Chapter 42: The Orc Settlement
(Part 3 – A Meeting in the Wasteland)
---
The wasteland stretches endlessly before me—jagged rocks, molten rivers, and the ever-present stench of sulfur. The heat presses down like a weight, but honestly? I barely notice it anymore. A thousand years in this hellhole will do that to you.
I move forward, steps steady, senses sharp. Something's ahead.
The air shifts. Still thick with rot and smoke, but now—there's something else. The distant scent of fire. Cooked meat. A smell that doesn't belong in this wasteland.
My eyes narrow.
That means life.
That means something organized.
And in Hell? That makes it either very dangerous… or very useful.
Then, I see it.
A settlement.
---
The Orc Encampment
Built into the cliffs, the structures look rough but deliberate—dark volcanic rock reinforced with scavenged metal. Smoke rises from multiple spots, likely from forges or fire pits.
The place is alive.
Figures move between buildings, their massive frames unmistakable.
Orcs.
I stay in the shadows, scanning them carefully. Over eight feet tall. Thick, scarred skin. Muscles layered over muscle. These aren't mindless beasts like the lesser demons. No, they have a system. A hierarchy. A purpose.
And that makes them twice as dangerous.
But also…
Potentially valuable.
I weigh my options. Do I approach? After centuries of treating everything as an enemy, do I even remember how to talk to people?
...No point hesitating.
Weakness has no place here.
I step forward.
---
The First Contact
The moment I emerge from the shadows, every single Orc turns to face me.
Weapons drawn.
Well, that's a warm welcome.
I stop. Not out of fear, but to assess. Seven Orcs in immediate view. Axes. Spears. Eyes full of suspicion.
One of them steps forward. Bigger than the rest. Tusks longer. Scars deeper.
Yeah. This one's in charge.
"Human?" His voice is deep, like rolling thunder.
I roll my shoulders, keeping my stance neutral, but firm.
"Something like that."
Murmurs spread among the group. Some grip their weapons tighter. Others... look intrigued.
The leader snorts. "You shouldn't be here. This land is not for your kind."
I raise an eyebrow. "And yet, here I am."
Silence.
A test. He's waiting to see if I'll back down.
I don't.
His lips curl into something that could be amusement. Or acknowledgment.
"Hmph. You've got guts, I'll give you that."
I meet his gaze without flinching. "I've got more than that."
The weight in the air shifts. They understand what I mean.
Strength is the only language that matters here.
By standing my ground, by refusing to shrink back, I'm speaking it fluently.
Grug—because that's definitely what the others just called him—exhales through his nose, lowering his axe just slightly.
"What do you want, human?"
"Information," I say, holding his gaze. "And maybe a place to rest. Just for the night."
More murmurs. Some of the Orcs grunt, unimpressed. Others seem to consider it.
Grug eyes me for another long second.
Then he turns.
"Follow me."
---
A Temporary Truce
The village is bigger than I expected.
Built into the cliffs, it's rough but functional. Smoke curls from forges and fire pits, the scent of roasted meat thick in the air. Orcs move everywhere—sharpening weapons, trading supplies, tending to injuries.
They don't speak to me. But they watch.
Some with curiosity.
Others with hostility.
I follow Grug through the camp, my muscles still coiled in readiness. If this is a trap, I need to be ready.
We stop at a massive slab of stone that serves as a crude table. Grug drops into a seat and gestures for me to do the same.
A chunk of roasted meat is tossed onto the table in front of me.
"Eat."
I hesitate for only a second before grabbing it. It's tough. Gamey. But after centuries of eating worse?
It tastes good.
Grug watches as I tear into it. "You fight?"
I pause mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. "Obviously."
A grin spreads across his face. "Good."
Something tells me I just stepped into something bigger than I thought.
"If you're staying the night, you'll fight tomorrow."
I narrow my eyes. "Against what?"
His grin widens, revealing sharp tusks.
"Whatever lives long enough to challenge you."
The other Orcs laugh—a deep, rumbling sound.
I smirk. A test, huh?
Fine.
If that's what it takes to earn their respect—so be it.
Tomorrow, I fight.
And I intend to win.