Is Fantasy's Flower an Orc?
But the price scrawled on the board hanging around her neck was a measly 999 chur? Why was that? Was it the long scar running down one side of her face? Or the marks of old injuries visible all over her body? Or maybe that large tattoo etched boldly on her lower abdomen?
Orcs didn't give a damn about scars or tattoos on a woman's body. Healthy was best. Pretty was a bonus. They were simple creatures, so their standards for women were all the same. Those blemishes and scars covering this beautiful dark elf's body shouldn't have affected her price at all.
"Why's this bitch so cheap?"
To satisfy my curiosity, I had no choice but to ask the seller. I turned to the clerk idling nearby.
"You see that? The tattoo on her belly."
The green-skinned heteromorph man, who didn't even reach my waist, replied indifferently. He acted like he had no intention of selling at all.
"And?"
"That's proof of a curse."
"What kind of curse?"
"Infertility."
Ah! That one word made it all clear. No matter how stunning this elf woman's looks were, to orcs, she was no better than trash. Fine for a free fuck once or twice, but paying money to buy her and keep her as a breeding slave? Ridiculous.
And the clerk had already tuned me out. He figured no orc would buy a defective product like this.
"Couldn't you sell her for more somewhere else?"
I couldn't hold back my curiosity.
"Our caravan only does business in Urkmanistan. Besides, she's caused a ton of trouble so far—honestly, it's hard to even sell her."
"Trouble?"
"Beats her owners half to death, bites off their dicks with her teeth. Most of the scars on her are from that."
This wasn't your average defect. No wonder, unlike the other female slaves, her hands and feet were bound with thick iron chains, and she had a gag in her mouth. She was a ferocious one.
"I'm debating whether to just dispose of her or keep dragging her around, wasting food on her."
Looked like this dark elf woman's days were numbered.
"Then hand her over to me."
"Huh?"
The goblin man stared at me like he'd seen it all.
"You nuts?"
If even a goblin merchant was saying that, it showed how insane it was for an orc to take interest in her. Their heads were filled with nothing but hunting, fighting, and breeding.
"Why keep hauling her around if she won't sell?"
"Sometimes other races buy slaves. But you're really taking her?"
"Yeah. But this is all the money I've got."
I pulled out the paltry sum from my pocket.
"Lemme see... one... two... 623 chur... Sigh... Handing her over at that price'll get me chewed out... Our boss ain't the forgiving type."
"Not my problem. You said yourself she's just eating your food for nothing."
"Fine. Anyway, if I don't sell her, she'll be scrapped soon enough."
Surprisingly, the goblin seemed to pity the dark elf. Without much haggling, he took my money and transferred ownership to me.
"But watch out. She's no ordinary wildcat."
"Got it. I'll be careful."
I hoisted the scar-covered dark elf beauty over my shoulder. She thrashed wildly, clearly pissed, expressing her rage. At least her hands were bound behind her back, and the gag kept her from biting. She was pretty tall, but didn't feel that heavy. This orc body must have insane physical strength.
I strode off briskly, unable to contain my excitement. How long had it been since I last held a woman?
But passing orcs smirked and threw jabs at me. Stuff like, That guy's at it again with his crazy shit. Retard bought trash. Whatever. These bastards had no filter. Whatever popped into their heads came out, even with the person right in front of them.
It wasn't just aimed at me—same for everyone. They didn't even hold back in front of Mangod, the chieftain's eldest son. I wasn't some big-hearted saint who laughed off insults either. Fists flew before words finished flying. Fights never stopped all day. At least they rarely used axes—that was a small mercy. Still, they got banged up plenty in their brawls. Fatal accidents happened now and then too.
No trials or anything when that happened. The dead guy was the idiot. Straight-up beasts, these guys.
"Hey. Temir Bas."
Then a man spotted me and bellowed my name.
"Ahh. Mangod."
The chieftain's son, and the real leader of the tribe right now.
Orcs towered over human men. Average height around 2 meters. And Mangod stood out even among them. Probably the second tallest in the village. Of course, the biggest and tallest was me. My orc costume, Temir Bas, was a full fist taller than even Mangod. Thanks to that, I could look down on every resident in this orc village.
With this build, I'd fit right in as a charge leader. Probably because I was the protagonist in this Cinematic Card world. So maybe the scenario was for a heroic-looking orc like me to rampage, hunt, sell the spoils, and claim a heteromorph bitch. That'd make for a great picture.
