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Chapter 78 - Chapter 78: The New Sword from the Horde and Farewell

The first rays of the morning sun slowly filtered through the fabric of the large tent, casting a soft light over the three naked bodies that peacefully rested on the wide bed. This intimate scene reflected not only their physical closeness but also the depth of the feelings that had enveloped all those who had shared the night before.

Kano, feeling the weight of his imminent departure to the kingdom of the dwarves, quietly approached the tent. His soul was torn: on one side, the desire to stay close to those who had opened their vulnerability to him, and on the other, the fear of the consequences of this overwhelming intimacy. He made no sound, stepping silently as if each of his movements was a farewell to a part of himself.

Inside the tent, Kano encountered an image that made his heart catch in his chest: three sleeping girls, exposed in their natural state, silently testifying to the events of the previous night. His eyes trembled with a mixture of desire and shame. He could feel that each touch could awaken not just their bodies, but memories of a chosen path that had brought him not only power but also indescribable pain.

Holding his breath, he slowly lowered his hands from his face and, with the caution of someone who doubts their own righteousness, began to gently run his fingers over the girls' bodies. This gesture was a silent acknowledgment that he valued their closeness, even though his own heart was filled with fear of the consequences. Then, without uttering a word, he carefully covered each of them with a blanket—a symbolic act of farewell, one that left behind the complexity of his feelings.

And it was in that moment, when the air around seemed to freeze, that a quiet, yet penetrating voice came from beneath the blanket:

—"You're the worst man in all of history, I'll definitely kill you next time!"

Kano barely turned over his shoulder, and in his eyes flashed a mixture of surprise, understanding, and reconciliation with the inevitable. A thin smile spread across his lips, silently responding to the words, holding all the contradictions of his inner world.

Without another word, with a heavy heart and unfinished thoughts, Kano left the tent.

By the blazing fire, its glow flickering with ancient symbols of strength and honor, the horde had gathered. The orcs' faces reflected the fire's glow, and the air was thick with the tension of what was to come. Among the gathered stood Rudgard—a silent witness to past fates and the promise of a new era.

When Rudgard pulled the sword from its wrapping, his movements were decisive and majestic. The sword, wrapped in cloth, reflected every spark from the fire. At that moment, Elgot, in a quiet but confident voice, spoke:

—"Such a sword belongs only to an elven king…"

His words rang out, like a call to true strength and grandeur.

Then, Rudgard added proudly:

—"The kings of the dwarves also wield weapons made of mithril, and now Kano stands at their level!"

Kano approached the fire, and each step weighed heavily on his soul. A storm of doubts and hopes raged within his heart, for this moment was more than just a ceremony. He felt how the sword, now resting in his hands, seemed like a promise of a new fate, barely touching his skin, awakening deep inner emotions.

"Am I truly worthy of this power?" Kano thought as the cold metal seeped into his hands, each reflection reminding him of past losses and new duties. His inner monologue was filled with images of office routines, harsh commands, and the invisible shackles left behind. But now, armed with this symbol, he felt how his old life receded, and the weight of the responsibility of a new leader settled heavily upon his shoulders.

As soon as the sword was in his hands, the atmosphere shifted. All the orcs who had gathered around began to slowly kneel. Their single, united gaze met Kano's— a gaze that seemed to say, "We recognize your power." This was not just worship—it was a silent acknowledgment of his right to lead them in the struggle for a new life.

Kano felt a wave of strength surge through him, but also how the coldness of doubt gripped his heart. He raised the sword to the sky, as if performing one final ritual gesture, solidifying his new position. In that moment, all his contradictory thoughts, all his fears and hopes, found their echo in the collective shout of the orcs:

—"Leader, Kano! Leader, Kano!"

These words, spoken in unison, seemed to ignite him to gather all his strength. Now, not only armed with a weapon but also with the confidence of the community, Kano finally took control of himself. He looked into each face, feeling how each of them was convinced that the future was his responsibility.

Meanwhile, the former queen, along with Siris and Lurk, had already fled from their pursuers, leaving behind the dark walls of Lokris' castle, where Lianisa and Siris had lived as slaves and concubines, without the right to make their own choices. Their world had changed in an instant when Lurk, brave and determined, had come to their rescue and stolen them away from captivity. Until that moment, the girls had known no one who could save them—and now, fleeing from the chase, they found themselves beside a clear mountain stream, where nature granted them a brief respite.

Lianisa, the queen of their forgotten past, sat on the cold stones, her eyes still reflecting fear and confusion. Her thoughts wandered:

"This path is not over… But now we have a chance to find freedom. I feel how my fear eats me up, but at the same time, I understand—every step we take leads to a new life."

Nearby, Siris, a half-human from the wolf tribe, met Lurk's gaze for the first time. She had never known him before, but now, the savior who had pulled them from the dungeon of the castle sparked an astonishing feeling in her—something between gratitude, admiration, and unexpected passion. She carefully approached Lianisa and, leaning down, said:

—"I'll check you over, my queen," Siris said gently, "seems you've been a bit hurt from that night of captivity."

Lianisa, breathing a bit faster from emotion, gently took Siris' hand, her voice trembling slightly:

—"I see how he looks at you... You two seem to be from the same people, don't you?"

Siris, catching that gaze which silently conveyed all the strength of her new feelings, smiled and answered:

—"Yes, exactly... But now I feel I have a chance to truly experience freedom..."

Lianisa, uplifted by her own pain and experience, quietly said:

—"Leave me be, I'll sort myself out. Go to him—it's your chance. There's no one here who can stop you. And don't worry about me—I'll stay here, making sure we never forget who we've become."

At that moment, Lurk, who had been quietly fishing by the stream, looked up. His eyes shimmered with both determination and tenderness, and every movement of his spoke of strength and protection, feelings he had long been without. Between him and Siris, an elusive energy arose—instantaneous, like a flash of lightning that scattered the darkness of the past.

Siris, not holding back her emotions, approached Lurk, and her voice, filled with tenderness and passion, barely broke through the soft rustling of the stream:

—"I never want to return to where they took away my right to life. I want you to be by my side..."

Lurk silently reached out his hand, and in his gaze was the feeling that each word of Siris opened to him a part of forgotten warmth. In that very moment, Lianisa, watching their union, felt how a mixture of fear, pain, and hope overwhelmed her heart.

 

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