Just by looking at him, Kai knew Khorvash had bled his way through more battles than most warlords lived to see. Despite the way he sat, the orc looked ready to leap up and tear flesh from bone. His skin bore the pale, scarred sheen of someone who had absorbed too much mana—more than a body was meant to hold.

The scent of blood clung to him and even from afar, Kai smelt it. Even though his aura was repressed, Kai knew it had a lot of power. But the main problem wouldn’t be his raw strength, but the artifacts he wore.

Khorvash’s arms were sheathed in blackened gauntlets, etched with seals that shimmered with heat—flamebound, no doubt. The way they pulsed matched the slow, steady throb of fire elemental mana and it confirmed what he’d heard about the gauntlets. Around his neck, there was a thick silver necklace. Likely enchanted to block spells or absorb energy. But it was the toe rings that truly unsettled Kai. Three of them. Each glowing with a different hue—one red, one green, and one a deep, pulsing violet. Passive enchantments? Curses? He didn’t know. And that uncertainty was what made them dangerous.

Behind him, the others didn’t speak. The corridor they’d come through had narrowed into a stone arch lined with Aethum fragments, casting their soft glow across the black walls.

The inside of the tower was unlike anything they’d seen so far—clean, polished, and ancient in its beauty. Floating stones shaped like lanterns hung midair, lighting up the corridors.

Big Nose stepped forward and barked, “We found these humans trespassing, but they claim to follow Belkhor!”

Khorvash’s eyes burning yellow and slitted like a serpent’s and shifted to Kai. “That does not explain why you brought them here, to the sacred palace.”

“They claim,” Big Nose said, pointing at Kai, “that this one has studied temples of the god. He says he can open the upper floors.”

Khorvash rose.

He didn’t stand—he rose. Like a cliff face lifting out of the sand. Stone creaked beneath his weight as his full height came into view. Nine feet tall, maybe more. His voice echoed through the chamber, low and rumbling.

“A human. A follower of Belkhor?”

Kai lowered his head, cloak billowing slightly as he took one step forward. “My lord,” he said softly. “I’ve dedicated my life to studying the forgotten gods. Among them, none struck fear and reverence into the world like Belkhor. I’ve studied ruins for years just to understand Belkhor more.”

Khorvash stared at him.

“Our god,” he said slowly, “has no use for human devotion. You are tools. Meat. That is your place in his design.”

“Despite that… I still recognise him as the strongest god there is, and the strongest god there will ever be.”

Khorvash’s eyes narrowed—not in anger, but curiosity. “Indeed,” he rumbled, stepping forward with slow, ground-shaking weight. “But that alone does not make you a follower of Belkhor. If you claim it, then prove it.”

He raised a hand in challenge.

“What did Belkhor say?” the orc asked. “When he tore down the human fort in Darsk—alone, with nothing but his fists and flame?”

A test. Kai didn’t rush. He held still, letting a few heartbeats pass. Then he lowered his eyes and replied.

“He said… ‘The world belongs to the orcs. The only reason humans have more land is because they breed faster than roaches. But that just means there’s more of them to slay… more bones to count… more skulls to pile until the world kneels before me.’”

As the last word left his lips, the chamber felt colder. Or maybe it was just the way Khorvash was staring at him—like a wolf sizing up something not yet prey, but not quite his pack.

The overlord gave a sharp exhale, then tilted his head, impressed. “You have studied well.”

Kai gave a slight nod, his eyes never lifting too far. He wasn’t bowing out of fear—he was playing the part. He needed to be seen as someone who had walked through fire just to witness Belkhor’s shadow.

In truth, he’d memorized every hateful teaching of the orc god days ago—from the captured orc and the tribals. To earn a sliver of trust here, he needed to sound like a believer.

Khorvash turned, facing the obsidian gate that sealed the upper floors. The seals across it shimmered faintly in the torchlight, pulsing with unspent power.

“But,” the warlord said slowly, “none of that matters.” He turned halfway, casting a glance back over his shoulder. “I would never accept a human as a follower. Only as a slave.”

Kai’s jaw tightened for a split second—but he kept his expression composed.

“Still,” Khorvash said, facing the gate again. “If you can truly open this door, then perhaps… you would have my favour.”

That sent a ripple of shock through the room.

Stinky, still bristling with distrust, barked out, “A favour to a human? That’s—”

He didn’t get to finish his words. Khorvash turned and fixed him with a glare. Even Kai felt the intensity of it.

“I. Decide. Here.” He paused at every word. “I will decide what’s too much and what’s not. That’s what you were going to say wasn’t it?”

