Chapter 107: The Last Bloodfang Warrior

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The next morning arrived, and Mursha slowly woke up, feeling slightly terrible about what she had said to her mother. She hadn't been thoughtful, and she might have ended up hurting her because of her own selfishness.

Her intentions might have been good, but the way she did things wasn't. The first thing she wanted to do was apologize to her mom, quickly running out of bed the moment she heard some sounds outside.

The voices of many people talking.

"Hm?"

She walked out of the tent to suddenly see most of her tribe gathered together, surrounded by hundreds of orcs wearing black cloaks and holding strange, cursed weapons.

"H-Huh…?"

There was one of these strange orcs leading them, speaking with her father. She froze the moment she learned who these people were.

After she recalled a few words that her mother once told her, "Those of the cult of the mad god often wear black cloaks and have imprinted an axe, a hammer, a sword, and a spear into their clothes made of crimson red paint, oftentimes blood."

And it was happening right there, as she noticed all of these strangers were wearing the same clothes. None had caught up to her being here; they were all focusing on the rest of the tribe that had come out to confront them.

"T-They're the mad god cult?! What are they doing here…?" she thought, panicking. "Why… how did they find us?!"

As she panicked and started to think about what she should do, she heard them speaking.

"At long last, we've finally found the last remnants of the tribe that betrayed our god and provoked his wrath," said the cult leader. "I assume you must be the chief..."

The man who confronted Mursha's father was immensely powerful. With a mere glance, she felt her senses go numb; his aura of darkness and power was immense, making the world around him grow darker.

Yet her father stood firm and didn't flinch before his immense aura and presence, using his own internal Mana to stay strong and stand without trembling.

As the chief of this small tribe, he simply couldn't let his family see him afraid or hesitating.

"Our ancestors are all dead, and the only thing we seek is to live in peace for the remainder of our lifespan!" the man said. "We do not wish to fight you, even less to insult your god... Please, you must understand that you will not win anything by taking our lives!"

"Is that so?" wondered the man confronting her father as he smirked, caressing his chin and nodding. "I agree with your statement. You are indeed innocent of all that your ancestors have done. And for that very reason, we've decided to spare you."

His words shook the rest of the Blood Fang tribe; they all thought of this as a joke, unbelievable for them to be just suddenly forgiven and spared!

Yet, they also secretly hoped that he was telling the truth. And this small hope became the only hope they had right now for surviving.

"T-Truly?" The chief wondered, unable to believe it.

"Yes, that's right!" the cult leader laughed. "What did you think? That our god was some kind of… barbarian? He is a man of honor and pride! He won't let such powerful warriors have a pitiful death. He will spare you by giving you a chance to fight for your lives."

"W-Wha…?!" Mursha's mother muttered.

"What does he mean with that?!" the chief asked, calming down his wife.

"What else? He has proposed something for all of you," said the cult leader. "He will spare all of you as long as you complete ten war games consecutively! How about it? For the strongest tribe to have ever existed in Elios, to fight ten battles against two armies at the same time shouldn't be that much of an effort, isn't it?"

"T-That's insane! Even as strong as we are…!" Mursha's mother protested.

However, her husband stopped her from speaking any other words, covering her mouth.

"We will do it…" The chief didn't even hesitate.

Mursha gasped, unable to believe her father!

"F-Father?! Why!"

Mursha suddenly realized she ended up saying her thoughts out loud, quickly stepping back, and trying to hide to not draw attention.

But it was a bit too late.

"What do we have here?"

Before she could even muster any strength to run away, the silhouette of a man appeared behind her, grabbing her away.

As the chief agreed to the terms of the cult, the rest of the tribe argued against it, finding it ridiculous. Yet the chief stood firm on his decision.

"Are you insane?! We're all going to die!"

"T-This can't be true…"

"But if we die, then… what about…?"

"Ah! That's… right…"

The orcs quickly realized why the chief was going so far.

He wanted the cult members to quickly leave with them, leaving Mursha in her tent while she slept.

And saving her from their claws.

They knew that the girl was their future, and they were all willing to sacrifice their own lives if it meant she would get to live another day.

As the only child and one without the mad god's curse, she was precious beyond anybody else—someone worth all their lives and more in their eyes.

"It seems you've made a decision then," the cult leader smiled. "If you can successfully pass ten rounds, you all will be revived, and you will be granted freedom; our god even promised to lift the curse on your bloodline! Isn't he the most just and honorable of them all?"

"Yeah, he's great," the chief smiled. "Let's go then; we don't have any more time to waste here."

"That's right," his wife nodded. "Let's go to the area where we'll join the War Games."

"Hahah! How eager you are! But I wonder, weren't you forgetting about someone?"

The cult leader called someone, one of his many servants, a tall Orc and Thrall hybrid encased in shadows, who quickly dropped a little Orc girl in front of them.

"Ouch! Agh, you asshole!"

It was Mursha, making the entire tribe gasp and panic.

"Mursha?!"

"No! Why didn't you hide?!"

Her father and her mother ran towards her, hugging her and protecting her from the countless crimson eyes of the cultists, glancing at the girl as nothing but a valuable sacrifice for their insane god.

"Mom, Dad! What's going on?!" she asked. "Who are these people? Are they really cultists? What's happening?!"

Her parents looked at her, crying as they saw their dear daughter confused.

"Please spare her," her mother muttered, looking at the cultist leader's wicked smile. "We will do anything, but please... Please spare her!"

"Oh my, do you take me for a monster? Of course, I would not get a child involved in this! Hahaha!" laughed the cultist leader. "Our god is fair! He says that as long as you offer your blood and souls to the War Games, we can spare her and give her a new life by our side. She shall grow to become a fine warrior."

"W-What? What is he talking about?" wondered Mursha.

At that time, Mursha didn't understand what it meant to "give your blood and soul" in the Orcish language.

But it was a way to say that they had to give their very lives.

All of them.

"I see… Sounds fair… Do I have your word?" Mursha's father said.

"Of course, I am also an honorable warrior myself," the orc laughed.

"Mom, what's going on now?" Mursha wondered.

"Nothing… Everything is going to be okay, alright? Everything is going to be okay…" Her mother hugged her tightly, kissing her forehead and cheeks as she kept crying.

It was certainly the opposite; Mursha knew that things weren't okay.

And they would never go back to being okay, ever again.

The trip back to the large camp where the War Games happened was swift, yet it felt very long to her and her family.

On that trip, every member of the tribe said their farewells to Mursha, smiling, hugging her, and petting her head.

"Mursha, you have to carry our tribe's legacy from now on, alright?"

"Behave and don't do anything to upset those people."

"Be obedient, and... you may be able to live until old age."

"But never slack on your training; keep growing stronger; you have great talent."

"These last ten years, you've been the miracle that has kept us moving forward... Make sure to live for all of us."

"E-Eh? Why are you saying all of this? Aren't you all only playing a war game?" Mursha wondered.

They smiled, although deep down, Mursha could feel the melancholy in their eyes.

"We're here, Blood Fangs; move."

The cult leader called them as they moved out of the caravan, one after another, saying their goodbyes—women, men, elderly, all of them.

Despite this being a battle, it didn't feel like it. It didn't feel like an honorable fight at all, nor was it fair, nor was it for prideful warriors.

It felt like they were walking to a slaughterhouse to be executed for crimes they had never committed.

"Mom, dad…"

Mursha looked at her parents as they smiled at her.

Her mother's tears had already dried; she cried so much that her eyes were red.

"You're strong, my daughter," her father said, remaining composed until the very last moment. "You have life, alright? Make sure to grow stronger too. I am sure that you will make us proud."

"Dad…" Mursha looked at her father's confident smile.

Even in this dire situation, she could feel his blazing conviction and his relentless heart.

"My dear…"

But her mother was much more emotional, hugging her again one last time.

The last time she ever hugged her mother.

With a tight, warm hug, her mother kissed her whole face; she even felt the scent of her hair, and then she gifted her all her hair ornaments, her rings, and her bracelets.

"I love you so much... I love you more than anything, my dear Mursha. Please... make sure to never forget your mom and your dad, okay?"

"M-Mom… what's… happening?"

Mursha didn't understand; she was still confused.

"We will go to battle... And we will honor our ancestors."

Her mother kissed her forehead one last time as she walked away with her husband.

The two moved towards the enormous battlefield, where two other large armies waited for them.

They were holding weapons and wearing armor.

There weren't just Orcs and Thralls, but also Players such as humans and elves, and many more.

"Players, huh?" the chief wondered.

"They outnumber us by the hundreds," his wife sighed. "We've come truly to die."

"Let us die with honor and pride," her husband said. "Let's show Mursha our strength and what she will one day achieve on her own."

"Yeah, that's right, my dear," her wife sighed as the two kissed and hugged one last time. "I love you, my warrior... And I will always do so, even in the afterlife."

"I love you too, my warrioress, and I will never forgive you, even in the afterlife," he caressed her face.

"May the Divine Beast Spirits bless us with strength!"

The Blood Fang warriors roared in unison, lifting their weapons.

Their tattoos flared with power as their auras turned blood red.

And Mursha watched as they battled.

The two opposing armies didn't even bother touching one another.

They immediately targeted the third, smaller army without hesitation.

Mursha screamed and cried, both in excitement and sadness, as she saw a few of the tribe members die.

The eldest of them, who could not move and had a swift death, was stabbed in the stomach, beheaded, or burned by magic.

But in the first round, it was their victory.

"T-They're so strong…" Mursha muttered.

