Praise the Orc

Chapter 128: The Law of the North (1)

Crockta got up from his seat. He had returned, but there was no one around him. Tiyo and Anor’s beds were empty. It was already noon based on the sunlight streaming in through the window.

They were in Spinora, where the major battle had occurred, and the city was in ruins.

Only a few buildings remained, and those who survived set up tents and resided inside the World Tree when it rained. When morning came, they worked on reconstructing the village under the blessing of the World Tree.

Crockta went outside and saw dark elves passing by in the hallway. They were the dark elves who nursed injured soldiers. When they saw Crockta, they flinched in surprise. Their eyes were laden with awe, respect, gratitude, and a hint of fear. Crockta was their ally, but he was also the chieftain of the orcs. He had the power to destroy the north any time.

Crockta greeted them first, “It’s been a while.”

“Crockta, you are awake.” Only a few knew that Crockta had received the curse of the stars. His public status was that he was in rehabilitation due to his injuries.

Crockta smiled. He had a frightening face, but he thought his smile would put others at ease.

“How has everyone been?” asked Crockta.

“F-fine.”

“...” Then an awkward silence ensued. Crockta was about to walk past them after a short nod when he heard their voices from behind.

“Thank you so much. The hero of the north, Crockta.”

“We will never forget how you saved Spinora.”

Crockta stopped in his tracks. He had seen countless ruins. Countless refugees wandered the battlefield after losing everything. Their eyes were filled with despair as if they had fallen rock bottom.

Spinora was the same. Despite all of this, everyone thanked him. Crockta wondered whether he deserved to receive such praise. The city was in ruins, and he had only protected a small part of the city. He never knew what to say in such cases. But Crockta had learned many things in Elder Lord. Now, he had something to say.

Crockta did a thumbs up toward them. “Meat for dinner please. Bul’tar!!” Crockta winked.

The dark elves laughed at the sight. Crockta exited the building with brisk steps and then observed Spinora’s devastated landscape outside. Even its ruins seemed beautiful as the sun shone brightly on it. But that was because of those who worked up a sweat trying to re-build what had been lost, not just because of the scenery.

“They’re working hard,” commented Crockta.

There weren’t just dark elves at the restoration site. There were also orcs. The northern orcs beat their chests after seeing Crockta from afar.

“We are honored to meet the chieftain!”

“Chieftain!” they shouted.

Crockta shook his head. They were set in their ways even though he had told them they didn’t need to display manners like that.

“Welcome, Chieftain.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“The chieftain is the chieftain.” Shireuga had approached him. He had a high position in the chiefdom like Hammerchwi. Crockta was able to defeat Calmahart one-on-one thanks to his advice. Even under the madness of ‘chaos,’ Shireuga had remembered a sense of honor. “We are splitting up the work with the dark elves while working separately.”

“Good. That’s better.”

The war had suddenly ended after Crockta became the chieftain, and the red madness that had engulfed the orcs had also dissipated. There were many orcs who were ashamed of the things they had done.

Under the authority of the chieftain, Crockta had commanded them to join forces with the dark elves to restore losses. But the tension between the two species couldn’t just easily disappear. They were nemeses. Although the orcs were under the influence of another species, the fact that they had crushed the dark elves' families and cities didn’t change. Thus, the dark elves and orcs were carrying out their tasks in separate areas.

“Wow! Crockta! You have finally appeared!” It was Tiyo. Something felt amiss when he couldn’t hear Tiyo’s voice anymore. Tiyo was carrying out the restoration work with the dark elves with soot all over his face.

“We thought you were trying to get out of work because you took so long to return.” Anor was the same. Anor was helping with the task by utilizing skeletons he had raised from the dead. He was using the skeletons of monsters instead of dark elf or orc corpses in consideration of the species who had just finished a war and lost their families. Crockta wasn’t sure of how Anor had managed to get his hands on an ogre skeleton, but an ogre skeleton was moving rocks in a dignified manner.

