Within an unknown part of Fjord, a towering dark castle stood proudly upon a mountaintop. It was hidden under a veil of fog, courtesy to the snow storm battering it's walls and crooked spires.
Directly in front of the structure, there lay numerous metal spikes fashioned with the skulls of various races, ominously guarding the gates. Any who dared to tread towards the castle would first have to walk under the scrutiny of those who were eternally watching and then go through the gaping maw that is the huge and unwelcoming iron doors. It was certainly a very frightening piece of architecture that oozed a primal fear, as if it was a sleeping dragon awaiting for the opportune time to wreak havoc upon the world.
Behind these castle gates, within the middle of the castle, one would come across a grand hall that could easily hold thousands of people. It was a surprisingly large held by six gigantic pillars acting as a foundation and an abnormally long table placed right in the middle. However, despite the many chairs that dotted around it, no life could actually be seen or sensed... But one.
Within the end of the hall, a single sign of life could be seen. It was a large grey figure that sat on an impressive black throne with numerous 'tendrils' piercing through several skulls. The figure in question towered the giant throne with ease and seemed unaffected by the hidden yet powerful pressure emitting from the seat. However, a more perceptive eye could detect the pressure not from the throne, but the skulls adorned on its spikes. Curiously, if one were to carefully look at each skull, they would find that they gave off a certain 'image' that described what sort of power they had in life. Akin to power that could eclipse tsunamis or strength that could shatter mountains.
It was clear that the skulls were no simple figures when they were alive.
Although the pressure released by those skulls were strong, the figure on the throne exuded a more destructive and tyrannical aura that would make the weak willed bend their knees in fear. It was a crazed dark red color that highlighted his body and inner savagery, completely reigning in the pressure and 'images' released by the skulls. It was clear that his abilities completely overpowered them by a long shot. However, if one were to focus on the figure's terrifying face, they would find the red energy flowing from his eyes was trembling whilst his face contorted in pain.
Though this figure was unrecognizable to most in the continent, many important personas would be able to at a glance.
He was Ghorbash Ironskin, Chieftain of the Frost Orcs.
Ghorbash felt like he was in a deranged world for what seemed like years, battling an endless war non-stop. There were numerous multicolored strands of energies, red, blue, green, yellow and more swarming him in waves, lashing out on his body and leaving burn-like marks in their wake. Each one acted like starving dogs hungering for blood, mercilessly trying to devour the mighty orc as if he was the most delectable meal there is. Yet, he does not back down, punching and kicking his way through the horde like a God of War, using only his body to tank the onslaught of attacks that literally came from every direction.
His show of power shook the world with every shockwave he let out, shattering thousands upon thousands of strands without breaking a sweat. Unfortunately, despite the shocking prowess he had displayed, everything he had done proved to be ineffective as the strands that were destroyed were instantly replaced by others eager to tear him apart. He does not fulfill their wishes, however, as continued to let out a flurry of devastating attacks whilst his aura turned darker in color. He utilized every single part of his body like a weapon, head-butting, biting, kicking, punching, and more. Showing not a trace of finesse within his techniques like a savage relishing in danger.
This continued for a long time and at this point his body was on the verge of destruction. Most of his limbs were cut off, leaving him with only his right arm to powerfully steamroll his way through. His body was filled with burn-marks and scars, leaving him in the most pitiable state he had ever been in since the beginning of his cultivation career. Not once since the start of the battle did he defend himself from an attack, not once did he raise his arms to block an attack. Only sporting a suicidal battle style that completely portrayed his character. As if he was mocking the power of his enemies and laughed at the face of death.
His whole character oozed the words, 'Either you die or I die!'.
