Where once there had been thunder—the clash of steel, the screams of Orcs, the roar of war—now there was only silence. The marshlands lay still, broken only by the soft sobbing of exhausted Orc survivors.
Atem stood tall at the center of the battlefield, his aura still flickering faintly from the fight. His human form cut a striking figure against the misted light, his eyes sharp and steady as they swept over tens of thousands of kneeling Orcs.
They no longer bowed in fear.
They bowed because of him—because his words carried weight, because his presence gave them peace.
Atem's voice rang out, calm but commanding:
"Your sins do not define you. From this day forward, you will live not as slaves to hunger, but as people with a future. And that future… will be under me. I am Atem, and I declare myself the Chancellor of this new alliance. Together, we will build a home worth protecting."
The Dryad, Treyni, stood gracefully at his side, her leafy hair glowing faintly. She smiled as if sealing Atem's words with nature's blessing. The decision was made—the monsters of Jura had found their leader.
Return to the Village
The march back was unlike any before.
The Orcs, once a ravenous horde, now moved in calm, orderly lines. Their weapons were gone, their eyes carrying something they had almost forgotten—hope.
When the Goblins and Direwolves in the village first saw them, panic erupted. Wolves snarled, Goblins clutched spears. But then they saw Atem at the front, his aura steady and his gaze unyielding.
"Lord Atem has returned!"
"Look—he brought the Orcs with him!"
"Are we… not fighting anymore?"
The fear faded into murmurs of relief.
Shion stepped forward first, her usual confidence glowing in her expression.
"So these are the Orcs, huh? Quite the army you've brought home, Lord Atem. Don't worry—I'll whip them into shape before long!"
Behind her, however, a pot bubbled suspiciously with something blackened and foul-smelling. Atem's eyes narrowed.
"Shion… don't tell me you tried cooking again."
She flinched, laughing nervously. "O-Of course not…!"
Shuna, more graceful, bowed softly.
"Welcome home, Lord Atem. We've prepared spaces for them, though it won't be enough for so many at once. If you permit it, I'll arrange the Orcs into groups and oversee their care."
Atem gave her a nod. "Do it. They'll need order if they're to settle here."
The days that followed were full of noise and movement.
Shuna took charge of organizing the Orcs. She divided them into work groups, set up kitchens, and managed supplies. Her soft yet firm leadership made the Orcs respect her instantly.
Shion insisted on "helping with morale." Unfortunately, this meant trying to feed the Orcs her cooking. They endured it bravely, though many ended up pale and trembling. Atem quietly declared: Shion is banned from unsupervised cooking.
Hakuro saw the potential in them. "These Orcs are raw stone, but with my training, I'll shape them into warriors." Under his drills, they learned discipline and combat, their guilt forged into strength.
Kaijin and the Dwarves were overjoyed to have so many hands. With Orc strength and Goblin diligence, new homes rose, bridges spanned rivers, and even stone roads began to stretch outward. Kaijin laughed, wiping sweat from his brow:
"Lord Atem, with this many workers, we'll build a city that rivals Dwargon!"
And the Orcs themselves… they changed most of all. No longer starved, they threw themselves into work, cutting lumber, digging irrigation, raising longhouses. For the first time, they felt purpose.
It was during these first chaotic days that Atem realized something.
The Orcs were no longer a nameless horde. They deserved more—they deserved names.
He gathered the leaders among them. His voice carried across the camp:
"From today onward, you are not just Orcs. You are citizens of my village. And as your Chancellor, I will give you names."
The Orcs gasped. To them, a name was more than a word—it was life.
The first to step forward was the one who carried the heaviest guilt, the successor of the Orc Lord's army. He knelt, trembling, before Atem.
Atem placed his hand on the warrior's bowed head.
"From now on, you will be known as Geld."
Light burst from the Orc's body, his form reshaping, his eyes sharpening with intelligence. He evolved instantly into something greater—a High Orc.
The others stared in awe. Their breath caught as hope spread like wildfire.
Atem named all of them one by one—his energy has grown significantly, letting his power flow through their ranks. Evolution rippled across the army like waves in a pond.
Their brutish forms refined, their hunger vanished, and clarity returned to their eyes.
Shuna whispered, astonished: "They're becoming something new…"
Hakuro nodded gravely: "They are no longer beasts. They are warriors."
