across his face, lips split and gushing blood. Yet still he stood, summoning up what dregs of defiance remained.
"This...is not...over..." he wheezed, spitting a gobbet to the side. One eye had swollen shut, but the other blazed with smoldering fury as he gestured Aroth onwards. "Come then, traitor...let us end this..."
He battered Kovu with a blistering flurry - vicious overhand strikes raining down like a procession of sledgehammers. Kovu managed to get his guard up, absorbing the worst of the impacts against his bulging forearms.
But Aroth kept the pressure on with remorseless intensity. He feinted left, drawing Kovu's defenses aside for the barest fraction of a second before exploding forward. His shoulder drove deep into Kovu's midsection, the sheer force of the blow lifting him from his feet.
As Kovu doubled over, winded and vulnerable, Aroth pivoted with cold calculation. His elbow shot out in a brutal arc, the bony protrusion crashing against Kovu's jaw with a sickening crunch of impact.
Blood erupted outwards as one of Kovu's ivory tusks sheared off.
A shocked murmur rippled through the gathered crowd in the wake of that display. Dojka took an abortive step forward, clearly intending to intervene until Seka's hand clamped down on her shoulder.
"You cannot," he said, his inflection permitting no argument. Dojka met his fiery glare for a taut heartbeat before giving a reluctant nod and retreating back to the sidelines.
In the arena's heart, Aroth showed no signs of relenting despite the gasps of dismay. If anything, the decisive strike seemed to galvanize his resolve even further. As Kovu staggered, spitting out a thick blood, Aroth simply continued working him over.
A thunderous combination rocked Kovu's midsection, doubling him over again with a gurgling grunt. Another elbow snapped his head to the side, splitting his scalp in a fresh deluge of blood.
"Give...up..." Aroth growled between each measured blow, his face almost unrecognizable beneath the tatters of his own lifeblood.
Yet Kovu refused to yield, stubbornly remaining upright despite his body crying out in agony with every shallow inhalation. "Never..." he spat in defiance, swinging a fist that Aroth easily swayed away from.
The word only seemed to inflame Aroth's determination further. Another sustained volley of pile-driver strikes battered Kovu until he swayed, legs trembling as he struggled to remain upright.
"Give. Up!" Aroth snarled the words this time, redoubling his onslaught with renewed vigor. He punctuated the demand by whipping his entire torso around, putting the entire weight of his frame behind a wild, arcing haymaker.
Kovu's head snapped violently to the side, jaw shattering with an audible crack of splintered bone. Teeth scattered on the ground.
A breathless hush fell over the arena, the only sounds Kovu's gurgling wheezes as he writhed feebly.
"Give up!" Aroth screamed with scorching frustration.
Kovu struggled against the inexorable pull of oblivion, attempting in vain to push his broken body back upright. His feet skidded uselessly as his mass defied his rapidly waning control. A pitiful, gurgling keen escaped his ruined jaw - the only vocalization his shattered frame could muster.
It was a sight to inspire equal measures of pity and revulsion.
Just as Aroth seemed to steel himself to deliver the coup de grace, Dojka exploded onto the scene in desperate motion. She flung herself between the combatants, simultaneously shielding Kovu's prone body while intercepting Aroth's follow-through strikes with her own.
"Brother, no!" She pleaded.
Kovu let out a feeble growl of protest, feebly attempting to shove Dojka away despite his lack of leverage or strength. Aroth froze mid-strike, visibly restraining himself as he met his sister's gaze.
Then, Aroth lowered his fists, pivoting to face the looming presence of Sarukel observing from the crowd's periphery.
"A person has stepped in and defended my adversary against me," the bloodied orc announced. "By the laws of our people, I have won."
A deafening silence swallowed the arena as every eye turned towards the Orc Lord. Sarukel regarded the scene with an inscrutable mask, clearly weighing the gravity of this pivotal juncture against the laws governing their society.
Finally, Sarukel exhaled a weary sigh, shoulders slumping ever so slightly as he closed his eyes in acceptance.
"By the laws of the ancestors," he intoned, "I hereby declare Aroth, son of Tragg'ark, victor of this Gor'ashar Kargul."