Stinky shrank back, gritting his teeth and saying nothing more. Even Big Nose and Bald Head stepped aside without a word.

Kai’s heart thudded in his chest from the sheer risk of what he’d just bought himself.

“I’m not lying,” Kai broke the silence and his voice echoed through the room. He didn’t wait for anyone to speak, but stood up slowly, and walked toward the towering obsidian gate, all the way while Khorvash’s glare was plastered on his back. “I can open it,” he added, his fingers already brushing against the etched runes. “I’ve seen these patterns before.”

Khorvash watched him, eyes gleaming like twin coals. “Very well. Try,” he said, folding his arms over his massive chest. “But know this—fail, and you join the others. You’ll be sacrificed to Belkhor tonight.”

From behind, Adil couldn’t help himself. “Sacrificed?”

Stinky sneered. “Shut up, tribal or I would break your jaw.”

At that point, Kai couldn’t afford to respond. He was already deep in focus, tracing the first series of seals along the frame of the gate. His fingers hovered just above the surface, eyes flicking from one glyph to the next.

These seals were merciless—traps. They had been forged to freeze, crush and burn people who came close to breaking it. He guessed that Khorvash had never been able to come close to that or else he would’ve been burnt by lightning bolts.

A dozen defenses woven seamlessly together in a matrix that had no tolerance for error. Whoever had carved these into the gate wasn’t just a Mage. They were a master—one of the greatest enchantment artisans the world had ever seen.

And he continued to explore every possible inch of them with Kharvosh’s stare burning into his back. He pushed it aside and closed his eyes, knowing he had no time to hesitate.

Kai focused, running the flow of mana through the spell structure in his mind like solving a knot blindfolded. And then, slowly, he found it—a flaw. No, not a flaw. A thread. The way to open up the gate, the only way to untangle the knot from the inside.

He reached into his mana pool and let it surge. A faint hum filled the corridor.

Mana snaked out from his hand like silver smoke, wrapping around the seals with precision, slipping into the grooves like water filling a mold. One by one, the runes flared to life, glowing white-hot as they accepted his touch—until the entire gate was pulsing with light.

The air turned sharp. Static licked at the edges of his sleeves. Behind him, someone gasped—maybe Claire. Maybe Kael. He didn’t look back.

He exhaled slowly.

“What are you doing, human?” Khorvash muttered.

Kai had the urge to roll his eyes at the oblivious tone in his voice. “Opening it up.”

He focused on his mana and pushed the last thread of mana into the gate.

And it answered.

A low click echoed across the tower, followed by a deep grinding sound as ancient gears stirred from decades of stillness. The white light rippled across the surface like water, the metal shivering under the glow—then, with a thunderous boom, the gate began to open, revealing a broad corridor carved from the same mana-rich black stone. Pale crystals embedded in the walls pulsated gently, illuminating the interior. Dust swirled in the air, undisturbed for decades.

Behind him, he heard the shuffle of boots, the sudden inhale of disbelief. He turned back to see the Orc Lord hadn’t moved one bit.

He stood frozen, gaze fixed on the newly revealed path like it was a mirage that might vanish if he blinked. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his thick neck twitching as reality sank in. There were a lot of things going through his mind.

He’d spent years—possibly more—trying to open this gate. And now a human has done it effortlessly.

He moved forward, looming beside Kai as he stared into the corridor. The orc was almost twice Kai’s height and what was more scary was how the flames in his gauntlets hissed low, like they too were uneasy.

“How did you do that?”

Kai inhaled a sharp breath through his nose.

“A mana mechanism in the door. You need to flow energy through the channels in a specific sequence to unlock it. Anything else would’ve backfired.”

He lied smoothly. The truth—The door had recognized the remnants of Valkyrie’s soul inside him and opened it for her blood—wasn’t something they needed to know.

Khorvash narrowed his eyes, but said nothing for a moment. Then he looked Kai over again, slower this time.

“You’re a Mage.”

“Barely,” Kai replied, shrugging one shoulder. “But I know how to use mana.”

A slow nod.

Then, Khorvash turned to the three orcs at the rear. “We’re going inside. You three—stay behind them. The humans come with us.”

Big Nose hesitated. “Overlord Khorvash… should we call for reinforcements? What if the palace has defenses?”

Khorvash’s voice dropped an octave. “If Belkhor left trials in his domain… then I will face them. Not you. Your only task is to make sure the humans don’t run.”

Big Nose flinched, then nodded. So did the others. A gesture from Khorvash, and the orcs began shoving the party forward.

