I Refused To Be Reincarnated-Chapter 865: The Unyielding Yield

Kneeling, Adam watched the orc patrol rush toward him on their bulky, scaled beasts. Fifteen, including the two wounded and the three about to jump at his throat, he counted.

His gaze fell on the one leading them. Long dark hair tied overhead in a ponytail, more blade scars than intact skin, and rings pierced through his tusks. At his hip, an axe so disproportionate, with broad decorative rings clanging against the spiked flat side with the rise and fall of his mount's march, that marked him as anything but a common patroller.

The leader dismounted, eyes sweeping across the dead orc, then the two wounded. Finally, he scowled when he saw Adam's copper skin.

One of the three orcs who had watched the battle stepped forward, his mouth opening to form an explanation—

But the leader lifted his gloved hand, interrupting him. He squatted before the kneeling Adam, snarling his tusks out. "You killed one and incapacitated two of my best men. Where do you come from?"

Adam felt Bao's shivering paws on his neck, probably confused by his transformation into an orc and why he gave up. He lifted his right hand, far from the axe and to his neck in a sign of surrender, using the movement to pat the baby panda gently. Then, he shook his head. "Down the gorge."

"Why did you travel up here?" The leader's eyes narrowed into slits. "Are there others like you?"

"Haven't seen any. But you're the first orc I've ever talked to—"

"My man. Why did you kill him?" The leader interrupted, his scowl deepening and his tone growing more visceral.

"We fought. He lost. He died." Adam returned the leader's glare without flinching.

"The other two?" The leader pointed at the wounded.

"I got what I needed from the first."

At his answer, the leader's gaze fell on Adam's stolen tassets. "Last two questions. Who's the great shaman, and why yield?"

"I don't know, and I'm not fond of unnecessary fights."

Adam tensed as the leader rose, hands reaching for his mount's saddle. He sighed when heavy chains clinked beneath the leader's command.

"You won't die. Not today, at least, not before we understand why your skin is not green. But you'll wish you died." The leader chained Adam's wrists and ankles, continuing in a slightly softer tone. "That's what I would have said any other day. You're not like us, but you're strong. Only someone strong could kill Uzar, and wound Drog and Murg. You'll replace Uzar in our ancestral ritual fight. Win to escape our shaman's wrath—win and we'll share the honor."

"Can we trust him?" A mounted orc asked, glaring at Adam.

"Would you deny your allegiance?" The orc shuddered, and the leader continued. "Only death awaits those fools, and you are no fool, right? He must be a descendant of an ancient clan that hid for ages. Likely fell from the heights of the gorge, hit his head, and forgot everything. But his strength is real."

He pulled on the chain, dragging Adam to Uzar's mount. "That or he'll die during the ceremony. What do we have to lose?"

"Look at him letting himself be chained without resisting. He even said he doesn't like to fight. Is this how orcs are?" Another orc objected as Adam climbed on the...

What even was that beast? It had horns over its snout, scales, and square teeth, making him think of a reinforced species of bovine made to charge through enemy lines. The saddle was comfortable, though.

"Did you ever see someone refuse to fight for his life? Enough. Patch our wounded and carry Uzar. We return to Ruldar's Wall."

Adam was dragged to the village he had seen earlier. Along the way, he whispered to Bao, nudging his cheek against her shivering frame for comfort. She squeaked out confused noises that he understood as: her powerful, arrogant, funny, and gentle teacher knelt. Were orcs that powerful? Was there even something powerful enough to force him to submit?

He chuckled as they passed siege engines, three times his height and reinforced with thick metal plating, studded with savage blows that left hammer dents in their surfaces.

"Brute strength is an excellent option, Bao, but not always. Look." He pointed at tents supported by timber planks and draped in red cloth, each rising without obvious structure, yet forming an organic village that didn't feel clustered.

Lining the gates' interior, he saw the same creatures he rode being reared in pens full of hay. There seemed to be another species, too, but he couldn't see it clearly. In the distance, orcs screamed prices over stands of fresh meat or vegetables.

On a rough podium further in the market, he saw chained creatures. Humanoids with short protrusions barely sticking out of the top of their bald heads, while a few scales covered their thin bodies. He didn't know this one. Beside them, a pale menace of fat and muscles rose higher than most tents. That one he knew: an ogre. He saw a few more of them, most carrying heavy metal or wood under the incessant lash of whips.

"No matter how much we disagree with them, they have developed their own cultures, perhaps things we could learn or use—things we could never discover with brute strength alone. If there is a lesson to be learned, it's that nothing is entirely black or white. It's your duty to separate them and keep only what fits your values."

Bao rubbed her cheek against his neck to make him understand she was nodding, but he knew she was more concerned by the orcs surrounding them. Children, women and men, all clamouring about his weird skin color. Slave traders rushed to the leader, bartering with bulging pouches of clinking coins.

When the leader refused, saying Adam would fight in the ancestral ritual, some called him cursed, saying it would be better if he died there. Others said it was an omen of good fortune to catch him for the ancestral ritual fight.

Heated discussion followed him to the broadest tent he had seen. Hulking skulls lined the red cloth. They swayed with the wind, bone scraping against bone. Just coming close made the villagers halt in shuddering bursts. Even the patrol members around him grimaced.

Not the leader.

He helped Adam dismount, then, dragging his chains, flung the cloth open.

--- 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

AN: My God... Do I need to invent orcs' names now? Already struggling with human ones. :crying face: