The first few days of their journey were quiet, a silence that stretched between Amukelo, and the orc as they made their way westward. They moved with a speed that Amukelo was unaccustomed to. The beast was swift and strong, its long strides covering great distances in a fraction of the time it would have taken Amukelo on foot. Each day, they traveled from sunrise until sunset, stopping only briefly for meals and rest, making remarkable progress across the landscape.
Amukelo was used to the solitude of the road, to long stretches of travel where his only companion was the sound of his own footsteps. But now, with the orc, the silence felt different. Neither of them spoke much. The orc kept his eyes on the horizon, and Amukelo, though grateful for the pace they were setting, still harbored distrust for him. After all, just days ago, the beast had been terrorizing the farmer's land, and Amukelo had only spared them out of practicality.
The silence was only broken when necessary—when they needed to discuss the route, set up camp, or decide on their next stop. For the first few days, this arrangement worked well enough. Amukelo's focus remained on the journey ahead, and with each passing day, he felt his strength returning. His arm, though still stiff at times, had healed significantly since his battle with the Landwyrm. By the end of the week, he could feel that it was nearly as good as it had been before.
One particular morning, as they packed their gear ro continue their journey, the orc finally broke the silence. His deep voice broke through the quiet, a little hesitant at first.
"We haven't introduced ourselves," He said, his tone more relaxed than it had been in the cave. "My name is Naguk."
Amukelo glanced at him, his expression unreadable. He wasn't sure why the orc was trying to make conversation now, but he felt no need to be hostile. The orc had kept his end of the deal so far, and they had been making great progress. Still, it was difficult for Amukelo to forget what Naguk's pet had been doing before they made their arrangement.
After a pause, Amukelo answered simply, "Amukelo."
Naguk, seemingly encouraged by the response, extended his large hand toward Amukelo with a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you, Amukelo," he said, his tone genuine and warm.
Amukelo hesitated. There was still a part of him that saw Naguk as a monster. But another part of him felt the weight of isolation. With a brief moment of thought, Amukelo reached out and shook the orc's hand.
The handshake was firm, but quick. As soon as it was done, Amukelo turned his attention back to their preparations. But Naguk, seemingly emboldened by the exchange, continued to speak. They mounted the beast and began to ride, but this time, the silence did not last long.
Naguk, riding slightly ahead, spoke again. "Ahh, man, you saved our lives. Thank you." His voice carried a note of gratitude that Amukelo hadn't expected.
Amukelo was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. He didn't feel like a savior, nor did he want Naguk's thanks. His decision to spare the orc had been purely pragmatic—nothing more, nothing less. After a moment, he replied, his voice cool and distant, "I didn't do it for you. I did it to get to Gathe. If not for that, I would've killed you back in the cave."
His words cut through the air like a blade, sharp and matter-of-fact. Naguk, who had been riding with a smile on his face, fell silent. He made a long sigh, his expression darkening slightly, but he didn't argue. He seemed to understand that Amukelo wasn't interested in building any kind of friendship or camaraderie.
The silence that followed was heavier, but Naguk, for whatever reason, didn't seem willing to let it settle. After a few moments, he spoke again, his voice softer this time, more thoughtful. "So… why do you want to get so far? From the map you showed me, it looks like you're crossing most of the human nation. Gathe's no small journey."
Amukelo glanced at him from the corner of his eye. He wasn't sure if he wanted to answer the question, but something about the simplicity of Naguk's curiosity made it seem less intrusive than it might have been. It wasn't as though the orc was asking out of malice or manipulation—he was just trying to make conversation.
After a brief pause, Amukelo responded, his voice even but guarded. "I have a few things to do there."
His words were simple, offering no more information than necessary. But even that small answer seemed to satisfy Naguk, who nodded and fell into a brief silence once more.
The days stretched on as they continued their journey westward. The scenery shifted gradually from rolling hills to denser forests, and sometimes open plains stretched wide beneath a canopy of endless sky. The rhythm of the road, the steady pace of the beast, and the hours spent in near silence became a new normal for Amukelo. But while he preferred the quiet, Naguk was, to his surprise, quite talkative.
Naguk seemed eager to fill the silence, showering Amukelo with questions about everything from the human nation, to their route, and even Amukelo's personal life. Despite the orc's constant curiosity, Amukelo rarely gave more than short, clipped answers, choosing to keep most of his thoughts to himself. He had no real hostility left toward Naguk. In fact, after another week of traveling together, the initial tension between them had faded. Naguk had proven to be honorable, and he hadn't tried to deceive Amukelo or stray from their agreed path. But Amukelo's reluctance to engage in deeper conversation wasn't due to lingering distrust—it was something much deeper, something that had settled inside him after losing his friends.
