The sun rose, stretching its pale light over the dusty road, and we traveled. The second day felt different—lighter, somehow hopeful. On the horizon, a village appeared, its walls jagged and crude, but alive. My heart fluttered at the sight. Perhaps these people would be kinder. Perhaps here, for a while, I could rest.
But as we drew closer, I realized a flaw. A herd of large animals approaching a village might look more like a threat than travelers. I called the rest of the herd back, urging them to stay a little behind, just far enough to seem less intimidating. I stepped forward with the Alpha, riding confidently. The gates loomed ahead, and the uncertainty arose in my chest twisted into a tight knot.
Two orc guards emerged to meet us. They were grown, strong, spears in hand, leather armor worn and scuffed. Their eyes were lazy, calculating—watchful, but not sharp. If I chose my words carefully, I could stay here. If I slipped, I could be thrown into chains.
"Hallo… me come from village far, far away. Me want stay… here," I said, my words clumsy.
Their confused stares made me wince. I almost cursed myself—raised by a Shaman who obsessed over proper speech, I should have spoken clearly. She had taught me from books, drilled every word, every inflection into my mind. Yet here I was, lowering myself to sound lower than even my father. I swallowed hard and shifted my tone.
The guards approached cautiously, circling me, circling the horse—probing for any excuse to enslave me. Their eyes flicked over me like predators.
"You from far away?"
"Yes," I answered, feeling my stomach tighten. If they discovered my higher heritage, I would be sold back to my family. That meant certain death. The banished never returned.
"Which village?"
I pointed vaguely, lying smoothly. "Three villages that way." I could feel their suspicion, sharp as a knife. But I was ready.
"But three villages too far… how you get here?"
"Me have horse," I said, gesturing toward the creature beneath me.
"Too strong. How you ride it?"
"It not mine. Wild… and stupid," I added. Her ears twitched slightly at my words. She didn't like it—but these guards were stronger than her, and there were two of them. If she lost her temper, we'd both be in trouble.
After a tense moment, they stepped aside. We were allowed in.
The village rules were merciless. Kids my age woke early to fight in a death pit. Survive, and you earned food. Knocked out, and your only hope was waking up in time to snatch scraps before others trampled you. My stomach growled at the thought. Hunger sharpened my mind. I scanned the pit. Most of the kids were skinny, undertrained, scared—or all three. Perfect.
But what caught my eye wasn't the field where I would fight—it was the other buildings. Their torn leather, worn postings, and patched roofs all whispered secrets. I wanted to see if there were cracks in their defenses. I didn't plan on staying here for long, but when I left, I intended to walk away with more than just memories.
It was already the final meal before nightfall. The tiny amounts of ants I had been scavenging barely kept me standing. I had to get down and dirty if I wanted to sleep without starving. Around me, the other kids began gathering. Most were skinny, undertrained, and jittery with anticipation. I could see it in their eyes—they were ready to fight, but weak.
Suddenly, a gong rang out. Chaos erupted. The kids surged into the pit, fists flying, dust kicking up from the ground. I stood frozen for a moment, in awe. Savagery like this was unknown in my village. But awe wouldn't fill my stomach. Knocked out or not, I had to fight, or I wouldn't eat.
My attention snapped to a bigger orc pounding a small, starving kid. Honor was irrelevant here and you had to take advantage of every opening. Sliding behind him, I balled my fist and struck with everything I had.
He stopped hitting the smaller kid and turned to me. Not hurt, just furious.
"Hero… no good," he growled, balled his fist, and swung. The punch sent me flying back a bit, blood slipped through my lips. Normally, I could have dodged it, no I should've dodged it. Even with my hunger I'm better than him, I knew his punch was coming, fuck I should've just moved. But I hadn't slept properly, and my body wasn't trained. Dazed, hungry, exhausted no matter how big a gap in our skills would be, I had no strength, I'm weak—I almost wanted to lie there, just to let it end quickly.
But I couldn't. My mother. My awful father. I couldn't fail them. I knew they had banished me, I knew I shouldn't care, but they were still my parents. And I was a man of my word. Not just for them but also my self, I had to fight.
The giant orc charged again. Big, yes, but clumsy with every step he took his balance wavered. His form was amateurish and inexperienced, he's only ever been winning with sheer size. I grabbed the sand at my feet. As he lunged, I flung it into his eyes. His momentum didn't stop—this was perfect.
With his body barreling toward me, I planted my foot with all my remaining strength. The impact struck him where it hurt most, I could almost hear a crack. He slouched, collapsing partially onto me, but I slid out just in time. Dust then filled the air, It was my chance a chance to end this.
I couldn't stop, not for a second because I knew that wouldn't be enough to stop him. His sheer adrenaline would keep him running and if I don't end him now, I know he'll pick himself back up to slaughter me. I saw his head, he was laying face down in the sand, for the first time in his life the roles reversed. Summoning every ounce of strength, I slammed my fist down onto the back of his skull. There was a crack but I didn't stop, I rose again, raised my fist again toward the sun, and brought it down. A sharp crack echoed in the pit. Just like my fist, the sun set. The orc was out—dead or unconscious, I felt achievement, I almost loved beating him down. Because I know he would not have shown me mercy.
But the gong did not ring. The brawl continued and my vision began to blur. Somewhere in the chaos, a ramshackle hourglass marked the time, I saw it and it was barely halfway through. And now, the other kids had noticed me.
My arms felt like lead, they slouched me down and I was tired, the adrenaline left my body. I longed for books, for planning, for control. I hated this raw, chaotic fight, but something in me felt different. My head spun as three attackers approached, as they got closer they then became nine. My vision began to waver, blood, sand, and maybe a stray ant coated my mouth.
"COME GET ME, YOU STUPID FUCKING ORCS!" I roared, my vocal cords shook and an ominous feeling escaped from me.
Something inside me snapped. My Dark Orc blood surged. Strength surged through my veins. My mother's voice echoed: "Warrior Orcs grow stronger as they fight, and Shaman Orcs wield curses and dark magic. One day, you might unlock both in a single fight."
Fear froze my enemies, this might be the shaman in me. I dashed forward, fist smashing into the nearest orc's face. He crumpled instantly. The power flowing through me was intoxicating. That had to be the Warrior in me.
The remaining two shook off fear and charged. Weaker, slower, easier. I blocked one, grabbed his head, and delivered a thundering headbutt. Teeth cracked. The other orc punched through my guard, splitting a tooth. I returned with a crushing right cross to his chin. He fell.
I sank to my knees. The gong still hadn't rung. Two more orcs leapt toward me. I struggled to stand, hands raised.
This is it. Nothing left. If these dumb fucking orc decided to jump me right now, that's it.
And then—the gong. Relief swept over me. The other orcs stopped in their tracks and ran for the food. I at least knew now that there wasn't any personal feelings in the fight, so I stumbled to the food distribution area. Porridge, bits of meat, vegetables floating in the murky broth. Ugly. Disgusting. Normally, I would have gagged. But hunger overrode everything. I devoured it all, making sure I ate every scrap, knowing these kids would show no mercy.
As the last of the food disappeared into bellies and dirt, I noticed a small, heavily guarded tent. Its canvas walls were patched and worn, but the guards were alert. There had to be something valuable inside. That would be my target.
I left the gates, exhausted, and collapsed on the warm body of my companion.
"I'll call you Riaz," I whispered. "It's a good name… my grandmother's name."
She heard me. A faint smile touched her face. For the first time in a long time, the night felt good.