The more wounded they became, the stronger they were.

The second round passed, and a few died, but they survived.

The third round was the same.

The fourth was the same.

The fifth… Several reached their limits.

Many of Mursha's uncles and aunties, big brothers, and big sisters...

They died.

"W-Why…"

She kept crying, as she was being held tight by two cultists who didn't let her join the battle.

Yet with the last remaining ten, they continued fighting relentlessly!

Her mother and her father were so strong.

Amidst tears of sorrow, she also felt tremendous admiration.

Of the ten strongest warriors, one died with each round.

The sixth round, the seventh round, the eighth round, then the ninth round...

And once the tenth and last round began, only her mother and her father remained standing.

Covered by wounds, her mother was missing an arm, and her father had half his face burned by magic.

Their bodies were shredded with wounds, and they were groaning like beasts.

Their power was flaring, surging like a gigantic monstrosity made of blood energy.

The two armies rushed towards them.

Six hundred are strong against two.

"Mom… dad…!"

"RAAAAHHH!"

They roared like proud and mighty warriors, rushing without hesitation towards their deaths.

Because they knew that as long as they died, their daughter would live.

And that was more than enough for them to throw everything away.

As long as Mursha lived.

This battle was worthwhile!

CLASH! BOOM! CRASH! SLASH!

The sound of weapons clashing against each other, of blood splattering over the floor—her parents were beasts, splattering their foes into countless pieces.

Her mother swung her giant hammer, crushing foes left and right. Her hammer swung his massive axe, hacking and slicing anything that faced him.

Yet at the end...

"Ugh…?!"

CLASH! CLASH! SLASH! SLASH!

Her mother was pierced by several swords, spears, and arrows.

She vomited blood, falling to her knees.

"M-Mom…!"

Mursha's face twisted, distorting into utter horror.

"MOOOM!!!"

Her mother, in her madness, regained some consciousness.

She was glancing at her daughter.

And smiling warmly at her.

She could still remember her mother's last words to this day.

"It'll be okay…"

SLASH!

Before they mercilessly beheaded her.

"A-Ah…! Aahh…! AAAAHHH!!!"

Mursha screamed in horror and utter disbelief as she tried to run into the battlefield, only for the two men to grab her and subdue her to the ground.

"Watch! Watch as your family sacrifices themselves for your pitiful life!"

"This is their legacy, hahaha! The legacy of the traitors that gave their backs to our god!"

"Nngh…! Sniff…! Guuh…! Sniff…"

The girl continued crying while gritting her teeth and glancing at her father.

Her father, once noticing her wife's death, ran towards her body.

"My dear…"

He grabbed her head and then her body and hugged them as he started crying.

Mursha saw her father cry for the first time.

The army of foes ran towards him, weapons about to pierce him.

While carrying his wife in his arms, a blazing flame surged from his very soul.

He glanced at his daughter as she cried.

"Dad… No…! DAAAD! WAIT! DAD!"

"Live, my daughter. Make us proud…"

As he smiled and kissed his wife's forehead, his entire body combusted in deadly flames.

"{Blood Flare}"

BOOOMMM!!!

The flames burned through all nearby foes, turning them into ashes.

And so her father died too, hugging her mother, turning himself and herself into ashes.

So their bodies wouldn't be defiled once they died.

Their enemies screamed in agony and burned, but many remained alive and then went on to kill each other as if nothing had happened, completely consumed by the bloothirst of war.

"No…! No… NOOOO!"

Mursha kept screaming and crying, kicking the ground and the men's arms, who were completely unfazed by her attacks.

And just as they promised, they let her be, they spared her life.

"Your entire tribe sacrificed to save your pitiful life…" the cult leader said. "You better make it worthwhile, child."

"I'll kill you…" Mursha muttered, her aura emanating a powerful killing intent. "I'll kill all of you…"

"Hah! Hahahaha!"

The man didn't even take her seriously, walking away.

"Make sure to give her some scraps so she doesn't die of starvation, okay?"

She was left there as it started to rain.

The smell of blood slowly dissipated as the smell of the wet dirt beneath her foot filled her nostrils.

Her tears seemed small below the rain.

These memories, always present within Mursha's mind, once again blossomed as she heard Bing Xue's proposal.

"Let's ruin the War Games and slaughter those cultists. Then, I'll kill that god for you."

What her mother once told her was impossible—to slay a god.

Someone came to her with tremendous, unbelievable power.

And this person told her that she would slay it.

"You don't know how much time I've waited for someone like you."

And she hugged her tightly; Mursha even started crying.

"Please… help me, Bing Xue… Help me kill that god."

"Mursha…"

"I want to… kill it myself…"

"…Very well."

Bing Xue didn't hesitate, caressing the orc woman's face.

"Those tears filled with sorrow… Just how much have you suffered?"