“Work? I’m all about work!” Crockta confidently strode forward. Shireuga opened his eyes widely.

“How could the chieftain!”

“Shireuga, I’m Crockta, not the chieftain!”

Shireuga eventually gave in and nodded at Crockta’s insistence. “Understood.”

“I want to work.” Crockta put his greatsword aside and then rolled up his sleeves.

Most of the buildings in construction right now were made from the branches of the World Tree. It wasn’t often that they had the opportunity to construct buildings with the holy branches of the World Tree. The World Tree was trying to rebuild Spinora even if it had to use up some of its powers. Crockta hoisted the World Tree’s branches that were as thick as logs onto his shoulders and then began carrying them to the construction site.

“Wow, the chieftain!”

“Woooow! The chieftain is working!”

“Follow the chieftain!”

“We won’t let anyone take a break from now on!”

The orcs cheered. It was the first time they experienced a chieftain like Crockta who led by example; they had only experienced chieftains who ruled aggressively like Calmahart. As expected of northern orcs who followed everything the chieftain did, the orcs’ morale changed as Crockta got to work.

Crockta discovered a familiar face while working. It was Hammerchwi. As expected of a warrior who wields the war hammer, he was in the midst of hammering a nail with his hammer. As he swiftly hammered the nail, he discovered Crockta watching him and awkwardly got up.

“Welcome, Chieftain.”

“Hammerchwi, we meet again.”

Once, they had clashed weapons because their principles conflicted with one another’s. Of course, the outcome was Crockta’s absolute victory. Since then, Hammerchwi could have predicted a future like this.

“How is work? Are you tired because of your age?” asked Crockta.

“What are you saying? I, the Great Warrior Hammerchwi, have a long way to go. I wouldn’t get tired with just this.”

“You were sweating a ton earlier.”

Hammerchwi was covered in sweat. He touched his forehead and neck and was surprised by how sweaty he was. He grinned and wiped his sweat off with his sleeve.

“Well, isn’t pouring sweat better than blood?” It was spoken in jest, but there was an edge to what he said. Hammerchwi grinned and raised his hammer again.

Crockta nodded. Then, he tapped on Hammerchwi’s shoulder and whispered as he passed by, “Live a long life. Bul’tar.”

Hammerchwi shouted at Crockta’s back, “Same goes for you, Chieftain. Bul’tar!”

Crockta looked back at his response, but Hammerchwi just continued hammering the nail with a grin on his face without looking at him. The Great Warrior Hammerchwi who used to be called the chieftain’s Warhammer had crushed countless enemies with his frightening hammer. But a regular hammer suited him more than a ferocious hammer used for combat.

Warriors who followed Hammerchwi worked busily in constructing the buildings according to his commands behind him. If he had been born in the continent, he could have been a great carpenter instead of a warrior. He could have found his calling and become a master craftsman after walking the path of a warrior like Grant. Or he could have been an orc who had never held a weapon and was a drunkard who worked during the day and drank alcohol at a pub at night.

“Shireuga.”

“Yes.”

“Does Hammerchwi have a kid?”

“Yes, he has quite a few.”

Crockta looked at him. Shireuga shrugged. “He has more than ten. He had a baby not too long ago.”

Crockta nodded. Somehow, it felt reassuring. “What a relief. Orcs need to look out for the future.”

Northern orcs had suffered great damage. They had to look after themselves as soon as the dark elves settled down. He didn’t plan to stay in the chieftain’s seat for too long, but he couldn’t help being concerned about the chiefdom orcs.

“We have the ceremony to sign the treaty tomorrow.”

The fight between dark elves and orcs ended after Crockta became the chieftain. They declared a ceasefire and decided to sign an agreement to forget all past conflicts and live peacefully together. The ceremony would be held the next day. Of course, the main parties of the treaty would be Zelkyan, the leader of the dark elves and stand-in for the World Tree, and Crockta, the chieftain and law of the northern orcs.

“Shireuga.”

“Yes.”

“Won’t you engage in a duel with me?”