The Orcs themselves wept openly. The curse of endless hunger was gone. They were reborn.
When Atem finished, his shoulders sagged slightly. He exhaled, speaking firmly:
"You are no longer a nameless horde. You are the Orc Tribe of my village. Live with pride."
The Orcs roared as one, falling to their knees.
"Chancellor Atem! Chancellor Atem! We pledge our lives to you!"
With names and purpose, the village changed rapidly.
Shuna's guidance brought order. Work groups built storage halls, kitchens, and homes.
Hakuro's training echoed every morning, Orcs sparring with Goblins and Direwolves alike.
Kaijin's forges came alive, Orcs hauling stone and lumber to fuel a construction boom.
Shion's cooking… continued to be a trial by fire.
And together, the village swelled with life. Roads spread, longhouses rose, rivers were bridged.
What had once been a small Goblin settlement was transforming—no longer a village, but the beginnings of a nation.
From atop a new watchtower, Atem looked down at the bustling settlement. Goblins laughed as they worked, Direwolves ran alongside children, Orcs labored with pride, and Shuna's voice rang clear as she guided them.
It was alive.
"…We've come this far already," Atem thought, his gaze firm. "This is only the beginning. If we keep moving forward, this village will become more than just a home for monsters—it'll be a nation where anyone can belong."
<
Atem's lips curved into a faint smile.
"I will. From here on, we build a future none can take from us."
From the far edge of the clearing, a ripple of movement caught attention. A lone figure stepped forward—tall, muscular, scaled in shimmering green. His eyes burned with defiance and curiosity.
It was Gabil, the Lizardman warrior, once driven solely by pride and recklessness. Now… he walked directly toward Atem.
The Pharaoh stood calmly, his cloak swaying lightly in the wind, the faint aura of his Ultimate Skill radiating authority. Beside him, the Oracle of Eternity's presence was quiet but perceptible, a soft hum in his mind.
Gabil stopped a few paces away, chest puffed out, tail swishing behind him like a metronome of stubborn pride. His voice was firm, carrying the weight of both honor and newfound respect:
"I… Gabil, heir of the Lizardmen Tribe of the Marshlands, have come to speak. Atem… I do not kneel lightly. But I see now that you are a leader worthy of reverence."
He hesitated, pride and humility wrestling within him, scales bristling under tension.
"I… and those willing among my tribe, wish to pledge ourselves to your command. We will join your village, not as slaves, but as allies—your strength is undeniable, and opposing it would be folly. Yet… I must speak as one who values honor."
A tense silence fell. Even the wind seemed to pause, waiting. The other Lizardmen shifted nervously, uncertain how their leader's approach would be received.
Atem descended slowly, his form radiating calm authority. His amber eyes glowed like molten gold, piercing yet serene. Every motion carried the weight of a Pharaoh who had consumed eternity and judged countless souls.
"I understand your pride, Gabil. And I respect it. You acted recklessly before, but your heart was true. Your tribe survived because of your strength—but now, you see the greater power that lies in unity."
Gabil stiffened, unsure if he was being praised or tested. Atem's gaze softened, but remained commanding.
"I will accept you and your tribe into my village," Atem continued. "You serve under me, yes—but not as slaves. You are allies, equals in our shared goal: to protect this land and build a place where all monsters can thrive."
The words struck Gabil with a force that made him blink, tail still tense behind him. Slowly, the rigid line of his shoulders softened.
"I… understand. Then we pledge ourselves to you, Atem. I… will not fail."
Atem's lips curved into a faint, authoritative smile.
"I do not expect perfection, Gabil. I expect effort, loyalty, and the courage to learn. That is enough. Welcome to the village."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the Lizardmen. One by one, they stepped forward, bowing or inclining their heads in respect, pledging themselves to Atem's leadership.
Shuna watched quietly, giving a subtle nod. Even Hakuro allowed a small smile.
<
Atem's gaze swept across the assembled Lizardmen.
"Good. Let this day mark the beginning of unity. Together, we will grow stronger."
And so, under Atem's authority, the village gained new allies. The bonds of trust and respect had been forged—not merely by victory in battle, but by the undeniable presence of a Pharaoh who demanded loyalty, not fear.