But it was clear that he was on the verge of death. His last arm finally sliced off by a particularly fast green strand of energy and quickly taken away somewhere, it's fate unknown. Suddenly, within a one swift motion, he had nothing to fight back. He was literally a sitting duck in a world of predators. Seeing the opportunity, the strands of energies quickly jumped onto the powerless orc like excited hyenas, eager to obliterate Ghorbash without a trace. Yet, the man in question had his back straight this entire time, smiling with an earthshattering confidence as if he wasn't in danger to begin with. Inevitably, the multicolored strands covered his figure, completely hiding him under a ball of rainbow that is only getting larger by the second. It was clear that he had no way out of this and thus his fate was seemingly sealed. He had lived and died like a true warrior.
BOOM
Suddenly, a titanic fist shot out from the middle of the ball and stood proudly on the sky of the deranged world, each finger were like mountains and each line on the skin were like canyons. However, the many tattoos dotted on arm brought the most attention as each one looked like murals depicting a civilization, telling an obscured story of a race rising and conquering all adversity. There were many stories within this 'mural', yet all of them had something in common with one individual standing in front, leading without fear nor worry.
BOOM
With the second fist piercing a different part of the sphere, the strands that originally held the structure together finally collapsed and revealed what was hidden underneath. Ghorbash, with his entire body intact, was clenching his fists with a battle-crazed expression, his dark red aura flaring and filling the world, his fingers beckoning them towards him; it was clear that he was ready for round two. Provoked by his brazens actions, the strands of energies once again swarm towards him in anger, but this time, there could be small doses of hesitation mixed within.
Seeing the swarm, the fearless orc does not disappoint as he separates his legs and positions his body into a battle stance, ready to end it once and for all. He pulled his fist back as his muscles bulge in an exaggerating degree, unimpeded by the sight of strand climbing over strand to get near him. No matter how close they got, his aura remained neutral as he stood in the same position. However, the moment a familiar green strand entered the 'zone', the red energy flowing from his eyes flared up like flames as his aura bore down heavily onto the world. He released his fist onto the strand of energy like a rocket, instantly evaporating it like water thrown into the sun.
From this scene, a chain reaction was triggered as each strand of energy experienced an invisible cataclysmic event, dissipating instantaneously as if they were never there to begin with. Any energy that was visible by sight perished without a sound, an army of terrifying energies shockingly disappeared without a trace. The figure who heralded the calamity smiled and felt that he had finished his work for today. With a single thought, he removed himself from the 'world' and opened his eyes to lay his gaze on the empty throne room once again. Relaxing comfortably on the throne with thoughts unknown.
However, before he could properly rest, an unfamiliar and strange trace of energy suddenly flashed through his [Mark]. He grumbled in frustration as he quickly sensed his body. The energy in question was quick, seamless and near undetectable, but it still couldn't escape his sharp intuition. For some reason, it felt completely different to the normal energies he used to sense before. It felt bright and warm, like a fire in the middle of a blizzard. This made Ghorbash's anger ease a bit as his curiosity started to get the better of him.
Immediately, he focused his consciousness back onto his technique, [Primal World], and started to investigate the millions of multicolored strands inside him once again. Irritated on how quickly these things form after being destroyed.
These strands of energies were pure emotions directed to his very person by powerful souls that had usually obtained an impressive level of strength. Only he could detect these minute-traces as a [Golden Savage Marauder] as it was his class's specialty.
It was a useful technique that would allow him to understand his enemies intentions and make counter measures that they wouldn't really expect. It was near prophetic and god-like skill that he relied on to make a name for himself till this day.
However, the problem with this ability was that it was incredibly hard to read and control. As he became more famous, more and more people tend to have some sort of impression or thought about him. Therefore jumbling up these energies in a large sea of collective emotions, such as, anger, hatred, disgust, fear, killing intent and more. Even though he could only feel the emotions of powerful cultivators, he knew there were an uncountable number of them strewn across their world. And he knew he garnered hatred from a lot of them.
After all, he committed an uncountable yet necessary number of atrocities for the better of his people. Thus, he absolutely detested to keep it on for long periods of time for fear of his own sanity. Therefore, he would only activate this technique when it was absolutely needed, otherwise he would just keep it off.
