The torches in the vast catacombs cast flickering shadows across the rugged stone walls, creating a dim, eerie ambiance as the Orcs gathered around their Watchief.

The stale, ancient air filled their lungs, and every Orc had their eyes on Volk, waiting for his next command.

They could see his eyes glint with a feral spark, the weight of untold plans hidden behind a steadfast gaze.

The atmosphere buzzed with tension, a mix of curiosity and trepidation, as the Orcs dared to address him with their questions.

One of the older Orcs stepped forward, bowing his head in respect. “Watchief, what do you mean by that?” he asked in a low, gravelly voice that rumbled through the quiet room like distant thunder.

Volk’s jaw tightened, his muscles twitching as he sized up the crowd, the spark in his eyes hardening to steel.

“It means,” he said, pausing for emphasis, “that when we land in the Orzaroth realm, nothing is certain. Maybe it’s a realm that doesn’t take kindly to outsiders or it does. But it’s best we assume the worst.

“Like we could be facing unknowns—terrain that won’t welcome us, beasts that’d tear through us without a second thought, and… other dangers.”

Another Orc leaned forward, expression both curious and anxious. “But we’re together, right? As a Horde?” His voice held an edge, his words uncertain.

Volk’s expression darkened, his lips pulling into a tight line as he clenched his fists.

“Yes. We’re a Horde, always. But this isn’t a simple march into a new world.”

He let his gaze sweep over the crowd, lingering on each Orc.

“Orzaroth… it’s unpredictable. Even the syst—catacomb doesn’t control where each of us will land. We may touch down near each other… or we may be scattered across realms—”

The Orcs shifted uneasily, glancing at each other, whispers rippling through the ranks. Volk saw their worry, their discomfort at the unknown.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself.

The truth was, he didn’t want them to panic.

If they knew the full extent of their separation in the new realm, the Horde’s morale could shatter before the battle even began. Enjoy new tales from empire

For an Orc, trust in one’s Horde was sacred—a bond forged through battle and shared blood.

If they feared for one another, feared that each battle might be fought alone, the confidence he’d so carefully built might falter.

No, Volk would keep their fears at bay. There would be no weakness tonight.

He squared his shoulders, his voice resonating with firm resolve as he listed the potential dangers they might face.

“When we touch down, we can land anywhere. Be prepared. Some of you might find yourselves in a land of endless lava plains, searing your flesh with every step.”

A low murmur of concern passed through the group. Lava plains—hot, relentless, treacherous ground that could melt through armor.

“And some,” Volk continued, his voice deep and unyielding, “may be thrust into a freezing wasteland, where the air bites like blades and the ground is a death trap of ice and shadows.

“Where the cold seeps into your bones, making every breath feel like your last.”

Several Orcs shifted uncomfortably, imagining the brutal chill of such a place. The tension grew thicker, their eyes fixed on Volk.

“There are seas in Orzaroth that hold creatures with teeth like spears, monsters that’ll pull you under and feast on you alive. Imagine endless water, nothing to stand on, just the icy depths pulling you down.”

More murmurs spread through the group, eyes darting from Volk to each other, uncertain yet riveted by his words.

“And some of you,” he said, his voice lowering ominously, “could land in poison swamps, where the air itself is toxic, breathing itself a challenge. The ground seeps with muck, ready to pull down anyone who missteps.”

The Orcs swallowed, the vivid imagery of each hellish landscape hardening their expressions, steeling them for the dangers that awaited. But Volk wasn’t finished.

“Acidic marshlands, where the very earth can burn you alive. Shadowed forests, filled with beasts that blend with the night, their claws sharper than any steel.”

He paused, his voice even lower, as if speaking directly to their core fears.

“Cursed plains, where the air carries the wails of the dead, a place that drains your strength, leaving only your bones.”

The Orcs listened, hearts pounding, breaths growing shallower. Yet their eyes burned with resolve.

“And,” Volk added, his voice a solemn growl, “even the chance that we may not land together. That’s the reality of going to unknown lower realms, like this Orzaroth. It’s not just about surviving the elements—it’s about surviving alone.”

The silence stretched, heavy and charged.

The Orcs took a collective breath, each of them weighed down by the thought of fighting in isolation.

But then, as if by unspoken agreement, they each nodded, one by one, their gazes hard and unwavering.

They would stand by Volk’s side, no matter what lay ahead.

They would prove their worth as Orcs.

Satisfied, Volk nodded back, approving of their resolve.

The Orcs dispersed, some murmuring among themselves about the dangers Volk had described, others choosing to rest, preparing themselves for the journey ahead.

They lay down, each mind filled with the promise of Orzaroth, a realm where survival was a relentless, endless battle.

Volk found himself a place apart from the others, his mind heavy with thoughts as he lay back, staring up at the stone ceiling.

It was rare for him to feel the weight of his own words, to be burdened by the uncertainty of a mission.

Yet tonight, he could feel it—the unspoken tension, the knowledge that come tomorrow, they would face the unknown.

Soon, his heavy eyes closed, and sleep claimed him.

In the depths of his slumber, images flickered through his mind, a chaotic blend of memories and sensations. He was not in Orzaroth; he was somewhere else entirely. Earth.

Volk’s brow furrowed in his sleep, his body tensing as scenes from his past played out, echoing with voices from a time long gone.

Cold, sterile rooms, walls of white and gray, a hum of electric lights above.

He could see them—the scientists that had experimented on him, the people who had brought him to this strange, magical world.

Their faces were obscured, but he recognized their voices, clinical and detached.

“Look at his body—it’s twitching,” one of them said, his voice filled with an unnerving mix of curiosity and calculation. “Do you think the experiment is working?”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, followed by the shuffling of feet and the clinking of metal instruments.

They stood around a cold steel table, papers scattered across it, each one marked with strange, intricate formulas.

“Should we test it?” another voice asked, hesitant yet filled with intrigue.

“We can’t. We don’t have the funding for a full-scale test. Not yet.” There was a sigh, a pause, filled with frustration. “But we can’t just leave it. We’ve come so far…”

“But the risk,” one voice argued, tense. “If something goes wrong, if it fails, we’re liable for more than just a failed experiment. There’s no budget for damages.”

Silence hung in the air as they debated, the tension thick and almost palpable.

One of them reached out, fingers grazing the instruments on the table. “We need to know if it’s viable. The board won’t approve another dime without results.”

One scientist, a woman with a clipped, precise tone, folded her arms, her gaze sharp and unyielding. “We could perform a minor test—just enough to see if he responds.”

“Agreed,” said another, almost reluctantly. “But nothing invasive. Not until we’re certain.”

The argument continued, their voices merging into a cacophony, each word laced with careful, clinical detachment, as if Volk was a mere specimen on a tray.

He could feel it—the cold bite of metal restraints, the prick of needles as they prepared to test his limits, to push him further.

In his mind, they loomed over him, masked faces peering down, surgical tools gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights.

The glint of metal was a promise, a threat, as they circled him like predators ready to pounce.

And then, suddenly, the image shifted, the lab fading, dissolving into the darkness of the catacombs.

His brow relaxed, his body settled, and he opened his eyes.

Volk blinked, the shadows of the past fading from his mind as he took in the quiet scene around him.

The warrior Orcs lay sprawled across the floor, resting soundly, their breaths deep and even. He frowned, mumbling to himself as he studied their still forms, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over him.

“Strange…” he muttered under his breath, casting a final glance at his slumbering Horde.

Then, settling back against the cold stone, he let sleep claim him once more, the weight of tomorrow’s battles fading into the quiet of the night.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep