"Grunk!"
The sound of a pig getting slaughtered echoed as an orc went down. That was , and that was my voice. I collapsed after taking a brutal hit to the gut.
"...Hmm!"
Our chieftain, Stormblade, slamd his greatsword into the ground and dropped to one knee. When the chieftain kneels, it ans he’s been defeated.
"Amazing, Rok!"
"Don’t say my na."
"How can I not speak such a sacred na! Rok, you’re not a young orc anymore! I can call you my brother now!"
The chieftain laughed heartily as he pulled to my feet. I wobbled up and looked ’down’ at the chieftain.
"If not for the curse on your body, brother, you would’ve been the greatest warrior in our tribe."
"What about Brug?"
"...That guy? Shouldn’t we be calling him the strongest in the whole dungeon by now?"
Brug Stormblast.
My cradle-mate orc who trained with but actually got strong enough to surpass normal orc levels. According to the chieftain, he could split off and lead his own tribe right after the coming-of-age ceremony if he wanted.
Brug had gotten so strong that Solomon himself might take notice and give him his own dungeon.
"Brother. Don’t ever try to fight Lord Forneus with Brug’s help. If you do, not just you and Brug, but our entire tribe will be wiped out."
"Brug can’t beat that bitch?"
"...I’m saying this because he probably could. What happens when a re orc kills a demon? Sure, not right now—give it about 20 years."
"Whether it’s 20 years from now or today, the other demons would swarm in the second he takes even the lowest seat, right? Brug becos a slave and we all get slaughtered."
It’s obvious. Unless Brug sohow took Forneus’s position, the other generals wouldn’t stand for so orc holding a dungeon that’s only given to high-ranking nobles.
"Still, it’s a sha. Nobody knows what Brug’s really capable of."
"A diamond in the rough always shows itself eventually. You’re the one who said to wait for the right ti, Chieftain."
"Oh, what an expression! Brother, that’s brilliant! We’ll record it in our tribe’s history forever!"
"...Chieftain."
I let out a hollow laugh.
"I’ve only got three days left until my coming-of-age ceremony."
"...Let’s figure sothing out."
Three days until Forneus visits.
Three days left to live.
I beat the chieftain for the first ti three days before my coming-of-age ceremony, and the chieftain gave the ’honor’ of being able to run away as soon as I finished the ceremony.
Yeah.
For a year and a half, I failed to lose my belly fat. Instead, I just packed on more muscle and ended up built like a heavyweight wrestler.
Like Mark Henry or sothing.
***
"Brother. Run away."
What the hell is this guy saying? I was gutting a wild boar we hunted near the dungeon with Brug when I scoffed.
"Bullshit."
"I’m not joking, brother. You’re too valuable to be killed by that tyrant. Just look at this, for example."
Brug pointed at the gutted boar I’d prepared. The salt-rubbed roast was Brug’s favorite delicacy—he couldn’t get enough of it.
Sizzle. The at was being grilled directly over the wood fire. Brug picked up the boar’s leg bone with his bare hands and asked .
"Brother, what do you call this?"
"Ah, that’s called barbecue. It’s a cooking thod I won’t be able to enjoy in three days."
Just thinking about Forneus pisses off so much I can’t speak nicely. Luckily, Brug was pretty used to talking like this, and we chatted while tearing into the boar at.
"So brother, run away."
"Bullshit. ’Run away’? Are you saying you’re gonna bolt with right now?"
"If it ans saving you."
Brug gripped his hamr, Stormblast—basically an extension of himself—with a determined look. I chucked the stripped bone at his head.
"Don’t say stupid shit and just think about your own future. Don’t you know what happens in orc society if you run before your coming-of-age ceremony?"
"...The God of War would claim your breath."
For orcs, the coming-of-age ceremony is a sacred ritual where you’re reborn as a warrior. For , it’s the stage where I beco a corpse, but it’s different for Brug.
