The night air was thick with the lingering smell of smoke and sweat as Lhum’Baggar hurried through the dimly lit pathways of the Dreadmaw Clan’s encampment.

His heart raced with excitement, with a wide grin splitting his rough, scarred scary face.

He had done it—he had mutated his Grum-gar form into the third phase.

The power still coursed through him, his muscles thrumming with the memory of that transformation.

All he wanted now was to share the news with his wife, to see the pride in her eyes when she heard.

As he neared the familiar outline of their tent, a voice suddenly cut through the night, freezing him in his tracks.

“Older Brother…”

The voice was familiar, too familiar. Lhum’Baggar’s grin faltered, his body stiffening as recognition washed over him.

He knew that voice all too well, and with it came memories—bitter, frustrating memories.

Without turning, Lhum’Baggar spoke into the dark, his voice low and measured. “Luk’Tar, what do you want?”

A shadow shifted in the distance, moving closer, and the atmosphere around Lhum’Baggar seemed to darken. His younger brother stepped into view, his face barely visible in the flickering torchlight.

There was something off about him, something dangerous in the way he moved, in the way his eyes gleamed with barely suppressed fury.

“You know what I want,” Luk’Tar growled, his voice dripping with malice. “But depending on your mood, you didn’t! You could’ve killed him, brother. You could’ve killed that laborer orc—Volk. But you didn’t.”

Lhum’Baggar clenched his fists, with his teeth grinding together. He had known this was coming, sooner or later. He turned slowly, locking eyes with Luk’Tar.

“I didn’t kill him because I lost to him. Fair and square, just like I told you. You need to move on, Luk’Tar. He beat you in battle too. You stole his kill, and he still bested you. It’s over.”

Luk’Tar’s face twisted with rage, his lips curling back to reveal his tusks. His eyes burned with a hatred that was almost palpable.

“Move on? MOVE ON?”

His voice rose, echoing through the quiet night like a snarl.

“That laborer orc—he’s taken everything from me! Everything! First, he steals my kill, and now he’s taken my place, my pride! And you, my own brother, you’ve turned your back on me for him!”

Lhum’Baggar frowned, his brow furrowing as he watched his brother with growing concern.

There was something wrong, something deeply wrong with Luk’Tar.

The rage in his voice wasn’t the usual frustration or jealousy—it was deeper, darker, almost unhinged.

“What are you talking about, Luk’Tar?” Lhum’Baggar asked, his voice softening. “Volk didn’t take anything from you. You lost that fight because you weren’t ready. You’ve been chasing after that woman instead of training, and it’s showing. You’re angry, I get it, but this…this isn’t you.”

Luk’Tar’s face contorted further, his eyes blazing with fury as he stalked closer.

“Not me? NOT ME? That’s rich, coming from you! He’s stolen everything, Lhum’Baggar! Everything! First my kill, then my woman, and now…you.

My own brother sounds like he’s under Volk’s command. A laborer orc! He’s nothing! And you…you defend him!”

Lhum’Baggar’s patience snapped, his voice rising in anger.

“Enough!” His massive hand lashed out, grabbing Luk’Tar by the arm and yanking him closer.

“You think this is Volk’s fault? You think you’ve lost everything because of him? No, Luk’Tar. You lost because you’ve been lazy. You haven’t trained, you haven’t fought for anything, you’ve been chasing after that woman like a dog while the rest of us were becoming stronger!”

Luk’Tar tried to pull away, but Lhum’Baggar’s grip was like iron, holding him in place.

His brother’s words hit him hard, but instead of retreating, Luk’Tar’s anger only flared hotter. His eyes flashed, his chest heaving as he snarled back at Lhum’Baggar.

“So it’s my fault now, is it? Always my fault! You’ve always blamed me for everything, haven’t you? When I was younger, it was ‘Luk’Tar, why aren’t you training harder?’ ‘Luk’Tar, why aren’t you as strong as Lhum’Baggar?’

“Well, guess what, brother? I’m tired of it. Tired of living in your shadow, tired of being compared to you, and now tired of hearing you side with that damned Volk!”

Lhum’Baggar released Luk’Tar, shoving him back with a force that sent his younger brother stumbling. His own anger boiled over, and his voice thundered through the camp.

“You think this is about me? You think I care about being compared to you? No, Luk’Tar, this is about you! You’ve been chasing after things that don’t matter—women, glory, whatever you think will make you important. But you’ve forgotten what it means to be an orc of the Dreadmaw Clan! Strength, honor, battle!

You’ve forgotten all of it!”

Lhum’Baggar’s chest heaved as he glared at his brother, his voice filled with disappointment.

“You lost to Volk because you weren’t ready. You let your jealousy, your laziness get in the way of what really matters. And now, you’re standing here, whining like a child because you didn’t get what you wanted.

“Well, guess what, Luk’Tar? That’s not how our clan works. You want something? You fight for it. Do you want respect? You earn it.

Volk did, and that’s why he’s stronger than you.”

Luk’Tar stood there, chest rising and falling rapidly as he glared at his brother, his eyes wild with rage.

For a long moment, the two of them stared at each other, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a blade.

Then, suddenly, Luk’Tar’s face changed. His rage seemed to drain away, replaced by something colder, more calculating. His lips curled into a cruel smile as he took a step back, his hands held up in mock surrender.

“Fine, brother. Fine.”

His voice was low now, almost calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it that made Lhum’Baggar’s skin crawl.

“You’re right. Maybe I have been too focused on things that don’t matter. Maybe I haven’t been training hard enough. But if that’s the case, I want to show you something.”

Lhum’Baggar narrowed his eyes, suspicious of the sudden change in his brother’s demeanor. “What are you talking about?”

Luk’Tar’s grin widened, a twisted, unsettling smile that made Lhum’Baggar’s stomach churn. “Come with me, brother. I want you to meet someone.”

Lhum’Baggar hesitated, his instincts screaming that something was wrong. But curiosity and concern for his brother won out. “Meet someone? Who?”

Luk’Tar’s smile didn’t falter as he turned and began walking away, his voice floating back over his shoulder. “Someone who can help me. Someone who can help us both.”

Lhum’Baggar felt a cold knot of dread form in his stomach as he watched his brother disappear into the shadows. He took a deep breath, his mind racing.

Something was very wrong, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever Luk’Tar was about to show him, it wasn’t good.

Without another word, Lhum’Baggar followed his brother into the darkness, his heart pounding in his chest.

As they walked, Luk’Tar’s voice floated back to him, cold and almost mocking. “I wonder what your wife will think of this…”

Lhum’Baggar’s blood ran cold, his eyes widening in shock. “My wife?” he whispered, his heart skipping a beat. What was his brother planning?

The night seemed to close in around him as Lhum’Baggar quickened his pace, his mind racing with dark thoughts.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep