Fighting for the Tribe

"Ahhh...!" Victorious Barlock seemed to descend into madness. Since the day their tribe was destroyed, he had been suppressing the pain and sorrow that haunted his dreams almost every night, even fearing sleep itself. Most of his time was spent in meditation beneath the totem pole. Today marked the most exhilarating and cathartic combat since he became a shaman. The release of emotion overwhelmed him, and he lost control, leaving only a chilling roar...

"I'll kill you all, every last one of you... humans, I'll slaughter you all... for my tribe, for my people... my people, whoever dares to harm my people, come forth, enter the arena... fight me! I swear, I'll tear everything before me apart, and fill your arrogant and disdainful eyes with eternal fear... Ahhh...!"

Barlock's sudden outburst frightened the tribespeople. Seeing Duke Delta's almost watery, grim face in the stands, Barlotan pushed through the barrier and lunged at Barlock. Barlock met him with a fist still stained with Sert's blood.

"Barlock, it's me, stop, it's me, I'm Barlotan...!"

The fist halted inches from Barlotan's nose. Barlock's blood-red eyes gradually cleared, his breathing steadied, and the fervor faded. Barlotan embraced Barlock, and the tribespeople gathered around, dozens of orcs huddling together, comforting Barlock.

"Hmph, arrogant orc, you'll pay for your words!" Duke Delta grunted, his tone icy. "Don't think a royal decree gives you free rein. Your words today were utterly audacious. I'll report this to the king, and you can await punishment from the kingdom of Paddington!" With that, he left without looking back. His suspicions about the orc grew heavier. Could this orc be the one beside Celine? No, he had to go back and investigate immediately. If it was true, damn orc, you're as good as dead...!

As Duke Delta left, Sethon, his small eyes fixed on Barlock, suddenly grinned widely. With a swaying, obese frame, he departed, too. The others didn't know what to say. The one-eyed gatekeeper, who had mocked Barlock earlier, trembled all over, feeling like he had just skirted death. He hadn't expected this seemingly handsome but excessively fierce orc to actually win, let alone beat Sert into a pulp. By the gods, he could've just reached out and crushed me!

Barlock regained his composure, realizing his earlier outburst was beyond his control. The deed was done, and worrying excessively wouldn't help. After a moment of contemplation, he raised his head and turned to address the tribespeople.

"You all know how difficult it was for us to gain our freedom. Even if we managed to escape the royal capital of Padia, it would be hard to evade the pursuit of the powerful human legions, or even just slightly stronger mercenary groups, could easily wipe us out."

This was a fact, and the orcs' spirits dimmed. Apart from their tribe's destruction, this was another important reason they felt lost, as if they had lost their souls!

"But let me tell you some news, I don't know if it's good or bad news! I've reached an agreement with King Paddington. As long as you participate in the arena performance in a little over a month... as long as you survive, you'll gain true freedom!"

The orcs stirred with surprise and delight! No one felt fear... the orcs had become slave gladiators, and it was almost impossible to leave the arena alive. This opportunity was their only hope. Rather than living aimlessly and being killed one day in the arena, it was better to seize this one chance and grasp at a glimmer of hope!

"Barlock, thank you for giving the tribe its last hope. In the days to come, us old folks will use all our strength to train alongside the young ones. As long as they survive in the end, as long as they gain their freedom, our tribe can rise again!" Elder orc Ziyad disregarded the pain in his shoulders, gasping out. Other elder orcs echoed his sentiments, willing to sacrifice their lives for their people, as they were already old or approaching old age.

The young orcs clenched their fists, saying nothing. But would the elders really fight to the death for them in the final arena battle? No one knew!

Barlock had inquired and learned that, aside from a dozen or so female orcs sold off somewhere, there were only eighty-nine surviving orcs left in the tribe. In nearly two years, the fate of those female orcs was uncertain, and it was likely impossible to find survivors. Forty young ones and fifty-nine older ones, this was the last of their bloodline!

"Don't be pessimistic, have you forgotten about me? In the days to come, I'll come here every day to see you and train with you. Trust me, we have a great chance of leaving the arena alive and returning to the Gravel Wasteland!" Barlock's words lifted the orcs' spirits. It seemed that Barlock had experienced a lot in the past year, evident from his astonishing combat skills!

