Dimension System - Chapter 101

[Angel]

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The orc encampment was awash with activity upon our arrival. Their guards, hunters, scouts, and even the children, had all gathered around the large central clearing. All of our guards were understandably nervous, as we were completely encircled by a large and rowdy crowd of orcs. Even more orcs could be seen occupying the primitive huts that were just outside the middle area.

Bishop Krenalis whispered to me.

“You’re sure that we can win this? It appears that we’ve just walked out of the frying pan and into the fire itself.”

I reassured the bishop, that I did indeed have a plan.

“Just make sure you stay by your guards. I’ve got a plan to get us through this. A good merchant learns to profit from any encounter.”

Unlike our guards, the dungeon orcs walked with determination and confidence. Larger than even the biggest orcs in the encampment, their raw power and physiques left them with little concern. Noting the size of these brutes, the regular orcs were quite shocked. Each one of them was as large as the chieftain who led them!

Not only was their size quite alarming, each one of them had a fearsome aura that was only possible from constant life and death battles. They all appeared to be battle hardened veterans, with numerous scars to prove that they had been forged by fierce combat. Any one of the dungeon orcs would have been a viable candidate for chieftain of the tribe, or even capable of forming their own tribes.

When we’d finally reached the center of the clearing, a particularly large and nasty looking orc emerged. The encircling crowd of observers all parted, making way for his impressive entrance. Upon witnessing several unknown orcs of remarkable size among us, the chieftain’s eyes narrowed and his face gnarled. Stepping past the observing crowd, he called out in a deep and guttural voice.

{Who you big ‘uns? Come to challenge da Grimfang boyz?}

The large orc chieftain was just as big as my dungeon orcs. He was wearing metal armor that consisted of several plate sections, which had been crudely stitched together with leather and animal hide. Given the size of each plate, it was apparent that they had originally been human chestplates. A large two-handed broadsword was clutched in his meaty grip, obviously seized from a passing adventurer or guard. The brute wielded the sizable and dull blade with a single arm, seemingly unfazed by it’s weight.

My dungeon orcs gave me a rough translation of what he’d asked. All them looked ready to step in and accept the challenge as soon as I gave word. However, I had a better idea. One that was directly inspired by the system notification I’d recently received.

[An orc has successfully united the dungeon tribes and has been promoted to elite status.]

In front of everyone who’d gathered, I used my holy ghost hand to summon the elite orc. Large and imposing, he stretched himself out after being summoned. If the other dungeon orcs were bodybuilders, this one was a veritable strongman! He may have lacked their muscular definition, however, that was only because of his sheer size. His forearms alone, were the size of some orc’s biceps.

Completing his back stretch with a mighty roar, the elite orc rose to stand at his full height. While he didn’t quite reach the size of an ogre or forest bear, he still stood an entire head above the chieftain and regular dungeon orcs. I hadn’t summoned him with any armor or weapons, so he was wearing his original outfit.

His torso was clad in a primitive scale-mail style piece that only covered his right shoulder and arm. It was fashioned from the chitin of an Iskarii beetle, with thick strips of wolf hide fastening it to his neck and the left side of his body. The overall design seemed to offer little protection and exposed most of his chest, which was covered in numerous scars. Speaking of scars, a large one started above his left eye. Trailing diagonally from his forehead, the scar went through his nose and ended in the middle of his cheek, just above a fractured canine tooth.

Atop his head, a crude golden crown sat, roughly pounded and twisted into uneven sections. Beneath that crown, his fierce eyes surveyed the scene before him, as he scowled. This caused his large canines to jut out even further. Witnessing everyone’s surprised look, he turned around to face me, then dropped his sizable frame to one knee as he knelt briefly. The dungeon orcs joined him in swearing fealty to their summoner.

Standing up to his full height, the elite orc let out a mighty laugh, causing his large belly to jiggle and unnerving the nearby orc tribe. Any jovial notions were dispelled by the clacking of his amulet, which was adorned with the canine fangs of numerous dungeons orcs, who he’d killed to claim his position. Thankfully, the elite orc’s nether regions and lower half were covered in a primitive pelt. It was stitched together from the fur of forest bears, all the way down to two hollowed out bear paw shoes.

Pounding his large chest, he called out something in the Orc language.

{I am Varguk the mighty! Which one of ya wants to be added to da necklace?}

Having been formally challenged in his own encampment, the chieftain stepped forward to answer. There was a certain fire in his eyes and he looked pissed.

{Gazzer Grimfang, chieftain of the Grimfang tribe answers your call ta combat!}

Slamming his broadsword into the ground, he stepped up to the larger competitor unarmed. They stood at arms length, staring each other directly in the eyes for several tense minutes. It looked like they were about to square off any minute, which caused the encircled onlookers to start shouting and cheering. Countless orcs had vied against each other in unarmed combat, as it was a longstanding racial tradition of theirs to ensure that the strongest ruled.

Members of the nearby orc tribe approached with large sticks, nearly causing our guards to attack them due to their surprise. Instead of interfering, they proceeded to quickly scratch a wide circle around the two combatants. An arena of sorts had been hastily formed, demarcating the battleground for the two. Grunting, the competitors moved back to the edge of the circle, both assuming a low stance.

Wasting no time, they each charged forward at the other, while keeping their center of gravity as low as possible. They were both roaring or screaming, it was hard to tell which, until they met in the center with an audible crunch. The force they used was sufficient to send both of them flying back a few steps, causing them to tumble on the ground. Covered in dust and dirt, they both got up and assumed the initial positions again.

We watched as they clashed several more times, with neither seeming to hold back. Finally, the elite orc seemed to gain some kind of advantage, likely due to his larger physique. Somehow, he was able to get underneath the chieftain during the last charge. Rising up with his stocky legs, the elite orc spun around and unceremoniously tossed the chieftain outside the ring. Clenching both of his hands tightly, he flexed his impressive bulk, while letting out an enthusiastic victory roar.

Wondering if the combat ritual was over, I asked one of the dungeon orcs, who let me know that there were actually three stages and this was just the first. I watched on, as the surrounding orcs picked up their chieftain, then proceeded to draw a smaller circle inside the first one. Both combatants sat on the ground nearby, recovering their stamina and breath from the previous exertion.

Once both of them had somewhat recovered, they stepped into the smaller circle and approached each other. Reaching their arms out, they bumped fists, before jumping back to the edge of the small circle in the dirt. Holding their fists up, the two orcs bobbed and weaved around each other, before moving in to engage in hand to hand combat. They were actually engaging in pugilism!

Testing each other out, they showed surprising footwork and mobility. Jabs were exchanged, as they attempted to wear each other down. However, being extremely large, both of them weren’t able to keep it up for very long. It didn’t help that orcs were an aggressive species by nature. The match soon devolved into a glorified slug-fest.

Knocking each other down didn’t seem to end the match, unlike traditional boxing. It didn’t appear that they were going rounds either, as each orc seemed content to pummel the other nonstop. At this point, it was a testament to their incredible strength and resilience. Hooks, uppercuts, and blows to the body kept being exchanged as the orcs became more and more battered and bruised. Still, to their credit, the pain didn’t seem to hinder or slow them in the slightest. Instead, it simply drove them to hit the other orc even harder.

Eventually, after a lengthy exchange, the bigger and stronger elite orc prevailed once again. With a solid punch connecting to the side of the chieftain’s head, he went down like a sack of potatoes. History repeated itself, as the chieftain was once again chucked out of the arena. The second round had been cleared!

Approaching the downed chieftain, the various orc tribesman picked him back up to his feet. Pausing again for a few moments, the combatants glared at each other, while the orcs drew the final circle. It was so small that the orcs would practically be standing next to each other. I wondered what the final contest would be, as I curiously watched them finish preparing the last circle in the dirt.

I didn’t have to wait too long to find out. The elite orc and the chieftain approached each other at the direct center of the smallest ring. They lowered their stances and pressed both of their foreheads together. The reason for this soon became crystal clear, as they locked their jutting tusks together, struggling against one another to knock the other over. It looked painful to watch.

Wait, wouldn’t the elite orc’s broken tooth be a serious disadvantage?

Watching the contest go back and forth, caused my concern to dissipate. Although one of the elite orc’s canines was fractured, their much larger size left the broken piece almost equivalent to the chieftain’s full tooth. It also appeared that the elite’s tooth had been worn down through many similar challenges, causing it to be filed down into an appropriate angle after being broken off.

The match kept up for several minutes, until their jaws got sore from the pressure. Once that happened, the two orcs stopped jostling around and pushing each other. While still locked together, they started taking turns punching each other in the stomach. One after another, they knocked solid blows directly onto the abdomen, while maintaining eye contact. It looked almost comical, with each orc doggedly refusing to give up.

Inevitably, the smaller orc chieftain lost the contest of endurance. Taking one last blow to the chest, he wheezed a ghastly sound and fell to the ground gasping. He did not have any energy left to prevent the elite orc from dragging him outside the final circle. The audience cheered and hollered with the conclusion. A new chieftain had emerged, a stronger orc who had bested their leader.

According to the ancient orc rites and customs, their tribe would be absorbed into the victorious tribe. Following under such a large and powerful chieftain, the orcs would hope to expand their ranks even further, eventually forming an orc clan. The Grimfang tribe would have taken many generations to reach that size, even longer if there was infighting and splintering, as was common among orcs.

Gathering around, the entire tribe knelt to a single knee, indicating their subservience to the victorious elite orc. The former chieftain struggled over to his large sword, his prized possession, and offered it to the elite orc. Handing the sword over to the victor, he got down on his hands and fully knelt down, sticking his neck out and closing his eyes. He had already steeled himself for the consequences of losing the ritual.

Uninterested in the blade, the elite orc looked over at me directly, waiting for me to give him an order. I commanded him to step forward.

“Come forth my champion! You shall receive a name today, and an appropriate reward for your victory.”

Stepping over to me, the elite orc bowed to the knee, before looking at me and responding.

“Me Varguk! Fight for master. Win for master!”

Using my holy ghost hand, I summoned forth a large set of armor and a massive spiked mace, which were crafted to fit the elite orc. I absorbed the crown on his head, incorporating it onto the top of his enormous Templar helmet. He hastily put the armor on and took up the oversized mace, which caused him to give a massive grin. Altogether, he looked like a much larger version of the dungeon orcs.

“Arise Varguk the mighty! From this day onward, you shall now be known as Varguk Dawnbreaker! Chieftain and ruler of the Dawnbreaker tribe. You will be the leader of my personal guard, who I will call the Sanctus Templar.”

Rising up in his new suit of glistening chainmail armor, Varguk hoisted his large spiked mace into the air, letting out a celebratory roar of excitement. When he calmed down after a few minutes, he looked towards the dejected former chieftain, who was quietly observing the situation. Varguk asked me what we were going to do with them, about as eloquently as an orc could.

“What ’bout ‘dem?”

I responded with firm resolution.

“Make them join us. If they refuse.. kill them.”

The nearby bishop and all of the human guards sucked in a cold breath. It may have seemed callous to them, however, the orcs were a particularly savage and brutal race. They’d respect strength, power, and determination. If I tried to approach them in a soft manner, it would interpreted as weakness. A species that constantly fought over the smallest details had bred out kindness, to the point where it was almost vestigial.

Nodding, Varguk approached the former chieftain, handing him back his dull sword. Placing his hand on the ousted chieftain’s shoulder, he said a few words to him in Orcish.

{You fight good, for a skinny runt! Now submit to da master, or I really will crush ya skull.}

Motioning with his hand, he pointed over at me. Understanding dawned on the old chieftain’s face, causing him to drop his sword in a hurry and scramble over before me. The rest of the tribe followed suit, taking a kneeling position behind him. Having been conquered through strength, they were all willing to submit to being absorbed by my holy dragon hand.

All of them were assigned to the dungeon tribe under Varguk. They were now members of the Dawnbreaker Orc tribe and members of my personal guard, the Sanctus Templar. Along with the former bandits I’d rescued during this trip, they would protect me from harm, with their lives if necessary.

Preparing Sanctus armor sets to match the others, I had standardized their uniform. The only thing that varied was the size, which was made according to the respective size of the human or orc. For the former chieftain Gazzer, I allowed him to retain his broadsword. Reforged by the system, it was reconstructed from a sturdy steel alloy and sharpened to a deadly edge. Eventually, I’d hoped to discover some coal in this world, which allow me to craft even stronger carbon-steel weapons.

For now though, the steel alloy equipment was still stronger than the plain iron weapons that most used. I chose to preserve the titanium as well, as those alloys would be better utilized for shipbuilding, due to the corrosion resistance against seawater. I’d also decided to refrain from making their weapons magical, as they would garner way too much attention to our party, potentially endangering us more than helping.

With the ranks of my Sanctus Templar swelling, we prepared a victory feast to celebrate. It didn’t take long for a full-on barbecue to come together. With the system’s assistance and my holy ghost hand, a large grill was constructed. Meaty steaks, hamburgers, hot dogs, sausages, and chicken were piled high, in anticipation of the orcs’ massive appetites. Pasta salad, potato salad, loaves of fresh baked bread, and mixed vegetables were also prepared.

I was even able to use a little seasoning this time, thanks to the new spices that had recently been collected. However, due to them being recently planted, the amount was low so they had to used somewhat sparingly. Still, it added much needed flavor and substantially improved the food to another level. As the food was being prepared, the newly inducted Dawnbreaker orcs brought over the loot they’d collected from their previous ‘tolls’.

It was a sizable amount of gold coins and there were even a few precious jewels. The food and drink collected prior, had already been used to feed the tribe. The amount of gold wasn’t nearly as much as Zanir received from his recent jobs, however, it would still be a decent addition to jump-start the economy of our empire.

While I absorbed the loot into the system, the food had finally completed cooking. After everyone was served at least one sizable portion, I brought out several casks of beer and liquor. What resulted was a strange sight indeed, as the men and orcs drank together, attempting to teach each other their respective drinking songs. Overall, it was a cheerful and happy occasion, as we celebrated long into the night.

Tomorrow, we would be finishing the final leg of our journey. According to the bishop, we’d be incredibly close to the capital by tomorrow night. The capital city of the Church of Helios was called Mane Ros. Nestled in the peaks of the Aurora mountains, the ancient city had been constructed among the peaks, so that the first light of dawn could be worshiped.