"Wake up, my child." A warm gray hand caressed the face of a sleeping Orc. He had long curly hair, ash-colored skin, dark pupils glinting with gold, and small but noticeable canines. To an outsider, he looked like any other Orc, but to Orcs he was considered a little uglier. Not because his skin was blemished or his face deformed, but because his canines were uneven in size. To Orcs, canines are the most important feature—large, symmetric, and healthy ones are a mark of beauty.
The figure watching over him was another Orc: tall, beautiful, and clearly of high standing. At a glance, her authority was obvious. The small Orc stirred and answered sleepily, "Good morning, Mother." She lifted him out of bed and raised him to the sky.
"Oh, Himmel, it is a good morning." In her eyes, his dark aura enshrouded the air above them.
After setting him down, she handed him a leather-bound notebook, its pages made from toughened fibers. "Now, read me the first few lines." She sat back in her chair, attentive.
With a small breath, Himmel began:"Level. Every creature, beast, and form of life is given a level. All are born level 0—an infant. As days pass, they slowly grow. Though this differs by species, the rule applies to all. The first stages happen naturally: from level 0 to 2 comes with age. A creature reaches level 2 simply by living. But exceptions exist—without proper food, shelter, or exercise, one can remain level 1 much longer."
He looked up, noticing his mother's calm listening, and thought: Why must I read this same passage every day?
Still, he continued:"To increase past level 2, one must train both body and mind. Once they reach their peak, they must achieve something great. Achievements differ—one may be in battle, another in writing a book—but either way, they rise to level 3. After that, the cycle repeats, each step harder. Beyond level 5, a being is dangerous to an entire city. The highest known level is 9, though it is rumored that beyond level 9 lies godhood."
His mother gently took the book and pointed out the balcony. "Look out there. Choose a citizen, and tell me about them."
Himmel scanned the street. "That's Jottur. He's a baker and a cook. In wartime, he follows the army to prepare food."
"Yes, correct. But what else?"
"He's fifty years old?"
"What else?"
"He helps Farmer Yom with his crops?"
"No, my child." She lifted him and set him on the railing. "You stand above him. He is an ordinary Orc. But you—you are a Dark Orc. The highest class of Orc. Our prodigy."
Himmel frowned in confusion, but nodded. "Yes, Mother. I am above him." She pulled him into a kiss-filled hug.
The door suddenly burst open. A massive Orc, broad as the doorway itself, stormed in. His eyes darted around before locking onto Himmel and his mother.
"MY SOOOONNN!" He rushed forward, scooping them both up in a crushing embrace.
"Grugalor, how was the hunt?" she asked, kissing him.
"Margot, the hunt was good. We caught a level 4 beast. Big feast tonight, for my son's birthday." Setting them down, Grugalor crouched to Himmel's level. "My son, how are you?"
"I'm good, Father," Himmel replied quickly.
"Come, I'll show you something."
Himmel grabbed his father's calloused hand, barely able to hold on. Grugalor was the village general, a veteran commander who led armies to war and hunting parties into the wild. Even at home, he wore armor made from beast hide and carried a sword of rare ore.
The family walked the hall. "Are you excited, Himmel? You're eight now—old enough to join me on the hunts."
Before Himmel could answer, Margot cut in: "He'll use a spear. Easier, safer, and he won't need to fight up close. I'll teach him curses—he can help from the back."
"No. My son will stand with me in the front line. We will fight and kill together. He won't hide like a coward," Grugalor countered.
Himmel listened silently. He didn't care which weapon he learned. All that mattered was making them both proud—while staying safe.
At last, they arrived before a massive door engraved with intricate designs, guarded by two Orc soldiers.
"Grugalor. Margot. What's your business here?"
Grugalor produced a sealed envelope. "The Chief permits us entry."
The guards glanced at each other, then stepped aside. Grugalor alone pushed open the heavy door. Inside was a chamber filled with treasures: gold, scrolls, even the skeleton of a great beast. At its center sat a strange, gear-covered box.
Margot gestured Himmel forward. "Within this box lies an heirloom, passed down through generations. It can only be wielded by a Dark Orc of our bloodline. The last was three generations ago. Now it is you. Place your hand on it when you're ready."
