The crowd was still reeling from the shocking turn of events, but before anyone could fully process what had happened, Grounad stood tall, still feeling his body battered and bruised, yet his expression was unbroken.

Like a spirit knowing where it was going.

Blood dripped down his mouth, but the fire in his eyes burned brighter than ever. L

He turned to face the gathering of Orcs and Elves.

“I may have fallen today, but I am no coward. I am no Orc who goes back on his word. From this moment forward, I am no longer a member of the Bloodfang Clan,” he declared with a loud voice that echoed across the gathering.

The crowd gasped.

No one could believe what they were hearing.

An Orc—especially one as proud as Grounad—swearing allegiance to another clan was unheard of.

Murmurs began to ripple through the gathered Orcs and Elves, growing louder with each passing moment.

“Did he just say…” an Ironhide Orc muttered, his voice trailing off in disbelief.

“He’s abandoning the Bloodfang Clan?” an Elf whispered to her companion, her eyes wide with astonishment.

“Grounad, one of the strongest warriors—No! The strongest of the Bloodfang Clan in their younger generation, joining Dreadmaw?” a large Orc from the Stonefist Clan scoffed. “What madness is this?”

“He gave his word, and he’s keeping it. A rare trait among Orcs these days,” another Orc observed, his arms crossed as he nodded thoughtfully.

But the Bloodfang Clan, Grounad’s own people, were the most shaken.

The Orcs there wore expressions of betrayal, their murmurs filled with venom and disbelief.

“He’s turning his back on his blood? On his own people?” one of the Bloodfang warriors spat, glaring daggers at Grounad.

“Volk humiliated him, and now he’s crawling away to save face,” a Bloodfang Elder muttered, shaking his head in disgust. “Pathetic.”

Despite the jeers and insults being thrown his way, Grounad remained stoic.

His decision had been made. His eyes, however, softened when they fell upon the figure of his elven wife, Mishana, standing among the crowd.

Mishana was a striking figure among the Orcs. Her skin was as pale as moonlight, with an otherworldly glow that marked her as one of the High Elven witches.

She stood tall and graceful, her flowing white hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of silk. Her eyes, large and almond-shaped, were a piercing shade of emerald green, sharp with intelligence and unyielding strength.

She was dressed in a combination of elven leather armor and the furs of the Orcish clans, a symbol of her unique bond with Grounad.

A light breeze stirred the silver strands of her hair as she gazed back at her husband, her expression unreadable.

“Mishana,” Grounad called out to her, his voice softer now, filled with a rare tenderness that he reserved only for her.

He walked toward her, limping slightly from the beatdown of the bull, but still strong in his resolve.

“Grounad,” she replied, stepping forward to meet him, her voice as smooth as silk. “Are you sure of this? To leave your clan? Your people? It’s not a decision that can be undone.”

Grounad nodded, his jaw set. “I gave my word, Mishana. I won’t go back on it. Not even for the Bloodfang Clan. Not even for my honor.”

Mishana searched his face for a moment, her sharp eyes flickering with emotion. “And what of me? What of us?” she asked, her voice quiet but firm. “If you leave, will I follow you into the Dreadmaw Clan? Will we be outcasts together?”

The Orcs and Elves fell silent, listening intently to their conversation. This was more than just a decision about clans—it was about family, about loyalty.

Grounad reached out, gently placing his massive hand on Mishana’s cheek.

“You are my wife, my partner. Where I go, you go. But… the choice is yours. If you want to remain with the Bloodfang Clan, I won’t stop you. I won’t force this on you.”

Mishana stood there for a moment, considering his words carefully. Her eyes flickered with a mix of emotions—love, loyalty, uncertainty. But there was also resolve in her gaze.

She placed her hand over Grounad’s, her fingers delicate but strong.

“Grounad, I am not one to be left behind. If you leave, then I leave with you. The Bloodfang Clan was never truly my home. You are. Wherever you go, I will follow.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd again, and Volk could hear every word as the Orcs and Elves speculated on what had just transpired.

“She’s leaving too?” an Ironhide Elf whispered. “She’s giving up her place among the Bloodfang Clan for him?”

“That’s love, I suppose,” an Orc muttered, his brow furrowed.

“Or foolishness,” another Elf replied, shaking her head.

“The Dreadmaw Clan gains a new warrior, and a High Elf no less,” an Orc grumbled. “This is unprecedented.”

Grounad and Mishana stood together, united in their decision.

They had chosen their path, and now they looked to Volk—the leader of the Dreadmaw Clan—for guidance. But when they turned their gaze toward him, they found only empty air.

Volk was gone.

“Where did he—?” Grounad began, his voice trailing off in confusion.

One of the Dreadmaw Clan warriors stepped forward, pointing toward the entrance of the catacombs. “He’s already gone inside.”

Grounad and Mishana exchanged a glance, their expressions both astonished and impressed. Without another word, they hurried toward the entrance, scrambling to catch up.

—

Meanwhile, deep inside the catacombs, Volk stepped on through the darkness without a sense of purpose.

The eerie silence of the underground passageways didn’t bother him. He had been here before. But this time, something felt different.

The familiar glow of the system flashed before his eyes, and he quickly checked his latest reward.

Ding!

| System Reward: Radioactive Wireless Connectivity. |

Volk furrowed his brow, staring at the strange message. “What the hell is this?” he muttered to himself. “Is this even a thing?”

He swiped the notification away, focusing instead on his surroundings.

When he had entered the catacombs last time, the place had been a dark, damp maze of stone and bones.

The kind of place where creatures lurked in the shadows, waiting for unsuspecting prey.

But now… it was different.

The cold stone walls had been replaced with lush greenery.

Trees and vines grew along the walls, their roots burrowing deep into the earth. The air was warm and fresh, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and damp soil. It was as if the catacombs had transformed into an underground forest.

“What is going on?” Volk whispered, his eyes wide with surprise.

He stepped forward cautiously, his instincts on high alert.

This was not the place he had remembered.

Something had changed within the depths of the catacombs, something unnatural.

His mind raced, trying to make sense of the transformation.

How could a place of death and decay turn into a living, breathing ecosystem? And more importantly—what dangers now lurked within?

As Volk ventured deeper into the unexpected greenery, the mystery of the catacombs only grew thicker, and with every step, he knew that something far more dangerous awaited them within these depths.

—

Just as Volk disappeared further into the unknown, Grounad and Mishana arrived at the entrance of the catacombs, breathless and wide-eyed.

“He’s already inside?” Grounad said, his voice tinged with frustration and admiration.

“Then we have to hurry,” Mishana replied, her eyes narrowing with determination. Together, they stepped into the green-infested depths, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep