The sun rose once again over the Orc Steppes, but the inside of the cave was pitch dark. The two orcs slowly headed towards the small light at the end of the tunnel; they had simple leather armor on them.
The burly one had a magnificent axe in his hand, while the female one had nothing; they descended to the foothills of the mountain they had climbed in fear years ago.
"What will you do here?"
"Everything started here; I want to honor our past!"
The two orcs spoke for a while, then walked towards the summit from different faces of the mountain. Nafız tended towards the side facing the tribe where they were born, Alyon climbed from the front facing the Glacial Region direction. When they reached the place they wanted, the female orc took out her daggers, the gift of the first reward dungeon; there was a bitter smile on her face when she started swinging.
Her friend was not idle either; Cesuryürek's son was swinging Alyon's axe with all his might, smashing the rocks in front of him to smithereens. The duo did not stop when the sun set and darkness fell around; sparks coming out of their weapons were mixing into the air under the light of the great pyramid rising to the sky.
Ten days later, their first visitors came to the foothills of the mountain; the Khan and Ainle, who completed the shield that would cover the two continents, watched what was happening for a while.
Later, the leaders of the two races advanced to the face of the mountain overlooking the sea; when they disappeared from sight, others had taken their places.
Those who came were Alyon's lineage; they silently passed to the part where their ancestor swung his axe and began to carry the rocks scattered around down.
No one was speaking; there was a harmony provided silently among them, an accepted agreement. The situation spread from ear to ear; thousands of orcs moved to the mountain slope every day.
They set up their tents and started watching; the figures they only heard in stories were working in front of them with all their naturalness. They did not set foot on the mountain, and those on the mountain did not feel discomfort due to their presence.
Druids had also come; they were helping their leaders along with the Elite Ten. Thus a month passed; Alyon and his family passed to the other side facing the sea but where no one was working. There was a single exception; Bookworm had come to his master, to Nafız's side.
Some shapes had appeared on the red-colored mountain; although many did not know who they were, the status of those creating them indicated everything.
The orcs were excited; once their emotions surged, it became very difficult to restrain them. Entering the second month, many warriors attempted to help the leading figures of their races but were repelled by the invisible pressure surrounding the mountain.
As for those working, the world was not their concern; Nafız's long red hair, of whose armor only the breastplate part remained on the upper side, had grown down to her waist level. Alyon, washed with black flames during the war, was displaying his enormous upper torso under the scorching sun of the Orc Steppes.
His graying hair had turned black; his old middle-aged appearance had been wiped away. His daughter Wind of Death and his half-orc grandson were by his side. Bookworm had announced his son's name to all orcs after the end of the war; he had named him Soulcutter.
Çekiçdöven was carrying the broken stones on the part facing the old Glacial Region Tribe to the foothills of the mountain alone.
Days were passing calmly; orcs who got over their initial excitement killed time fighting in arenas set up among the tents. Sometimes there were warriors who received the help of druids; after the superior abilities they showed, the bonds between the two races began to strengthen.
Then one morning, an elderly orc with armor made of boar skin on him approached the mountain; he was advancing one step at a time without minding the pressure formed. Millions of gathered orc warriors made a great noise; some thought the old orc had lost his mind, while others were laughing with laughter.
"Silence!"
It was as if lightning flashed in the open air; the voices of those camping at the foot of the mountain were cut off instantly. It was quite clear from whom the order came; they were afraid even to breathe for a long time.
At the same moments, the pressure on the old orc disappeared too; he came to Nafız and Bookworm's side with calm steps. He didn't speak; grasping a large rock on the ground, he walked towards the slope as he came. Then another one, and saying one more, the orc with boar skin armor worked without uttering a single word.
For six months, the high-level names of the orcs worked eating very little food and almost without sleeping at all. When their work was finished, they were finished too; they went down one by one.
Two people remained on the mountain; Blood God Nafız and the orc wearing boar skin armor were looking at each other.
"I am sorry!"
Nafız, stabbing the daggers in her hand into the ground, was on her knees; she remained so until the old orc took her arm and lifted her up.
"He chose this path himself, stop blaming yourself now. By doing this, to his memory..."
He couldn't continue; along with the tears trickling from his eyes, he suddenly collapsed on Nafız. When his physical fatigue combined with his mood, Domuzkuyruk couldn't endure any longer; he went down the mountain on the Blood God's back.
Millions of orcs, hundreds of druids, and other humans present on the continent were witnessing this scene. Nafız didn't put the old man down from her back until she went to the tent set up for herself; she entered inside with him.