Shireuga opened his eyes wide in surprise. He looked Crockta in the eye and then nodded. “Understood.”

***

The two stood at a secluded area. With the ruins as their background, they raised their weapons as they downed out the shouts of the orcs working in the distance.

Crockta’s Ogre Slayer, the masterpiece of the Golden Anvil tribe, had grown sharper in Crockta’s hands after slashing countless enemies and shedding blood.

Like the legend that an object stained with blood would be haunted by a spirit and turn evil, the Ogre Slayer exuded a completely different aura compared to the time Crockta had first encountered it, to the repeated cycles of the dulling and sharpening of the blade with the flesh of enemies. If the Ogre Slayer back then was a shiny greatsword, it now looked like a haunted sword that had been through all sorts of trials and tribulations.

The masterpiece of the Golden Anvil tribe had been completed in Crcockta’s hands.

“It’s a nice sword. It’s intimidating.”

But Shireuga’s axe wasn’t a normal item either. His axe was ‘Blood Rain,’ a precious object with a lot of history that he had inherited from his father, Shiktulla. It had slashed famous adversaries in the north in succession. It had become a symbol of the best warrior of the Iron Axe tribe.

The two forces clashed. Their weapons charged at each other, but they missed each other by a small margin. There was no sound of metal clashing as their blades sliced through the wind and created a blood-curdling howl.

Like magicians wielding blades of the wind, they skillfully aimed for the opponent’s openings. Shireuga was a different type of fighter than Calmahart. Even with an axe, he displayed an elaborate technique.

Crockta smiled. A fight like this had its own charm. Crockta’s speed increased. He arrived at the realm of the pinnacle. Crockta pointed his sword at the enemy from the precarious boundary between the realm of the pinnacle and the outside world. The axe grazed his cheek, and the greatsword grazed Shireuga’s throat. Blood was spilled.

Instead of exchanging polite words, they could communicate much better by fighting like this. They were warriors after all. They were born to fight.

“What is the reason you fight, Shireuga?!” shouted Crockta as he flung back Shireuga with his shoulder. Shireuga took several steps backward from the sudden blow and then grinned after he found his balance.

“Chieftain!” shouted Shireuga. He then charged and plunged his axe at Crockta. A loud shockwave rang out. Clang! “Kill the chieftain and become the next chieftain!” Shireuga laughed aggressively in a manner characteristic of northern orcs. Crockta didn’t dislike such spirit. Orc warriors had to be able to laugh like that amid battles with their lives on the line.

“And after you become the chieftain?”

Crockta flung back his axe and kicked his stomach. Shireuga fell on the ground. Crockta thrusted his Ogre Slayer. Shireuga dodged by rolling away, but Crockta’s greatsword chased after him and was at his throat.

“What do you want to do after becoming the chieftain?” asked Crockta.

Shireuga struggled to remove Crockta’s foot on his chest with all of his strength but gave up and slumped down. Then, he smiled as he looked up at Crockta.

“I’m going to change the chiefdom?”

“How?”

“Like it was in the past!”

Crockta removed his foot and extended his hand to help Shireuga get up. Shireuga grabbed his hand.

Shireuga looked at Crockta and said, “And like the orcs of the continent you mentioned.”

Shireuga couldn’t help but admire the continent after hearing about it from Crockta. It was the land of orc warriors who regarded honor as if their lives depended on it. Shireuga wanted to recover the traditions of orcs that northern orcs of the past had practiced and that the continent orcs had held onto.

He wanted to recover the mindset that orcs could carry out any fight without shame and that no death was in vain. Shireuga smiled and added, “But Crockta, since you have become the chieftain, I don’t think there’s a need for me to become the chieftain.”

“Hahaha,” laughed Crockta. Shireuga also laughed.

While returning after the fight, Crockta asked, “Shireuga, you are probably the strongest here except for me, right?”

“We haven’t established a proper hierarchy, but I’m confident. In the past, I could defeat anyone except for Calmahart.”

“How trustworthy.”