Sangre might not have gone down with his master, but when he started integrating with nature, he could hear not only laughter but even the footsteps of an ant on the ground. The arrow he shot was one of the special ones he received from his master; he had nocked another one and was searching for his target with angry eyes.
"Fools, do you call yourselves orc warriors? If one more person makes the same mistake, I will take their life myself without leaving it to the enemy!"
Çekiçdöven shouted furiously; he was already being crushed under the tolerance shown to them for days.
"Calm down, Çekiçdöven; first, let's determine the conditions of the duel. If you want to fight my daughter, you will talk to me first!"
When Alyon got off his giant bear, the spirit animal stood up on its hind legs and stepped aside. The scene was magnificent; everyone, friend or foe, was looking with admiration at the man who made such a creature bow.
Nafız remained a spectator to the scene because it was impossible for her to bring out her own spirit animal among so many orcs.
"Speak, enemy chief, what is on your mind!"
Even though Çekiçdöven was aware of everything, he had to keep his tail up; after all, he was Beyaz Ayı's son.
"If you win, I will withdraw the army surrounding you, and you will return to your home having humiliated your enemy!"
Alyon was offering a way out to the enemy again. The naive attitude he adopted every time had exhausted even the last bit of Nafız's patience.
Faces were smiling in the surrounded orc army; if they returned home this way, they wouldn't have to be ashamed.
"However, if my daughter defeats you, your army and you will be my prisoners. Speak, son of the so-called greatest warrior of the Orc Steppes, do you have the courage?"
The second part of the conditions was a complete disaster. Alyon had made the enemy, whom he gave hope by showing spring, experience winter.
"If it's only these, it's not even worth mentioning; bring my war hammer from my tent!"
The young commander had no intention of stepping back; everything was clarified when he gave his order loudly to his assistants. Shortly after, two orcs were looking into each other's eyes with majestic weapons in their hands.
"Begin, let the square see a braveheart!"
Nafız's words lit the fuse; the opponents attempted to move rapidly towards each other. The female orc's halberd in her hand was shining, while Çekiçdöven struck the first blow with his hammer, which had a large knob at the back.
Yarmagül responded to the move with an agile body movement without lifting her weapon; she didn't think of clashing weapons. Her movement caused her opponent to smile; he was sure he would emerge as the superior side from a possible clash.
While the young commander continued his attacks without slowing down, Alyon's daughter contented herself with only parrying. Although the orcs besieging Parthenia wanted to shout cries of joy in the face of the situation, due to the archer waiting on top of the ramparts, they couldn't even talk among themselves.
The situation was rapidly progressing towards a point that could be called dire for one side; the attacks would eventually find their target. The expected moment didn't take long to arrive; executing a combined attack, Çekiçdöven swung his hammer from an angle the female orc facing him couldn't escape.
The situation didn't look very good for Yarmagül, who was faced with a blow impossible to parry. Seeing this, the female orc took an attack stance for the first time during the war and executed her strike.
"Bammm!"
When the dust on the ground mixed with smoke and covered the surroundings of the two warriors, the whole battlefield was impatient to see the result. While Çekiçdöven's warriors waited quite comfortably, there was visible panic on the other side.
"I hope this isn't all you can do; don't make me regret using my weapon against you!"
While Yarmagül made her speech, which she completed with laughter added at the end, the feelings of the spectators changed rapidly. Her warriors on the right flank got riled up and said whatever came to their mouths.
"Shut up!"
A deep voice made the area groan; Chief Alyon was scolding his own warriors.
"You've been shouting throughout the siege; did you trust these skills? Now watch closely, I will show you how an orc warrior fights!"
Yarmagül didn't cut her speed; following her barbed remarks, she held the huge axe from the bottom of its handle and raised it above her head. Just as she was about to land a violent blow with her right hand on her opponent who hadn't yet thrown off his astonishment, the young commander panicked and put his weapon in the path of the strike.
The female orc, whose axe bounced back slightly, leaped forward rapidly; just when it seemed she would pass even her own weapon, this time she grabbed it by the handle with her left hand and executed a cut from the side. The war hammer was in her way again, but this wouldn't mean everything was over.
Yarmagül was pursuing using the weight of her weapon with the highest efficiency in every strike, aiming to reduce her opponent's endurance with every blow.
If she made a strike from the top right, while the axe was still on the enemy, she rapidly changed hands and moved to the next blow from a counter angle with her opposite hand. Although the five consecutive strikes Çekiçdöven made last had won the appreciation of the crowd, what they were watching right now was a completely different level.
Yarmagül, who didn't pause even to breathe for ten strikes, would leave everyone in admiration. Only one person stopped watching her and was looking for someone in the crowd.
The person not enjoying the show was Nafız; she was looking for her student Kitapkurdu with careful gazes. Finally, she found him, but her student, as if guessing this, turned his head in another direction and ignored her.
Yarmagül was born a war enthusiast; she had been working incessantly, especially since the time she was humiliated by Nafız. Although she seemed to cheer up a bit when she bought a large weapon befitting herself from the reward dungeon, the wound in her heart remained unhealed.
Kitapkurdu couldn't remain indifferent to his sister's state; although they were orcs of separate worlds, the scrawny male orc's heart was very wide. Since he read the books his master gave and memorized them, a brilliant idea fell into his mind as soon as he saw the huge axe.
Because he was afraid of his master's reaction, he waited a bit at first, but this event would also affect the military forces of the orcs. With a burst of courage, he confronted his sister and gave her the technique book he prepared as a draft. After that moment, there was no turning back; he had changed a key point in his sister's fate.
Nafız got a little angry after her student's attitude, and since she couldn't intervene in the ongoing war and reach him, her hands were tied. She returned to watching the struggle; the female orc would finally pass the weapon barrage after her twentieth consecutive move.
"Ahhhh!"
Çekiçdöven let out a painful scream; although he had armor on, a few of his ribs were broken due to the blow he took to his chest. His magnificent equipment protected his body from direct blows, but even it couldn't prevent the pressure created by the strike.
The young commander was hurled meters away, and his wail was ringing in ears. His warriors were experiencing astonishment and shame at the same time; how could the man they had been under the command of for years come to this state?
Yarmagül stuck her axe into the ground and set about scanning her surroundings with arrogant eyes. She was tossing her opponent, from whom she didn't take a single blow, like a broken kite. Then, when the female orc's gazes met Nafız's, her expression suddenly changed; bowing her head in a bashful way, she averted her eyes.
She knew the source of the technique she used came from her; the biggest thorn in her heart grew a little larger.
Consecutive attacks made by constantly changing hands with a large axe were perhaps something impossible to see on the Orc Steppes until today. Even in Mora's memories, there were no images of this technique being applied; only the starting stance and the owner's name were very clear.
Viento's legendary technique Corte de Viento, the basis of the attacks that made him the Third Sheikh of the Sacred Blood Sect. His secret talent, which was thought not to be shared with the sect, had sketches drawn only with the narration of people who watched it.
Even in the sect he led, there wasn't a person who could train with the technique because they didn't have the gift Kitapkurdu received from the reward dungeon. The orc, synthesizing what was written and drawn in his mind, had produced a book almost as detailed as the person who invented it would write.
Nafız decided not to dwell on the subject too much; after all, it was the technique of a sect on the list of those whose account would be settled. She had sworn to eventually take revenge for what was done to her master and wipe them from history.
While Nafız, Kitapkurdu, and Yarmagül fell into their own calculations, the young commander laid on the ground like a sack of flour was slowly standing up.