Return of the Woodcutter

As Aito followed the army down a staircase carved directly from the canyon and got closer to the bottom, he realized there were more to orcs than met the eyes.

They had plantations next to the river, using an irrigation method to water their plants. There were market places where one could find all sorts of food, ranging from vegetables to meat.

White clothes with hoodies, large hats in an oval shape were traded. Even tools like pickaxes or weapons like hammers could be found in this marketplace. 

And it appeared merchants didn't exchange their goods for money, but traded them against something else they considered had an equal value. 

Moreover, there wasn't exactly an abundance of goods, but just the necessary amount. Life was hard in the desert. With so few resources for thousands of them, orcs had to optimize their trades and avoid waste. 

Reaching ground level, Aito walked towards the northern part of the canyon, passing by intrigued gazes of dark-skinned children with tusks. Curious, some even dared approach him, looking at him with their yellow pupils.

Adults looked at him and his teammates unimpressed though, whispering words in orcish that sounded clearer and clearer to Aito. 

It seemed that the system was rapidly adapting his goblin language's knowledge, transforming it into orcish.

"Behold, human, the…. of Krukhanon," Krugan said, next to him. Ogoro did not understand one bit of the orc leader's words.

Although they were enemies, and he hated Krugan's guts, Aito couldn't help but nod. 

"So you do understand me after all," Krugan said. "I've been suspecting it for a while ago already. You grabbing the gourd confirmed it once. And your physical response to my question confirmed it twice. You can talk if you want. My soldiers won't stop you."

'Shit,' Aito thought, knowing his ability had been discovered. He intended to hide it so that he could spy on their conversations. Gathering information to escape this place. However, the orc leader didn't seem like a muscle for brain type. Quite the contrary in fact.

"You can keep quiet and pretend you don't understand us if you want. Doesn't matter, where you're going, your ability won't harm my people. None of my kind will come to talk to you in prison." 

Aito stayed silent for a while, avoiding Krugan's gaze, observing the crowd gathering around them. Orc females ran into the embrace of some warriors in the army, placing their foreheads tenderly against one another.

Others had somber faces when they couldn't find their loved ones. Some children cried, sending furious gazes at Aito and his team. Even insulting them.

He avoided crossing their eyes, thinking the guilt would creep up if he did. By all means, he had just defended himself, so there was nothing to feel guilty about. 

But a crying child's face, even an orc, had that kind of power capable of making you feel guilty. Aito wanted none of that. He didn't come here to empathize with intelligent creatures supposedly created by the gods.

Passing by the crowd, the orcs and their captives reached a peculiar place in the canyon. It was large, round, devoid of habitation. The canyon walls were filled with rows of seats carved into the stone.

"This is our most sacred place," Krugan said, "and also where you'll be fighting for your life in four days during the sacred event."

"You've just captured us to fight in this arena like gladiators?" Aito asked, unable to contain his curiosity. "All this for organizing a little game?"

"Finally speaking, but be careful of what you're saying, human. The sacred event isn't just a game, it is glory itself," Krugan said, grunting. "I don't know what gladiators are, but yes, you and your kind will be fighting us during the Grand Duel. I hope to meet you there. It'll be such a glorious battle. If you manage to come out alive of the Grand Duel, we will grant you your freedom."

Standing by the side, Ogoro frown as he tried to understand what Aito was saying. To him, he was speaking an unknown language.

"There is no glory in death," Aito said.

"It is not death we worship, but the courage to face it. As we face death, we are offered a choice. Die because of your weakness, or become stronger to live. Each fight is an opportunity to grow. Hum, I don't expect a human to understand. We orcs face death with honor and willingly. Though we are sad at the death of our loved ones, we do not try to seek vengeance, because only their weakness is to blame. Only children who've yet to understand that will try to seek vengeance," Krugan said, ending their short conversation.

Unlike the other orcs, Krugan was curious about humans and intended to take advantage of one that could understand orcish. But now was not the time. It was time to let its soldiers go to their families.

Krugan put Aito's teammates in different underground cells of the arena. Before leaving Aito in his cell, Krugan cautiously wrapped him in steel chains so thick they appeared to be made to restrain an elephant or some kind of monster.

Krugan's soldier held a dagger at Sheyla's throat in front of him, dissuading Aito from escaping. Once done, they exited the poorly light cell.

Leaving Aito alone, or so he thought.

Chained to a wall, he tried to force his way out of his bindings to no avail. Even with his level 4 strength, those were way too thick for him to break them with pure brute force.

Moreover, wrapped from his throat to his waist like a caterpillar in its cocoon—more or less—he couldn't exactly apply his strength properly. His feet were free to move but stuck to the wall, Aito could not go really far.

"Well, look at who the orcs brought to me," said a voice to his right. "If it isn't the black challenger."

The dark space only had two candles glued to the walls on each side of the cell as light sources. Two rock beds decorated the space. On one of them was seated a very familiar face with a bald head reflecting candlelight.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Sam?"

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