The march toward orc territory was long and brutal. Leonhart led his forces through untamed wilderness, where gnarled trees clawed at the sky and thick underbrush tangled beneath their feet. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and rotting leaves, and the occasional guttural cries of unseen beasts echoed through the distance.
The orcs lived beyond these lands, past the ruins of some forgotten civilization. The journey itself was as much a test as any battle—only the strong would survive the passage.
Bruk walked at Leonhart's side, his eyes sharp as they moved through the dense terrain. "This place stinks of death," he muttered. "And not just from the swamp."
Drog grinned, adjusting the straps on his gear. "Aye. Plenty of things out here that'd love to sink their teeth into us. Hope we get to sink ours first."
Gurruk chuckled but remained focused, his eyes scanning the trees for movement. He had been quieter since their last battle, but Leonhart knew he was still recovering. Wounded or not, Gurruk refused to be left behind.
Leonhart kept his pace steady, his senses keen. He had spent weeks training, mastering the strange black mana that now pulsed within him. It felt different from regular mana—wilder, darker, something unnatural lurking beneath its surface. He had yet to use it in battle, but part of him burned to test its power.
The first challenge came sooner than expected.
A few days into their march, they spotted smoke rising in the distance. Bruk climbed a nearby rock for a better view. "Orcs," he reported. "A raiding party. Looks like they're tearing through some travelers."
Leonhart wasted no time. "We move."
They approached swiftly, keeping to the shadows until the scene became clear. The orcs—large, muscular brutes with thick hides and jagged weapons—had surrounded a small group of beastkin merchants. The traders had fought back, but they were losing. Their wagons were overturned, their guards bleeding into the dirt.
The lead orc, a towering figure with a blood-red scar running down his face, barked orders to his men. They laughed, treating the battle like a game.
Leonhart stepped forward. "Enough."
The orcs turned, eyes narrowing at the sight of him. One of them sneered. "What in the depths are you supposed to be? Some kind of weird goblin?"
Leonhart ignored the insult. "Leavethem. Ordie."
Laughter erupted from the raiders. The scarred orc tilted his head, studying Leonhart for a moment before shaking his head. "You talk big for a runt."
Leonhart's claws flexed. The hunger for battle burned within him. Maybe it was time to see what his black mana could really do.
The orc roared and charged, his blade coming down in a heavy swing. Leonhart sidestepped with ease, his speed outmatching the brute's raw power. With a single motion, he reached out, letting a small pulse of black mana flicker to life in his palm.
The moment it touched the orc's arm, somethinghappened.
The flesh beneath Leonhart's fingers darkened. Veins blackened, spreading outward like a disease. The orc stumbled back with a strangled cry, clutching his arm as his skin rotted before his eyes.
Silence fell over the battlefield. The other orcs stared, their expressions shifting from amusement to unease. Even Bruk and Drog exchanged wary glances.
The scarred orc snarled, trying to fight through the pain, but his strength was draining fast. Leonhart didn't give him a chance to recover. He moved in and struck, his claws tearing into the orc's throat.
The body hit the ground with a dull thud.
Leonhart turned to the remaining orcs. "Anyone else?"
The raiders hesitated. One of them spat on the ground. "Tch. Not worth it." With that, they turned and left, vanishing into the trees.
The beastkin survivors watched with cautious gratitude. They didn't trust Leonhart—few did—but they understood strength when they saw it. They gave their thanks and gathered what little they could before leaving.
Leonhart, however, wasn't thinking about them. He flexed his fingers, staring at his own claws. The way that orc's flesh had blackened… it hadn't just been an attack. It was something more. A deeper kind of destruction.
Something was changing inside him.
⸻
By the time they reached the orc stronghold, it was clear that something was wrong.
The place wasn't a single fortress, but rather a sprawling expanse of crude camps, scattered across a rocky plateau. Tents and wooden barricades were built haphazardly, and fires burned in every direction. It wasn't a stronghold—it was a battlefield.
Orcs were fighting amongst themselves. Groups clashed in brutal skirmishes, warriors beating each other bloody over what seemed to be nothing. Weapons shattered against thick hides, and the air was filled with the sound of battle cries and breaking bones.
Bruk clicked his tongue. "So much for a welcoming party."
Drog crossed his arms. "What the hell is going on here?"
Leonhart's gaze swept over the chaos. He had expected resistance, but this was different. The orcs weren't united at all—they were barely holding together.
A nearby goblin, one of the few who had managed to live among the orcs, caught sight of them and approached cautiously.
"You new here?" the goblin asked, eyeing Leonhart warily. "You look… weird."
Leonhart ignored the comment. "What's happening?"
The goblin spat to the side. "The warbands are fighting for control. Korgath the Red Hand refuses to lead them as one. Says monsters should stay wild, not follow some army."
Leonhart's jaw tightened.
The orcs were one of the strongest races among the monsters. If he could bring them under his command, their power could rival even the human empire. But like this? They were nothing more than scattered brutes, tearing each other apart.
Bruk crossed his arms. "So, what now? Try to talk sense into them?"
Leonhart exhaled slowly. No. Words wouldn't work on creatures like this. Orcs only followed one thing—strength.
He turned his gaze toward the largest camp, where a massive orc, larger than any he had seen before, stood atop a pile of bones. Korgath.
Leonhart's claws tightened.
"If they won't unite willingly," he said, his voice low, "thenI'llmakethem."