The Direwolf Tribe
"...So the war that's broken out now is a rebellion orchestrated by those Demon Worshippers?"
Bold was reluctant to believe it at first. But.
"On my way here to spread the word, I was ambushed. These heads are my proof. If you still can't trust me, then I appeal to the honor you spoke of before. Help convince Zerik, the orc great warrior, to call off the war."
"Such..."
Bold had no choice but to nod with a groan at the appeal invoking his own promise and honor.
"...If it's true, this is beyond my authority. I'll speak to Mother."
Mother?
As Tiny blinked in confusion, Bold wasted no time and led him straight to the largest building in Suhubatar.
And there.
"...So you're Bold's human friend. The one who told him that Karan root works wonders on wolves?"
An elderly female orc sat atop a massive tiger pelt, flanked by orc warriors on either side, greeting Tiny. Red tattoos covered her wrinkled face, and at nearly 1.9 meters tall with a sturdy build belying her age, she regarded him with a friendly expression.
Honestly, she still had a fierce air about her, but strangely, she felt approachable.
Where do I know her from?
Orc faces were usually hard to distinguish, yet he couldn't shake the sense of familiarity—despite never meeting her in his previous life.
Must be my imagination.
His gaze shifted to her braided hair. Long braids dangled with five red knots—proof she was a Superior-grade mana user. But there were also five blue knots.
Those didn't mean she could take ten more husbands. No, they signified.
A Superior-grade orc warrior and a fifth-stage orc shaman.
Tiny's eyes gleamed at this rare multiclass orc warrior, one he'd scarcely seen even in his past life.
"Introduce yourself, friend. This is our mother and the chief of our tribe, Bair."
Bold nudged Tiny's shoulder, pushing him forward.
Snapping to attention, Tiny stepped ahead and bowed politely.
"Ah, pleased to meet you, Chief. I'm Tiny, a human knight."
Bair, chief of the Direwolf tribe, brightened at the concise greeting.
"Humans usually mention their origins. Do you have none?"
"...Being human should suffice."
"A peculiar human. Well then, Sir Tiny—is that the right honorific? Hmm, it's been ages since I spoke the common tongue. Ahem. So, what brings you to see me?"
Tiny glanced at Bold, but.
"You should explain it yourself. I'm no good with words."
With a shrug from Bold, Tiny set down the rotting heads and repeated what he'd told him earlier.
"Here's what happened..."
Tiny's account was longer and more detailed than with Bold, but fortunately, the chief seemed inclined to listen earnestly from the start.
Once finished, Bair eyed the three rotting heads. She muttered something, then thumped her staff on the ground.
Mumbling again, blue mana burst from the staff, enveloping the heads before they crumbled away like dust.
Tiny knew little of orc shamanism, but the mana's flow told him its purpose.
And.
"Hmmm, it's true. They're not just rotting from magi exposure. These are Demon Worshippers' heads—and shockingly high-caliber ones at that..."
The chief lifted her wrinkled, tattooed face to Tiny. To other races, it might seem grotesque, but her brown eyes held a soothing power.
And her next words hit just right with him.
"...I saw the moments before their deaths, Sir Tiny. You're telling the truth."
Bold and the surrounding warriors' faces registered clear shock. Soon, their expressions hardened gravely.
If the chief was right.
"Filthy Demon Worshippers meddling in the sacred fate of the orcs!?"
"Madness!"
"кь Еьазкдуьавд...!"
Curses erupted around them, but the chief raised a hand to quiet the chaos.
And.
"Sir Tiny, you wield power beyond what your realm suggests. Even for a multiclass..."
"You're too kind."
As Tiny bowed at her admiring tone, Bair smiled warmly at his humility and added,
"This changes things. It's no longer about repaying your favor to our tribe. Now the entire orc race owes you thanks."
"No, it's just what anyone from humanity should do."
"Humanity, eh... Heh, never thought I'd hear that from a greedy human. You're quite the gem the more I see..."
Smacking her lips repeatedly, Bair nodded and beckoned Bold from behind him.
"Bold, prepare to head to Bator. I'll inform my brother at once. Care to join him?"
...Brother?
Tiny tilted his head at the sudden odd remark.
"Ah, Zerik. The current orc great warrior is my youngest brother. Isn't that who you meant to tell?"
"Eh!? Ah, y-yes, Chief."
He nearly jumped in shock but hastily composed himself and nodded.
Ah, that explained it.
No wonder she looked familiar. Haha.
Among fierce-faced orcs, Zerik ranked top for his scowl.
Swallowing the unsayable with a forced laugh, Bair gave a knowing smile.
"You've met our great warrior before, haven't you?"
Met? More like clashed.
"...Ah, yes. From a distance, briefly."
"I see. Well, get along when you meet this time. If half the talent my shamanism shows is real, he'll love you. Might even train you into a worthy opponent."
