Charge Toward the Battlefield
Apart from that abstract-sounding First Law—"Seize honor through struggle, and prove that honor with your life"—Tiny knew next to nothing about orc laws. But as his travels with Zerik dragged on, he'd indirectly experienced a few things, some leading to utterly baffling behavior.
Like what Zerik was doing right now.
"It's not confirmed they've broken the law, so I won't bring Bator's warriors. I'll go alone."
Declaring he'd head off solo to inspect one of the strongest orc tribes—a move that could spark a fight with the entire tribe.
What the hell is this bullshit?!
His head throbbed, rage boiling up his throat, but Tiny barely reined it in. Gritting his teeth, he spat out his words deliberately.
"If things go south, can you handle the entire Black Rhino tribe on your own, Great Warrior?"
A great orc tribe typically boasted populations in the hundreds of thousands, with settlements rivaling massive cities. In a culture where nearly everyone aspired to warrior status, orcs boasted superior physiques—even without mana, any could become low-rank warriors. That meant a minimum of ten thousand warriors per tribe, and powerhouses often exceeded a hundred thousand. These were the modern orc great tribes.
In other words, even if Zerik was the strongest orc, edging toward Aura Exceeder realm—
"Impossible."
"Then why pull this reckless stunt?!"
"Because it's the law."
"Uh, uh... "
Tiny pounded his chest at the blunt answer, as if it bypassed his brain entirely.
Right, this is how the bastard is.
He'd known it, but reminiscing about good times had made him overlook the guy's biggest flaw. Realizing that, his inner voice slipped out naturally.
"You trying to commit suicide right now?!"
The uncontrolled shout made Zerik's yellow eyes fix on him with fierce intensity.
"Watch your tongue, human. The Black Rhinos breaking the law is still just your claim."
But Tiny didn't back down.
"And if I'm right? You think they'll just let a Great Warrior walk away?!"
"...Even if the leadership's rotten, not every orc in the tribe is. Orcs aren't scheming like humans. If you're right, we punish the leaders—that's it."
"What makes you so optimistic? If the leaders order it, you think the warriors will disobey?!"
"If they know honor, they will. That's the law."
"What the... "
Speechless at the absurd reply.
Frustrating.
His chest felt like it might burst from frustration. "Going insane" perfectly captured it.
Humans weren't all the same, nor were orcs. Warriors revered honor, sure—but not everyone staked their lives on it. Especially with their tribe and families at stake.
Like hell they'd let their tribe get branded cowards and wiped out! Better to kill the Great Warrior and silence him.
Turning lies to truth through force. It didn't just happen in human lands.
Frustration turning to fury—
"...You told me to check if they've broken the law, human. Bringing Bator's warriors beforehand would violate it."
Zerik's stony face said it all.
Can't change his mind.
He'd die before bending. Years together let Tiny read that resolve in the orc's fierce face—even smiling, it looked savage. And right now, it only frustrated him more.
But he couldn't let Zerik go alone.
"...Fine. Then I'll come with you."
"Hm?"
"I need to own my words too."
"Ho?"
Thankfully, Zerik didn't refuse.
"Do as you like. But if you're right, you'll be in danger too."
"I can at least escape, so don't worry."
He skipped the part about dragging Zerik along in the worst case.
"Good. We leave at dawn tomorrow. Keep up if you can."
Even that smug grin made him want to go.
Right after leaving the tent—
"...Talking like that in front of the Great Warrior. You're something else, Sir Tiny."
"Couldn't even breathe. Impressive human friend."
Ignoring the companions' awe, Tiny sighed and grabbed Narn's shoulder.
"Narn."
The startled orc met his gaze, and Tiny's heavy face delivered heavier words.
"I need a favor."
"W-what?"
"Tell Chief Batar or go yourself—get word to Duke Valentia's house in Aslan ASAP. Beg for reinforcements to the Black Rhino homeland, even a small force. Tell them I might die. Make sure they know."
Narn flushed, then grew serious.
"Not hard. But the Great Warrior's path to Harharin is far shorter than mine to Zamingwood."
"Harharin?"
"The Black Rhino city. Anyway, not the point. Going to Zamingwood then the Empire... days... "
Narn folded and unfolded fingers, confused. He sensed the request was unreasonable but couldn't calculate exactly.
Tiny knew the issue too—orcs' shamanic magic sucked at communication, and he regretted it now more than ever.
Still, he had one more card.
"Bold, there's a caravan with an eagle-emblazoned flag coming from Elvenheim to Bator. On your way home, tell its owner my message. The Black Rhino base—what's it called?"
"Harharin!"
"Right. Harharin needs reinforcements. Priority over everything."