"Yeah. Dude, you’re so strong that your tribe says the God of War himself descended into you. You get that? And you’re gonna throw away all that honor and fall into the gutter because of soone like ? You think I’m gonna be all ’oh please, throw it all away for !’ and be happy about it?"
"If you’re my brother."
"...Fuck, you’d probably actually do it, so I don’t even know what to say."
I figure when death’s actually staring in the face, I’ll probably end up begging. Brug’s honor or whatever—shouldn’t I just worry about surviving first?
"Hey. I’m asking seriously—would you really do that for ?"
"If you want, I’ll go cut off Forneus’s head right now."
"...Let’s table that for now. Next question. Why the hell are you doing all this for ?"
"Hah."
For the first ti, Brug laughed at . I got pissed, but Brug was way stronger than .
"Brother, you call that a question?"
"I’m curious, so yeah."
"...Mm, it’s simple."
Brug grinned as he thumped his chest.
"We may not share blood, but I think of you as my true brother."
"You were definitely born in the wrong setting."
With specs and personality like his, the guy’s destined to inherit the position of grand chieftain, but he’s stuck in this world suffering like this. I felt bad for Brug, but I also felt bad for myself.
"Maybe we should found an orc kingdom or sothing."
"...Wouldn’t that be difficult?"
"Just talking. A kingdom? How am I supposed to pull off sothing that hard? First, I gotta survive."
And we’re back to the Forneus problem. If I don’t co up with a brilliant plan in the next three days, I’ll be getting killed by Forneus.
"Should I just cut my belly off with a knife?"
"Brother, didn’t you already try that before and fail?"
"Yeah, you’re right. Damn."
This belly of mine is so damn hard that even with my strength, a knife barely goes in. You can’t see it hidden under my sagging lower belly, but there’s a really faint knife mark on my stomach. It was my own doing, but unfortunately, I didn’t have the strength to cut through my own belly.
But what about the strongest guy in our tribe?
"Brug, what if—"
"If you’re about to ask to cut your belly, don’t. I can’t do anything that would harm you."
If there was any chance, it’d be Brug or the chieftain going all out to slice off my belly, but both of them flat-out refused to touch it. I might lose my head trying to save my belly, but they wouldn’t budge.
"Hey. Don’t worry so much. Who am I, huh?"
"Rok Grimfang."
"No, not my na! I’m just saying! What, I’ve only been alive for three years—am I gonna die to so crazy bitch like that? Hell no!"
"Then do you have so kind of plan?"
At Brug’s question, I tapped my temple.
"I’ll rack up achievents so Forneus can’t kill easily."
"Achievents, you say.... Brother, surely you’re not planning to volunteer for the great interception? That’s impossible!"
Brug looked shocked and worried, but that was the only option I had left.
"Impossible or not, I gotta do it. Not just playing around with adventurers, but actually racking up achievents in real combat against humanity, then buying my life with those achievents."
If I beco a war hero who leads us to victory, Forneus probably won’t kill just for having a gross body. Luckily, the chieftain already accepted my proposal.
"I’m going out tomorrow to intercept the humans’ invasion. Brug."
"Brother...."
Brug looked worried, then jumped up and shouted.
"Then I’ll go to the battlefield with you! How can I stay behind and have my coming-of-age ceremony alone while you’re there!"
"Hey. If you go on a rampage, I won’t get any achievents, you idiot."
"B-but I could at least help...."
"Rember what happened when those dumbass goblins ca in last ti? While I was slicing up three of them, you were cutting down like ten? If that happens tomorrow, who’s everyone gonna be looking at?"
Brug didn’t argue anymore. In the quiet forest with birds chirping, we finished the boar, cleaned up the traces, and headed back to the dungeon.
"Brother."
"What."
"Whatever happens to you, I’ll be on your side."
"Thanks for saying that, at least."
Brug looked like he had more to say, but I couldn’t hear it.
"Where have you two been at this late hour? Ohohoho!"
That bitch blocked my path.
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