The morning in the new orc city was unlike any other. It began with the piercing scream of a sentry standing on the walls:
— "THE HORDE! THE HORDE IS COMING!"
The voice was so desperate that even the hardiest of orcs flinched. The words spread through the city like wildfire, and within moments, everyone still sleeping sprang to their feet.
The dwarves, who had worked through the night in the forge, rushed out, rubbing their tired eyes. Some hadn't even bothered to take off their leather aprons, but they didn't care—the city was gripped by panic.
— "What's happening?!" shouted one of the blacksmiths, running up to the guards.
— "THE HORDE IS COMING!" they repeated louder.
The dwarves exchanged looks, their faces drained of color.
Meanwhile, upon hearing the commotion, Lenor sprang from his tent. His ears still caught the distant cries, and his legs were already carrying him to the walls. Reaching the top, he saw, far on the horizon, the silhouettes of an army emerging from the morning fog.
Not just any army.
IT WAS THE HORDE.
The Horde, feared by all. Those who had seen their advance even once in their lifetime knew: where they passed, nothing remained but ruins and ash. And now they were heading straight for the city, one that had barely finished its construction.
Lianel, Selina, and Naira ran up to Lenor. Panic was evident in their eyes.
— "Lenor, what do we do?!" Selina was the first to speak, clutching his hand.
Lenor didn't answer immediately. He quickly scanned the surroundings. The city was shielded by cliffs on one side, and on the other, a stream ran through ancient ruins, continuing into the open plains.
There weren't many options.
— "If we want to survive, we need water. A lot of water."
The dwarf engineer standing nearby immediately chimed in:
— "There are vast underground chambers beneath the city. We could use part of the old halls as reservoirs. If we break the ceiling and seal the doors, the water will stay inside."
— "Will it work?" Lenor asked.
— "If our calculations are right—yes."
Lenor nodded.
— "Lianel, give the order to the orcs to dig a channel straight through the rock. Where the dwarves point."
Lianel didn't hesitate. She turned sharply to the orcs standing nearby.
— "Get to work!"
The command thundered, like a clap of thunder. The orcs immediately rushed into action, their pickaxes and hammers striking the stone with such force that it shattered in all directions. They worked with frantic speed, knowing that behind them lay their only dream—the city they had built with their own hands, and they wouldn't let anyone take it from them.
Lenor called the dwarf in charge of the construction:
— "Are there any weak spots in the defense?"
— "None, not even against warriors like the orcs. The gates are strong, the walls will hold. We have a chance."
Lenor silently stared at the wall. A chance? That's good... But a chance against ten thousand elite warriors wasn't enough.
The Horde was getting closer, and there was less and less time.
The city buzzed like a disturbed beehive. Orcs and dwarves scrambled to follow orders, and the ground trembled with each strike of the pickaxes against the stone. The whole city had turned into a single mechanism, preparing for defense.
Lenor stood on the wall, staring at the horizon. He could see the distant black silhouettes slowly closing in on them, like a massive wave of shadows. He understood—there was almost no time left.
— "What about weak spots?" he asked sharply, turning to one of the dwarves overseeing the construction.
The old blacksmith wiped his hands on his soot-covered apron and muttered:
— "No weak spots. This fortress is stronger than most human castles. We're not idiots to build shoddy work. But if the Horde focuses on one spot and breaks through the wall, we won't be able to seal the breach quickly."
Lenor nodded. They needed to withstand the first assault—after that, it would be easier.
He quickly assessed the fortifications. The walls did indeed look strong, but Lenor knew that the orcs were no ordinary barbarians who would fall to a barrage of arrows. They were machines of destruction.
— "What about food?" he asked Grimtarn, who had come closer.
Grimtarn grinned smugly.
— "Food? Heh-heh, we'll survive even a year-long siege. Our chief foresaw everything in advance."
Lenor gave him a skeptical look.
— "Are you joking?"
— "Not at all. He ordered the collection of crystals from the monsters and sold them to the dwarves. With the gold, we bought grain, and the meat was dried by the fires. The dwarves also gave us cold crystals. We placed the meat in the underground chambers, surrounded it with crystals, and now it won't spoil."
Lenor literally felt his mind struggling to believe what he was hearing.
— "So, Kano…?" He exhaled heavily. — "Kano planned all of this?"
— "Did you think he was just running around with a sword? Our chief isn't as stupid as he seems."
Lenor silently processed the information. If the city had enough food, they could hold out longer than he had thought. But suddenly, something else caught his attention.
Naira was sitting, her back pressed against the stone wall near one of the embrasures. Her eyes were wide, her hands trembling, and her lips pressed into a thin line. She wasn't just scared—she was in a panic. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with shallow breaths, and her gaze was fixed somewhere in the distance.
Lenor turned sharply to Grimtarn.
— "What's wrong with her?"
Grimtarn immediately stepped forward, blocking Lenor's path. His expression turned serious, even threatening.
— "Leave her be."
Lenor involuntarily clenched his fists. Grimtarn looked as though he wouldn't allow anyone to touch Naira in her current state. There was no aggression in the orc—only quiet, steely determination. Lenor understood perfectly that even he couldn't budge Grimtarn right now.
— "What is she afraid of?" he asked, trying not to pressure him.
Grimtarn averted his gaze and sighed.
— "Those who are approaching."
Lenor felt a chill run down his spine.
— "The Horde's chieftain?"
Grimtarn silently nodded.
Lenor tensed even more. Naira had always been strong. If even she was scared... it meant the Horde's chieftain was truly a terrifying figure.
And just at that moment, a heavy, muffled thud was heard.
From behind the hills, dark silhouettes began to appear. First a few, then dozens, and within a minute, thousands of figures obscured the horizon.
Lenor, Grimtarn, and everyone on the walls froze. Even the dwarves, who usually joked in the worst moments, fell silent.
They had arrived.
The earth trembled under the heavy steps of the orcs. The sun reflected off their armor, and the air was filled with the dull sound of drums.
Lenor instinctively gripped his sword.
— "Here they are…" he whispered.
A wave of whispers rippled through the ranks of the Horde. The orcs saw something that made them exchange confused glances.
— "Is it him…?"
— "But how… He couldn't have survived…"
— "No, this is impossible…"
— "What happened to him…?"
— "Is he… a higher orc…?"
Rumors spread through the ranks like wildfire.
— "Grimtarn… he survived… and changed."
It seemed that some of the orcs even hesitated. They were afraid of him.
But then the chieftain's voice rang out across the battlefield, drowning out all the whispers:
— "Find me the leader of this pit!"
From the crowd emerged the chieftain of the Horde.
His eyes locked onto the collar tattoo on Grimtarn's neck. His lips twisted into a sinister grin.
— "You..."
Lenor felt his anger boil inside him. This man was a monster.
The chieftain scanned the walls and then sneered contemptuously.
— "Well… If you're so brave, take up the challenge. One of you! Anyone! Step forward, if you're not afraid!"
His voice thundered like a storm.
He issued the challenge, knowing that he would defeat anyone.
Lenor instantly understood—it was a trap. The chieftain of the Horde was confident in his strength.
But none of the warriors stepped forward.
Only Naira finally lifted her head.
Lenor saw how she gasped from fear, but in her eyes, a spark of fury began to ignite.