Kai stepped over the threshold, eyes scanning every inch of the corridor as they moved deeper. He felt the pressure in the air increase—the presence of dormant enchantments, mana pulsing faintly through the stones.

He didn’t look back.

The corridors twisted through the heart of the tower, and whenever they took a turn, they were marked by glowing stones embedded into the high archways—they were dim enough to blend with the shadows, yet bright enough to keep them from stumbling blind. The floor soon turned to marble.

Kai stared at the walls. Every inch of this place was buzzing with thick mana, and after days and days of mana-starved wastes of Ashari, the richness of it made his skin prickle.

He wasn’t the only one affected. Even the orcs were glancing around more than usual, some flexing their fingers.

Kai kept looking around the walls and the ceiling, eyes narrowed.

Behind him, Gareth leaned in. “What are you watching for, Lord Arzan?

“Keep your eyes open,” Kai murmured. “There will be enemies ahead.”

Gareth tensed. “What kind?”

“Guardians,” Kai replied. “Maybe beasts. Maybe golems. I haven’t seen the tower spirit yet. That means something is still protecting this place.”

Gareth’s brows furrowed. “Tower spirit?”

Before Kai could answer, Bald Head’s voice came sharp from the rear. “Silence. Speak again and I’ll have your tongue.”

The group kept walking.

Kai could see that Adil, though quiet, was practically mesmerized. His fingers brushed along the walls like a man rediscovering the sensation of magic. He drew in a breath, deep and reverent, as if trying to bottle the richness of the air. Even Khorvash, towering ahead of them, paused now and then, eyes narrowed, face tilted as if listening. Kai didn’t need to guess what the warlord was doing—he could feel the pull of mana around him, the faint suction of someone trying to absorb it. Not as easy here as sucking from aethum. The ambient mana flowed slow, coiled tightly in the walls, not meant to be sipped casually like water from a well.

The marble underfoot changed colors with the angles of light—pearlescent veins ran through the grey like rivers of moonlight. It wasn’t just expensive. It was intentional.

“Just how rich were you, Valkyrie?” Kai muttered under his breath. He knew she was a Magus, a Battle Mage at that, but he hadn’t expected this kind of wealth from her. Everything around here was beyond spells, and only someone with serious backing could afford to enchant every inch of a place like this.

And this was only the lower floor. He had no doubt—she had gotten a spirit to take care of the tower.

The corridor narrowed before flaring open again in a sudden burst of light. Kai squinted, but it was Khorvash who moved first—long strides carrying him into the room without hesitation.

The rest followed, but the moment they crossed the threshold, every step faltered.

The chamber was circular, hollow and spare, its marble floor polished to a mirrored sheen. There were no decorations, no furniture—only a winding staircase rising from the center that clearly went up. Yet no one was looking at that.

Their gazes were locked on the three figures seated cross-legged around the base of the staircase.

At first glance, they resembled orcs—massive bodies, just as broad as Khorvash, with thick limbs and weathered armor fused into their bodies. But then the light caught their skin, and it glistened—not flesh, but metal. Blue-tinted steel that reflected the room’s glow like a mirror.

Golems.

Kai’s breath caught in his throat. Tower guardians.

But Khorvash didn’t seem to notice—or didn’t care. He stepped forward, raising his voice with that familiar tone of arrogant certainty. “I am Khorvash, Overlord of the Duneborns, chosen of Belkhor. Do you serve him?”

For a moment, the golems remained still, statues in every sense. Then, one of them opened its eyes. A pulse of mana exploded outward, scanning the room in a shimmer that brushed across Kai’s skin like cold wind. The other two followed, eyes flaring open with the same inhuman light.

None of them spoke.

The lead golem simply stood.

Its right arm shifted with a grating whir—metal plates folding and locking into place until the limb became a heavy, blunt hammer.

Before Kai could blink, the golem charged.

The floor cracked beneath its weight as it slammed forward. Khorvash roared, raising his gauntlet in time to block the first strike. Flame burst from his fists, the heat rippling the air, but the impact sent him skidding back, boots gouging long lines across the marble.

Behind him, everyone froze. Even Kai felt something at the raw strength in the guardian’s strike.

Big Nose, gritting his teeth, was the only one to step forward, pushing past the others with his blade drawn. But just then, the second and third golems rose in unison.

One’s arm morphed into a curved blade, the edge gleaming wickedly. The other’s turned into a spiked mace that swung once, just to test its weight, and cracked the floor beneath it.

In an instant, the room erupted into chaos.

