Volk’s voice echoed again, desperation lacing his words as he screamed, “WAIIIIIIITTTTT!”

His throat felt raw, and his breath came in harsh gasps, hoping to catch their attention, but his pleas were drowned out by the sounds of the marching Orcs and Elves.

The clan was on the move, and no one paid him any mind, no one seemed to care about his shout.

Beside him, Solluha’r, her brow furrowed in concern, reached out to grip her husband’s arm. “Volk, what’s going on?” she asked, her voice low yet insistent. Her violet eyes searched his face, seeing the turmoil written across it.

“There’s a traitor,” Volk muttered, almost to himself, the weight of the accusation pressing down on his chest. His heart thudded heavily against his ribcage.

Solluha’r’s sharp ears picked up his words instantly, and she stiffened.

“A traitor?” she repeated, shocked. Her mind raced. “How do you know this?” she pressed, pulling him to the side of the moving line, her tone urgent.

Volk hesitated.

He couldn’t just blurt out that his system had delivered this message.

It wasn’t something anyone could easily understand—his abilities were still mysterious even to him. “I can’t explain,” he said at last, shaking his head. “But I know it’s true. Someone in the tribe is working against us.”

Solluha’r narrowed her eyes, her agile mind whirring as she took in his words. She trusted Volk—more than anyone. But this was a dangerous claim. “Who do you think it is?” she asked carefully, her voice steady despite the rising tension.

Volk swallowed hard, glancing around at the marching Orcs and Elves, some of whom shot curious glances in their direction. “Lhum’Baggar. It’s connected to him somehow.”

“Lhum’Baggar?” Solluha’r echoed, her eyes flashing with alarm. She bit her lip, thinking. “But where is he? I haven’t seen him or his wife since you told me about the catacombs yesterday.”

Her voice trailed off as the realization hit her, her sharp mind piecing things together faster than Volk could. “Wait… don’t tell me…” Her eyes grew wide, and she whispered, “Luk’Tar?”

Volk’s eyes snapped to hers, and a cold chill ran down his spine.

How had he not thought of Luk’Tar? His mind replayed the confrontations he had against Lhum’Baggar’s younger brother, Luk’Tar.

The hate on his face when Volk stole Solluha’r from him.

The tension between them had always simmered, but now… now, he could feel something far darker seemed to be at play.

Could Luk’Tar be involved?

Before he could respond, a presence approached from behind.

The faint sound of footsteps stopped near them, and a feminine voice, tinged with authority, cut through the air.

“Why are you screaming ‘wait’ for?” the voice asked, calm but with a quiet force that demanded an answer.

Volk and Solluha’r turned simultaneously to face the newcomer.

A tall, elegant Elf stood before them. She was strikingly beautiful, her golden hair flowing down her back in intricate braids, her pale skin radiant in the moonlight. But there was more than beauty to this woman—there was power.

She held herself with the commanding presence of someone used to being obeyed. Her amber eyes gleamed with curiosity as she studied Volk.

Her scent hit them next, a subtle mixture of floral oils and something… ancient, something that made Volk immediately aware that she wasn’t just any Elf.

This was someone with status, someone the older members of the Dreadmaw Clan probably knew well.

“Well?” the Elf said again, her voice even, but the hint of amusement in her tone irritated Volk.

“Why are you causing such a disturbance when we are in the middle of marching? Or are you unaware that we are trying to flee from Warlocks?” Her smile was thin and sharp, like the edge of a blade.

Volk opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat.

He didn’t know how to explain it—how to accuse one of their own in front of someone so imposing. But Solluha’r gave him a subtle nod, encouraging him to speak.

He had no choice.

If he stayed silent now, the traitor could or might escape.

With hesitation, Volk finally answered, his voice low but firm, “I… I can feel it. There’s a traitor among us.”

The Elf raised one perfect brow, then laughed lightly, though it lacked warmth. “A traitor? Now? You choose now to make such a claim?” Her amber eyes sparkled with amusement as if Volk had just told her a joke.

“We’re fleeing from the Red Warlocks, Orc. Do you think this is the time to start accusing your own?”

Her smile vanished, and her eyes sharpened. “Tell me, who do you believe is the traitor? I’m curious.”

Volk hesitated again, glancing at Solluha’r for reassurance before he finally said, “Lhum’Baggar. It’s connected to him.”

The Elf’s expression changed instantly. Her playful demeanor evaporated, replaced by a look of cold calculation.

“Lhum’Baggar?” she repeated, the name hanging in the air like a dark cloud. She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as if processing the information. “What’s his surname?”

Volk blinked, his mind racing for the answer. Then, he replied, “Durghan.”

The moment the name left his lips, the Elf’s reaction was immediate. Her face twisted into shock, her amber eyes wide as she stepped back slightly, processing what Volk had just said.

There was a brief silence before she straightened, her face now a mask of grim suspicion.

Without warning, the Elf raised her hand, and a stream of shimmering magic particles flowed from her fingertips.

The air around them vibrated as her magic coalesced into a sphere of light. Then, her voice, amplified by her magic, boomed across the camp.

“HAAAAAALLLTT!!”

The power of her voice carried far and wide, stopping the entire march in its tracks.

Every Orc, every Elf, every being within the Dreadmaw Clan froze as the command echoed through the night.

The Elf’s eyes burned with intensity as she glanced at Volk before shouting again, “Lak’Ran Durghan, you are summoned!”

For a moment, silence filled the air, thick with tension. And then, in the distance, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed back in response.

The ground trembled slightly as something—someone—approached.

Soon, a massive figure stepped forward from the shadows, and Volk’s heart skipped a beat.

Lak’Ran Durghan, the father of Lhum’Baggar and Luk’Tar, appeared. His hulking form cast a long shadow, and the air around him seemed to pulse with dark energy.

His skin, once the color of a rich, earthen brown, now held a darker hue, almost as if tainted by something unnatural. His eyes—pitch black, void of any emotion—stared out at the crowd, radiating menace.

Volk felt his body tense instinctively, sensing the overwhelming magical energy coming from Lak’Ran.

It was oppressive, suffocating.

Every particle in the air seemed to hum with danger.

This was not just any Orc.

This was someone who had dabbled in powers far beyond the normal Grum-gar form. His aura felt tainted, corrupted by something… dark.

Lak’Ran Durghan’s gaze fell upon Volk, and for a brief moment, the two locked eyes.

The oppressive power of the elder Orc washed over Volk, and the realization hit him like a thunderbolt.

His voice trembled, but the words spilled out before he could stop them.

“You… you are one of the traitors!”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep