Chapter 8

In a vast and ominous chamber nestled deep within the Bulod mountain range, the walls are lined with hooks, each bearing a gleaming metallic key of varying shapes and sizes.

The keys seem to glimmer in the soft light, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The silence of the room is broken only by the occasional soft jingling of the keys as if they are whispering to each other in a language known only to them.

The air is thick with a palpable sense of unease as if the walls themselves are alive with malevolent energy.

At the center of the room stands an imposing table, crafted from a deep, dark metal that seems to absorb all light that touches it. The surface of the table is etched with intricate patterns and symbols that seem to writhe and twist as if they have a life of their own.

As soon as Oron enters the room, an overwhelming sense of dread settles in his chest. The air seems to grow colder and heavier, and the keys that hang from the wall glint with an ominous gleam.

The room is dark but the name etched onto the table - "Warden: Ozil Bulworth" - is very visible and sends shivers down the spine of Oron who reads it. It is as if the warden's presence lingers in the room, haunting every corner and crevice with a sense of Vengeance.

Lord Ozil Bulworth is a shaman of the fourth level, which is known as the level of Vengeful. Among the orc community, he is often referred to as The Warden of Vengeance due to his fearsome reputation for dealing swift and brutal retribution to anyone who crosses him or his clan.

Shamanism is a difficult field, it is a study of voodoo and hex which is why despite Lord Ozil being feared a lot, others also looked up to him

Then suddenly two glowing orange eyes appeared behind the table, and Oron's heart skipped a beat as he noticed the two glowing orange eyes lurking in the darkness behind the table. He stood frozen, unsure of what to do next.

Oron's body tensed, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. But the eyes remained still, unblinking, almost as if they were watching and waiting for Oron to make a move. The silence in the room was palpable, broken only by the sound of Oron's rapid breaths and the faint jingling of the keys on the wall.

"L...Lord Ozil, something ha-" Oron stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he tried to gather his courage to speak.

"What chamber?" Lord Ozil's voice was cold and laced with a hint of vengeance, sending a chill down Oron's spine. The shaman's glowing orange eyes bore into Oron, seemingly searching for any signs of deception.

Oron gulped nervously before replying, "Chamber 748, my lord." His voice was barely above a whisper, as he feared the wrath of Lord Ozil.

Oron's heart began to race as he sensed a shift in the room. He quickly made his way to the door, positioning himself beside it with his head down, not daring to make eye contact with Lord Ozil.

As Oron saw the heavy, intimidating boots of Lord Ozil stop in front of him, he could feel his heart turn to ice. He braced himself for the worst, fully expecting to face the wrath of his superior.

"Did you alert the bloodliners?" Lord Ozil's voice cut through the silence like a knife. It was cold and sharp, dripping with a hint of malice. Oron could feel the weight of his gaze on him, making it difficult to meet his eyes.

Swallowing hard, Oron forced himself to look up. He met Lord Ozil's intense gaze head-on and nodded, "Yes, my lord, the bloodliners are rushing to chamber 748 as we speak."

Lord Ozil's expression remained inscrutable, but a sense of relief washed over Oron as he realized he had acted quickly and efficiently. He waited for further instructions, his body tense and ready for any command his superior might issue.

As Lord Ozil's sturdy boots hit the cold, stone floor with purposeful strides, his staff emitted a constant ringing sound that filled the air. Oron hastened to keep up, his footsteps echoing faintly in the dimly lit hallway. The urgency of the situation weighed heavily on his mind, but he took comfort in the presence of his superior orc and the quiet assurance that seemed to emanate from him.

****

As Lord Ozil and Oron approached chamber 748, the sound of hurried footsteps and hushed whispers could be heard from inside. Five orcs were already gathered outside, their faces etched with a mix of fear and confusion.

As they saw Lord Ozil approaching, they stepped aside and bowed their heads in respect. Oron's heart sank as he saw the scene inside the room.

The door was hanging from one hinge, and the wall behind it was partially caved in. The ground was littered with debris and the bodies of Oriak and the others, their heads gruesomely severed from their bodies.

Lord Ozil strode past Oron who had froze up and continued into the room, his staff emitting a ringing sound that echoed through the chamber. He surveyed the scene calmly, his eyes narrowed in thought. The five orcs outside stood at attention, waiting for their orders.

Oron took a step back, unsure of what to do. The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the soft ringing of Lord Ozil's staff and the distant sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway. The air seemed charged with a sense of danger, as if something was still lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike again.

"Report," Lord Ozil spoke, his voice calm but commanding.

One of the orcs stepped forward, his face tense. "My lord," he began, "after we interrogate the wildlings. They claim that an elf wielding a weapon with three orbs was responsible for the attack on this chamber. The elf is said to possess the power to open portals in the air and has a crossbow that shoots a massive glowing sword as its projectile."

Lord Ozil's intense gaze bore into the orc, causing the orc's body to immediately tense up and his breathing to hitch for a moment. The shaman's orange eyes seemed to grow brighter, reflecting the anger and doubt he felt toward the orc's report.

'Elf? Not Void Walker?', Lord Ozil thought, "Are you certain it was an elf?" Lord Ozil questioned, his voice low and dangerous.

The orc nodded quickly, his eyes darting away from Lord Ozil's piercing gaze. "Yes, my lord. The wildlings were certain of it."

'Make sense, if it is a void walker the great Bastions would be alerted, but an elf who can open doors and only has three orbs?' Lord Ozil furrowed his brow in confusion, trying to make sense of the situation. "It doesn't add up," he muttered under his breath.