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In the relatively habitable areas near the mountains, which featured small valleys and lakes suitable for cultivation, a few human villages still remained. These villages, established along the pathway leading to the kingdom’s border gates, were home to nomads and traveling merchants. They roamed the arid wilderness herding sheep and goats or made their living trading with the border guards stationed at the gates.

However, even they did not venture further east. The harsh climate, with its extreme temperature fluctuations between day and night, and the presence of monsters that frequently preyed on their sheep and goats, made it an unbearable place for even the most resilient nomads. Hence, the eastern part of the Fetland Plain was referred to as Deathland, or “Death’s Land” in the nomads’ language, and was strictly avoided.

No shepherd, no matter how brave, ventured into the eastern part of the Fetland Plain, the desolate Deathland.

Yet now, a flock of sheep and goats grazed peacefully in that very Deathland. Nearby, a large figure sat on a rock, shirtless, casually observing them.

If a human saw this, they would have doubted their eyes. Deathland was teeming not with mere wild beasts, but with powerful creatures worthy of being called monsters. No shepherd would dare bring their flock here, even if every other pasture had dried up.

However, this man maintained a serene expression even in this perilous place. And upon closer inspection, it wasn’t so strange.

He wasn’t human—he was an orc.

Standing nearly two meters tall, with rough, green skin like the bark of a tree, a flat nose, and tusks jutting out from his lower jaw like those of a boar, this orc had all the characteristic features of his kind. Yet, his features were somehow well-defined and balanced, making him not appear overly ferocious. By human standards, he might even be considered ruggedly handsome.

As he watched the goats diligently nibbling at the sparse grass, the green-skinned orc stretched languidly.

“Ah, there’s no news today either.”

At the sound of his voice, a large wolf’s head suddenly emerged from beneath the rock. This fearsome-looking wolf was enormous. A direwolf, standing 1.2 meters tall and reaching 3 meters in length, it was a monster that could snap up a bull in one bite.

This ferocious monster approached the orc man and, like a dog, began nuzzling its head against him, whining softly.

“Yip, yip.”

“Hey! You little rascal! You haven’t done anything and you’re already looking for food?”

When he tapped its head lightly, it whimpered like a real dog and curled its tail. Watching the direwolf crouch at his feet, the orc man clicked his tongue.

“…Seriously, why has the former king of the plains become so submissive?”

The direwolf lifted its head, stuck out its tongue as if saying, ‘Well, that didn’t work,’ and confidently descended under the rock. The orc man clicked his tongue again.

“Ugh, that cunning beast.”

It had been half a year since he tamed this black-furred direwolf, Black King. For an orc, taming a direwolf was proof of being an honorable warrior. All orcs dream of becoming wolf riders, but only a true warrior can mark themselves on these ferocious monsters and make them follow.

He had chased the Black King, known as the king of the plains, for a week, endured its counterattacks for three days, and after a half-day battle, he finally subdued the Black King. He imprinted his warrior spirit on the Black King, making it follow him.

Up to this point, everything was good. However, this Black King was different from other direwolves. Was it too intelligent? It understood words perfectly and behaved like a human, but to an excessive degree, to the point of being cheeky.

‘Sometimes, I feel like I’m the one who got tricked…’

Shaking his head, the orc man suddenly looked up sharply.

“Hmm?”

The Black King, descending under the rock, perked up its ears as well. Both stood up simultaneously. At this sight, two other orc men who were tending the sheep a bit further away ran over with startled faces.

“What’s going on?”

“Has it finally appeared, Tassid?”

The orcs all stared in the direction Tassid was looking. Sure enough, after a moment, a large shadow emerged from the other side of the rocky hills. It was a Turtle Lion, a carnivorous monster with the body of a turtle and the head and limbs of a lion. It seemed to be quite old, appearing nearly twice the size of the Black King.

Roar!

The Turtle Lion roared and started charging towards the sheep. The sheep and goats, frozen by the roar, stood still in a daze, unable to think of running away. This monster, which had evolved in the arid climate to reduce moisture evaporation, might look laughable at first glance, but it was far from an easy opponent. It combined the defense of a turtle and the attack power of a lion, a formidable monster capable of easily sweeping away dozens of human soldiers.

However, the orcs did not seem too tense.

Orc warrior Tassid picked up the giant zhanmadao placed beside him and grinned.

“Black King!”

As if waiting for this command, the direwolf lay down at Tassid’s feet. Grabbing the reins and swiftly mounting Black King, Tassid shouted in Orcish as he spurred the beast forward.

“Talkra! Ketchatraka!”

Translated, it meant something like, ‘Food’s here! Light the fire!’ Riding atop Black King, Tassid galloped across the plain at a fierce speed, raising his rough zhanmadao high and shouting loudly.

“Dakar!”

He called the name of the zhanmadao to awaken the soul of the weapon. Tassid’s beloved blade, Dakar, began to emit a faint light along its blade. This was an orc warrior’s unique technique, entirely different from an aura, where instead of infusing the blade with one’s energy, one drew out the sword’s own spirit. The once dull blade of Dakar sharpened to a razor edge, exuding a chilling aura.

Merging his spirit with that of the blade, Tassid charged toward the Turtle Lion like a storm. Just as the Turtle Lion was about to pounce on a goat, Tassid swiftly intercepted it. The Turtle Lion roared with anger and wariness.