But too bad—I had zero interest in that kind of adventure. At first, the hyper-realistic sensations freaked me out, so I pinched myself to test. It hurt. Hurt like hell, tears coming. This massive orc body was a powerhouse. Which meant getting injured on a hunt? The pain would be unimaginable. So I ditched adventure and went full bystander mode.
Worried about when I'd escape this alien world, but better than pain. Whatever. I'm a coward—what's new?
"Brother. Why'd you buy trash like that?"
Mangod approached, frowning as he asked.
Huh? Why's he interested in me? Orcs cursed each other at every chance and threw punches left and right, but they weren't without hierarchy. Far from it—very clear caste system.
Nothing complicated. Just two classes in the village: chieftain's direct bloodline and everyone else. Mangod held the top spot in the bloodline. He was the pinnacle of the tribe. Me? Rock bottom of the orc caste.
Why else would I swallow all those mocks without snapping and just head home quietly? So his interest felt weird. Burdensome.
"Eh. Wanted to fuck a bitch once, y'know."
"Even so, trash like that? Why?"
Mangod wasn't letting me off easy.
What's his deal? Now it was getting scary.
"Eh. No money?"
I lowered my voice, a bit subservient.
"Oh! Brother! Oh! Brother! If you needed money, why not ask your brother? Everything this brother has belongs to you, the youngest, Temir Bas!"
Genuine sincerity in his words. Yeah, orcs couldn't lie or scheme.
Huh? What'd he mean by that? "Brother" didn't sound like the usual orc-to-orc title.
"If my brother buys trash like that to vent his lust, how heartbroken would Father be?"
Mangod called me brother again, even dragging the chieftain into it.
Wait, am I the chieftain's son? Then why's no one talked to me till now?
Hmm... More likely he didn't like me buying trash-dark-elf than brotherly love gone sour.
"Toss that trash. I'll buy you a decent bitch instead."
Whoa! For real?
"Come on. Got one I eyed. You'll like her."
Mangod strode off. I hesitated whether to follow. But hey, free gift? No reason to refuse...
Where he led, orcs swarmed like clouds, drooling over one woman.
"900,000 chur?"
Could buy 900,000 chur's worth? I was stunned more by the astronomical price on the board around the woman's neck than the woman herself. A thousand times the dark elf still on my shoulder.
"What do you think? Prime bitch, right?"
Mangod said, beaming proudly.
"Rare White Tiger Clan beastkin bitch. Great bloodline—perfect for strong offspring."
Yeah. Besides health, orcs had one even more important criterion for bitches: bloodline.
Not king or noble shit, but violent special races like tiger beastkin or dragon-blooded draconians with unique powers. Planting seed in those gave better odds for superior pups. Of course, only orc males were born. Absolute law of this world. Orc seed always yielded orcs. No halves.
Haha... orc seed trumping dragon blood? Whatever.
The White Tiger Clan bitch was impressive from the looks alone. Other beastkin bitches were basically human women with cute ears and tails, but this tiger one? Face covered in white and black fur. Okay, fur I could swallow. But that massive round head, protruding muzzle with fangs that could crush a cow— what the hell? Size rivaled an orc. Surrounded by orcs, she bared her teeth—who knew if it was rage or a grin?
"Like her? Top-notch. Bitches like this come once a decade. Was gonna take her myself, but for my brother, I'll yield."
Mangod was generous to his brother. Giving me a bitch worth a hundred normal women? Insane. Scary even in dreams.
That "woman"... no, beast. No desire to mix with that. For real. Walked upright below the head like a person, but pure animal. Reminded me of that old Tiger Mask wrestler! Except real tiger head, no mask!
I'm no animal lover! Rather celibate forever than that.
"Appreciate it, brother, but I'll just take the thought."
I politely refused, scared he'd force it on me.
"What? What're you saying?"
"That fine bitch suits a hero like you, brother. Honestly, I'd get eaten."
Orcs burst out laughing. They bought it.
"Oh! Brother! Your—"
Don't! But! Please! I'd rather die!
"I pray my great brother Mangod sires fine pups with that bitch. And I'm certain that bloodline will lead Kok Bour after you."
"Oh! Brother!"
Mangod clapped my shoulder. Why's his voice shaking?
"You really mean that?"
"Of course. With all my heart."
Then it happened. Every orc around erupted in cheers.
"Woooah! Mangod!"
"Mangod!"
Not sure why, but they chanted his name. A few called mine too.
What the hell? Did I screw up?
I couldn't make sense of it at all.