"For more than a hundred years, every moment of mine was in pain and regret, but the time has come to receive the reward for this. I will carve this day onto your body, you bastard!"
"Grroooooooowwwwwwwww!"
The old orc let out a blood-curdling war cry. An even more powerful energy explosion than when he activated his Bloodline Power spread around from his body. This event was also accelerating the fall of the rocks rising on the sides of the passage.
"Quick, crush him and pass!"
The voice of the commander sent from the Main Tribe was trembling. He had neither heard nor witnessed such a thing before. The orc standing at the entrance of the passage took on a fire-red color; they had even started to feel the temperature of the air around him rising.
"Come on! Let me show you all what this old man can do at the second level of the power hidden inside him!"
Flood of Rage was the name of the next stage of Demirdöven's bloodline power. No one had been able to use this ability before. Actually, it would be a first for him too; thanks to the anger he accumulated over all these years, he was the sole person in the history of his lineage to reach the second level.
The orc, who had lost himself, swung his axe furiously! Apparently, there was no one in front of him; his enemies were still busy running towards him.
"Ahhhhh!"
"My arm, my arm is torn off!"
"How is this possible?"
Energy was overflowing from Demirdöven's body; there was plenty of it in the swing he made too. When his attack advanced in the air and hit his enemies, the result would be a disaster. A single blow and hundreds of dead; this was the might of the bloodline power's second level. At least as many heavily wounded orcs were polluting the snow-white ground. The orcs taking action to attack paused for a moment.
"The end of those retreating is death; forward!"
The commander, whose warriors fell into hesitation, would ensure the continuity of the movement by giving a ruthless order. The unfortunate orcs continued unwillingly towards the claws of the monster standing before them.
Fifty breaths had passed yet, but the attacking orcs were forced to attack by jumping over the corpse barricade formed in front of them; their losses were in a state calculated in tens of thousands.
"Incompetents, I will hang all of you when we return to the tribe!"
The War Chief's son, driven mad with anger, was hurling threats one after another.
"You will all be enemies of my lineage one day. Therefore, do not go anywhere other than me to die, children!"
Demirdöven was still conscious; he was eagerly waiting for the passage behind him to become unusable. Saying a hundred breaths, two hundred breaths, the road slowly started to close. The old orc just had to endure a little longer.
While charging a place of twenty steps was already a very difficult task for an army of five hundred thousand people, thanks to the man in front of them, this job was no different from committing suicide. While they were all inwardly waiting for the passage to close, another fifty breaths later, their wishes were granted.
After a loud noise, the road extending between two mountains disappeared as if it never existed. For a total of two hundred and fifty breaths, they had to be chopped like meat thrown into a mincer.
They would be able to breathe a sigh of relief, or at least that was what they thought. Until Demirdöven appeared on top of the corpses forming a small mountain, they had escaped the danger of death.
"The time the shaman told me has come. After seeing the person who will rule these lands, I can die with peace of mind now!"
Nafız had spoken very assertively while naming him. Some orcs in the environment hadn't grasped the seriousness of these words, seeing this only as a show of strength intended to be made. How could this old orc, who had lived for more than a hundred years, think like them? After watching his grandson's war and fighting with Alyon, he understood everything.
When two ancient bloodline powers united, his mind rejected the thought of the existence of a force that could stand against this. In these moments when he entered a road of no return, his only thought was how many enemies he could take with him.
"First you! The bastard of the degenerate!"
The old orc shot from his place like a comet. There was a fire snake formed by his afterimage behind him. Before two breaths passed, his axe entering through the enemy commander's neck and exiting from his waist encountered no obstacle.
From here on, it was completely a test of endurance; living wasn't in Demirdöven's eyes, he was racing against time to cut everyone appearing before him. As a matter of fact, his old body exerted effort far above its limits for the three thousand breaths passed since achieving a first in his lineage.
At the end of this action, whose reward was killing more than twenty thousand enemy warriors, Demirdöven became unable to breathe. He froze where he stood; with his axe in his hand, he was looking as if he would start attacking at any moment.
For a long time, the enemy army couldn't understand that he was dead. After a time that could be considered long, when they were finally sure, they attacked savagely. Their grudge against this man who took the lives of many of their friends was great. They didn't hesitate to cut his corpse until it became unrecognizable.
What angered them most was the huge smile on his face when he died. This scene, which no one in the tribe he ruled for a hundred years could see, had been granted to them.
Meanwhile, while the hundred thousand orcs who saved their lives inside the tunnel were in joy, there was a sad state in the group coming behind them. Demirdöven, performing the fatherhood he hadn't done for years at the last moment, left a bitter taste in the mouths of those left behind even though he died happy.
While one couldn't see their hand in front of their face in the dark environment, everyone was advancing properly thanks to the hand they placed on the back of the person in front of them. There was an airflow inside, which was proof that the tunnel they were in had more exits, not just two ways.
After an estimated half-day walk, they came to a very interesting place. A narrow exit appeared to the right of the road. Those looking curiously saw a set of lights playing various games by flashing in the distance. They were not in a position to seek adventure; they returned to the side of their friends continuing to walk without making a sound. Before long, the group containing Nafız and Alyon also came to the same point; they would stop for a while at the head of this road attracting their attention.
"Nafız, where do you think this road goes?"
Alyon asked his friend looking curiously at the lights appearing in the distance.
"How should I know, son; only it attracted my interest very much!"
The Blood God seemed hypnotized; she answered Alyon's question without even turning her head. Alyon thought for a while; when he seemed to have made a decision, he turned to the rest of the group and started speaking.
"We will check the road. You will proceed to where the Arid Region Tribe is together with the warriors newly joined us!"
These orcs had experienced very annoying events today. They didn't show any attitude against what was said.
"Kitapkurdu, ensure whatever is necessary is done to defend our lands considering the latest situations when you arrive!"
After giving full authority to his son, Alyon turned to his son-in-law Çekiçdöven.
"Today your father proved to everyone what kind of man he was. You must show all Orc Steppes that you are a son worthy of him too. You will be the commander of the armies. All orcs living in our region are our family; fulfill your duty knowing this!"
"Yes, sir!"
As their chief spoke, the faces of the other orcs were getting serious. These words were like the words of a person going to death.