“Grrraaah!”

Black King also bared his fangs and roared back.

“Grrr!”

The fierce beasts faced each other, assessing their opponent. In an instant, the Turtle Lion bared its sharp fangs and leapt forward, simultaneously swiping at Tassid with its forepaw. Tassid parried the attack with his zhanmadao.

Clang!

The sound of metal echoed as Tassid effortlessly blocked the Turtle Lion’s attack. His thick arm muscles bulged as if they would burst, but he didn’t give an inch. Both Tassid and Black King effortlessly withstood the full weight of the massive Turtle Lion’s strike.

“Grrraaah!”

The enraged Turtle Lion repeatedly swung its forepaws. Tassid continued to parry with Dakar, his eyes suddenly blazing with determination.

“Taaah!”

With a thunderous shout, Tassid’s rough zhanmadao traced a delicate arc, slashing the Turtle Lion’s neck and shoulder simultaneously. A brilliant three-strike combination wove a pattern of blood in the air.

Blood spurted as the giant monster lost its life and slowly began to sink. Two other Orc warriors, who had been standing by with swords and axes for backup, ran over with bright expressions.

“Oh, as expected of the brave Tassid!”

“With this, we won’t go hungry for a while!”

The Orc warriors joyfully began to dismantle the fallen Turtle Lion. Their hands, removing the shell and skinning it, moved with remarkable skill.

In fact, for the Orcs living here, a monster attacking their sheep was not a disaster but a blessing. Since mere herding was not enough to sustain them, they would face food shortages if monsters did not attack from time to time. It could even be said that this was their staple.

Of course, many Orcs died during these attacks, but for those who revered warriors, there were no tears to shed for the defeated.

With a Turtle Lion of this size, just the meat alone was enough to feed them for a while. Moreover, its shell and hide were useful in many ways. Tassid and the other Orc warriors enthusiastically continued their dismantling work.

As they were busy draining the blood and skinning it, the Black King quietly approached and tapped the Turtle Lion’s hind leg with his paw. Then he looked at Tassid and tapped the thigh this time.

“…What is it?”

At Tassid’s gruff voice, the Black King pointed his nose at the hind leg. Through their soul connection, Tassid could immediately sense the Direwolf’s will. The Black King was saying this:

“Hurry up and give me my share already.”

“…Here you go.”

With a wry smile, Tassid sliced off a large chunk of the hind leg and tossed it to him. The Black King happily grabbed it with his mouth. Then, he tapped Tassid’s shoulder. Anyone could see it was a gesture meaning, “Well done, you’ve worked hard.”

“You little rascal…”

Watching the Black King gnawing on the bone from a distance, Tassid shook his head. He wondered if the so-called king of the plains was more of a ruler by political prowess rather than strength.

Once they were ready to leave, Tassid hoisted the load onto his shoulder and whistled.

“Wheeeet!”

The sheep and goats began to gather at the sound. Looking back at his companions, Tassid stood up.

“Alright, let’s head back to the village.”

* * *

Endlessly stretching across the plains, there stood a massive rock mountain resembling a crouching bear atop a slightly elevated hill. A small spring bubbled below the rock mountain, and around it, hundreds of leather tents were lined up. This was the spring campsite of the true rulers of this harsh land, the Blue Bear Tribe.

As Tassid and the other two orc men descended the hill carrying the Turtle Lion, the orcs who had remained in the village greeted them with cheers. Waving back in response to their warm welcome, Tassid entered the village. When they arrived in front of a large tent nearly twice the size of the others, the curtain was drawn back to reveal an orc woman with dark red skin, solid muscles, and ample breasts. Despite being a massive figure herself, she commanded an imposing presence that could rightly be called that of a formidable woman, matching even the brawny Tassid.

Tassid gestured to the Turtle Lion’s carcass and spoke.

“Today’s harvest, Grandmother.”

“The children will not go hungry.”

Stalla, the orc woman, nodded in satisfaction. She then picked up a piece of the Turtle Lion’s flesh and easily tore it apart with both hands. It wasn’t cooked; she had simply ripped the raw meat apart with her bare strength. Her strength was so immense that she could probably dismember a few people with ease. Yet, the other orcs showed no surprise, as if this was a common occurrence.

Holding the torn pieces of meat, Stalla bestowed a blessing.

“Let this flesh and blood become our flesh and blood. Take it and fight against destiny!”

After the blessing, other female orcs came forward with knives, each cutting off their share of the meat. True to being orc women, their bodies were all well-built with solid muscles. While they clearly had feminine features unlike male orcs, none had the soft, slender physiques of human or elf women. For orcs, the standard of obesity was determined by how much flab one had, so no matter how skinny one was, without muscles, she was just a ‘fat’ woman.

In this sense, the forty-year-old Stalla was indeed a fearsome beauty. Her skin was practically synonymous with the word ‘muscle’! She was a knockout that made all the orc men drool with desire.

Despite her rock-hard muscles, Stalla also had a generous bosom. With those ample breasts, she had nursed over thirty young orcs, earning her the title of mother among mothers. Though this might seem odd, she was a woman worthy of respect by orc standards.

As she watched the tribe’s orcs carry away the Turtle Lion’s flesh, Stalla smiled contentedly. She then looked at Tassid, who was standing proudly by her side, and praised him once more.

“Well done, Tassid.”

“It was nothing,” he replied.