Amukelo's life had been shattered when he lost Bral, Pao, Bao, and Idin. Even thinking about them made his chest tighten with grief and anger. It was as if a part of him had died with them in that cave, buried under the rubble of the trap Neclord had set. Now, the idea of socializing, of forming new bonds, seemed not only unimportant but dangerous. He had no desire to connect with anyone else—not after the pain he had endured. He had been close once, trusted his friends, and led him to unimaginable pain. The thought of opening himself up to that kind of vulnerability again was too much to bear.
So, when Naguk asked about his life or his past, Amukelo deflected. He didn't want to discuss what had happened. The memories of that day, of Pao's final words, still haunted his dreams, robbing him of restful sleep. His nights were filled with visions of the past—his friends laughing, training together, their voices echoing in his mind only to be replaced by the nightmarish image of their bodies, cold and lifeless. It was a cycle of grief and guilt that kept him awake, his mind spinning in circles.
And so, whenever Naguk wasn't awake, Amukelo would train. The nights were his alone, and instead of resting, he pushed his body to its limits. He practiced with his sword, repeating the same forms over and over, honing his skills as if by sharpening his blade, he could dull the pain. The rhythmic movements brought him a sense of control, a temporary escape from the storm that raged in his mind. It was a way to drown out the memories, the regrets, and the overwhelming anger that still fueled his every step.
One night, as Amukelo was running through his forms, the sound of his blade slicing through the air the only noise breaking the stillness, Naguk awoke. The orc had noticed Amukelo's nightly routine before, but this time he decided to ask.
"Why do you train so much?" Naguk's deep voice rumbled, cutting through the quiet.
Amukelo paused, catching his breath as he lowered his sword slightly. He glanced at Naguk, who was sitting up, watching him with mild curiosity. "I can't sleep very well," Amukelo said simply, his voice even but weary.
Naguk furrowed his brow. "But why train then? Wouldn't that just make you more tired?" There was genuine confusion in his voice, as if he couldn't understand why someone would exhaust themselves further instead of resting.
Amukelo turned his gaze away, looking out into the darkness beyond their campfire. His mind was already turning toward the answer, but he didn't want to say it out loud. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice quieter this time. "It's fine. I have to get stronger to..!"
He trailed off, realizing too late that he had let something slip. He clenched his jaw, stopping himself before he said too much. There was no need to explain further, and he wasn't about to open up that part of himself to anyone.
Naguk, sensing the weight of Amukelo's unfinished sentence, fell silent. He could see the hatred and pain in Amukelo's eyes, a look that spoke of deep scars and an unrelenting desire for vengeance. It was clear that whatever drove Amukelo to train was something far more personal than just a quest for strength. Naguk, to his credit, didn't push the topic any further. He simply nodded and let the conversation fade.
As the days went by, Amukelo found himself growing used to Naguk's presence. The orc, despite his brutish exterior, had a certain charm about him. He was surprisingly cheerful, often making jokes or sharing stories about his past, though Amukelo only half-listened most of the time. Still, there was something comforting about the orc's voice filling the quiet, even if Amukelo didn't always respond. Slowly, he began to appreciate the company, though he didn't show it.
Naguk, for his part, seemed to sense that Amukelo didn't mind his talking, even if the responses were short. Over time, the orc relaxed, finding that the journey was not as exhausting as he had feared. His wounds had healed well, thanks to the healing potions, and the ride itself was steady enough to allow him to recover fully. It wasn't long before Naguk's natural confidence returned, and with it, his desire to engage with Amukelo more directly.
One evening, as they stopped to make camp, Naguk watched Amukelo begin his nightly training routine. The orc had been observing him for days now, intrigued by the dedication and precision with which Amukelo practiced his swordsmanship. After a while, Naguk couldn't help but speak up.
"You know," Naguk said, his voice casual, "you're strong, and I can see that. But maybe a small sparring session would help you improve even more."
Amukelo stopped mid-swing, lowering his sword and turning to face Naguk. His expression was neutral, though there was a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Sparring?" he asked, his voice measured. He hadn't considered sparring with Naguk. Despite the orc's imposing size, he had never thought of him as an opponent. "But we have no equipment."
Naguk grinned, pointing to his own sword, which was resting beside him. "We could use this," he said, his voice full of enthusiasm. "It's not the best for sparring, but it'll do. Besides," he added, his tone more serious, "it's clear you need a challenge."
Amukelo's eyes flicked from Naguk to his sword, then to the orc's missing arm. He wasn't sure if this was a good idea. "Are you sure?" Amukelo asked, his voice slightly skeptical. "You've only got one arm."
Naguk's grin widened. "If anything happens, we can always stop."
Amukelo stood there for a moment, weighing the offer. He wasn't entirely sure what to expect, but a sparring session with Naguk might give him the challenge he needed to push himself further. After a brief pause, he nodded. "Alright."
Naguk's eyes lit up, and he drew his sword with a practiced motion, the blade glinting in the fading light. He took a ready stance, his one arm holding the sword with surprising steadiness.
Amukelo nodded, raising his own sword and stepping into position. The tension in the air shifted, the atmosphere charged with the anticipation of the spar.