Ten thousand warriors were divided in two, lined up facing each other starting from the sides of the tent's entrance. A long white carpet had formed in the middle of the desolate lands; at the end of this path where Alyon and his daughter stood, those who would take a step toward a new beginning were awaited.
Silence was slicing through the nearly darkened air slice by slice; every moment passed in waiting added another dose of anxiety onto the fear that was being sweetened with a sauce of excitement.
The gray-haired orc, who had been no different from a living corpse for the last two years, was shaking like a leaf stubbornly resisting the autumn winds. Although he managed to keep his head steady on his daughter's shoulder after she hurriedly took his arm, his body was still trembling violently.
While the Elite Ten stood guard around the perimeter against the possibility of an attack, a shadow would quietly extend from inside the tent with double-winged leather doors and step onto the snow-white bosom of the earth; this was the first and most concrete proof that the two-year-long wait had come to an end.
The person who came out wearing a cloak darker than night examined the surroundings for a while. His face wasn't visible from inside the hood; only two eyes, having the same color as the fog around the tent, were shining breathlessly.
These two jewels wandered over the orc warriors lined up on both sides for a while. No one dared to make eye contact with them; there was a mysterious power within them that seemed to make the body it touched freeze.
The person inside the black cloak raised his right hand, and subsequently, the fog around the tent slowly began to move toward him. After transforming into a whirlpool spinning crazily above his head, it quietly flowed into his palm. After finally collecting it all, he began to walk with slow steps.
Although the surrounding orcs couldn't quite make him out, his family, whom he approached one step closer at any moment, had already realized who he was. Contrary to his previous style, the orc clad in black was Kitapkurdu.
Kitapkurdu was only looking ahead as he advanced, yet the knees of the warriors standing in line on both sides were about to give way. This wasn't fear; what they were experiencing at that moment was the uneasiness felt when an unknown distress slowly gnaws at one's insides.
"I am sorry!"
Ölümün Rüzgârı looked at her brother calling out to her, not knowing what to say. Although the words were surrounded by a harsh expression, the presence of the intention lying beneath this camouflage stood there vividly.
The scent of an emotion that was a mixture of helplessness, regret, and embarrassment was seeping through the weak points of the hard shell surrounding him despite everything, mixing into the air that smelled strongly of longing.
The hulking female orc couldn't answer; opening her two arms to the sides, she hugged her brother tightly. She didn't blame anyone for what had happened; she had already settled the account with herself long ago. This was one of the main reasons she had become so strong in such a short time.
The two siblings stayed like this for a long time, without saying a single word. They were speaking in a language no one else could understand, as if time had stopped and the world wasn't turning.
All eyes were on the duo; the warriors were witnessing the first step of a family's reunion with bated breath. Only gray-haired Alyon's head was down in these moments; he was so distant from what was happening right next to him…
Even when his son came to his side, the world seemed to have changed in his concern; he was watching the snowflakes flying at the bottom of his feet with empty and meaningless eyes.
Before long, another person started to come out of the tent. Walking without even casting a single glance around with her simple leather armor and short-cropped hair, everyone recognized her even though she had undergone a tremendous change.
"The Blood God Nafız!"
The warriors shouted the same name in unison. For those unaware of what had happened at the end of the great war, the person before them was a monster who had slaughtered almost the entire army by herself.
While placing one knee on the ground with respect, they were hitting their chests passionately. On the Orc Steppes, power was the most revered among virtues.
The female orc, paying no mind to the snowflakes falling on her hair cut almost to a buzz cut, looked Yarmagül up and down, who stood like a mountain before her, when she arrived at the end of the white carpet laid before them.
"Ölümün Rüzgârı, you have finally found the name that suits you best!"
The new hero of the orcs was in astonishment. This wasn't the voice of the arrogant woman who had called out to her that day; the one speaking was Nafız, who had brought her to the brink of death by poisoning her when they first met.
Whereas she had arranged all sorts of scenarios in her head, very few of them involved Nafız regaining control of her own body. Behind her calm appearance was someone who had opened all her senses, waiting on alert to make a move at any moment.
"We are done here, Big Guy. We are leaving!"
Nafız didn't stay long after her words. As soon as she took the arm of Alyon, who had turned his face away, they started walking together. A strange scene had emerged; the eagerly awaited person had taken her friend, who had been practically in a vegetative state for two years, in tow and left, leaving everything behind as if they had parted just yesterday.
No one could say a single word after her; finding the audacity to question her wasn't possible even in their wildest dreams.
The warriors, filled with mixed emotions, couldn't help but start whispering to each other. One reason they had endured all difficulties for two years was that they expected a hero who would save them from all kinds of trouble when the time came.
While whispers progressed to conversations and from there to reproaches in the consistency of grumbling, the last person whose return was awaited was stepping out of the tent.
Those other than Ölümün Rüzgârı and Kitapkurdu had missed this historic moment that meant the opening of an era; they would only be able to experience the effect created by the first step. The ground beneath their feet had shaken slightly. When this event was felt more strongly after the second step, they too would turn toward the person coming out of the tent.
With the third step, a deep crack formed behind him; on the fourth, the fractures in the ground were spreading like a spider web. All the warriors' hearts were in their mouths; they didn't know whether they should be more afraid of the appearance of the physically weak orc before them or the effect he left behind.
Ölümün Rüzgârı had recognized her son immediately. Khan wasn't as she had left him two years ago, but a mother had a place she could trust much more than her eyes to recognize her child: her heart.
On his fifth step, a hill thousands of steps high behind Khan shook violently and collapsed, as if the ground beneath it had split open and it had fallen in.
Actually, this was exactly what happened. When the new Lord of the Orcs came before his mother, all the lands that formerly belonged to the Ice Region Tribe had turned into a sinkhole with no visible bottom.
"The entire orc race is grateful to you, great warrior. Being my mother is the most supreme of the titles I will carry!"
While Khan said these, a respect coming from the depths of his heart accompanied his words. Even the red tattoos descending from under his eyes to both sides of his chin couldn't spoil this awe-filled atmosphere.
These tattoos looked like the dried form of bloody tears flowing; there was neither a pattern nor writing, just two strips with uneven edges on his face.
"Welcome, Supreme Lord of the Orcs!"
When Ölümün Rüzgârı stepped aside and opened the path, Khan headed toward the vehicle waiting for him. While they returned to the Main Orc Tribe lands at the end of the day, two orcs standing shoulder to shoulder were advancing toward another destination.