Meanwhile, deep in a dense, shadowy forest, Volk tread carefully through the underbrush.

The towering trees above formed a canopy so thick that only dappled sunlight broke through, casting eerie patterns on the ground.

The air was thick with the scent of moss and damp earth, and the distant calls of unseen creatures echoed faintly.

Volk pulled out the map once again. It vibrated softly in his hands, its surface glowing with shifting colors.

He studied it closely, his sharp eyes scanning the markings.

The dark green dots representing his horde members still pulsed faintly, scattered across the human kingdom and the Grand Canyon.

The yellow-green markings in the elven lands glowed faintly, representing the elves tied to his horde.

The red dots, the perished members, remained a painful reminder of those he had already lost.

But now, a new color has appeared.

It was a silvery-metal hue, unlike anything he had seen before.

The silver markings were scattered in two distinct patterns.

Some were single lines, while others were double lines.

As he traced the markings with his finger, Volk’s brow furrowed in thought.

“Silver,” he muttered to himself. “And transparent inside… what are you?”

The lines seemed to represent something alive, but not human. After some deliberation, Volk came to a conclusion.

“These must be… other tribes.” His voice rumbled softly. “The one-line markings… What are they?.” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “And the two-line markings too.”

He stood still for a moment, his mind racing. The map was guiding him, urging him to rebuild. To gather.

“The horde,” Volk whispered. “If I’m to be a Warchief, I need them all. So I must check them all.”

Not long.

The markings closest to him were a cluster of single-line silver dots.

He didn’t know what they were, however, they were near, perhaps a few hours’ travel through the forest.

Volk’s decision came quickly. “Single line first,” he muttered.

He tucked the map back into his shorts and adjusted his gauntlets.

His eyes scanned the forest ahead, his senses sharp for any sign of movement.

The air was still, but Volk knew better than to trust it.

As he began his march, his massive frame moved with surprising stealth, his steps barely disturbing the forest floor.

The distant sound of birdsong faded as he pushed deeper into the woods.

The forest was quiet save for the faint rustle of leaves under Volk’s heavy boots. He pulled out the map once more, its soft glow lighting his rugged features as he scrutinized the markings.

His eyes landed on the nearest silver line—a single circle—and he paused, his brow furrowed.

“What kind of monster is this?” he muttered to himself. “An Orc like me… or one of those Ogres like my Radioactive form?”

His massive finger traced the line on the map, and he noticed the cluster it represented: six dots.

He tilted his head, narrowing his gaze.

After a moment of careful observation, his lips curled into a surprised grin.

“Four females… and two males,” he murmured. “So, it’s Orcs, not Ogres. Single line means Orc. Double line must mean Ogre.”

Satisfied with his deduction, Volk tucked the map back into his armored shorts.

He shook his head and laughed softly to himself. “And here I thought I’d find some hulking brute waiting to smash me into the dirt.”

As he pressed forward, the sunlight filtering through the forest canopy grew dimmer.

His thoughts churned as he moved, his sharp mind dissecting the situation.

“How do I invite an Orc to join my horde?” he wondered aloud. “Do I demand it? Fight them? Offer something in return?”

The question lingered, unanswered.

Volk’s instincts told him that brute force might not work.

Orcs were proud, stubborn creatures, much like himself. If he came in swinging, they’d resist out of principle, even if they respected his strength.

“Respect,” he muttered. “Maybe that’s the key.”

With that thought, Volk straightened his posture and continued, the massive trees parting slightly as he approached the silver markings.

The faint sound of conversation reached Volk’s ears before he saw them.

The voices were gruff, tinged with the harsh accent of his kind.

He slowed his pace, peering through the dense underbrush.

There they were: six Orcs.

Two males and four females stood in a loose circle, their postures relaxed but alert.

They wore patched leather armor and carried crude weapons—axes, clubs, and daggers.

One of the males had a large scar running down his face, his hand resting on the hilt of a jagged blade.

The females looked equally fierce, their sharp eyes scanning the forest as they talked.

Volk emerged from the trees, his massive frame causing a branch to snap loudly underfoot.

The Orcs whipped around, weapons drawn, their eyes narrowing as they took in the sight of him.

“Who goes there?” barked the scarred male, his blade gleaming in the dappled light.

Volk raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “Easy,” he rumbled, his deep voice carrying a note of calm authority. “I’m not here to fight.”

The Orcs didn’t lower their weapons, but their tension eased slightly. The females exchanged glances, their expressions wary but curious.

One of them, a tall female with braided hair and a chipped axe, stepped forward. “You’re… like us,” she said, her voice tinged with suspicion.

Volk nodded. “I am.”

The scarred male scowled. “That doesn’t mean you’re welcome here, stranger. State your business.”

Volk took a step closer, his massive presence causing the group to instinctively take a step back. He kept his voice steady, respectful. “My name is Volk. I’m forming a horde.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. The Orcs exchanged looks, their expressions shifting from suspicion to intrigue.

“A horde?” one of the younger females asked, her brow furrowing. “What for?”

“To reclaim what’s ours,” Volk said simply. “To fight back against the humans who hunt us, the Ogres who see us as lesser, and anyone else who thinks we’re just fodder for their wars.”

His words seemed to strike a chord. The Orcs lowered their weapons slightly, their postures relaxing further.

The scarred male stepped forward, his expression skeptical. “And what makes you think we’d follow you, Volk? We don’t even know you.”

Volk met his gaze evenly. “I’m not asking you to follow me blindly. I’ll prove myself if I have to. But I’m offering something none of us have had in a long time.”

“What’s that?” the braided female asked, her voice softer now.

“A purpose,” Volk said firmly.

The group fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

Volk extended his hand, his massive palm open in a gesture of trust. “I’ll ask once, and I’ll respect your answer. Will you join my horde?”

The Orcs hesitated, their eyes darting between Volk and each other.

Finally, the scarred male stepped forward, his scarred face set in a determined scowl. He reached out and clasped Volk’s forearm in a firm grip.

“You’ve got guts, Volk,” he said gruffly. “I’ll follow you.”

One by one, the others stepped forward, their expressions resolute. Each clasped Volk’s arm, pledging their allegiance.

The braided female was the last. She hesitated for a moment before gripping his forearm tightly. “Don’t make us regret this,” she said, her voice carrying a note of warning.

Volk grinned, his sharp teeth glinting. “You won’t.”

As they stood together, Volk suddenly felt a subtle shift in the air.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep