The orcs left their village and headed straight to the castle in the middle of the forest as soon as they came to the conclusion that they were currently dealing with a Demon King.
It was a decision born out of pure survival instinct. They didn’t have the luxury of waiting to see if this new power was friendly or not.
Armed with their heavy stone weapons, they formed a small, tight formation to protect each of their corners. The warriors walked with their wooden shields raised and their stone-tipped spears pointed outward, their green, muscular arms tense and ready for a fight.
On their way, they were attacked by some mindless monsters. These were creatures that had lost all sense of self-preservation, driven only by a hunger for flesh. Corrupted wolves and shambling, plant-like beasts lunged at the orc formation from the shadows of the giant trees.
However, the orcs were a strong tribe. With a few heavy swings of their stone axes and coordinated spear thrusts, they were able to deal with these threats with ease. They didn’t even slow down their pace, stepping over the carcasses of the monsters without a second glance. Their eyes were fixed ahead.
Though, the stronger monsters in the forest acted differently.
Those who had enough intellect to know how strong a pack of fifty armed orcs was... they avoided the group. They watched from the high branches or the deep shadows, their glowing eyes following the green-skinned warriors. These predators knew that attacking a tribe of orcs would be suicide. They knew they would just die even before they could land an attack on any of them.
Still, these intelligent monsters were indeed curious. They wondered where these lumps of muscle were going and what they were doing. And upon looking at the direction they were marching forward to— they as well saw the poking roof of the castle in the middle of the [Cursed Forest].
A gray stone structure, sitting defiantly in the heart of the mana-soaked woods.
... ... ...
*****
The orcs continued their advance, moving smoothly and with a fairly fast pace.
They never rested, not even for a moment. They just killed every creature that tried to get in their way, their stone weapons becoming stained with various colors of monster blood.
They had departed from their village while the sun was starting to go down, the sky turning a deep, bloody orange.
As they marched, the light faded, and the long shadows of the giant trees stretched out to meet them.
And now, when the sun was fully submerged and the moon was high up in the sky, casting a cold, silver light over the blue-green leaves—
TAP!
The lead orcs finally reached the edge of the clearing. They stopped at the border where the thick trees gave way to the flat, stone floor.
And there—
"Grrr...?"
They saw an individual standing at the entrance of the castle.
It was a pale man. He was standing alone in front of the massive stone doors, his posture relaxed but his eyes incredibly sharp.
He was looking at them directly, as if he had been waiting for them to arrive since the moment they left their village. The silver moonlight reflected off his pale skin, making him look like a ghost standing in the middle of the carnage-filled forest.
Seeing that someone was actually there, the orcs stopped in their tracks. The formation didn’t break, but the warriors at the front braced themselves.
TAP-
The Chief and the Elder stepped in front of the group, their heavy boots clicking against the stone floor. The two of them looked at the pale man standing menacingly at the entrance of the castle. The silence in the clearing was heavy, broken only by the distant sounds of the forest and the heavy breathing of the orcs.
"I-It’s him... he’s the one responsible for the disappearance of the troll! I can feel the dark energy coming from him!"
The Elder muttered, his voice shaking. His face darkened in fear as he gripped his staff.
Hearing his words, the Chief turned his gaze back to the man at the entrance. He noted that the man was small— at least compared to an orc. The Chief found it hard to believe that this relatively small, pale individual was the one who had killed the troll and summoned a castle out of thin air.
’Is this really the one responsible for this all...?’
The chief asked in his head.
But then, just as he thought of that—
W H O O O O O O S H—!!!
An air-chilling aura suddenly flared out from the man!
It wasn’t a physical wave, but it felt like one. The pressure was quick and absolute. It covered the whole clearing in a split second, traveling all the way to where the orcs stood, even though they were about twenty meters away!
That aura— it was pressing down at them as if keeping them in check! It felt like the weight of a boulder was suddenly dropped onto their shoulders. It was cold, dark, and filled with a suffocating sense of authority!
All of the orcs felt this, and in surprise, they flinched.
Some of the younger warriors actually took a step back, their knees buckling under the sheer weight of the presence. A sharp, icy chill ran down the spine of the Chief and the Elder. Their instincts, the ones that had kept them alive for centuries, were screaming at them.
And in that moment—
"Why are you all here?"
A cold, deep voice echoed through the clearing.
It was the pale man. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried perfectly through the air, cutting through the heavy pressure of his aura. He didn’t look angry, but his eyes were like two pieces of ice staring into their souls.
Then, before the orcs could even gather the courage to answer—
SWISH—
The man reached for the hilt of his sword and pulled it out in one fluid motion. The steel hissed as it left the scabbard, the blade gleaming under the moonlight.
"Are you trying to attack my place?"
The man asked, his voice dropping an octave.
"?!!"
Seeing that the pale man was ready to attack them at any given moment, the Chief’s eyes widened.
He could feel the killing intent radiating from the sword. He thought that if that blade moved, his tribe would be finished before they could even raise their stone axes!
He immediately opened his mouth, his voice coming out in a desperate shout.
"We’re not here to fight!"
He exclaimed, his hands leaving his weapon to show that he wasn’t reaching for it.
Hearing his words, the pale man—Verc—paused. He didn’t put the sword away, but he didn’t strike either.
"Huh? Then why are there a lot of you and all of you are carrying weapons?"
Verc asked.
He pointed the tip of his sword at them, his brow furrowed in a frown. His [Danger Sense] was still active, and seeing fifty armed green monsters on his front porch wasn’t exactly a sign of a friendly visit.
The Chief felt the tip of that sword pointing toward his heart even from twenty meters away.
GULP!
He swallowed a mouthful of saliva in pure nervousness. His mind was racing, trying to find a way to prove their intentions before the "Demon King" decided to clear the clearing of their presence.
Then in a sudden, quick judgment, the Chief realized that words wouldn’t be enough. He needed a gesture that showed absolute submission.
And so—
BAM!
He kneedled. He did it so fast and with so much force that the stone ground beneath him actually cracked. He bowed his head low, his forehead almost touching the floor.
"...?"
Verc looked at him weirdly, his sword hand wavering slightly in confusion.
’What is this guy doing?’
Verc thought to himself.
But before he could even say or do anything—
BOOM!!!
All the other fifty orcs followed their Chief’s lead! They all dropped to their knees at the exact same time, the collective sound of their weight hitting the ground echoing through the forest like a clap of thunder!
Fifty green-skinned warriors were now bowing toward the pale man at the door!
’What the hell is happening here...?’
Verc was utterly confused.
He stood there with his sword still drawn, his mind trying to process the scene. He had expected a bloody battle, a desperate defense of his new home, or at least a tense standoff. He didn’t expect a mass kneeling session.
Then as he was trying to process all of this and figure out if this was some kind of weird trap or ritual—
"PLEASE, TAKE US UNDER YOUR WING, OH GREAT DEMON KING!!!"
The Chief of the orcs exclaimed that at the top of his lungs.
His voice was full of desperation and hope.
Behind him, the Elder and the rest of the tribe remained perfectly still, their heads bowed in total submission.
Hearing his words—
"Huh...? What...?"
Verc muttered in confusion.
He lowered his sword slightly, the tip no longer pointing at the Chief’s throat. He looked at the sea of bowing orcs, then back at his empty castle.
’Great Demon King...? Are they talking about me?’
He blinked, his brain momentarily stalling.