While everyone was waiting for Yarmagül, the person who spoke was the eldest male child of the family. Kitapkurdu slowly entered the circle with his white fur coat on. He had asked for neither an answer nor approval for his words; his determination was reflected in his gaze.
"Is this a joke? Did they send this dwarf as an opponent against me? Look at his ornaments!"
The warrior of the Glacial Region Tribe was speaking amidst laughter; his other comrades-in-arms hadn't held back from accompanying him.
"I am Kitapkurdu, son of Great Chief Alyon, Logistics Chief of the Arid Region. I invite you to a duel to the death; do you have the heart? Or is the only useful part of your body your mouth?"
The answer of the Blood God's student was much harsher than expected of him; his words would cause his father to panic. Alyon immediately turned to his friend, seeking consolation in her questioning looks, but Nafız's expression seemed like she wouldn't give anything away.
"Well, well, well, he grew up and challenges me in my own lands. Everyone is a witness; this struggle will not end unless one person inside the circle dies!"
What else could the enemy warrior want; he had earned the right to kill his opponent without any guilt remaining on him. Before taking a battle stance with the axe in his hand, he let out a roar that would make the place groan to strike fear into his opponent's heart.
Kitapkurdu was calm; after throwing aside the coat he slowly took off, he tossed his hair braided in a ponytail back. While walking towards his opponent with short steps, he had a timid manner contrary to his speech; it was as if he was seeing the truth as he approached.
"Die, you freak!"
The warrior representing the Glacial Region swung his axe furiously after running with big strides. His aim was to split his target from end to end, but at the last moment, he noticed the image of the orc opposite him blurring.
"Ahh!"
Four cuts appeared one on top of the other on his right leg. Although he cried out in pain for a moment, when he checked with his eyes, it didn't look like anything serious.
"You sneaky rat, what are you hiding inside those gloves?"
Kitapkurdu hadn't taken off this item, which he wore on the ice-covered lake, even in the fighting circle. Everyone attributed this to his fondness for ornaments, but contrary to what was thought, he used it to hide the high-quality claws he had specially made for himself.
Maybe he was physically weaker than all his other kin, but with his superior intelligence and more gold than all of them, the opportunities before him were endless. The weapons he used weren't ordinary; if someone could see Aramis's stamp on them, they could understand what they were dealing with and step aside.
"I deemed these claws suitable for myself. How is it, is the feeling they leave nice?"
Although his opponent couldn't see, the spectators had witnessed what happened. Kitapkurdu, sliding on his back between the legs of the warrior swinging his axe with ambition, had even made an attack with his claws in the meantime.
"These? I don't even feel ticklish!"
Although he tried not to show it, taking a blow from such a weak opponent had demoralized the Glacial Region warrior; he would continue attacking without wasting time. This time he was behaving more cautiously, choosing his movements carefully not to leave an opening.
Like the entire continent, the fighting circle was covered with snow, but as the war progressed, every step of the large orc would bloom like a red rose on the snow-white ground. His wound wasn't deep; normally, he should have gotten rid of this trouble long ago by now.
Two hundred breaths passed since he took the blow, but the orc, seeming to lose strength from chasing his opponent, suddenly stopped and then collapsed to the ground. After making the first strike, Kitapkurdu took no risks at all; he just continued to escape with movement techniques he learned from his master.
While no one understood what happened, this scene seemed very familiar to some people. Especially Yarmagül understood the man lying on the ground very well. In the moments when uncertainty reigned in the environment, the scrawny orc, who was about to go out from the part of the circle close to them after taking his coat standing on the side, left a tube on the ground and shouted loudly enough for everyone to hear.
"There is a poison I made myself in your blood, and the only antidote is in this bottle on the ground; you must be quick if you don't want to die!"
Nafız's student had planned the fight stitch by stitch; he had even specifically chosen the place where his enemy would collapse. While the warrior falling near the right side of the circle was agonizing in front of his friends, his only salvation was on the left side where the enemy was.
The only way was to crawl in that direction; he would either stay where he was or humiliate himself in front of his enemy's eyes by trampling his pride underfoot. It didn't take long for him to decide; the desire to live was the primary priority for every living thing; he closed his eyes, plugged his ears, and started doing whatever he had to do.
As he got closer to the small tube, he felt his strength draining from his body; he was trying to hold on to life with the last effort remaining inside him. Finally, one last move remained, and then he would be able to extend his arm and take the antidote. His friends wouldn't be able to say a single word; no matter how painful it was, they didn't want their comrade to die.
He was about to take the tube into his palms, it was a breath away from him, but at the last moment, he stopped moving like a puppet whose strings were cut. His eyes looking with hope were still open; perhaps they were the only living thing remaining from his body that stopped breathing.
There hadn't been a bloody war; there was neither a severed head nor a limb, but the event just experienced was the most terrifying victory in the history of the Orc Steppes. Kitapkurdu shattered his opponent's self; in his person, he had succeeded in humiliating the entire enemy army.
The Blood God carefully scanned her student from head to toe, who was cleaning the snow on his coat as if nothing happened. What had the child, who said he wanted to fight desperately inside the tent where he was abandoned that day, turned into like this?
"Whose student is he, my lion. You deserve these paths!"
Speaking cheerfully, the Blood God was skipping a subject; the killing intent rising from her immediate right had caused the snow on the ground to fly. After the events experienced, her student Sangre, who was always superior in war, was practically catching fire.
"Nafız, look after that one. Let's not get into trouble for nothing!"
This state would worry Alyon. The Blood Warrior didn't have much of a brake; one hand was always on his bow, and his eyes were on the person he aimed to kill.
"I've talked myself blue in the face with you. Our job is just to watch; I don't want the slightest unruliness!"
Actually, her student wasn't doing these movements consciously; there was a vortex of anger slowly growing inside him. Sometimes this situation became so unbearable that anger seizures pulling him in too were hitting his mind in waves.
"Send your second warrior!"
The voice belonged to Beyaz Ayı; the old orc was calm as if he wasn't the one whose warrior was arrogantly slaughtered just a moment ago but someone else.
"Since he watched his uncle, let the little one see his mother too!"
Yarmagül started swinging her giant halberd, getting faster and faster. She exaggerated the job so much that visibility dropped to zero in the part where they were due to the snow rising from the ground. Five breaths after she stopped, a path cleared of snow had formed in front of the female orc starting to walk; with all her nobility and majesty, she was walking onto the stage as if on a red carpet.
"I am Yarmagül, daughter of Great Chief Alyon. Is there a person among you to face me?"
After the call, the environment was silent; after a while, a Glacial Region warrior carrying a large shield in his hand stepped into the arena. His gaze was cold; walking up to the middle, he greeted his opponent with respect.