Chapter 11: Gorrak`s Offer

The forest trembled with every step of the ogres.

At the front, Gorrak strode with his chest puffed and his four newly-empowered elites at his back. Behind them trailed a handful of other ogres, weapons in hand, their eyes burning with the same arrogance as their chief. The march was not hurried; it was deliberate, the kind of march meant to be seen and heard. Birds scattered from the treetops, and even the insects went quiet as the party pushed through.

From the branches above, a Dark Elf scout froze. His sharp eyes tracked the hulking figures moving with too much confidence to be on a friendly visit. His heart pounded as he realized their direction.

The village.

Without hesitation, the scout leapt branch to branch, the trees carrying him like whispers until he landed before Elder Lireath’s hut.

The scout dropped to one knee, breathless.

“Elder! The ogres, The Chief himself, he’s marching here. Armed. With soldiers.”

Lireath stiffened, her silver hair glinting in the dim light. For a heartbeat, her usually calm expression cracked. So suddenly… why?

“Have we wronged them somehow?” she murmured, almost to herself, then shook her head. “No… That chief is not a man of courtesy. If he comes like this, it is for power, not grievance.”

Her gaze slid to the two young girls kneeling in practice before her. Shiki and Saki. Once ordinary Dark Elf girls, now something more, after Tengen had named them. Their mana pools pulsed brighter than most grown warriors, and Lireath had been honing their magic ever since.

“Shiki. Saki.” Her voice was steady, sharp as steel.

“Yes, Elder!” they answered in unison, standing quickly.

“Find Yoruha and Dravel. Tell them to prepare themselves. If trouble breaks out, I want them at my side.”

The girls bowed and darted out like arrows, their small footsteps fading into the streets.

Lireath turned to the scout. “Announce to the villagers: retreat to their homes. Gates locked. Guards to the walls.”

“Yes, