The entrance to the orc village felt like a mouth swallowing them. When the gates finally closed behind them with an echoing crack, Seth felt as if he had crossed an invisible threshold—not just physical, but spiritual. The energy here was thick, as if the ground itself breathed.
Within the walls, the village of Kahragorn bustled with activity. Orcs of red, brown, black, and green skin—the hues didn't matter—walked with purpose; that was what mattered. They carried game, trained with crude weapons, or chanted shamanic chants around communal fires.
Green flames danced without consuming the wood, and totems with glowing eyes followed Seth's movements as if they were alive.
Even among brutal warriors, Seth drew attention. Conversations ceased as he passed, suspicious gazes following him.
'They're looking at you like you're a walking curse,' Bast muttered.
'I probably am, but I hope it's not your intention to kill.' Seth replied to his shadow.
Gor'Magh walked ahead with a proud posture, and no one dared to stop him. They climbed a curved slope between large structures of stone and wood until they reached a building partially carved from a huge fossilized tree, whose roots formed natural pillars.
Two sentries armed with spears made from the bones of some enormous animal femur guarded the entrance.
"I brought someone interesting; his entrance will probably be approved, but tell him that an 'Outsider' will defeat Khaziran," Gor'Magh announced with the authority of someone who doesn't take 'no' for an answer.
The guards looked at each other and nodded silently; one of them quickly went inside before turning back and nodding. "Come on."
Seth frowned. "Urog, huh? He's as nice as he looks?"
"Yes. If your definition of 'nice' involves brutality, eyes that see through lies, and a voice that can make mountains tremble."
"Ah. So it's like my old algebra teacher. I see."
Inside the structure, the air was thick with incense, dried blood, and smoke. Totemic masks covered the walls, and ancient symbols burned in embers beneath a floating bowl filled with thick black liquid.
Not sitting—sitting. Seth raised an eyebrow as he noticed the detail no one had bothered to mention: the leader of the Kahragorn was not a warchief, but a warchiefess. And one who made death itself look like it was begging to be let in.
Urog's skin was a deep green tinged with golden veins, as if his own power had been imprinted on his flesh. Her hair, braided into thick ropes, was studded with the teeth of creatures Seth preferred not to know the name of, and her eyes—a pure amber—pierced him like an invisible spear as soon as they opened.
She didn't need to raise her voice. Her presence spoke for her.
"So… an Outsider," Urog said, his voice low and rough, scratching the air like dry wood crackling in a fire. "And he claims… he killed Kharizan."
[You stand before Kerissa Urog, leader of the Kahragorn Clan—the Blood of Roots.]
The atmosphere in the room seemed to grow heavy. The floor vibrated slightly, as if Kharizan's name summoned ancient echoes, and even the totems attached to the walls seemed to turn their hollow eyes to observe better.
Seth took a step forward, without reverence, without much posture—just the sincere weariness of someone who had faced gods, monsters, and existential dilemmas… and who now just wanted to sleep.
"Ah… this is tiring me already."
The room froze for a second. Seth turned his head toward Gor'Magh, who was still kneeling beside him with his head bowed, his posture reverent.
"Why don't you orcs trust a single word?"
A murmur of tension ran through the guards present. Some fidgeted with their spears. One of the shamans let out a surprised grunt. And Gor'Magh swallowed hard.
In the shadows behind Seth, Bast twitched slightly, her whisper like a poison-laden breeze:
'They are stupid beings, Seth. What they cannot see is not real to them'.
Seth sighed deeply. He knew he was probably crossing lines of respect. But the truth was, he didn't care. Not anymore. He was exhausted. Dirty. Bruised. And his sense of ceremony had been lost the second he'd fallen from one world to another.
[Inventory]
The system symbol flashed in his mind, almost automatically. With a subtle gesture, he activated the ability and dove into the space between spaces. The air around him shimmered with a faint, almost ethereal light before the sound of metal clashing against emptiness echoed.
