Chapter 31: Cat Pickup? Nah, I'm Picking Up Orcs.
“Come here.”
I beckoned to the orc, and it quickly stood before me.
Why is this guy acting like this? I wondered. It had to be terrified. It probably thought I'd toyed with it for ages while copying its swordsmanship, without even killing it.
“You said you understand me, right?”
It nodded vigorously.
“Who taught you that swordsmanship?”
From what I'd seen, there was zero chance this thing was Hertian. If this swordsmanship went up to advanced levels, a real Hertian wouldn't have gotten wrecked by me like this.
It tilted its head.
Didn't understand? Or just didn't know?
“Are there a lot of orcs like you who use the same sword style?”
Nod.
Yes, this time.
So, piecing together its answers, it either didn't know where it learned it or its whole orc tribe used the same style.
“What's your name? I'm Choi Si-woo. This is Hoya. That's Baekya, and this is Kkamangi.”
The orc, who'd been listening quietly, finally spoke.
“Karak. Karak.”
“You're Karak?”
Vigorous nodding.
“So, you're Karak?”
Nod.
Seemed like the orc's name was Karak.
“Now the question is what to do with this guy.”
Karak flinched.
I wanted to run a few experiments on it. It had surrendered so readily—killing it outright felt off. This was different from slaughtering chickens or cows that understood words.
What's the difference if they both understand? First off, we kill chickens and cows to eat them. But orcs? Not edible. This wasn't the level 18 island orc I'd scanned first, but rumors said even those had contaminated meat. Same deal here. So, not killing for food. And since it understood and submitted... yeah, felt wrong.
Second, unlike cows, orcs seemed workable. Fantasy novels called them “subhuman races,” implying human-like. If human-like, they could probably do most human jobs. Cows made plowing easier—multiple oxen pulling a plow sped things up massively. But I had to oversee everything. Hiring outsiders? Gate security and safety were issues.
If I could train this one properly, feed it, and put it to work—no loss if it died. Killing it would just give minimal EXP. Lower level than that first island orc, so tiny gains. Practically nothing. Taming it? Potential upsides.
“Karak.”
“Karak, Karak!”
It looked like a fresh recruit stiff with discipline.
“Should I let you live?”
Vigorous, frantic nodding.
I glanced at Baekya and said, “Baekya, fetch some feed.”
Baekya's current chow was high-protein animal feed from my company—specially made for him at my request to the R&D team. In exchange, Watermelon and friends supplied gate ingredients like watermelons. Big quantities, but no real research needed, so easy trade. The lab director didn't pry.
Anyway, Baekya treated it more like snacks than staples. I'd fill a washbasin, and he'd munch when bored. I offered some to the orc—it looked carnivorous, protein-hungry.
“Ku-rak?”
“Eat. Not sure if you'll like it.”
It cautiously nibbled a few, chewed, swallowed—and its eyes went wide.
“Like it?”
Frenzied nodding. It shoved handfuls into its mouth, devouring wildly.
Watching, I noticed it was skinny—ribs showing. Unlike the musclebound, thick orcs in stories. Not battle-ready.
“But did I look like an easy mark to you?”
Sudden anger flared. It must've thought I was pushover bait.
“Karak, after you finish that, how about some training?”
I considered a beatdown for submission, but it polished off the feed and prostrated itself first.
“Ku-ruk! Ku-ru-ruk!”
“What? You're groveling on your own?”
Funny bastard. Beatdown timing lost.
“Tasty?”
“Ku-rok!”
Eyes sparkling. Creepy yet hilarious on an orc.
“From now on, do what I say here, and you get fed. Deal?”
“Ku-rok!”
“Yes?”
“Ku-rok!”
They had language, but unintelligible. Good thing it got me.
“Done eating? Follow.”
It wiped its mouth and trailed.
I figured it could handle tools—sword-proficient. Gave it a shovel, showed how. Smart; picked up fast.
Thud! Thud-thud-thud!
“Whoa, impressive.”
My strength and agility made me shovel-master material. But Karak? I had to bow—better.
“Yeah, like that. Good job. Baekya, watch it doesn't bolt. No killing.”
Krroong!
Baekya's eyes gleamed like he'd found a fun toy. I knew that look—Hoya's face for the fragile, bestselling fishing-rod toy cats adored.
“Guess I'll polish my swordsmanship more.”
Hertian Beginner Swordsmanship, supposedly from some enigmatic Hertian.
No profound mysteries. Just basics etched in my mind: proper stances for slashes, thrusts. No wuxia flair.
Made sense for beginner level. No flying around. Just better grip, swing, stab.
I trained diligently.
Training's boring, tedious, frustrating. Like learning drums once. Can't recall why, but the academy was deserted. Close to home, though.
Three months of “pad-smacking”—rubber pad drills. No actual drums.
Tedious beyond words.
But when I finally played, I knew. Those drills paid off.
Later, jamming with a guy from another academy—flashier, but off-beat. Drums anchor rhythm; he skipped pads, went straight to set. Poor timing.
My metronome months ingrained perfect beat.
Why drums for sword training? Similar grind. Basics bore, but I felt the sword as extension—arm, hand. Wuxia wisdom rang true.
After intense practice, an alert popped.
My gate rewarded effort perfectly.
I wiped sweat, looked around. Karak had finished shoveling, tending fields—weeding, harvesting carefully, piling fruits.
“Huh?”
“It knows farming?”
Skilled moves meant orcs weren't just hunters; they farmed too.
“Jackpot?”
Fantasy tropes: elf or dwarf pickups. Me? Orc. But workable, feedable labor. Solid score.
“Alright! Sword level up. Time for more leveling? Baekya, fetch one minotaur.”
Kru-rung.
Baekya looked reluctant—minotaurs no pushovers.
“Catch it, get the meat.”
It wavered. Last time, Baekya scarfed other parts—deliciously. Finally slunk off.
Hoya hopped on Baekya's back.
Nyaang!
Volunteering to help. Hoya always pulled cute weight... but stepping up for my levels.
Soon, two minotaurs appeared.
“Hey! One at a time.”
Hoya firm—no more half-assed fights.
I gripped my wooden sword...
“Hey, wooden sword?!”
But the minotaurs charged.