The next day, Gorrka stomped through the Bloodfang camp, her black braids swinging, tusks gleaming under the rising sun. She moved like a storm, heavy-footed, confident, dangerous.
She found Hulk standing near the fighting pit, his broad shoulders loose; he was bare chested, fists clenched. No weapons hung from his belt; there was no belt. Hulk fought with his body alone. Fists like hammers. Elbows like cleavers. Knees like falling stones.
"Oi, brother," Gorrka said. "Forget blades. Forget cleavers. We fight with bone and meat here. Elbows break teeth. Knees shatter ribs. Fists drive skulls into the ground. Watch closely."
Hulk cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders. Calm. Focused. Like a boxer before his match.
"Come with me."
She led him through the camp to a green war tent. From inside, there was Borzak—the biggest orc in their age group. Muscles like boulders, chest thick with old scars. Two Champions' record under his name. He was no weakling.
"Been a while, Gorrka." Borzak's deep voice rumbled like rocks grinding. His sharp tusks were stained with old blood.
"Borzak's the strongest among your age. You'll fight him today." Gorrka smirked. "It is time that you stop smashing bones in your dreams and break something for real."
Borzak cracked his knuckles. "Good. I've been itching to break a skull."
Nearby orcs gathered fast. They smelled blood in the air. Fights like these were better than food.
"Oi, look at that. Hulk's gonna fight Borzak?"
"Borzak'll beat him in pulp."
"Bah, no worth betting on that. Maybe tell Elder Grond before they break his jaw."
They gathered at the arena—a wide open patch of dirt and cracked bones. No fences. No rules. Just fists and strength.
Borzak flexed his arms, sneering. "Thought you'd bring a weapon at least."
Hulk's lips curled slightly. "Don't need one. I'll break you with these." He raised his fists, knuckles popping, his stance sharp, shoulders loose, legs balanced, weight forward like a predator ready to pounce.
Borzak roared and rushed in, throwing a wild, forceful blow aimed at Hulk's head. Fast. Heavy. Sloppy.
Good. Hulk's body moved by instinct. He pivoted, elbows tucked, chin down. The punch skimmed past his ear.
Hulk twisted his hips, firing a sharp left jab straight into Borzak's throat.
Thuck.
Borzak staggered, coughing hard, eyes wide. Hulk stepped in again, driving his knee into Borzak's gut. Once. Twice.
Borzak tried to tackle him, but Hulk sidestepped, hooked his foot around Borzak's ankle, tripped him, and sent the big orc crashing to the ground.
The crowd howled.
"HUURAAAH!"
Hulk didn't give him a moment to breathe. He dropped to one knee, planted his shin across Borzak's chest, pinning him, and raised his elbow high like a hammer of Gruumsh himself.
CRACK. Hulk's elbow smashed into Borzak's face. Blood exploded from Borzak's nose.
Borzak squirmed, but Hulk locked his wrist and twisted it back with practiced precision. Armbar. Joint locked. Pain was sharp and sudden.
"Yield," Hulk said, his voice low.
Borzak coughed, dazed. "I… I yield…"
The others stared in shock. The runt. The cub. Hulk. He wasn't just strong. He was something else. This wasn't wild swinging like most orcs do; this was the fighting art, sharpened like a blade, but built from the bones out.
Techniques are for the weak, yes, but this is what will happen when someone already strong uses it.
Gorrka grinned widely, tusks shining. "That's more like it."
Borzak wiped the blood from his mouth, shaking his head, but a grin spread across his busted face.
"You are stronger than you look… good. I want another match, next day."
Hulk stood, fists dripping red, breathing steady. The fight was done.
But the war was just starting.