The news of Borg's departure reached the other orcs and they weren't pleased with this because they knew what Borg was capable of.
The most worrying aspect of this was the attack on one of the goblins' mines, which would cripple their efficiency in delivering to other races.
This would not go unnoticed, but the orcs weren't worried. The other races already viewed them with the same disgust as they did the goblins.
And yet, should the goblins lose their usefulness, it would be the perfect excuse to wipe them out entirely.
An orc stood approximately seven feet tall, his right arm covered in glowing red runic tattoos.
A sledgehammer almost his size rested on his back. If one thought Borg looked intimidating, they wouldn't want to run into this orc.
"What do you mean Borg left?" the orc demanded, his voice low and heavy. He had just returned from a hunt, dragging multiple bears across his shoulders as if they weighed nothing.
"We couldn't stop him, Kragg!" another orc answered, shame written all over his face.
"I see. It cannot be helped. As long as he doesn't cause trouble, the goblins are spineless creatures. They won't attack unless provoked," Kragg said, but the hesitation in the orc's eyes told him otherwise.
"…Don't tell me." Kragg sighed heavily. Breaking the truce with the goblins was the last thing they needed. The orcs were already having trouble with the humans.
They couldn't afford to anger the very race whose resources fueled their weapons.
"Fucking hell, Borg… Your impatience will be the death of you," Kragg muttered, letting the slaughtered bears drop to the ground with a heavy thud.
He knew he couldn't let Borg run wild, but it seemed he was already too late.
"What is the situation?" Kragg asked, and the orc relayed everything that had transpired in his absence.
Kragg was older, larger, and wiser than most. But this—this could not go unpunished.
The younger orcs had no idea how dangerous the goblins once were. He intended to make sure they never found out.
"Ready my horse," Kragg commanded. The beast needed to be fed and rested before another journey.
"Are you sure that is a good idea?" a voice purred behind him, soft hands wrapping around his torso.
A smile crept across Kragg's face as her bosom pressed against his back.
"…On second thought, I might stay a while." Kragg's voice melted at her touch.
"I'm glad to hear that," the voice replied. Kragg turned to see Maui standing before him.
"I have missed you," Kragg said, grabbing her ass with no restraint.
"You have missed me, or you just missed being inside me?" Maui rolled her eyes, her voice full of annoyance.
"Gyahaha! Follow me and I'll show you!" Kragg roared. He had no care for etiquette. His lust would someday be his downfall.
Maui, a whore from the brothel, wasn't unfamiliar with such advances. But she wasn't without her own feelings.
Kragg was one of the strongest orcs alive, and strength meant desirability. She wasn't the only one who longed for him.
Every female orc yearned for the warrior who had carved his name into blood and battle.
Without protest, Maui followed him to his room.
Kragg believed he could undo whatever damage Borg had caused. As long as Borg had not killed a goblin, everything would remain intact.
-
Meanwhile, Drekk was out of breath.
He had landed a few blows, yes—but Borg was overwhelmingly stronger.
Unlike Drekk, Borg looked almost untouched, and that was while fighting barehanded.
If he had wielded a weapon, Drekk wouldn't have lasted a single exchange.
Borg sneered at the other goblins who brandished their rusty weapons. Pathetic.
He wanted to humiliate Drekk. He wanted the goblins to understand the message he was sending.
We can raid. We can destroy your mines. And there's nothing you can do, because you are weak.
"What!? He strong!" The goblin who had bullied Byung whispered, sweat running down his forehead.
No one moved to help Drekk. Not out of selfishness—out of fear.
This was their first time seeing such power. They had lived their entire lives in the mines, never witnessing the cruelty of the world beyond.
If Drekk, their strongest, stood no chance… then what hope did they have?
But one goblin did not share their fear, Byung.
He stepped forward, directly in front of Borg, and met the orc's eyes without flinching.
"You… bad orc. Goblins not afraid!" Byung said with a shaky voice but he knew he had to be composed.
"Goblins fight!"
The others looked at him in shock.
"Goblins fight!"
Another cry.
"GOBLINS FIGHT!"
The chant spread like wildfire. One voice became two. Two became five. Five became dozens.
Their fear began to crumble under the rhythm of their own defiance.
"GOBLINS FIGHT! GOBLINS FIGHT! GOBLINS FIGHT!"
Each repetition grew louder, heavier, like the pounding of war drums.
The ground seemed to tremble beneath their cries, shaking Borg's certainty.
He had broken their will before. But this… this was something different.
Borg stared at Byung, not in disdain, but in something far more dangerous—recognition.
"…Byung, just what are you..." Borg muttered under his breath.