"Silence!"
Garran roared at his pathetically squirming underling, trying his best not to show any signs of confusion by masking his voice with an aggressive edge.
In actuality, however, he was at a complete loss for words - an angry scowl was the best he could manage when faced with such a bizarre scene:
Seeing his Stone Cauldron warriors piled atop each other like some heap of trash yet perfectly intact, ignoring the identical bruises on each of their chins, was strange enough…
But what really sent him over the edge and right into the territory of 'incomprehensible' was the sole woman, happily greeting Garran like they were old acquaintances; that woman was obviously the one response for this whole mess, yet nothing about her appearance indicated any signs of a struggle.
It was almost as if the assembled force of a dozen trained fighters meant nothing to her.
What is her purpose? How does she know me? Why did she only incapacitate everyone here? And why… Why does she remind me of that dastardly kid so much?
A million thoughts churned through the commander's overwhelmed and sleep deprived mind, but by far the most unnerving one was the strange sense of familiarity he felt towards her.
It wasn't the woman's face; he was absolutely certain he'd never seen her before.
It wasn't her mannerisms, either; the way she carried herself was distinctly different from anybody he'd met in his lifetime.
Presence - that had to be it.
That instinctive feeling of danger, urging him run for his life without second thought.
There was exactly one other person to make me feel this way… Ori.
Only, the pressure she washed the surroundings with made Ori's seem infinitesimally small in comparison.
Without meaning to, Garran briefly locked eyes with the woman, and his expression froze on his face:
Calling her beautiful would've been an understatement.
Stunning. Out of this world. Impossibly perfect.
Yet, instead of admiration or attraction, a completely different emotion took him over - pure, unadulterated fear.
Garran's palms turned moist with sweat, alarm bells sounding off without pause. His hand reached for the blade at his waist before he knew it.
It felt like things would explode any second now; any trace of rationality half abandoned him, replaced with instinctual combat readiness.
He didn't even stop to consider why this unidentified woman kept his men alive, no space in his panicked mind for any reasoning.
A breath escaped the woman's lips. Garran flinched, grip on the blade's handle strengthening, and readied an attack with furrowed brows.
Things have escalated to the point of no return… Bring it on then!
*Hoooh*
After a deep breath, he prepared to lunge in - when suddenly:
"Ah damn, my bad, Birdnose. Forgot to ease the pressure, ahaha…"
In the blink of an eye, accompanied by the woman's awkward and somewhat apologetic laugh, the suffocating sensation vanished without a trace.
Garran was relived, of course, but something else stole his attention; a particular word that nobody else had dared use in front of him before, except for exactly one person.
"…Wait a second, are you… Are you Ori?"
At his befuddled inquiry, full of disbelief, the woman widely grinned.
A pair of unnaturally long fangs revealed themselves, just like 'his'.
"Wow, took ya long enough. Sure enough, my dearest of commanders - it is I!"
She, no, he? …Uhh, Ori…
Ori struck a ridiculous pose, right hand facing the sky with an outstretched index finger and left hand placed squarely on the hip.
However, even that didn't register to Garran - and how could it? The person before him clearly had the appearance of a girl, yet everything else pointed towards them being Ori.
"But why do you… No, how do you look like that..?"
He stammered out the question that's been bothering him.
"It's a rather long story, as you can imagine; how about we sit down for a proper chat?"
Ori waved the questions away, instead pressing on with his own goals as he headed for the tent without waiting for an answer.
Garran tiredly scanned the surroundings, giving his crumpled up men a pitiful look before eventually turning away.
"Ah, okay. Let's do… that."
As much as the whole mess needed cleaning - and it really did -, his biggest priority was getting answers.
And so, the looming threat of a demotion for allowing a third disruption to their camp in just two week's time was left unattended.
Yes, I'll… I'll sort it out later…
Fueling his emotionally and spiritually drained heart with those unconvincing promises to himself, Garran followed Ori into the main tent with a blank expression and the poise of an undead.
***
Is he just planning on leaving the dudes I beat up lying there? Seems a bit irresponsible to me, but he probably knows what he's doing, right? Commander and all that.
As I hoped, Garran came to meet me as soon as I'd caused a big enough stir. I could even say that everything worked out perfectly, except for one detail:
Namely, it was the man himself.
He's out of it. Looks like a damn zombie, even more so than the last time we met.
Either way, it was time to get to business.
We sat down in the same chairs as before and closed the tent's blinds all the same; if there was one difference, though, it would be my appearance.
Naturally.
After all, right now I'm not just some kid named Ori - but a refined young lady brimming with enthusiasm to participate in the upcoming tournament.
Garran asked me some questions. No surprises there; anybody would've been curious about the inner workings of my disguise.
I basically glossed over everything important and he never prodded further. If I had to guess, he was simply too tired to care by this point, which worked out rather nicely.
Really, it felt like I was talking to a man on his dying days.
Sucks to suck, I guess?
After some more excuses, he gave up on trying to get anything of substance out of me and we shifted to the main topic:
"-And so, we need a name to register you under."
"Right, makes sense."
I couldn't just go with Ori or any goofy variation of it, for that matter, since Master would catch on in a flash.
Lost in thought, I twirled a strand of long hair between my thumb and index finger, before suddenly letting go and clasping my hands together with a mischievous grin.
"Heheh, good. I've got it!"
I had Garran sign my new name into the registration document, which he did with only a slight eyebrow raise.
Next came some boring stuff, like a million consecutive reminders not to do anything rash that could draw anybody's attention to my already suspicious persona; anyways, I obediently shook my head and promised I wouldn't do anything of the sort.
"Yep, yep. Mhm. Gotcha, my dearest of commanders."
But he kept nagging.
"Aight, listen. I understand, okay? I'll be nice and quiet, so can I go already? You've repeated yourself a dozen times by now."
"…Fine. I hope you won't make me regret writing your recommendation letter."
Finally, and very reluctantly might I add, I was dismissed.
Phew, that felt like speaking with my parents all over again.
With things done and dusted, I stood up with a stretch and prepared to leave.
"Oh, and one more thing."
"What now? I thought I was free to go, no?"
My annoyed expression shook him up, but he quickly recovered:
"This tournament will be overseen by 'The Heroes of Nether', so don't act so brazenly before them."
"Oh, come on now; when had I ever acted out of line before?"
"…Is that a serious question?"
Garran eyed me with skepticism.
"Tsk, forget it. I'll lay low."
Every bone in my body pulled me to talk back, but…
He's not entirely wrong. Maybe I gotta tone it down a notch, not that I know who those 'Heroes of Nether' even are.
I considered asking him for more details before quickly realizing that he'd nag my brains out again. And that sounded god awful.
Well, whatever. I'll find out once I see em in person.
With those thoughts I quickly strolled out, not even doing any formal farewell gesture in fear of getting held back once more.
Bubbling with anticipation, a beautiful smile crossed my freakishly perfect lips - to an outside observer, though, that smile would've been spine chilling.
Everything is ready. Tomorrow, the fun begins.