The journey back to the village was eerily quiet. Though victorious, there was no celebration, no cheers of triumph. Every orc warrior, hardened by countless battles, knew the truth—the real fight had yet to come.
Jajwok walked at the front, keeping pace with Urgak, who carried his shattered warhammer over his shoulder. Their bodies bore fresh wounds, but none of them complained. In the Black Crag Clan, pain was a lesson, and victory was survival, nothing more.
Yet, something felt different. Jajwok could sense it within himself. The golden power inside him was changing, shifting like a beast stirring from slumber. During the battle, it had surged beyond his control, reacting as if it had a will of its own.
As they neared the village gates, they saw Chieftain Brakzul and Kragzul waiting. The other orcs gathered quickly, their eyes searching for answers in the expressions of the returning warriors.
