The air in the cavern had become thick with dust and tension, the walls pulsing with a strange, steady hum that seemed to build with each second.

Volk’s brow furrowed as he looked around at the anxious faces of his Orcs, his voice echoing in the vast space.

“What’s the problem, Horde?” he barked, irritation flashing in his eyes. His voice came out low and gravelly, sharp enough to cut through the din of muttered voices and creaking stone.

An Orc stepped forward, the tremor of fear visible in his gaze as he gestured around them. “Watchief… the cave… it’s crumbling.”

“Crumbling?” Volk’s brows knitted together. He cast a sweeping glance around him, his gaze following the jagged cracks spider-webbing along the walls, winding their way like veins of some massive, ancient creature coming to life.

The ground beneath his feet began to tremble more insistently, as though something monstrous lay just below, struggling to break free.

Before he could fully take in the sight, a flickering system screen blinked to life in his line of vision, glowing ominously against the dim light of the cavern.

Ding!

| TIME ESTIMATE: 30 SECONDS TO THE ORZAROTH REALM!

| THE HOST MUST PREPARE… BECAUSE THE PROCESS WOULDN’T BE PAINLESS EVEN IF THE HOST AND THE HORDE WERE ORCS!”

Volk’s jaw clenched, the words a stark reminder of the fate looming over them.

“Alright!”

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He snapped his head back to his Horde, eyes blazing with a fierce determination. “Brace yourselves because we are now on our way!,” he commanded, his voice hard and unyielding.

“We’re heading down to the Orzaroth realm. The place where they’ve sent our wives, our partners—our symbiotic halves.”

His voice was like iron, ringing out clear and firm. “We must find them. Unite. Complete the Horde! Dominate the realm. Invade the other lower realm and finally go back to the higher realm for our payback against these Warlocks and Dark elves!!”

The Orcs nodded, some swallowing nervously, others gripping their weapons tighter as if clinging to the only lifeline left in this collapsing world.

They had come here through countless battles, fought side by side, bled together.

They could feel the weight of Volk’s words, and the mission was clear: survival, unification, completion. But even as resolve hardened in their chests, the ground shuddered violently beneath their feet, the tremors intensifying, and a low, guttural groan echoed through the cavern.

A deep crack split across the ground right before Volk’s eyes, spreading out like a web of dark lines ready to engulf them whole.

He watched as stones began to drop from the ceiling in a slow, relentless rhythm, a precursor to the inevitable collapse.

CRACK!

The ground lurched, and another tremor hit, more violent than the last.

The entire cavern seemed to convulse, a giant beast thrashing against its own restraints.

The noise was deafening, like the wailing of some ancient spirit coming to claim them.

KABAARRRGHH!

KABAAAARRGH!

KABAAAARRGH!!

The Catacomb itself felt almost alive, as though it were drawing a long, agonized breath, preparing for a final release. Suddenly, the ceiling high above began to split, small pieces falling first, each landing with a crunch that echoed off the stone walls.

Cracks raced down the walls, intertwining and crossing, widening like the mouth of a great, unseen beast poised to swallow them whole.

“WATCHIEF!” one of the Orcs screamed, voice raw and desperate as he clutched his head. “THE GROUND—IT’S—IT’S—!”

The earth below them began to crumble, the once-solid stone transforming into a treacherous, shifting floor.

The cavern shuddered, sending Orcs stumbling, desperately clawing for footing as the ground gave way beneath them.

Some teetered on the edge, wide-eyed and terrified, clutching at the earth as if it would hold them back from the yawning abyss that had begun to form.

“We’re all going to be swallowed!” one of the younger Orcs cried, his voice a frantic wail as he scrambled backward, watching in horror as the floor broke apart in jagged chunks.

“Stand your ground! Don’t panic!”

Volk roared, his voice cutting through the panic like a blade.

He stood rooted, his own feet slipping as the ground buckled beneath him, yet his stance was defiant, unyielding. But even his voice couldn’t fully silence the rising wave of dread that gripped the Horde as the very earth under them trembled with relentless fury.

The Catacomb groaned again, a sound so deep it vibrated through their bones, and the cracks expanded, large pieces of stone dropping away, leaving yawning chasms that reached deep into the darkness below.

Then, without warning, the ground fell away under the feet of one of the Orcs near Volk.

He let out a piercing scream, AAAARRGHHH! hands grasping desperately at the edge as his feet dangled over the void.

Another Orc tried to grab him, but the stone crumbled between his fingers, slipping through like sand.

The Orc fell, his scream echoing into the darkness until it was swallowed by silence.

The rest of the Horde watched, their faces twisted in horror, as their brother disappeared into the chasm, leaving nothing but the chilling memory of his final, desperate cry.

The fear spread like wildfire, and one by one, they all began to scream, voices mingling into a frantic cacophony.

“No—no! This isn’t happening!” one Orc shouted, his eyes wide with terror, hands shaking as he gripped his weapon like it could somehow save him from the collapsing earth.

“Hold fast!” another yelled, though his voice trembled with barely contained fear.

“Watchief!” another Orc screamed, his voice breaking, “The ground—it’s swallowing us! What do we do?”

But Volk barely heard them.

His gaze was locked forward, his jaw set, even as the ground fractured further beneath him, the inevitable descent bearing down on them. Yet, despite it all, his eyes gleamed with an indomitable spirit.

He inhaled deeply, pulling in the chaos around him, the screams, the fear, the tension—he could feel it all, pounding in his chest.

He threw his head back, his voice rising over the din, raw and filled with a primal ferocity. “LOK’TAAAAAR… OGAAAAAAR!”

The battle cry reverberated through the cavern, piercing the panicked cries of his Horde.

They joined in, their voices a chorus of rage and defiance as they rallied together, fists clenched, weapons raised, their screams mingling into a single, bloodthirsty roar.

“LOK’TAAAAAR… OGAAAAAAR!”

The Catacomb groaned, its final breath, as the ground split wide open, swallowing them whole one by one.

The Orcs fell, each plummeting into the darkness, their cries fading as they were pulled into the abyss.

Volk was the last to fall, the ground giving way beneath him as he felt the rush of air pulling him down.

His eyes flared with determination, his mouth still open in that battle cry as he plunged into the darkness. His mind sharpened, each sense heightened as he felt himself hurtling toward the unknown.

They were descending into the Orzaroth, thrown into the maw of the next realm with no promise of return.

They would be scattered, separated, broken—but Volk knew, as his scream echoed through the darkness, that they would find each other again.

This wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning.

Together, or apart, they would conquer.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep