I Refused To Be Reincarnated-Chapter 885: No Decent Plan

Trouble...

Adam's eyes darted across the dozens of orcs glaring at him, his heart and veins throbbing beneath his human skin.

"A-Adomash? What's—" Zul'Gora stuttered, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deepening.

A warrior cut her off, the blade of his axe glinting beneath the moon and his charge thundering on the cobblestones. "A human infiltrated our capital. Shame on you for bringing him here!"

The other warriors followed, shrill sounds of metal slicing the night's cold air. Their weapons would be on Adam in two seconds. No time to think, but one thing was sure: the warriors weren't to decide his fate. He raised his arms.

"Don't—" Zul'Gora erupted into a worried shriek, only to be silenced when Adam crossed his arms over his chest dismissively and Zul'Rakhan commanded.

"No one moves!" The old shaman struck the ground, his voice like sandpaper on dry bark. The eye sockets of the bestial skull adorning his staff flashed red.

Cold sweat formed on the warriors' foreheads, their weapons freezing right over his head, chest, and shoulders. One almost grazed the trembling fur of the small Bao. Teary-eyed, she hugged Adam's neck, feeling his veins pulse faster beneath his confident posture.

A drop of cold sweat ran down Adam's spine as he saw his reflection on the blades of the weapons. Too close! But what could he do? There was no decent plan to form. Either he fought his way out against shamanic arts he didn't understand, outnumbered thirty to one without even counting the warriors, or... he flowed with the waves, hoping they'd carry him to shore without need for violence. He took a deep exhale, his eyes narrowing. Second option for now. The first, if the orcs went too far.

"What a shameful display." Zul'Kharaz stepped forward, his staff echoing against the cobblestones. "We'll talk about your recklessness later, warriors. Capture and drag the human to a cell. Cut off his left arm if he resists, then his right, but don't kill him." His voice grew somber. "I'll find out how he dared to desecrate our ancestral ritual."

With the last echo of his staff, the warriors recovered their mobility. They shifted their weapons to strike with the blunt edges. Before they could, Adam stretched his hands out, palms turned upward. "I won't resist."

He heard them call him a coward and other distasteful names as they tied his wrists in chains. The five shamans behind him lowered their staffs, snarling about a wasted opportunity to finally deliver on their death prophecies.

As soon as the cold metal met his skin, he felt his mana ebb out. What a terrible feeling, as if they had sectioned his mana circuits at the wrists and sucked it out with an artifact. So that's what Yann had been afraid of. But this raised new questions. For all the surprising orc technology, why did they own the enforcers' mana-suppressing chains?

"Anything you want to add, Zul'Rakhan, Zul'Gora?" Zul'Kharaz's voice sliced through his thoughts.

Zul'Rakhan's red eyes narrowed beneath his hood. "None, except that I take command from here on out. Anyone refusing to comply or rebelling will be executed for high treason."

"Rakhan?!" Zul'Gora's eyes widened as everyone gasped. Even Adam wondered what the weathered shaman had in mind.

Zul'Rakhan didn't pause to satisfy their curiosity. "Warriors, drag the human to the war council."

Tension descended at the gates, with no one understanding the absurd commands.

Zul'Kharaz was the first to break it with a discordant laugh, each word sharp like a knife. "And on whose authority do you, a mere village leader, well on your way to joining the ancestors, issue orders in Thaur'Gorath?"

"The only one that matters. Old. Friend." He waved his gnarled hands at the warriors. "The great shaman awaits, and each wasted second tugs at his patience."

For a heartbeat, the shamans shuddered. Then, the pale warriors wrenched Adam's chains forward without question. And if Zul'Rakhan lied? He would pay the price for his folly in due time.

Adam followed with a smile that rattled Zul'Gora's nerves hard enough for her old skin to prickle. "What is this all about, Adomash? Rakhan! Explain yourself! And the great shaman? By my dear grandmother!"

"I knew all along that he was suspicious. Brown skin after thousands of cycles? Only a fool like Gora would have fallen for it," Zul'Morak snickered, and the three others accompanying them threw their own taunts as if they hadn't shared her shock when Adomash turned human.

Zul'Kharaz silenced the fools with a growl. "Though I have my ideas, we'll learn everything soon enough. I can arrange a few more cells to torture you alongside the human if you keep wasting my breath before then."

Adam received frowns and raised brows from the local orcs on the way. Some bent before the shamans, wagging pouches that clicked with coins while inquiring if they were heading to the slave market. Bao showed her fangs, but Adam's smile broadened as the shamans chased them with a single glare.

Torture? Slavery? None of it would be in order, not when he was on his way to meet their great shaman. After all, he seemed to have struck a deal with the college.

Details and relationships didn't matter. Neither Teacher Diane nor Haldris would leave a student in the hands of the leader of another species. Not because of him in particular. It would make the college appear weak, reduce the fear it induces, and the respect it commands. Well, he would most likely kiss his hard-earned points goodbye if they had to rescue him. That and endure a few days of suffering.

He rounded the corner of another bastion, his eyes drifting to the edge of the gorge. What he saw stole his breath. Not the war council building, its broad training grounds, or the heavy plates covering the guards, but the slope that lay behind.

It stretched dozens of meters down, its sides flanked with more war machinery and siege engines than he could count. But even that didn't widen his eyes. No. What did was the towering construct carved from the very wall of the gorge.

It rose dozens of meters and at least a hundred meters across. On both sides, two hooded figures were carved with lifelike precision, and between them... the empty frame of a door.

A Gate! Adam's mind thundered. How? Why? He had sailed across half the archipelago to reach Brineheart. Neither the noble district nor the college owned a Gate. They were hard to build, but that wasn't the reason; space was much thicker in the cultivation realm than it had been in the magic world. Setting up a Gate network was possible, but a resource hole the college didn't need. Not when Haldris could teleport people however he wanted, or with avian beasts like the one used by Diane.

But the orcs built one? To where?