However, in light of the recent major race meeting half a year ago, he decided to make it a habit to activate this technique at a daily basis in order to get use to the strain it has over his mind. He believed that this seldom-used technique would play a key role in facing the future threat that will throw their continent in chaos. He believed that he had to prepare and utilize everything so that his people may live on without fear for their safety. This was his responsibility as a father and Chieftain of the Frost Orcs.
Today, was no exception.
The strand of emotion that had invaded his [Mark] was... incredibly disappointing. It was small and pure white, akin to a snowflake, and its power was basically nonexistent. It felt and looked weak, making Ghorbash assume that it would be devoured and destroyed instantaneously. However, the scene he expected to see shockingly did not occur.
Usually, when affected by the nature of his [Mark], these energies would fight between themselves like savages in order to establish dominance. Yet this particular emotional energy flickered amidst the ocean of negativity calmly as if it was taking a leisure stroll within a den of tigers. It was completely out of place, somehow avoiding the corruption of his [Mark] and appear utterly invisible to other strands of emotion.
He could not correspond this color to any emotion or energy that he had known to date and he simply could not believe that such a powerless energy had managed to enter his [Mark] seamlessly without warning.
He even began to suspect that his technique was broken...
However, before he could study the pure white energy further, the imposing doors of his grand hall were powerfully swung open by a grey figure, stomping his way through without even considering whether or not the current occupant was busy.
Every piece of his black rough hair were braided together into multiple strands, tied up with a sinew of an unknown beast. His face bore a resemblance to Ghorbash, terrifying and intimidating, but much younger looking. Yet, it did not stop there, his incredible muscles that would put most veteran warriors to shame pulsed incessantly whilst his intimidating aura remained uncontrolled even after the pressure of the furious chieftain bore down on him. Clearly, this insolent orc did not fear Ghorbash whatsoever, even feigning ignorance to the whole ordeal as if he wasn't the perpetrator who had made the chieftain irritated in the first place.
The loud thumps of the Orc's footsteps halted right before the throne as he stood there with pride and arrogance, watching the chieftain's face turn into a plethora of colors in fury.
"Gorban!!" Ghorbash raged. "You arrogant little piece of shit! What did I tell you about respecting my authority within these halls?! When did I give you permission to enter?!"
Ghorbash was absolutely livid. He utterly detested getting interrupted, especially when he found something interesting. It completely spoils his mood and destroys his train of thought, replacing it with murderous intentions instead. That's why the halls of these castles were completely empty!
Any who had breached this threshold of his had already been beheaded and placed on pikes outside the gates of the castle, warning all the dangers in crossing him. He stood up and looked at the orc with eyes that were seemingly on fire, hand reaching for the humongous axe sitting behind the throne.
However, despite the chieftain's terrifying aura, the young orc could see his puppet-like and extremely slow movements as clear as day. It was as if he wanted to put on a show for him. Gorban immediately knew that he was bluffing.
Ghorbash just wanted to scare the young orc, or at least try to get a reaction off of him. He wanted to teach him a lesson about his unbridled arrogance as it would surely be his downfall one day. He felt like he needed to teach him about this someday, after all, it was his only son and heir to the Frost Orc tribe, Gorban Ironskin.
"I have finally [Advanced] and obtained my class, father." Ignoring his father's obvious and idiotic display, Gorban's deep yet arrogant voice echoed throughout the empty hall, stunning the chieftain back onto his seat.
The atmosphere that used to be dark and ominous completely vanished from the surroundings, replacing it with an awkward air that would leave many feel suffocated. For a moment, Ghorbash had a blank look, staring at his son with eyes that desired the truth. Suddenly, after sensing his [Mark], the chieftain's gapped mouth widened into a joyful grin, roaring with a deafening laughter in the process. It was so loud that it caused the whole castle to shake and made Gorban hold his ears with familiarity.
"HAHAHAHAHA! My son broke through! He finally broke through!" Suddenly, a resounding laughter shook the hall they stood in, making the young Orc cover his pointed ears. "Our future is already guaranteed! HAHAHA! The competition is surely in the bag! Tell me son, what class have you chosen?"
