"UGHAAAA!!!"
An intense, searing pain erupted from the depths of Valkar's mind. It was as if someone split his skull open and poured molten lava inside.
But the pain was not short-lived; it lasted for a full minute. A minute of pure, unadulterated agony that made the pain of his severed arm and leg feel like a gentle scratch.
He was on the ground, holding his head, his eyes wide with shock. He was on the verge of passing out more than once, but this strange place refused to let him lose consciousness.
"Endure, little orc," the woman's voice echoed in his mind, a calm anchor in the storm of pain. "It will be over soon."
And as she said, the pain slowly subsided.
Valkar slowly opened his eyes, and suddenly everything seemed different. Not the place he was in, but his understanding of things.
It was as if a thick, dusty curtain had been pulled from his mind. The world didn't just appear brighter; it made sense.
Valkar glanced up and down, left and right, watching how his hand moved with a newfound understanding. He didn't simply see a hand; he saw a complex interplay of muscles, tendons, and bone. He saw the blood pumping beneath his green skin, the tiny hairs standing on end.
His own mind—for the first time, he was able to process more complex thoughts. He wasn't just thinking in simple words and instincts anymore.
He... understood.
"Sigh...." Valkar let out a long sigh, a feeling of both awe and dread washing over him.
"We orcs are truly dumb," he said with a genuine sadness for his kin.
He looked at the woman, and this time he truly saw her—not just as a 'strong beautiful female' but as a being of immense power. If she could make him smarter, unlock his genetic limitation with a simple touch, what else could she do?
The woman smiled, a genuine, warm smile this time. She was pleased with his reaction.
"Welcome to the world of the thinking, little orc."
"My name is Valkar," he spoke, his voice was clearer, more articulate, and not in the third person. "And you are?"
The woman regarded him in silence for a heartbeat longer than necessary, as if tasting the sound of his name and the way he spoke it.
"Valkar…" she repeated softly. "Yes. That suits you far better now."
She straightened, the warmth in her smile fading back into something composed, ancient, and impossibly heavy. The air itself seemed to respond, tightening, as though reality had remembered who she was standing before.
"As for me," she said, placing a hand lightly over her chest, "I have many names. Too many, in fact. Names given by mortals, stripped by gods, buried by history."
She took a step closer. Each footfall echoed, not against the floor, but against Valkar's thoughts.
"But you may call me by my true name."
A sigil on her collarbone flared with soft golden light.
"Ishtar."
The name carried weight. Not pressure, not force—but finality. Like a verdict spoken after all arguments had ended.
Valkar felt it settle into him, carving itself into memory without resistance. His new mind raced, trying to grasp its meaning, to compare it to legends whispered around tribal fires or carved in the ruins of forgotten ages. But there was nothing. Her name existed outside the realm of mortal understanding.
"Ishtar…" he tested the sound, rolling it over his tongue. He felt no reverence, no fear. Only the cold calculation of a warrior sizing up an opponent of impossible scale. "Beautiful name."
Ishtar's lips twitched, the closest thing to genuine surprise he'd yet seen from her.
"Flattery. From an orc, and one who can finally form proper sentences. I'm impressed." Her grey eyes narrowed, turning analytical. "So do you think I'm more beautiful than your mother now?"
"No," Valkar answered without missing a beat, "Mother is the most beautiful woman in the world."
"Stubborn." Ishtar shook her head, but there was a new light in her eyes.
"Let us not dwell on aesthetics. You and I have more pressing matters. You're dying, Valkar. Your body lies broken and bleeding on a mountain floor. Yet, here you stand thanks to my power."
She gestured to the pristine white hall, a universe contained between breaths.
"This is the offer: I will mend your flesh. I will return you to the world of the living. Not as you were, but as something more."
She opened her slender palm again. The pink orb pulsed, and a stream of pale light flowed from it, weaving intricate patterns in the air.
"In exchange, you will become my champion." She looked at him, waiting for a reaction, a protest, a question. "You will carry my will into the mortal realm. You will be my sword, my shield, my harbinger."
"I refuse." Valkar's answer was immediate, sharp, and definitive.
"-_-"
For the second time, a genuine crack appeared in Ishtar's divine composure. Her grey eyes widened almost imperceptibly. She blinked once, a slow, deliberate motion, as if processing a word she'd never heard before in her infinite existence.
"Refuse?" she repeated, her voice losing its divine resonance, dropping to a tone of pure, unadulterated disbelief. "You... refuse? Why?"
"I am a conqueror," Valkar stated, his new mind giving his simple convictions a terrifying clarity. "I serve no one. A conqueror forges his own path. A slave follows another's. I am no slave."
He met her gaze, not with defiance, but with the cold, hard logic of a law he had just discovered within himself.
Ishtar stared at him, the pulsating pink orb casting shifting colors across her perfect face. The silence stretched, becoming a physical presence in the sterile white hall.
"You'll die," she said simply, the threat devoid of malice, stated as a fact of gravity. "Your body is broken. Your soul is unanchored. Without me, you fade into nothing."
"Then I will die with honor." Valkar's response was immediate, absolute. "To live as a slave is a death far worse."
A slow smile spread across Ishtar's lips. It was not her previous amused or mocking smiles. This one was… appreciative. Hungry.
"Good," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "Very good. Conqueror, you say?"
She began to pace again, her movements fluid and predatory.
"You think you can conquer? You, a lone orc from a dying tribe on a forgotten mountain?"
She stopped before him, her grey eyes boring into his.
"Yes, I will." He didn't hesitate. "Even you."
"Pfftt... HAHAHHA." Ishtar burst into laughter again. "You know what, I like you, Valkar. You have ambition. I respect that."
She held out her hand again, the pink orb resting on her palm.
"So let's make a new deal. A partnership. I am not a master who demands a slave. I am a goddess who seeks an ally."
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"You want to conquer? Fine. Conquer for me. Conquer in my name. The glory, the lands, the spoils—they will be yours. I'll help you awaken the system. All I ask is to fulfill my request, not in servitude, but as a partner."
She looked at him, her grey eyes searching his.
"You will be the face of the conquest. I will be the power behind the throne. You will be the sword. I will be the forge. A partnership of equals."
Valkar's mind, now sharper than any blade he had ever held, analyzed her words. A partnership. An alliance. It was a tempting offer. It meant power, strength, a chance to achieve his ambitions without losing his freedom.
But there was a catch. There was always a catch.
"And what are your requests?" he asked, his voice low and steady.
"Simple." Ishtar's smile returned, sharp and predatory. "First, I want you to act as a gate boss. A test for other champions, other 'players' as they're called. You will guard a special dungeon of my choosing."
She paused, letting that sink in.
"Second, and more importantly, I want you to help me increase my divine influence in another world."
She leaned back, her arms crossed, waiting for his reaction.
Valkar was silent for a long time, his mind racing. A gate boss. A vanguard. It still sounded like servitude, just with a fancier name. But the promise of power, of a system, of a chance to conquer… it was a lure he couldn't ignore.
He thought of his mother, Zura'thrax, and the lessons she had taught him. He thought of his sister, Thraxa, and her annoying pranks. He thought of the tribe, struggling to survive in the harsh lands of the mountain.
"I agree on one condition," he said finally, his voice firm. "When I defeat you in a duel, you become my mate."
The words hung in the sterile white hall.
Ishtar's smile vanished. She stared at him, her grey eyes wide with a mixture of shock and disbelief. For a full ten seconds, she was completely silent, her perfect face a mask of stunned immobility.
Then, she started to laugh again.
It was not a loud, booming laugh this time. It was a soft, melodious, but utterly unhinged laugh. She laughed as if she had just heard the most absurd, the most impossible, the most hilarious thing in the history of creation.
"A duel? With me?" she gasped, tears of mirth streaming down her cheeks. "You... you want to duel... a goddess? For my... hand in marriage?"
She looked at him, her grey eyes shining with amusement, her body shaking with suppressed laughter.
"Oh, Valkar. You are a treasure. A walking, talking, green-skinned treasure trove of absurdity." She wiped her eyes. "I accept your condition."
"Good." Valkar's eyes widened. He hadn't actually expected her to agree. His mind, now sharp and clear, reeled at the implications. He had just challenged a goddess to a duel for her hand, and she had accepted.
"Now let's awaken our system." Ishtar turned her attention back to the pink orb, her expression becoming serious once more.
She gently placed the orb back into Valkar's hands and said,
"To awaken the system, you need to state your desire loudly and clearly." She paused and leaned closer to him, her hair brushing against his cheek. "Speak from the bottom of your heart what you truly desire, Valkar, and the will of the universe will answer."
Valkar held the orb. It was warm to the touch, pulsating with a gentle, rhythmic light. He closed his eyes, clearing his mind.
What did he truly desire?
The answer was always the same.
He opened his eyes and roared, his voice echoing through the endless white hall.
"I WANT TO CONQUER THE STARS!"