The warriors eyed Tiny anew with wonder. Training under the orc great warrior was an honor for any fighter, regardless of race.
Of course.
Assuming you survive orc training.
His pride wouldn't allow training under Zerik anyway, so he waved it off quickly.
"No, I couldn't possibly..."
"No need for false modesty. You have the talent. Considering your favors to our tribe and this matter, Zerik will treat you well."
This un-orc-like persistence meant she truly admired him—but that's why Tiny refused firmly.
"I must respectfully decline, Chief. I have my own path and no need for the Warlord's guidance."
The chief and all orcs looked stunned. His earnest pride rang utterly genuine.
"Turning down a superhuman's tutelage out of self-assurance. I like you even more."
She grinned, baring yellowed molars.
"You're too ki—"
"If I were twenty years younger, I'd make you my fifth husband."
"..."
He knew better, but Tiny couldn't help grimacing.
Fortunately.
"Kekeke. Just a joke. The gravity of the situation makes it hard to take lightly, eh? Fine, Bold. Go with your friend to Zerik. Tell the great warrior and mediate the tribal war."
Just what Tiny wanted flowed from the chief's lips.
And her kindness didn't end there.
"Can't send off a benefactor bearing vital news empty-handed. That hammer on your back—clearly no ordinary weapon. Crippled by a Demon Worshipper's blow?"
She pointed to the half-destroyed Stamp still strapped to his back. It wasn't from a Demon Worshipper, but no need for long explanations, so he nodded.
"...Yes, that's right."
"Some curse blocks its restoration. I'm no expert in human forging, but my shamanism can purge the lingering energy. Shall I?"
Calling destruction attribute's residue a curse? He smirked bitterly, but with urgency at hand, no reason to refuse.
"I'd be grateful."
"Honest attitude too. Growing on me. Heh."
The chief acted immediately.
Tiny confirmed Stamp slowly regaining form and left Suhubatar with lighter spirits.
But not everything went smoothly.
* * *
"Forgive me, Tiny. My fault for being slow..."
Under a star-filled night sky, Bold stared listlessly at the wild boar skewered over the campfire.
When leaving Suhubatar, Tiny had offered his spirit as a mount, but Bold insisted otherwise.
- Don't doubt my brother Salqui's ability. He can keep up.
Unable to cause a scene leaving a welcoming tribe, Tiny had nodded reluctantly.
And now the result lay before them.
Huff. Huff.
Bold's wolf Salqui panted heavily. After a month of Karan root restoring some vigor, exhaustion drained him again as he gazed pitifully up at the wolf spirit.
Then.
"Woof!"
Wolrang relayed to Tiny.
"...Your brother can't push further without harm, Bold. Best send him back to the tribe now."
Even pureblood Direwolves struggled with half a day's nonstop run.
Bold nodded glumly.
"...Humiliating, but I'll comply. Stubbornness beyond my ability dishonors me more."
Tiny sighed in relief.
Empowered Wolrang wouldn't slow much with an extra orc, and unlike humans, orcs didn't get seasick— no mishaps like with Jenas crossing the sea.
Riding another's wolf shames them that much?
From that day on, their travel pace transformed unrecognizably.
Vroooom.
"Wh-whoa, th-this fast!?"
As Bold's shocked yell indicated, Wolrang covered dozens of meters in bounds at astonishing speed.
Unbelievable with Tiny's hefty frame and the heavier orc aboard.
Gravity attribute helped, but it showcased Wolrang's growth.
Good. At this rate, we'll be there soon.
As Tiny thought, two days later they reached a plain near the orc holy site Bator.
And witnessed the unexpected orc war.
"цтквг!!!"
"ыоыл цтквоал!"
Boom!
"ыщкл еьвадпщЕул!"
Kaboom!
Two-meter green-skinned brutes with broad shoulders clashed with axes, long spears, halberds—pure carnage.
Black rhinos, red raptors, black lizards tangled in hellish chaos, halting their steps.
Kraka-boom!
Rawr!
Crackaboom!
Warriors monstrous to human eyes spewed varied mana, slamming fiercely. Faint mana hues and beast phantoms hinted at personal power or tribal shamanism.
But no beauty in the clashing colors and forms—only brutal shattering.
"йтцрквьд фгввЗаьа втдплвг! (For the tribe's honor!)"
Incomprehensible roars intertwined as they pulverized each other, savage blood mists rising everywhere—like end-times battles against beast legions in his past life.
"Such..."
A natural lament escaped.
"Magnificent."
A contrasting admiration came from right behind.
"...If only Demon Worshippers hadn't sparked it."
Bold waved defensively at Tiny's glance, but Tiny could only marvel anew at how orc minds differed from humans.
And soon.
Warlord Zerik.
The pinnacle of such orcs loomed ahead.
Of course.
It's been a while, friend.
Tiny's eyes held more anticipation than worry.