They slept, they fought, and occasionally they fucked. I had arrived at the orc ‘village,’ and that was all I found. No walls, no homes, nothing of the sort. They just sat in the open, and were uninterested in even taking over existing fortifications like the goblins when they totally could.

  I should have expected as much given what I knew of them, but I definitely liked this place more than any goblin settlement I had found. I could just feel the sheer violent potential as dozens of duels and friendly spars happened all at once. Some orcs came from outside to bring in food which they did share, while others yet lounged about on the massive clearing of bare and barren soil.

  There were other populated areas nearby, for the orcs did have the foresight to at least keep their children and pregnant away from the fighting. They sat, they played, and they watched the battles longingly, but everyone seemed to agree that no violence was allowed in those scattered areas of peace. There were other orcs there, whether it was to visit, guard, or take a rest. They all reacted and fell upon a single overgrown lizard when the animal had somehow made its way this deep into their territory.

  “RAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” It didn’t take long for an orc to single me out among the party that I had arrived with.

  “AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” I returned the greeting with a roar that even gave the orcs pause as it reflected all the wrath that was constantly contained inside of my small frame. I walked forward heavily, and the spear-wielder almost flinched and ran, but I commended him for standing his ground. I wanted to test out all my recent improvements, and I was always looking for an excuse to vent.

  My pack dropped, and the world blurred. Soil was dug out by the sheer force of my hooves as I charged, and the level 30 orc barely managed to respond fast enough. He jabbed out his spear toward me, and I sensed a greater weight at the tip of the weapon, so I smashed it away with my greatsword while making sure that the spearpoint was never anywhere near me.

  The spear very swiftly swung back, and the orc did not lose his balance, but I stepped into his guard and stabbed towards the very hand that held his spear. My enemy fell back, I pressed the advantage, and in the opening that was created by him protecting his arm, I slammed my sword forward and plunged it into his heart.

  The cut spread, and it blossomed into a flower of sliced flesh.

  The wound decayed, and the orc fell towards me with a final thrust of his spear. I tried to evade, but the best I could manage was to make the attack land in a more harmless area. I was very familiar with the workings of my body, so I took the hit somewhere on the right side of my guts.

  My armor gave out, and I felt the spearpoint swim through my flesh like a knife through butter, until it was finally stopped by the other layer of armor behind my back.

