I Refused To Be Reincarnated-Chapter 871: The Unshakable Constancy

Adam leaned over his warg, eyes narrowed. "What war?"

"Species go extinct, old ones evolve, and new ones appear. Continents sink, and long-forgotten ones emerge. No one can predict the whims of life. But there is one unshakable constancy to it—as surely as nature dies in winter and blooms in spring, the living will fight. Better lives, territory, honor. Everyone chooses a reason, then builds their culture around it."

Zul’Rakhan waved his palm dismissively. "Who knows what war or when it’ll happen? But it is coming, Adomash. Will it be against the human mages, the cultivators beyond this archipelago, or something? That I don’t know either."

He rubbed at the darkness where his chin should be. "I’m old. Almost old enough to end up at the base of the gorge in a cycle or two. I’ve seen many things and have been obsessed over even more questions. The one that tormented me most was how much longer we would prepare for this single war."

Adam sighed. Just an empty, cultural belief. Not an incorrect one, though. He had heard about skirmishes between sects over resources or petty grudges they called unsolvable. Economic wars were also wars. They just took a different form, but the result was the same: people starving and dying, mostly innocent civilians in their territory.

Zul’Rakhan’s somber voice cut through his thoughts like a cursed blade. "The answer I found is time. You’ll understand as I did if you win your way to Thaur’Gorath."

Zul’Gora leaned in, his voice like the rasp of a crow. "Time is not what you think here. A longer summer calls for a colder winter. We’ve been at peace for too long. We believe the next war will be the bloodiest ever recorded. But we’re too... dispensable to know more. Last time we saw Thaur’Gorath was when we completed our shamanic formation and left to lead our villages—too long to count."

Only the sound of paws striking the gorge’s rocks remained. In that moment of silence, Adam observed the blurring bushes and trees, felt the wind on his face, and heard the patter of a stream flowing between thick boulders. He checked on Bao on his shoulder as he felt a paw press against his cheek. The fear of their mounts had left her. Now, she seemed more interested in the shamans’ revelations than he was.

Still, something felt wrong with the last part. "Didn’t you have many opportunities to see it by following the warrior who defeated your champion in the last rituals?"

"Absolutely not." Zul’Gora, the very shaman who used this rule to follow him, shook his head. "The first shamans used to do so, but things changed. You, Zul’Rakhan’s champion, defeated mine. Yet I’m following him."

"Sounds like you submitted to him or are running from your village in case the mages reach it. At least, that’s how your peers will see it." Adam nodded.

"Them and my village. No orc follows a shaman who obeys anyone but the war chief, so you can imagine how poor a reputation we’ll build if we do it several times." He chuckled, pointing at Zul’Rakhan. "We are an exception, aren’t we, brother?"

"I’m no brother of yours." Zul’Rakhan slammed the end of his staff against his warg’s flank, speeding toward a village outlined by the dim rays of the setting sun. "Enough explanations. We’ll get answers in Thaur’Gorath—all of us. So win. Lose and... your unevolved body still intrigues me."

Adam tilted his head at Zul’Gora, the memory of how the shaman clutched Tragg like a rotten fruit from dozens of meters still vivid in his mind. This interested him more than their relationships or a potential future war. "Can I ask about shamans?"

"You know about our roles, but you mean something else, right?" He shook his head as they reached the fortified walls of the village. "My answer is the same as Zul’Rakhan: Thaur’Gorath. You might earn our war-chief’s favor and his answers if you impress him."

Adam begrudgingly dismounted. Since they wouldn’t tell him, he wouldn’t bother speaking with them. He handed his mount’s bridle to the squad leader in front of the pen, ignoring the members’ cheers as he followed the shamans. No guard dared stall two shamans, especially not during the ancestral ritual fight. He saw one of them rush toward the center of the village, likely to inform his leader.

The village was laid out much like Zul’Rakhan’s—mostly tents and orcs, wondering whether his copper skin was an omen or a curse. However, behind the daily grocery market, and further behind the many kobolds and ogres displayed on the slave market platforms, there was smoke rising from stone chimneys.

Underneath, the buildings were a mix of stone, metal, and nails holding these architectural aberrations together. Along their reinforced walls lay wooden pieces waiting for the sweaty orcs at the construction site to slot them together with the spikes, wheels, or slings they were carving. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

Midway, the guard returned with another hooded orc. The shaman held his arms open in welcome, staff in his right hand. He chuckled before even reaching them.

"Ah! Zul’Rakhan, my friend. How many cycles had it been since you came with a champion?" The shaman turned toward Zul’Gora, his eyes curving beneath his hood. "Couldn’t stomach losing to him after so many victories, so you followed?"

"Humph. I let that fool send good men to their deaths, while I kept mine close." Zul’Rakhan gestured at Adam. "This is my champion, Adomash, found by these same good men."

"Unevolved?" The local shaman leaned on the skull crowning his staff, then shook his head. "A living fossil! Where did they find him? Are there more?"

"Not according to him, but you can send your warriors down the gorge to see for yourself, Zul’Morak. I chose not to, though." Zul’Rakhan shrugged.

"With the human mages arriving anytime now? Absolutely not. Come!" Zul’Morak gestured, already walking toward his house. "Though the ritual is ready, you brought someone worth a long discussion around my finest beer and best meat."

"I’ll pass, Zul’Morak. Brutes like you two might not care, but every female in your village glanced at Adomash’s tassets." Zul’Gora nudged Adam’s back toward the construction sites. "We’ll return once his looks match his status."

Adam let him guide him. After all, he agreed entirely for once. Having female orcs glaring at his exposed rear each time he moved a little too fast felt uncomfortable.

As they left, Zul’Morak’s tusks danced with his laugh. "Seeing you two together reminds me of the past, back when you bickered over everything. Sweet old times."

"Times have never been sweeter since the day we stopped seeing each other," Zul’Rakhan snarled. "Your beer won’t drink itself on its own, and tomorrow’s ritual is more important than the past."