"Very well, I welcome you!" came a hoarse, weak voice from behind. Sert's resilience was truly astounding. Despite having more than a dozen ribs broken from Barlock's brutal attack, he had awakened so quickly. Pushing aside the helping hands, he spat out the blood in his mouth and revealed an ugly, yet non-threatening smile... His smile was only for the strongest: "The Lion and Waraxe Arena is open to you. You can use anything here to train your people! And I will train a team of my best gladiators. In the arena battle at the end of next month, I will personally lead them to challenge you. Don't disappoint me!"

"Sert, Barlock is a free man, he won't participate in the arena. Give it up!" Middle-aged orc Cecil said, while Barlotan called out from behind, "Yes, Barlock is a free man, and you've already lost to him. It was Barlock who spared your life. What right do you have to challenge him?"

"Heh heh, cough... You're absolutely right, I did lose, and I've never been one to falsely deny defeat. But everything I said just now will inevitably become reality." Sert smiled at Barlock, blood still trickling from his lips. "You're a powerful warrior, and also a fellow member of these orc slave gladiators. You displayed extraordinary combat skills just now... I heard you said some things you shouldn't have while I was unconscious. Do you think Duke Delta will let you off? No, he's been planning for that arena performance for a long time. He won't easily let go of someone who can make the fights more exciting. And in Padia... even in the entire kingdom of Paddington, only I can be your opponent. As I said, he won't spare you, nor will he spare me. Let us lead our respective warriors and offer a great life-and-death struggle in the arena!"

Sert's face was full of fanaticism, seeming to have no regrets even if he died for that fight! Barlock pondered for a moment, taking his words very seriously. Regardless of what Duke Delta might scheme, if he could really fight alongside his fellow orcs in the arena, it would undoubtedly greatly enhance their chances of survival. Even if he could save just one more life, it would be a glimmer of hope for the tribe!

"Barlock, don't listen to him, leave now. Duke Delta will definitely go to the palace and speak ill of you. Take advantage of the royal decree in your hands and leave quickly. We'll train hard, and we might not necessarily lose!" Barlotan anxiously pushed Barlock, not wanting his only relative in the small tribe to dive into this whirlpool of death!

Shaking his head, Barlock said to Sert, "I'm not sure about Duke Delta's character, but you're right. Since I have to pay the price for my words, then fighting alongside my fellow tribe members is undoubtedly the best way. Very well, I accept your challenge. Next, you should go back and recuperate. I will personally kill you in two months in the arena, and let you die like a hero!"

"Haha, it's been a long time since I've heard words like that. I look forward to it, whether I'm killed or I kill you...!" Sert, even though formidable, had reached his limit, and after saying those words, he collapsed backwards, passing out. Guards carried him away to find a physician to treat his injuries!

Barlock put on his clothes, pocketed the royal decree, and hoisted his battle-axe, waving to the tribespeople as he walked away. "I'll go handle some things first. I'll come back tomorrow morning. Remember to eat and drink your fill. If anyone here doesn't satisfy your needs, tell me, and I'll have them accompany Sert!" Barlock's voice was loud, and everyone around, including the gladiators, guards, and slaves, heard it clearly. No one dared to say anything... The ordeal of the demon Sert was right before their eyes, this young orc was simply a madman among demons!

When Barlock's figure left the arena, the orcs, who had been somber and submissive before, changed completely. Barlotan immediately called for someone to fetch a physician to treat the injured Ziyad and Cecil. He shouted to a steward in charge of the gladiators' food, "Jim, prepare roasted wild boar, white bread, and rum for us tonight...!"

Other young orcs laughed heartily, joining in the excitement. For a moment, the entire arena was filled with the laughter of orcs, and the elders didn't stop them. The children hadn't been this happy in a long time, almost forgetting how to smile. Regardless of the final outcome two months later, being able to be happy for one more day was a blessing.

The steward walked away without looking back, cursing inwardly, "Damn orcs, enjoy your few days of glory. When you're in despair... don't think that you'll really gain freedom two months later, what a joke... If the victor in the arena turns out to be an orc, where will it leave the dignity of humans?..."