  I knew there was a reason why my instincts screamed against me ever taking a hit from this now-dead orc man.

  ~~~

  A few orcs cheered for my victory, but most didn’t care as there were many other fights happening. I made my way deeper into their ‘village’ as I considered why they hardly reacted to the magic that I used. My sword had been thoroughly drenched in wrath in that last fight, because that orc was not one that I could hold back against.

  I just shrugged in the end, happy to learn more about their boundaries and how much I could show before I was jumped.

  The oppressive feeling of so many strong creatures gathered in one place grew ever stronger as I became surrounded by the orcs in training or battle. I stood unfazed, however, as I would never be intimidated into submission. Instead, I only grew more excited as I watched all the powerful fighters around me perform in all the ways that they knew and loved. I absorbed all this information with the intent to scrutinize them harder later, but I was currently more interested in the single most overpowering presence that stood out even amidst this sea of terribly powerful combatants.

  It was coming from a particularly tall but lither orc man, and he was currently working through forms with a dark greatsword held in his hands. The orc moved slowly and with such grace that it was almost mesmerizing, but somehow I knew, I could feel it in my bones, that the blade he carried was lethal with the weight of a mountain behind it despite how deliberate and careful his swings and slashes were.

  Bright powerful eyes opened upon his face, and he pointed his greatsword at another who wielded a shortsword and a shield.

  “ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!!!!”

  His voice was the deepest and angriest I’d heard from the orcs so far. It was almost enough for me to acknowledge his rage as worthwhile.

  The two orcs clashed. I seared the moment into my eyes as the most powerful orc I’d met surged like a tide and swirled like a river. His sword met his opponent’s shield, and the latter broke in two. The shortsword came up next to try and force him back, but that weapon was swept away and cracked so finely it was almost sliced like a vegetable being prepared for dinner. The weaker orc stumbled and fell, and a sharp blade drew a line of blood upon his neck, but it did not continue deeper. The most powerful orc spared him, for he was benevolent to the weak.

  Naturally, I shouldered my way forward through the crowds and challenged him to a duel of my own.

  “Ar!”

  My sword was not pointed at him, but rather at myself. It was a rarely used gesture by the orcs, but they did understand the concept of learning from a greater master. And for as much as it made me absolutely fucking boil with rage to make a gesture of surrender like this, I chose to prioritize my goals as to why I came here to begin with. Hellfire surged around me, and so did destructive amalgamations of purple-black. I informed them of my magic, just in case I would need to use it later. Likely to escape, though I didn’t think I was without a chance to somehow pull off a win against the level 40 orc.

  “Ro.”

  The orc responded calmly, and took a ready stance.

  I waited a moment further to allow the other orcs to clear the path, and then I charged. Wrath surged through my sword and body as I held nothing back. My very blood was sacrificed to propel me ever faster as I rapidly closed the distance to the center of the village. I swept my greatsword up, and then swung it down in an overpowering overhead arc… only to find myself rebounded.

  The strongest orc blocked my blow in its entirety, and he was hardly shaken by the force of it.

  I flailed to regain my balance, but a counterattack came before I could even recover.

  A wickedly sharp blade tore through my armor and spilled the right side of my guts.

  I collapsed and began healing myself as the orc watched on for a moment longer before leaving me to my fate.

  I did not activate my hyperdemon gland, but instead got up when the wound had closed but was still raw.

  I pointed my sword at the orc who had injured me and roared.

  I was not yet defeated.

  ~~~

  I was defeated.

  Many times over.

  The stars shone down upon me as I laid there on the barren ground in my broken and battered armor. I had thrown myself again and again at the strongest orc, at first in a fit of rage, which never truly left, but that anger eventually coexisted with a newfound respect, and a rabid hungry eagerness to learn.

  Even now, I still repeated those memories in my mind. From how solid and immovable the best orc’s footing was, to how quickly he could launch off from the foundation and become an unstoppable force. There was just something more to his movements, a sort of enlightenment I didn’t possess, and I was increasingly convinced that an anatomic mastery was not just about doing something over and over until you totally master it. If that was the case, then I would have already obtained what I wanted, for I was confident that I had mastered the sword at least as much as Therick.

  There was still something I was missing.

  I got up suddenly, prompting a few glances from the orcs. One challenged another, and I saw a rare instance of a challenge unanswered as one orc just kept on shoving meat into her mouth. I was hungry too, so I went off to catch something for myself.

  An hour later, I returned to camp, and challenged the biggest wall in my path again. I would do it as many times as it took to achieve an epiphany.