Jei would have a communication orb—faster this way.
"Eagle flag caravan master. Got it."
Confirming Bold's nod, Tiny bit his lip and vowed.
"I'll slow the Great Warrior. Get the word out somehow."
With orc civil war escalating, delaying was idiotic. Rage boiled at the absurdity, but it was the only way.
Even if orc losses grow, I can't let Zerik die.
Plan in tatters, but best he could do.
Dawn next day.
As the sun rose, Zerik emerged from Bator's central tent, smirking at the waiting Tiny.
"Pretty impatient, huh."
"Orcs aren't the only ones."
Guardian warriors scowled at the human mocking their Great Warrior, but Zerik laughed.
Not bad.
He hadn't said it, but he liked this young human—unintimidated by his face, build, or aura.
Though he didn't fully buy the claim.
"Follow if you want, but don't expect protection. Lag behind, I leave you. Can you match my pace?"
"No need to worry."
Tiny's scoff summoned a massive wolf with a slink.
Zerik's small eyes widened to the limit.
"A—a spirit?!"
And such a magnificent wolf. Memories flooded of his brother, sent away by youthful mistake—nostalgia hit.
No, no.
—Warriors reflect but never regret.
—They don't look back; they find the path ahead.
Reciting his creed inwardly, he steadied. But envy after so long was unavoidable.
"Impressive... wolf."
"With him, I won't fall behind you."
The wolf spirit's aura matched Tiny's confidence—baffling for his mana level.
And the source of that discrepancy was probably—
"...Amazing. That shoulder armor—a Transcendent Weapon. Spirit-related, too?"
Perfectly concealed until now. Zerik eyed the armor, then its owner.
Controlling a Transcendent Weapon's mana at that age, that realm? Astonishing.
Tiny just shrugged.
"Something like that."
Animus strengthened Wolrang, true—but not solely.
"My armor's great, but not like your axe 'Honor'."
Zerik chuckled dryly at the glance to his back-mounted axe.
Differences between Transcendent Weapons were natural. An orc Great Warrior's axe was legendary worldwide—no surprise the human knew.
"Honor... Yeah, common tongue meaning's right, but original name... Never mind."
Why explain? Blame this odd human.
Skeleton says younger than he looks...
Human hero at that age, with a Transcendent Weapon—shocking.
Shaking off thoughts with a smirk, Zerik gazed southeast—toward Harharin, Black Rhino base.
Human's identity aside, focus on his words now.
Though he didn't fully trust them.
"If you're wrong, keep your promise, Sir Tiny, Light Knight."
"Of course."
How long that confidence lasts. Zerik thought, drawing in ambient mana.
And—
"Spirit or not, let's see if you keep up."
Scoffing, he maxed his tribe's mana tattoos, wolf soul essence.
Woooom.
A direwolf phantom seeped into him, especially his legs.
And—
Awooooo.
Recalling his lost brother's howl from memory, Zerik kicked off.
Kwaaaaang!
Ground exploded underfoot; he vanished.
"Wha—?!"
"Th-the hell...!?"
Tiny smirked at the stunned warriors, mounting Wolrang leisurely.
Zerik's fast, alright.
Raw speed rivaled Silver Fang. Orc-wolf brother vs. true werewolf—past comrades bet on it for fun. No sure winner, but long-distance without combat burst?
"Not as good as you, right?"
"Woof!"
Wolrang, fueled by Tiny's will, bolted toward Bator's east gate like lightning.
Tiny's gravity lightened him, compressed muscle exploding with transcendent speed for wolf and rider.
And—
Awooooooo!
Silver gale howled through the plains, chasing the vanished green-skinned powerhouse.
But then—
Far from Bator, someone hid behind a prairie rock, scrying their movements with magic. None noticed.
"Moved the Warlord after all. What trace did Nergui leave... or..."
What scheme did that bastard pull? Malum elder Number 1 leaned toward the latter, from experience.
"Pissing me off to the end... that guy."
No reply from the robed figures behind—Death Knights, of course.
He hadn't expected any. Their direction said enough.
He'd drawn out a key figure solo.
Number 1 smirked naturally.
In a way, perfect.
Great Warrior without Bator troops.
Then—
"Tell Nergui: capture Warlord with him. Perfect merit."
Even if the Great Warrior slipped, Death Knights could handle Morse filth easily.
Or, with luck—
"...Who knew the headache would help. Heh."
Wooong.
A black pigeon materialized from his hand, flying southeast.
His gaze drifted to Bator anyway.
Could snag the relic there now.
Organization's job.
—Ignore everything. Focus on him. No distractions.
Recalling the leader's order, he moved toward their path.