Crow cawed sharply from Axelius's shoulder, its feathers ruffling as it leaned forward and pointed its beak toward the thick line of trees to their left.

Axelius followed the direction with his eyes, and through the haze of shattered trunks and torn earth, he spotted a figure limping slowly into view tall, blood-soaked, and still very much alive.

It was Vargosh.

His massive form was a silhouette at first, smoke and dust rising around him, but as he came closer.

Axelius could see his left arm was completely gone, severed clean from the shoulder, blood dripping heavily down his side and soaking the ground with each heavy step.

But Vargosh did not look weak.

He didn't cry out, didn't stumble. He kept walking forward, one powerful step at a time. His eyes were low, and his breathing rough but steady.

The orcs behind Axelius stopped chanting the moment they sensed their chieftain returning, many looking up with wide eyes.

Axelius narrowed his gaze and didn't move an inch. He waited.

Vargosh passed by him, Axelius turned his head to watch him, brow furrowed with curiosity as he studied the orc's pace steady, proud, and heavy with something deeper than pain.

Then, just as Axelius took a small step forward, he notice Vargosh's arm was growing back.

The flesh rippled, muscle reforming and tendons stitching themselves together in unnatural speed.

Bone cracked into place, and within moments, the great orc's arm was whole again. He clenched his fist once, testing the strength.

And then… he turned around.

Without hesitation, Vargosh dropped to one knee in front of Axelius, his massive head bowing deeply toward the dirt, fists planted into the ground in surrender but not humiliation.

It was an offering. A warrior's gesture.

Axelius frowned.

"What?" he muttered, a little insulted. "Giving up already?"

His voice was cold, even disappointed. "I'm just starting."

But Vargosh didn't raise his head. His deep voice, though rough and rumbling, was filled with clarity and strength.

"I have not given up," Vargosh said, still kneeling. "I have accepted."

He paused.

"I have lived many years… and no blade has ever touched me like yours. No presence has ever chilled my blood like yours.

Even in my final form, none stood before me the way you did. Not like this."

Axelius's expression didn't change, but his eyes watched the orc carefully.

Vargosh finally raised his eyes, crimson and burning with acceptance, loyalty, and something close to admiration.

"You will become the New Orc Lord," he said with finality, "And we… we shall follow."

Behind them, the kneeling orcs thumped their chests once, in deep, thunderous rhythm.

Axelius let out a long sigh and rolled his eyes as the weight of Vargosh's words still lingered in the air.

The kneeling orcs, the air of loyalty and reverence it all felt too heavy for his taste.

"Ahhh, nevermind," he muttered, waving a hand as if brushing off the entire dramatic moment. "You guys are boring."

At that cue, Crow, perched silently behind him, gave a low rumble before spreading his wings wide.

With a flash of light and feathers, the white bird monster expanded into his large, majestic formits sharp eyes glowing slightly as the wind stirred beneath its talons.

Without another word, Axelius stepped onto Crow's back, crouching slightly before straightening up to ride.

He looked down one last time, his golden eyes half-lidded and uninterested as the orcs remained kneeling in respectful silence.

But before Crow could take off, Vargosh lifted his head slightly, his voice calling out once more, low and steady.

Vargosh looked up of Axelius.

He hadn't answered properly, hadn't claimed anything… yet the entire horde waited in silence, eyes trained on the wind that carried the one who had defeated their strongest.

"You said nothing, My Lord." Vargosh said, loud enough for the other orcs to hear, his voice echoing through the battered clearing.

Crow was just beginning to rise when Axelius leaned slightly, frowning. "Tch. Did you just promote me without asking?"

Vargosh didn't flinch. "Without a Lord, the horde will splinter. We are warriors, not thinkers. They will fight each other until only ash remains. You've proven strength. It is only natural—"

"Do whatever you want," Axelius cut him off, voice lazy and annoyed, like someone being given chores instead of a title.

"Call me what you want, just don't expect me to hold your hand."

There was a brief pause. The orcs didn't seem to understand his sarcasm only the intent behind his words.

Vargosh bowed his head once more. "Then as the Arc Lord wills."

"I didn't will anything," Axelius muttered under his breath.

But just before Crow ascended fully into the skies, Axelius glanced down one more time, eyes sharp.

"Fine. Since you're too stubborn, Vargosh… take charge. Keep the horde from causing problems, or I'll wipe them out myself."

Vargosh's red eyes flashed with loyalty. He stood up fully now, broad shoulders rising.

"As you command. I will keep them in line. From this day, this horde shall no longer move in chaos. We serve under the New Arc Lord."

Axelius scoffed lightly, not answering this time.

He leaned back as Crow soared higher, wind pulling at his coat, hair brushing his forehead as he finally vanished into the clouds leaving behind an orc horde.

Then, slowly, they began to rise one by one, the tension in their muscles replaced with a strange sense of reverence.

One of the younger orcs, tall with deep green skin and sharp fangs, looked at Vargosh with confusion in his eyes.

He grunted something in their native tongue, a question that echoed softly among the group.

Vargosh, standing firm with his axe back in hand, turned to them all and replied in a low but certain voice in the orcish language, his eyes glinting with deep belief:

"He has the core… The one our ancestor spoke of."

Some Orcs spoke and Vargosh answered, "Yes, Inheritor of Lucian"

The orcs quieted down again, listening closely now.

"It's the Aura, The only thing that exist that no one can have." Vargosh continued,

Another orc, older and scarred, growled deeply and nodded.

Vargosh gave a slow nod as he looked up to the sky where Axelius disappeared moments ago.

"Yes. Lucian said before his death: 'One day, the broken core shall rise again, not in an orc, but in a creature of shadow and flame. He will not look like us, but he will carry the fury of our blood.'"

The orcs began murmuring among themselves, growling in agreement, their fists clenching in excitement, their feet stomping the ground lightly in a rhythm only they knew.

"It's been a long time," another orc said with awe, "Many cycles have passed. And now…"

"The new Overlord has appeared."

********

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