He prayed whilst watching his son in anticipation. The Frost Orcs future were always dependent on the heirs of the tribe since they needed to wield an absolute power once they mature. This is to keep all those battle hungry warriors in check and prevent their race from destroying themselves inside out. If the power of his class wasn't unique or powerful, then numerous complications would occur that may spell doom for their race, especially with the threat that was going to wreak havoc on continent someday. Of course, he absolutely believed in his son, yet a hint of worry was still present in his heart.
Gorban read his father like a book, getting somewhat offended in the process. He grumpily crossed his arms and said, "Hmph! As if the future ruler of the Dark Bastion and Chieftain of the Frost Orcs would be powerless in front those idiots."
"I broke through without a problem and achieved a class spoken in legends! What else would I be if not [Frost Avenger]?!"
Hearing those words, Ghorbash sprung up from his throne once again in elation. His thoughts filled with pride and happiness. A [Frost Avenger's] capability was extremely powerful and impressive. It was a class only exclusive to the Frost Orcs and could only be read about, not seen. There was only one instance of this class appearing and that was when the first Chieftain and honored ancestor of the Frost Orcs, Toria Ironskin, lead them into this continent a long time ago. Ever since then, every Orc who had taken the mantle of the Chieftain, be it female or male, would be titled 'Ironskin'. This of course included their heirs.
In records, it was told that every single ability was capable of freezing the land in a layer of ever frost and tearing the sky with a swing of an icy sword. Every step they take a frozen wasteland is left in their wake, causing all who had seen to tell tales of an endless blizzard and a true frozen hell. A [Frost Avenger] would have an arsenal of weapons that the user would be able to efficiently wield even if they have never touched a weapon before. Additionally, the aura of the user and said weapons would have an ice elemental property to slow down and hinder opponents with relative ease, giving the user innumerable opportunities to take advantage of in a usually fast-paced battle.
"Good, good, good! I am very proud of your accomplishment. However, you just broke through, so you need to practice your skills properly before the competition in a months time..." Somewhat calming down, Ghorbash was in a great mood today. Completely forgetting about the white energy he examined beforehand.
He did found it somewhat coincidental that a class that hadn't been seen for many years suddenly appeared once again. All of a sudden, his mood worsened as he thought back to the meeting, staring at his son with a solemn look which made the young orc question whether or not his father had mental issues since he has been having too many mood swings recently.
Ghorbash quickly voiced out his thoughts, not realizing that his own son cursed him, "Remember, you have to prepare yourself thoroughly! There are many talents in this world and some are just as monstrous as you are."
"Soon, a time of war will occur that will throw our race into chaos. The ambitious will take advantage of this to overthrow you and lead. It is your role is to prevent this."
"I have no qualms that our race will pull through this 'calamity', but it does not hurt to prepare. Go back to your chambers and continue cultivating, I want you to be able to master your technique on those weapons and fully understand the energy they give off before the Younger Races Joint Competition."
Ghorbash wanted the young orc to understand how important it is to be diligent. Unfortunately, his words fell on deaf ears.
"Heh, I will get to training soon enough... AFTER I celebrate my accomplishment in a grand feast!" Gorban said triumphantly.
Hearing his son's careless remark, Ghorbash's face lost color, "You...!"
"Don't worry too much over those curs father, I will easily destroy every single one of them in a fight. Hell, I won't break a sweat." Before he could even speak Gorban resolutely cut him off.
'You... YOU..!" Ghorbash couldn't find the words to say in his rage.
Gorban turned around and leisurely walked out of the throne room in great strides, ignoring his stuttering father that was turning redder by the second, leaving a few words of 'comfort', "Just watch me."
Ghorbash trembled in anger while staring at his insufferable son. Would it kill him to show some basic respect?! For a moment he stood there grumbling then sighed in the next. He slowly sat back down on his throne, gazing sadly at the distant halls of the castle where his son disappeared into.
"Maria, what can I possibly do about our son...?" He lamented.