The final state of the mountain was also revealed; although humans wanting to learn the sides not visible from land got on ships and sailed out, some of the orcs handled this job using their power animals.
The invisible field continued its existence; it was not possible to reach the mountain neither from land nor from the air. Even so, what they saw was enough for those around; the lands that had been arid and forgotten for years had almost turned into a monument.
Four orc warriors were carved into the rocks on the part facing the Glacial Region. Two people standing shoulder to shoulder were depicted with two smaller orcs in front of them.
Among them, the only one alive was Çekiçdöven; he was looking harshly right in front of his father Demirdöven. Right next to him was Alyon, who died a hundred years ago; he too stood determined like his father Cesuryürek, whom he leaned his back against. The gazes of the two blood brothers standing behind their children saw all the Orc Steppes; they would watch their kinsmen forever.
On another side, there were crowded figures facing the sea. Alyon was smiling together with his daughter, his son, his two grandchildren, and the mother of his children. It was what they lived through on the Wild Swamp continent that pushed Alyon to make these statues.
He had engraved his wife, whom he forgot after she died, until his children were born, onto the mountain with his own hands. These were statues of giant dimensions; they contained a natural pressure collapsing on those who saw them.
There was blood, sweat, tears, and the natural energies of those who made them on them; it was not possible for people with insufficient power to endure looking for a long time.
On the other part of the mountain at the tip of the continent facing the sea, only two figures took place. These were an orc sitting on a throne and a druid. The Khan and Ainle had made their statues on the part that would be most clearly visible from the route of merchants going to Parthenia.
It was inspiring trust in friends, fear in enemies; saying that the two races had reunited, that the rest of the world should watch their step. Merchants had already depicted this image; they were trying to deliver it to the great powers in their civilizations with various means of transportation.
Finally, there was the place where Nafız worked opposite the tribe where she was once born. The feeling created in those who saw the statues on the four sides of the mountain was completely different.
While the old orc elders inspired respect, Alyon's family loyalty, the leaders of the two races pride, finally the place Nafız carved caused fear in the beholders.
The statues of the Blood God with her hair waving wildly and another orc warrior standing next to her were radiating killing intent. Throwing daggers were rotating around the warrior holding his large bow in one hand; his gazes were sharp, his aura was like a knife ready to come out of its sheath at any moment.
Sangre was immortalized on the mountain together with his master Nafız. While his sorrowful father carried his stones, Bookworm, considered a brother disciple, had helped.
The construction of the mountain where orcs would worship for centuries had finally ended.
The gathered crowd was leaving gradually; although their security was ensured thanks to the shield covering the two continents, there was a lot of work to be done. Inside the large tent used for the naming ceremony, the notables of the two races gathered to discuss these. The first and most important agenda item was the interpretation of the war's results, and drawing a road map accordingly.
"I suppose, by now the rest of the world has learned the fate of the army they sent. Although I don't expect a large-scale attack soon, there will definitely be those who want to try their luck. First of all, we must ensure they understand that we will respond in kind to the slightest violation attempted on our borders!"
When Bookworm finished his speech, everyone agreed with his words; at this moment, the Master would intervene.
"How will the administration of the two united continents be?"
"I can explain this too!"
Bookworm had come prepared for the meeting; he aimed to resolve all issues clearly today.
"Two continents possess two leaders. These people are guardians rather than rulers of their races. They will lead to protect the lands, the people, and our freedom against external threats.
Ministries will be established for all remaining issues, and the best people in their fields will be put in charge. On this occasion, I would like to state that we have chosen you as the minister of inventions, Master Leonardo. Including the allocation of the city you lived in before, all kinds of your requests will be fulfilled.
The established Orc-Druid Empire will not give a damn about blood ties, social status, or who you know; under current conditions, whoever does the job best will have the responsibility."
Orcs were not thinking of breaking tribal traditions, but with new lands, they would all have to possess the same standard.
Speeches would continue all day; when it was evening, there were six people in the tent. Nafız, Alyon, his two children, the Khan, and Ainle. The new leader of the Wild Swamp was waiting to fulfill the promise they made; he extended the small but bright sphere of light coming out of his chest to Nafız.
"What we promised, the life essence of the Great Tree!"
"Khan, did you bring what I wanted?"
When Nafız called out, the Supreme Khan of the Orcs took out four bear hides from his interspatial ring.
"We managed to collect two of the objects required for Sangre to return to life. The hides of the four totem animals on the Orc Steppes and the Essence of the Druids' Holy Tree are in our hands."
The Blood God, who gave the two objects to the Khan after putting them in her own transport ring, took a deep breath.
"Now it is time to seize the remaining four; a very different journey awaits us!"