He shook his head slowly. "This demand is far stranger than anything I expected."
He turned his gaze to the assembled orcs. "What say you, warriors of the Iron Fang? Do we accept this mad goblin's proposal? Or do we honor tradition and remain separate?"
The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity.
Then the elderly shaman stepped forward, his staff tapping against the packed earth. "I have lived seventy winters," he said, his voice carrying despite its age.
"I have seen our tribe grow strong, then weak, then strong again. Always, we survived through adaptation. When the great beasts came, we learned to hunt them. When the humans expanded their territories, we learned to avoid their patrols." He paused, studying Satou with ancient eyes. "This goblin speaks truth—the world changes, and those who refuse to change with it perish. Perhaps it is time we tried something new."
Another orc stepped forward—the captain who'd first met them at the gate. "The goblin fights with honor," he said reluctantly. "And those Hobgoblins with him... I've never seen goblins move like that. Never seen goblins with that kind of strength. If he truly can grant that power to others..."
More voices joined in, some arguing for acceptance, others against. The debate grew heated, but Satou noticed something important—none of them were calling for his immediate execution. They were actually considering his proposal.
Urgak raised his remaining hand, and silence fell instantly.
"Enough," the chieftain said. He struggled to his feet, refusing assistance, though his hand remained pressed against his wounded side. "I am still chieftain of the Iron Fang until my death or abdication. And I say..." He locked eyes with Satou. "We accept this alliance. On trial. For one moon cycle."
He turned to his tribe. "If the goblin's magic proves real, if his tribe proves valuable, we continue the alliance. If not, we part ways. But we will give this madness a chance, because the alternative is slowly dying in isolation like so many other tribes before us."
The orcs erupted into discussion again, but Satou could sense the shift in mood. They weren't enthusiastic, but they were willing. That was enough to start with.
"There is one condition," Urgak added, his voice cutting through the noise. "Your first naming—your first demonstration of this magic—will be me."
Satou blinked in surprise. "You want to evolve?"
"I want to see if you're truly capable of what you claim," Urgak replied. "And if you are, I want that power. An orc chieftain who can evolve beyond his base form? That would be something the other tribes could not ignore."
It was a calculated risk. If Satou's Magicule Bestowal skill worked on orcs the same way it worked on goblins, it would prove his claims beyond any doubt. But if it didn't…
Only one way to find out.
"Agreed," Satou said. "But first, you need medical attention before you bleed out. Even I can't name a corpse."
Urgak laughed—a sharp, pained sound. "Fair point. Shamans! Attend to my wound. The rest of you, bring our guests proper quarters. And someone release the Hobgoblin prisoner. She's won her freedom fairly."
As orc shamans rushed forward with bandages and healing salves, Satou felt his legs finally give out. The adrenaline that had kept him standing through the fight was gone, leaving nothing but exhaustion and pain.
Grimnir caught him before he hit the ground.
"You insane, brilliant fool," the Hobgoblin muttered. "You actually did it."
"Did the easy part," Satou wheezed. "Now comes the hard part—making this alliance actually work."
"One problem at a time," Lyra said, appearing at his other side. "First, you need rest. You look like death warmed over."
"Feel like it too," Satou admitted.
As they carried him toward the longhouse—now apparently open to them as guests rather than prisoners—Satou caught sight of Kira being released from her bonds. She immediately ran toward them, tears streaming down her face.
"You came for me," she said, her voice breaking. "You actually came."
"Told you we wouldn't leave you," Satou managed to say before unconsciousness claimed him.
—----
Satou woke to sunlight streaming through gaps in wooden walls and the smell of cooking meat. For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was or why every muscle in his body screamed in protest when he tried to move.
Then memory returned in a rush. The duel. The victory. The alliance.
Right. I convinced a tribe of orcs to work with goblins. Because apparently, I'm insane.
"Finally awake," a familiar voice said.
Satou turned his head—carefully, because his neck was still bruised from Urgak's grip—and saw Lyra sitting nearby, working on repairing arrows.
"How long was I out?" he asked, his voice still raspy.
"Almost three days," she replied. "Your body basically shut down after the fight. Between the mana drain from all those naming, the physical trauma from battling Urgak, and the stress of everything else... The orc shamans said it's a miracle you survived at all."
Satou pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing at the sharp pain in his ribs. "What did I miss?"
"Quite a bit, actually." Lyra set down her arrow work. "First, the good news—that kira is saved and the orcs stick to their promises after you had won the duel "
"And the bad news?"
"The bad news is that integrating two completely different species who've historically hated each other is... complicated. There have been fights. Arguments. One of our goblins tried to steal food from the orc supplies and nearly started a war before Grimnir intervened." She sighed. "It's messy, Satou. Really messy."
"But they're trying?" Satou asked.
"They're trying," Lyra confirmed. "Urgak's been surprisingly reasonable about the whole thing. He's set up training sessions where orc warriors teach our fighters proper combat techniques. And he's asked if you'd be willing to name more of his tribe members once your mana recovers."
Satou nodded slowly, processing the information. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress.