Telling Solluha'r

As the vibrant atmosphere of the gathering quieted, a voice pierced through the air like a bell, clear and resonant.

"Attention, all warriors of the tribe!"

The voice belonged to a female elf, her tone was soft and feminine but it was also commanding and filled with the weight of responsibility. "The wandering Drugan Warriors have discovered a dungeon!"

A murmur rippled through the crowd, the sound growing like a low hum as the orcs and elves exchanged glances. The news was electrifying, the kind of discovery that stirred both fear and excitement. But the voice wasn't done.

"It was no easy task," the woman continued, her voice carrying a tone of pride and exhaustion. "They faced numerous challenges, fought against the elements, and scoured every inch of the land until they finally found it. This dungeon is not for the faint of heart, and only those who have reached the third to fifth stages of the Mag'Durotan may enter!"

Volk's heart thudded in his chest, THUMP-THUMP, the rhythmic pounding almost drowning out the rest of the woman's words.

The Mag'Durotan stages three to five.

He was only in the second stage, yet the thought of entering that dungeon tomorrow stirred something deep within him—a gnawing temptation.

"Those who wish to enter," the woman continued, "must come prepared tomorrow. This will not be a simple test of strength. It will be a trial of your very will and soul. Only the worthy will survive!"

Volk's mind raced. He could feel the pull of the dungeon, like a magnet drawing him closer. The thought of the crystals in his possession only fueled his desire. But he knew he wasn't ready—he was only at the second stage.

Suddenly, Grak'thor's deep, knowing voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

Volk turned to face the elder orc, his thoughts betrayed by the look on his face. Grak'thor's lips curled into a knowing grin.

"You want to enter that dungeon, don't you?" Grak'thor said with a chuckle, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and understanding. "You can do it tomorrow. Use the crystals that I gave you, and then, when you're inside, use it as a chance to gather even more crystals for your partner."

Volk's eyes widened in surprise. How did Grak'thor know exactly what he was thinking? He glanced down at his right hand, where the crystals lay, their smooth surfaces glinting in the firelight.

"Okay," Volk finally said, his voice resolute. The idea of entering the dungeon tomorrow filled him with a mixture of fear and anticipation, but Grak'thor's words gave him the push he needed.

Grak'thor nodded approvingly. "Good. And when you return, we'll take a look at your Grum-gar form. It's important that you understand it fully."

Volk nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of purpose settling within his head.

Grak'thor then waved him off with a hand, a gesture that was both dismissive and encouraging.

"Go on," Grak'thor said with a grin. "Go to your partner. She's waiting for you."

Volk didn't need to be told twice. He turned and left the gathering, his footsteps THUD-THUD-THUD against the dirt as he made his way back to his tower.

The journey back was quick, his mind focused on what lay ahead. When he reached the tower, he didn't hesitate. With a BAM, he slammed the door open, the wooden structure groaning under the force.

The sudden noise echoed through the empty halls, startling Solluha'r, who had been sitting quietly in the room.

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise. "Volk?" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and concern.

Volk's intense expression softened as he saw her startled reaction. He hadn't meant to scare her. An apologetic look crossed his face as he took a step forward. "Have you eaten already?" he asked, his tone gentler now.

Solluha'r's eyes flickered to the bundle in his hand, the smell of cooked meat wafting through the air. She shook her head slowly, her expression one of confusion. "I haven't eaten for a year now," she said and her tone of voice was soft like it was natural.

Volk blinked, taken aback by her response. Then he remembered—she was an elf. The thought left him speechless for a moment. How could he have forgotten something so important?

Regaining his composure, Volk held out the bundle towards her. "Look, I have meat here," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. He unwrapped the bundle, revealing the perfectly cooked meat, its scent rich and enticing.

Solluha'r's eyes widened in shock as she stared at the meat. She was incredibly sensitive to mana, and what she sensed—or rather, didn't sense—left her stunned. "Volk… how did you manage this?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief. "There's no trace of hazardous magic particles on this meat. Was it thoroughly cleaned?"

Volk hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He could see the genuine astonishment in her eyes, and it made him nervous.

Solluha'r continued, her voice gaining momentum as she recalled her studies. "When I was still learning from the elder elves, they told us about the dangers of hazardous magic particles in meat. They spoke of countless attempts to cleanse it, using various spells and methods. They even explained why there were so many labor orcs in the offsprings—because the food they consumed was often contaminated, and it was nearly impossible to remove all the hazardous particles. And now, you're telling me this meat is completely free of them?"

Her words spilled out like a torrent, her shock evident with every sentence. Volk could barely keep up. Should he tell her the truth? Should he admit that it wasn't just a simple cleaning process, but something more? Would it be a problem if he became a shaman?

Solluha'r, sensing his hesitation, placed a hand on his arm. Her touch was gentle, reassuring. "Volk," she said softly, her voice a calming presence in the whirlwind of his thoughts, "you don't have to hide anything from me. I won't tell anyone."

Volk looked into her eyes and saw the sincerity in them. She wasn't just saying this out of curiosity—she genuinely wanted to help him, to support him.

Taking a deep breath, Volk finally spoke. "I don't want to be a shaman," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Solluha'r's reaction was one of shock, her eyes widening at his confession. But then, as the meaning of his words sank in, she nodded slowly. "I see," she said, her tone thoughtful. "I remember you awakened the Orc magic ability, the Grum-gar form. If you became a shaman, it could be detrimental—maybe even a disadvantage. I understand why you wouldn't want that."

Volk let out a sigh of relief, the tension that had been building in his chest finally releasing. He hadn't realized just how much he needed her understanding, her acceptance.

"There's more," he said after a moment, his voice steady now. "I have the ability to absorb hazardous magic particles. That's how I cleaned the meat."

Solluha'r looked at him, her expression one of awe and understanding. She nodded, with her lips curving into a gentle smile. "For real?" With her eyes gleaming, "If that's the case, that's an incredible gift, Volk. And I'm glad you shared it with me. We'll figure out what it means together. But a pity, we don't have magic crystals…"