  Luckily, the orc himself did not seem displeased. He even took my offering of two whole rhibras, and ate them with the same lack of dignity as any other self-respecting orc.

  ~~~

  Time passed in a haze. I charged forth a thousand times, and I was repelled a thousand more. My arms and legs felt like they would fall off, and they did more than once. The battle continued in my dreams, and the moment I woke up I would throw myself at the next challenge.

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  What am I missing? What am I missing!? I would continue to ask myself.

  Through the defeated beasts of the wilderness, and against the weaker orcs who fell by my blade. I tried to copy the elegance with which the strongest orc moved, but there was a limit to what I could accomplish with my body, and under the destructive influence of wrath. Neither was meant for finesse.

  So what am I meant for?

  I did not know if I possessed a single slice of original flesh left, as my body had been broken down and regrown a thousand times over. My armor had long been stripped away into mere piles of scrap that would have to be reforged later. Now all I was left with were bloody rags.

  And yet I did not give up. I endeavored still to control my wrath. Slowly but surely, I became able to move with pure grace even at my strongest and literally bone-breaking labours. I swung my greatsword for the ten-thousandth time, and the immovable orc buckled under the force, but he remained standing, and I lost to his counterattack.

  Once again I had failed. Once again I had lost. The constant defeat gnawed away at my ego, and the specter of rage followed me at every turn. Always, I endeavored to ignore it. I felt the emotions, I processed them, but in a way that was detached and automatic. I caught only flickers and glimpses, but this time there was something different. There was something that was always there but I hadn’t acknowledged in a long time.

  I let go.

  “AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

  White-hot rage. Black-hot rage. My wrath exploded out of me in an uncontrolled torrent as my aura was released purely by instinct. The mass of orcs faltered, but their strongest remained unfazed and unshaken by the display. I remembered that impassive aggression that veiled his face every time I fell. I relived with vivid detail every loss and every injury I had suffered under his tutelage, and I raged.

  As one.

  Body, sword, and mana.

  At the confluence of hatred, I moved.

  As an avatar of wrath, I attacked.

  The world seemed to darken and just not exist for a single split second.

  And then it was back.

  My greatsword was swinging.

  Another greatsword rose to intercept it.

  Crackling dark energy coated the blood-soaked expression of enmity that was my entire being.

  The blades collided, and everything aligned.

  The very reality that I occupied pushed, and my enemy’s sword was hopelessly swept along the tide.

  The slash continued. The powerful orc was forced to his knees. And the cursed mechanism of wrath that was my greatsword grew beyond its confines and surged to demolish all that was in front of me.

  A slash of malevolent energy. A wave of ripping miasma. It was split apart by my enemy’s own greatsword, but the dregs still reached him as his skin opened up like wilting flowers of flesh.

  I breathed.

  I felt weak.

  My body was falling apart.

  I had given it my all.

  My adversary stood, and he looked down at me as I glanced upward at him.

  He roared, and it was a complicated one. Respect, hate, mourn, and everything else.

  I returned the same courtesy before I passed out.

  ~~~

  I woke up undisturbed in the middle of an orcish camp. They were all going about their day like normal, without care for the passed-out demon who had just arisen from her slumber. My stomach growled, and I looked around. I spotted the orc I had fought, been fighting, for the last few months. He sat near me, and I saw that his wounds had also healed, though marks still remained, and the previously pristine and well-fitted leather he wore had become tattered. I could hardly tell how much clothing was left on myself, because my skin was red, and everything was drenched in drying blood.

  “Hey,” I said.

  He looked at me. I thought I saw intelligence in those eyes, but I didn’t know if my own were deceiving me.

  “I’ll be going now. That was… that was really something. Thank you.”

  The tall and thinner orc man did not reply. He looked back towards the fighting orcs in the distance without ever reacting. It appeared that my anthropomorphizing of the orcs was a foolish endeavor til the end, but like a fool, I indulged the impulse one last time.

  I bowed. A full ninety degrees. My pride rankled, just a little, but I expressed my gratitude.

  I would’ve loved to test myself against this powerful orc now that I had what I came for. I wanted to see how far I could come with my magic, and my flight, and every other tool of violence I had in my arsenal.

  It would’ve been glorious.

  But I refrained.

  I couldn’t explain why.

  It just didn’t feel right.

  Let it end on a good note.

  ~~~

  I am not a suspicious person. I am not a suspicious person…

  I repeated the mantra in my head as I stalked the outskirts of Mirel Village on the cold rainy night while entirely covered by a dark hooded cloak.

  I watched as the gates remained closed. I watched the guards upon the ramparts as they slept. I remained hidden in a taller patch of grass nearby.

  I also fell asleep, only to be woken up by the sound of approaching footsteps and grating voices.

  “Hey!”

  “Look over there!”

  “A person!”

  “Are they passed out!?”

  I looked at the three guards and jumped. The humans and ogre were startled, their hands reached for their weapons or their feet carried them backwards. A tense moment passed without another sound being made.

  I turned around and ran.

  “I’M NOT A SUSPICIOUS PERSON!!!!”