Himmel hesitated, then stepped forward. "Every race has four subraces. For Orcs, it is: Basic Orcs, like Jottur; Warrior Orcs, like Father; Shamans, like Mother; and Dark Orcs—like me. I must be special." He pressed his palm to the box. A sharp prick stung his fingertips. The gears clicked, locks opened, and the lid released.
Inside was a shifting, slime-like substance. Margot lifted it and set it on Himmel's shoulder. The slime crawled across him, molding itself.
"This will enhance your body. It has many uses, which you will discover. For now, it is adapting to you—finding the perfect form."
The slime settled into an armband on Himmel's bicep. "Perfect. It won't hinder you in battle. It can move unseen beneath your armor, ready to act. Just like you—efficient."
Grugalor smiled. "Me and your mother will prepare the feast. Go, explore, and meet us at the town center tonight."
Himmel returned to his room and opened another book, this one on world history.
"About 5 thousand years ago, every leader of the world came together and clarified a few things. The world was named "Blue" races of this world will be split into their own territories and reside there, any treaties will be on their own terms and the final thing was to keep neutral for 100 years at least. After the leaders came to this agreement 101 years later the demon attack occurred. The Demon leader waited exactly the neutral years and immediately waged war with every single other race, the first race to fall under the demon command was the goblins, next were the Arachnids and finally the Orcs. After 1000 years the first great war ended, the hero of the elves slaid the the demon king and brought peace for 2000 years until the heroes death. But, it was only peace for every race that wasn't under the demon command. For 2000 years the Orcs, Arachnids and Goblins suffered prejudice and discrimination. After his heroes death the Orc King Malekalok bowed down and to every other race and asked for forgiveness. The Giants and Mermaids were the first to vouch for them, saying that every race should be given a chance of forgiveness. The Arachnid Leader followed along quickly but not the Goblin Lord. He relished in the suffering of others, he took his chance of war and started the second great war. It was said that he found a special rock the fell from the sky and from there he began attacking ruthlessly. For 500 years the Goblin Lord lived and he killed, half of the world population fell. But with the help of the gods, the holy kingdom of the humans struck down the Goblin Lord. The pillar of hope Michael made such an achievement he was taken to the heavens, where he most likely resides now. 500 years later the council of leaders was created, every 50 years a treaty will be resigned, any person who signs this treaty must be treated as true equals any one who doesn't will not be protected. after 650 years a third great war occurred, it was due to the fact the royal family of the humans were attacked by the demons and after 300 years the humans and demons agreed for a ceasefire. 50 or so years later the world is how it is now, in the east is the coalition of blue consisting of Human, Centaur, Fairies, Spirit, Elves, Druid, Giant and Beast men. The ocean is inhabited by the Mermaids. The west has the demon continent, that has Goblins, Vampires , Nagas and Demons. Then there's the trio of the pact, Orcs, Arachnids, and Harpies. Finally the continent of the north, which inhabits Dragons and Dwarfs."
Tossing his axe into the air, he caught it again and again until the sunset called him to the celebration. The village erupted in joy. Orcs cheered, feasted, and drank. Jottur hoisted Himmel onto his shoulders. Fires blazed, meat roasted, beer spilled. Even Grugalor, in his drunken joy, toppled a house.
At the height of the festivities, Grugalor stood tall.
"HIMMEL—MY SON. MY JOY. OUR FUTURE. GIVE IT UP FOR THE FIRST LEVEL 11!!!"
The crowd roared so loud it shook the village. Himmel was tossed into the air as meat and drink flowed. He tasted beer for the first time. He laughed as Yom ran around half-naked, as Jottur fed people chunks of meat midair. His parents reveled as though the world itself was celebrating their child.
But later, exhausted, Himmel stumbled home and collapsed into bed. "I'll be the strongest in the world," he murmured, drifting to sleep.
Yet as he slept, a shadow loomed.
A dark figure, blending into the night, hovered over him. It drew a jar from its cloak. With a tap, the jar floated upward—and in an instant, the slime was ripped from Himmel's body.
He bolted awake, but the figure vanished too quickly to pursue.
The sun rose on Himmel's eighth birthday, but also on the end of his future.