Chapter 50: Agul’s Origins and Foldrin’s Awakening

Naturally, traveling with an armored orc didn’t grant me immediate access to the city.

While the fully plated orc entered without any formalities, I had to state my purpose for visiting and sign a document agreeing to abide by the orc regulations in case of any disputes.

“Hm…”

After completing the formalities, I finally stepped into the city and glanced around.

As I had anticipated from my first encounter with the orcs, the city’s development didn’t seem much different from that of humans.

What stood out, however, was the abundance of decorations made from monster byproducts.

Some buildings were constructed with walls of stark white bones, while others showcased monster hides stretched out with crimson inscriptions scrawled across them.

“Wow…”

Prrr-

Unsurprisingly, even the food sold on the streets wasn’t too different from what humans ate.

The main difference lay in the portion sizes and the fact that most dishes were made primarily from meat.

While I was admiring the street food, a sudden commotion broke out a short distance away.

A fistfight had erupted.

The two orcs exchanged heavy punches, their massive fists striking each other’s faces.

Blood spattered, and teeth were broken, creating a brutal spectacle.

Yet, the other orcs simply crossed their arms and watched as if it were a common occurrence.

Even the city guards, tasked with maintaining order, stood by and observed without interfering.

Ah, Greenfall, the land of savages.

At that moment, I finally understood why this land carried that descriptor.

Anyone witnessing such orc brawls would naturally deem it barbaric.

Their swollen muscles, driven by excitement, served both as a powerful means of attack and an exceptional form of defense.

The thick necks of the orcs, as sturdy as their bulging forearms, didn’t waver even as blunt-force punches struck their faces.

Eventually, as the fight dragged on, a victor emerged.

A slightly smaller orc dodged a blow by ducking and then delivered a powerful counterpunch to his opponent’s face.

The strike, fueled by rotational force from his waist and the full weight of his body, sent his larger opponent to his knees.

The victorious orc panted heavily, his heaving chest muscles rising and falling as he tried to calm the adrenaline rush.

Then, to my surprise, the defeated orc began to rise.

I wondered if he intended to continue fighting, but instead, the beaten orc simply dusted himself off, bowed slightly to his opponent, and walked away.

The blood spilled from their fight stained the ground, and broken teeth littered the scene, yet no one seemed to care.

It appeared this was simply part of orc culture.

Curious, I approached another human adventurer who had been watching the fight, just like me.

“Excuse me.”

“Huh? Oh?”

“Do you know why the orcs were fighting?”

The female adventurer turned to me and nodded after a moment.

“Ah, is this your first time here?”

“Yes.”

“They settle disagreements through fighting. The outcome of the battle determines who’s right.”

“That seems… a bit barbaric.”

“Well, it can seem that way.”

She gave me a brief explanation before offering a small smile and walking away.

Watching her leave, I thought to myself that I needed to learn more about orc culture.

I led Nightmare to a general store, where I bought a small book detailing orc customs and a souvenir necklace made from monster claws.

Afterward, I found a suitable inn, rented a room, and began reading the book.

Orc Culture: Makutus

Derived from the name of their war god, Makura, Makutus refers to the sacred one-on-one duels used by orcs to resolve disputes.

Orcs engaging in a Makutus must be equally armed and continue fighting until one of them dies.

The result of the battle determines who is right and who is wrong, showcasing the orcs’ instinct for struggle.

However, Makutus has evolved over time.

Nowadays, orcs engage in these duels with no weapons, relying solely on their physical abilities.

The practice of killing the defeated opponent has also been abandoned.

Some orc tribes refer to this modernized version as “Simplified Makutus,” while others continue to uphold the traditions of the original Makutus.

The following morning,

I left the inn and wandered the city alone.

While I hadn’t noticed it on my first day, by the second day, I could sense it—a subtle shift in the city’s atmosphere.

A strange tension lingered in the air, and the orcs’ eyes gleamed with anticipation as if they were waiting for something.

As I strolled through the city, taking in the sights, I unexpectedly ran into a familiar face.

A figure embodying both human and orc traits—Agul.

“Oh.”

“Ah…”

“This is our third meeting.”

He noticed me and gave an awkward smile, to which I responded with the same.

So, this place was his hometown?

“Long time no see, Agul.”

“Quite the coincidence.”

“Is this your hometown?”

“You could say that.”

Having struggled to communicate with the orcs, it was a relief to meet someone I could talk to.

I followed Agul around, asking him all the questions that had been piling up in my mind.

He kindly answered everything, from the best foods to try to which tribes were most amicable toward humans.

Then, a question came to mind—one I’d been curious about since arriving in the city.

Though it was slightly impolite, I couldn’t hold back my curiosity any longer.

“Agul.”

“What?”

“Uh… I haven’t seen any other half-bloods around. Why is that?”

“Oh…”

Agul glanced around nervously and let out an awkward laugh.

“The beauty standards of orcs are very different from those of humans.”

“Are they that different?”

“Well, it’s like humans falling in love with a dog—it just doesn’t happen.”

“That different? Seriously?”

“It’s just a metaphor. My mother just had… unique tastes.”

“Wh-which side of the family was orc?”

“My mother.”

“…Wow.”

Agul stood out even among the orcs.

Many passing orcs glanced at him, but to my surprise, there wasn’t a trace of disdain or disgust in their eyes.

They simply gave him a passing look and moved on.

“Did you face discrimination?”

“I did, at first. But not anymore.”

Agul smiled faintly as he answered, his grin both refreshing and slightly menacing, enhanced by the enormous axe slung over his back.

I instinctively took a step back, offering a sheepish smile in return.

Just then, Agul shifted his gaze to the distance and spoke.

“I should get going. And you… you’d better leave this city soon.”

“Why? What’s happening?”

“I think a war’s about to break out.”

“War? Seriously? When?”

War? Could it be a war between species?

Agul shook his head, saying he didn’t know the exact timing.

He added some hopeful remarks about how it might not even happen, but it sounded more like wishful thinking.

I had planned to rest in this city for a few more days, but it seemed there wasn’t any time for that.

I stocked up on provisions, returned to the inn, and called for Nightmare.

The creature, clearly enjoying its break, lay sprawled on the ground and snorted in protest when I urged it to move.

“Let’s go. It’s not safe here.”

Snort!

“Come on!”

Though I felt guilty for disrupting its rest, there was no other choice.

Climbing onto its back, I shook the reins firmly.

Nightmare stayed frozen for a moment before reluctantly shuffling out of the stable.

“Let’s move!”

Nightmare trudged forward, dragging its hooves as if complaining about the relentless travel schedule.

Its slow pace was almost comical.

“I’ll let you rest properly next time, I promise.”

Snort…

“No, really, I mean it.”

After I stroked its mane and coaxed it gently, Nightmare seemed to soften, letting out a low whinny as if chuckling.

Finally, it began to pick up speed. Dust rose behind us as its hooves pounded the cracked, barren earth.

****

Meanwhile, in the Holy Kingdom of Obrein, Foldrin, a trainee paladin, continued his relentless efforts.

Despite the side effects of the highly addictive drug coursing through his system—trembling hands and impaired focus—Foldrin suppressed his urges and pushed himself to the limit.

In the past, he would have seized any moment of downtime during a monster subjugation campaign to indulge in the drug.

But now, he resisted.

The words of a young girl before he left the city echoed in his mind:

“If you keep doing this, you’ll destroy yourself.”

The girl, Seris, had been someone he cared deeply for.

Her words of concern struck a chord in him, giving him the strength to resist his cravings.

Like a monk undergoing ascetic training, Foldrin silently swung his sword, channeling his focus.

Even as hordes of monsters surged toward him, he always took the vanguard.

The intense battles helped distract him from his desires, however fleetingly.

“Seris…”

The thought of her smile burned brighter in his mind with each passing moment.

His longing for the drug slowly transformed into a yearning to see her face again.

This yearning became a mirror, forcing him to confront his past actions.

As he delved deeper into his inner reflection, Foldrin’s divine power began to grow.

The faint glow of his holy aura intensified, radiating a brilliant light.

Other paladins noticed his newfound strength and congratulated him on his progress.

Yet Foldrin himself remained indifferent.

His thoughts were consumed entirely by one person’s smile.

“Seris…”

After two weeks of relentless monster subjugation, the campaign concluded.

The adventurers and paladins returned to the city, blessed and celebrated for their achievements.

But Foldrin felt no joy in the accolades.

The moment the festivities ended, he bolted toward the alleys.

As he navigated the maze-like streets, his heart raced with anticipation.

Once a place he had visited to feed his addiction, the destination now carried a completely different meaning.

Foldrin arrived at a wide clearing, bathed in soft moonlight. He stood there, waiting for hours.

But Seris never came.

The next day, he returned.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

Each time, Foldrin left in tears.

Through his tears, he swung his sword.