  ~~~

  After days of stalking the village and them so rudely sending parties out to try and catch me as if they could ever measure up to these legs, I finally found who I was looking for.

  One of them looked in my direction. A silent communication passed between us, I was sure. And then I followed them from afar, always making sure not to be seen.

  “HEY!” I finally said once we were alone.

  “Woah. Haell.” Granuel smiled. He was the one that had found me earlier. “You look… different.”

  “Ugh. Tell me about it.” I removed my hood and revealed the broken helm and tattered clothing underneath. I used to have spare clothes, but they kept breaking so I kept having to change them out. I had colored my skin a human pale just in case, and I was also wearing my hoof-concealing boots, but I decided that the guards might wrongly accuse me of being a suspicious person if I tried to enter the village while looking like this. “But later, actually. Because… RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”

  My friends were startled by my sudden shout. There was a grin on my face, and my greatsword was pointed right at Therick.

  “...What?”

  “...A duel,” I answered. “I, Haell Zharignan, challenge you to a duel!”

  “Oh! Ah, uh… Right now? You just got back, and you look… like you need help.”

  “And I’ll get it. Later. But first, we fight!”

  I gestured to Angerly, and she tossed a practice steel greatsword to me from her pack. Therick was handed a smaller one, and he took it a bit hesitantly.

  “Alright! Ready?”

  Therick panicked harder for a second, but his eyes steeled shortly after and he faced me resloutely.

  “Fine. Sure. Ready!”

  I smiled, allowing my wrath to suffuse both me and my weapon as one. Magic activated along my hooves, and I surged forward like a devouring train. Therick raised his sword to block, but in a confluence of hatred, I slammed my weapon against his own.

  My enemy’s sword broke, and so did he buckle. He fell to the ground, and the wave of wrath that followed dispersed through his leather and steel armor to lash the skin beneath.

  “GAH!” He hacked, as I cheered.

  “I did it! See!? I can do it too! That was an anatomic mastery! Specifically, I like to call it the confluence of wrath, or the confluence of hatred. The problem was that we were thinking of anatomic mastery as just an automatic thing that happens when your techniques reach a certain threshold, but it’s not—”

  “Fuck!” Therick suddenly interrupted my tirade, and my words turned into a frown. “Shut up! Argh! Haell! What did you do to me!?”

  “Huh?” I stood dumbfounded for a moment. “What do you mean? I won? It was a duel?”

  “It was a spar! We’re not supposed to kill each other!”

  “And I didn’t! You would be fucking dead if I was actually trying to kill you!”

  Therick opened his mouth to argue further, but wisely snapped it shut. A moment of silence passed as I noticed how much blood was staining and flowing out of his armor. The leather and metal were only lightly damaged, but I knew the effect would be worse for what was inside.

  “Ah, shit.” I finally said in the ensuing silence. “That’s not good.”

  “You think?”

  “Yes.” I took a deep breath, trying not to retort in a similarly candid way. “I tried to hold back, but…”

  “I’m too weak?”

  “That’s not what I said!” I snapped. I genuinely held back as much as I could in that short fight. The confluence of hatred was an incredibly difficult to control skill, and I had spent the journey here trying to learn how to at least hold back.

  I thought he was stronger.

  “What do you mean, then?”

  “That it’s a fucking spar, like you said.” I paused, just to let the emotions pass, and not let the rage bleed any more into my actions and make things worse. “Sometimes,” I continued more calmly, “accidents happen. People get hurt. But there’s no permanent damage, right?”

  “...No.”

  “Good! Because I did genuinely try to hold back. Anatomic mastery is weird, and the far inferior sword made the resulting attack even weaker. I haven’t actually tried that yet.”

  “Right… Well, good for you.”

  My friend moved to get up, and I offered him a hand. He stared at it for a second, before finally taking me up on my offer. I then healed him as his pained expression gradually returned to a calmer and more relieved state.

  “There. Good as new!”

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