The task on the panel shifted, becoming unexpectedly simple.
Hulk blinked, slightly stunned.
Was this one of the blessings for newcomers? This strange system of his was oddly considerate.
Eat some meat? That was nothing. Gorrka had left behind a whole stack of smoked meat before she left.
Hulk grabbed a strip, chewing thoughtfully. The taste was bland—just salt, sinew, and smoke. Orcish food wasn't made for flavor, only for survival.
But when he checked the panel again—0/20 pounds—there was no change.
Tch. Processed meat didn't count. The system wanted fresh kill. Hulk clicked his tongue. He's going hunting tomorrow then. Besides, the wilds were unforgiving at night, filled with prowling monsters. Best to save his strength and hunt with dawn's light.
"The beast should be nearby, nothing too far from the Bloodfang encampment," Hulk calculated, lying down on his thick hide bedding.
Just as he began to drift off, heavy footsteps approached outside his tent.
"Hulk, you awake?"
The voice was gruff but familiar. Hulk opened the flap. "Elder Borzug. What brings you here?"
Standing behind Borzug was a hulking female orc.
Thick braids fell around wide, scarred shoulders. Her chest strained against leather bindings like two gourds stuffed too tightly in a sack. Her arms were thicker than Hulk's thighs.
Hulk recognized her—Murga. Only his sister Gorrka outmatched her in the Bloodfang Tribe.
But Murga kept her gaze down, like a tame warg brought to market.
Borzug's cracked tusks showed in a smile. "Saw you smash Borzak's face today. Good strength. You'll make a fine origin warrior."
Hulk narrowed his eyes. So that's why you're here.
"Elder Borzug, the trial of the blood isn't child's play," Hulk said evenly. "You know as well as I do—most don't come back. Even among the best, eight out of ten fall and never rise again."
"Borzak was no soft pup. You saw where that got him."
Of course, Hulk wasn't refusing the trial itself—he was refusing something else.
Borzug grunted. "Bah. You'll live. And when you do, you'll want strong cubs to follow you. My Murga's ready for the task. Strong hips, good teeth, already brought down a full-grown beast by herself."
Hulk smiled thinly. Strong hips, good teeth. What am I, a breeder?
Back on Earth, his kind of woman wore skirts, heels, with soft curves and sharp eyes, not tusks, braids, and muscles thicker than his waist.
But orcish beauty wasn't measured the same. To Borzug, Murga was prime stock.
"I've only just claimed my own tent, Elder," Hulk said, polite but firm. "Don't talk of cubs yet. I've got more fighting to do before thinking of filling bellies."
Borzug nodded sagely, thinking Hulk modest. "Aye, but a warrior should taste life before tasting death. You wouldn't want to die never knowing a woman's warmth, eh?"
What is this, a death row feast? Hulk scowled inwardly.
He did want warmth again. Desperately. But not from Murga. Not like this.
Changing topics, Hulk steered the talk toward monster beasts. "The frost's coming early. If I'm going to die, I'd rather die with a belly full of fresh meat and a fire at my feet."
Borzug chuckled. "Hah! Spoken like a Bloodfang. There's a brownclaw near the eastern ridge. Dangerous, but worth the meat and fur. Murga can help you take it down."
"I'll handle it alone," Hulk said flatly.
Borzug raised an eyebrow. "You're stubborn. Like your father."
Hulk's expression didn't change. "Hiding behind a female ain't my way."
Borzug barked out a laugh and waved him off. "Suit yourself, cub. But remember what I offered. She's ready whenever you decide to act like a real orc."
As they left, Hulk's hand rested on the haft of his glaive. No distractions. First, strength. The rest can wait.
Tomorrow, the hunt begins.