Flames burst from Khorvash’s fists as he activated his infernal gauntlets, setting the air alight with streaks of red and gold. His punch collided with the hammer-wielding guardian, creating a shockwave that shook dust from the ceiling.

And Kai kept observing.

Stinky and Bald Head apparently took that as their cue to jump in. They charged with a roar, weapons raised—one with a dented axe, the other with a crude scimitar. Kai barely glanced at them before the two guardians moved.

It wasn’t even subtle.

The blade-wielding golem turned sharply and slashed, the edge of its arm opening a deep gash across Stinky’s shoulder. He cried out and tumbled to the side, weapon falling from his hand.

At the same time, the mace guardian stepped forward and slammed its weapon into Bald Head’s stomach like a sledgehammer against a gong. The impact threw the orc back. He bounced once—twice—before groaning and curling into himself near the edge of the room.

“They’re… not very good,” Claire muttered beside him.

“Terrible,” Kael whispered.

Gareth turned to him, eyes wide. “Should we help?”

“Not yet,” Kai said in a whisper, making sure the orcs didn’t hear them. “Let them wear the guardians down. We can’t reveal our abilities yet.”

Adil, arms crossed, nodded slowly. “Let’s hope the great Overlord dies right here,” he muttered. “Makes things simpler.”

So they watched.

Khorvash was doing better, at least. His flames met steel in a chorus of ringing blows and flickering light. The guardian with the hammer seemed determined to plant him into the marble, slamming the floor with wild force every time he moved. Khorvash darted between attacks with surprising agility for his size, occasionally countering with an explosive uppercut from his flaming gauntlets.

But even then, the golem barely stumbled. It would slide back a step, reset, and charge again—relentless.

These weren’t mindless constructs. They fought with insane precision.

Each movement was clean.

“They’re trained,” Kai murmured. “The golems. They’ve learned martial arts.”

Gareth’s head snapped to him. “Golems can do that?”

“Some,” Kai said. “Good ones. These are tower guardians. They adapt.”

The other orcs… well, the less said about them, the better.

Big Nose tried. He really did. But he could barely get within range of the blade golem. Every time he moved in, the construct danced around him, striking from impossible angles. It didn’t even seem rushed—just efficient.

Meanwhile, the mace guardian was having a field day. Stinky had managed to get back up, but the moment he did, the golem kicked him square in the chest, sending him into the wall. Bald Head tried to swing at its side, but the golem pivoted and smashed him again with the flat of its mace. A dull thud echoed through the chamber.

Kai winced. “They might not come out of this alive.”

Just then, Khorvash grunted and backpedaled. The hammer golem slammed down where he’d stood moments ago, sending cracks splintering across the floor like spiderwebs. Khorvash skidded to a halt, fists glowing brighter.

Then it happened.

One of the rings on his foot flared—bright, pulsing with crimson light. The flames on his gauntlets turned darker, twisting into black fire, and a thick aura of smoke and power surged from his form.

Kai’s eyes narrowed.

“So that’s what the rings do…”

Khorvash lunged.

The hammer guardian raised its arm to strike again, metal gleaming—but it never made it. Khorvash’s gauntlet collided with the descending weapon in a shattering impact that rang through the chamber. Shards of enchanted metal scattered across the marble floor like shattered glass, and in the same motion, Khorvash drove his fist into the golem’s chest, sending it crashing into the opposite wall.

He didn’t slow.

In a blur of brutal momentum, he pivoted and hurled himself at the second guardian. His shoulder rammed into its side with enough force to lift it off the ground. The blade-arm lashed out instinctively, but he caught it mid-swing and slammed the guardian into the stone wall.

Then came the fists. They were flaming and continuous.

He pummeled the golem’s face and chest, over and over, until the light in its eyes flickered—then vanished. Its limbs went slack. A final punch shattered its skull plate into glowing fragments, and Khorvash let the remains crumple to the floor like discarded armor.

Before the dust could even settle, the last guardian raised its mace—but it was too late.

Two of Khorvash’s toe rings flared like stars. A wave of molten heat erupted from his legs, surging forward like a pressure blast. The wave struck the golem dead-on and it detonated, the force of it flinging limbs and debris in every direction.

Then, a long silence followed. Khorvash exhaled, flames still curling around his fists.

Then, slowly, he turned. His gaze swept across Kai and the others—measuring, challenging.

“Move,” he growled.

Kai met his eyes. For a breath, no one said anything. That was the first time he truly understood the power behind Khorvash’s reputation.

And it was clear now.

If Kai didn’t play this right, that fury would soon be turned on him.

***

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