With a sharp movement, Seth summoned the waraxes of Kharizan—and threw them.
Two black thunderclaps split the hall.
The weapons, enormous, forged for hands much larger than his, whirled through the air with a menacing hiss—their rune-encrusted blades still stained with dried blood from the last battle.
Many screamed. A guard raised his spear. A shaman tried to summon a spirit shield.
But Urog did not move.
She merely held out her hands.
With a single dull impact, the two axes landed in them.
As if they had been made for her.
For a moment, silence engulfed everything.
Urog studied the weapons with his eyes. He ran his finger over the runes as if reading a sacred story. The entire hall held its breath. And then... she smiled. A small smile, almost imperceptible, but it sent a chill down the spines of the younger men there.
"These axes… enchanted by death and honor." Urog's voice still carried that hoarse, ancient timbre, as if each word was drawn from roots buried in centuries of war.
She studied the weapons with eyes that seemed to span time—not only recognizing the power of the blades but also sensing the stories etched into each runestone.
Then she looked up at Seth.
Curiosity. Wariness. And something deeper… respect.
"You speak arrogantly, Outsider… but you speak truth." Without warning, Urog rolled his shoulders and threw the axes back.
The air crackled with the force of the throw. The blades streaked across the distance like twin bolts of lightning, so fast and heavy that some of the guards instinctively recoiled. The weapons carried not just the weight of the metal but Urog's strength—brutal, deliberate, ancient.
A test. Clearly a test.
Seth didn't move.
He just raised his arms.
With a sharp impact, he caught both axes in one hand each—his fingers closing around the runic handles naturally, as if the axes recognized him.
The ground beneath his feet groaned with the force of the reception, but he stood firm. A trickle of sweat trickled down his temple, more from restrained effort than any fear.
"Kharizan would not fall for words," Urog said, watching him with a neutral expression, but his eyes… His eyes burned with a restrained flame. "Only for strength. And strength… you have."
She had thrown the axes as if she were issuing a sentence—heavy, violent, undeniable. Seth had received them as one accepting a fate—without flinching, without hesitation.
That spoke louder than any speech.
"I liked you."
Urog's smile widened slowly, like the unfurling of distant thunder. For a moment, that hard face took on something almost affable... almost.
But then, as if the air had been torn apart by an invisible blade, a dense wave of killing intent escaped his body.
The hall fell into brutal silence. The green flames in the bowls flickered as if afraid of burning.
The guards on the sides stiffened their fists. Some took steps back. Bast, in her shadow form, growled softly.
But Seth... felt nothing.
[Nullifying Killing Intent]
The system intervened, absorbing and diluting the effect with surgical precision. Like an invisible wall protecting Seth's mind.
Urog arched an eyebrow. Her surprise was genuine. And the smile... grew even wider.
"What a pain," Seth muttered, rolling his eyes. "Isn't there another way you two communicate other than 'killing intent'?"
He let out a long breath and then... raised his aura.
Not slowly. Not ceremoniously.
But like a bolt of lightning splitting the sky.
Pressure crashed down on the room. The ground groaned beneath their feet. Totems on the wall crackled as they tried to pull away.
Nearby guards fell unconscious, foaming slightly at the mouth. Others stumbled away, eyes wide with sheer terror.
Gor'Magh, tough as he was, fell to his knees, sweating as if he had endured an entire night of battle.
"Impossible…" he whispered, his eyes wide with shock. "He's stronger… or has he always been?"
But Seth was uninterested in the chaos around him. His eyes were fixed on Urog.
"If you want to fight," he said in a low, steady voice, "you only have to say you want to fight."
For an instant, Urog's eyes shone with pure pleasure.
She rose from her throne with a dull clap of thunder.
The throne's horns creaked behind her, as if reluctant to let her go.
"Then let us fight." She smiled. But this time, it was a predatory smile. "Show me what you're made of, Outsider."