The bang echoed through the cavern, a sharp contrast to the raw sounds of battle that had filled the space moments before.
Volk, muscles tensed and breath heavy, stared down at Lhum'Baggar, his club still raised, ready to deliver the final blow. But something had stopped him.
He felt the resistance of another weapon meeting him, the force jolting up his arm and halting his movement.
Volk's eyes darted upward, and there, standing between him and Lhum'Baggar, was another orc, one of the surrounding warriors who had been watching their brutal contest.
The new orc was tall, his frame broad and powerful, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of respect and authority.
"Enough," the orc said, his voice commanding yet calm. "You've won, Volk, the great Mag'Durotan."
Volk's heart pounded in his chest, his gaze flickering between Lhum'Baggar and the new orc.
The tension in the air was thick, charged with the lingering energy of the fight.
The orc who had intervened lowered his weapon, stepping back slightly as he continued speaking.
"If you kill him now, Lhum'Baggar will be forced into his Grum-gar form," the orc explained, his tone serious.
"And if that happens, our combat force will be diminished. There are still monsters and other orc tribes inside these catacombs, and we need every capable warrior we have. It would be bad for all of us."
Volk hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing on his shoulder.
He looked down at Lhum'Baggar, who was still pinned beneath him, breathing heavily, but the defiance in his eyes had dulled, replaced by something closer to acceptance.
Slowly, Volk let his grip on the club loosen, allowing his body to slump as he stepped back.
His legs gave out beneath him, and he fell to the ground with a thud, his body finally yielding to the exhaustion that had been clawing at him throughout the fight.
A moment of silence passed before the surrounding orcs erupted into cheers, their voices echoing off the stone walls.
"VOLK MOG'GER!" they roared in unison, "VOLK MOG'GER! VOLK MOG'GER!"
The sound washed over Volk, a strange mix of exhilaration and relief settling in his chest.
He had done it—he had won. And not just any victory, but a hard-fought, honorable one.
The chants continued, growing louder, their rhythm matching the pounding of Volk's heart.
He couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as the orcs celebrated his victory.
It was an unfamiliar sensation, but one he found himself strangely enjoying.
As the cheers began to die down, the orcs gathered around Volk and Lhum'Baggar, their voices a mixture of admiration and curiosity.
One of them, a grizzled orc with a scar running down the side of his face, stepped forward, reaching into a pouch at his waist.
He pulled out a small, rough bundle and tossed it toward Volk, who caught it reflexively.
The bundle was made of animal skin, and Volk could feel a liquid sloshing inside as he shook it near his ear.
"What's this?" Volk asked, his voice hoarse from the exertion of the fight.
The scarred orc grinned, a toothy smile that revealed sharp, yellowed teeth. "That," he said, nodding toward the bundle in Volk's hand, "is a dreg. It's the leftover from high-level magic crystals. The elders don't have much use for it anymore, but it's still potent enough to heal minor wounds if you drink it."
Volk looked at the bundle in his hand, then back at the scarred orc, skepticism evident in his eyes. "You sure this isn't just some kind of poison?"
The orc laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. "If we wanted you dead, Volk Mog'ger, you'd already be rotting on the ground. Go ahead, drink it. It'll help."
With a shrug, Volk unwrapped the bundle, revealing a small, crude flask made from hollowed bone. He uncorked it and, after a brief sniff, tilted it back, letting the liquid flow down his throat.
The taste was bitter, almost metallic, but as soon as it hit his stomach, he felt a warm buzz spread through his body.
The wounds and bruises that had been screaming for attention moments before seemed to dull, the pain ebbing away as the magic took effect.
Gulping the last of the liquid, Volk wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked down at his body.
Slowly but surely, the cuts and bruises began to heal, the flesh knitting itself back together as the magic worked its way through him.
"Not bad," Volk muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Just as the warmth from the dreg began to settle into a comforting hum, Lhum'Baggar approached him, his steps heavy but resolute.
The tension between them had shifted, the animosity that had driven their fight now replaced with something more respectful.
Lhum'Baggar stopped in front of Volk, his eyes steady as he regarded the orc who had bested him.
"I lost fair and square," he admitted, his voice devoid of bitterness. "You're the real Kaz'rogal, Volk. I can see that now."
Volk met his gaze, surprised by the sudden change in demeanor. The Lhum'Baggar who stood before him now was different from the arrogant warrior he had fought moments ago.
There was a sense of humility in his words, a recognition of Volk's strength and skill.
Then, as if remembering something, Lhum'Baggar tilted his head slightly, his expression curious. "Do you know what my ax is called?"
Volk frowned, not sure where this was leading. "Your ax?"
Lhum'Baggar nodded, gesturing to the weapon that had fallen to the ground during their fight.
"It's called the Ax of Dissection. It has a unique ability—anyone who's struck by it will lose twice the amount of blood as normal. I was wondering how you managed to use that against me when you splattered your blood in my eyes."
Volk's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't known that about the ax. His plan had been simple—use a small amount of blood to blind Lhum'Baggar, creating an opening for an attack.
However, now that he thought about it, there had been more blood than he'd expected, a veritable spray that had caught Lhum'Baggar off guard.
"I didn't know," Volk admitted, shaking his head. "I just wanted to blind you. I didn't realize your ax would make that much blood."
Lhum'Baggar chuckled, the sound surprisingly good-natured. "Well, it worked better than you could've planned. And for that, you deserve this."
He reached down and picked up the Ax of Dissection, holding it out to Volk with both hands. "As a sign of your victory, and as a sign that you're the new leader of this expedition, I want you to have it."
Volk stared at the ax, stunned by the offer. The weapon was finely crafted, its blade gleaming even in the dim light of the cavern.
Taking it from Lhum'Baggar, Volk felt the weight of it in his hands, the power that seemed to hum from within the metal.
Just then, a familiar sound chimed in Volk's mind:
| Ding!
| You have completed the mission.
| Reward: Basic Mastery of Ax Handling. |
As the knowledge flowed into his mind, Volk felt a surge of confidence. He began to play with the ax, twirling it much like Lhum'Baggar had done earlier.
The surrounding orcs watched in astonishment as Volk handled the weapon with newfound ease, the Basic Mastery enhancing his understanding and control of the ax.
The murmurs of the crowd grew louder, their awe evident as Volk effortlessly spun the ax, the blade cutting through the air with deadly precision.
Lhum'Baggar watched with a wide grin, clearly impressed.
Finally, Lhum'Baggar raised Volk's hand into the air, his voice booming across the cavern. "To our new leader!"
The cheers erupted once more, filling the cavern with the sound of victory.
"VOLK MOG'GER! VOLK MOG'GER!"
"VOLK MOG'GER! VOLK MOG'GER!"
"VOLK MOG'GER! VOLK MOG'GER!"
The chant echoed off the stone walls, a testament to Volk's triumph and the respect he had earned among his peers.
As the cheers continued, Volk stood tall, the Ax of Dissection in his hand and the weight of leadership settling on his shoulders. He had come a long way from the labor orc he once was.
Now, he was more than that.
He was a leader, a warrior, and most of all, a survivor.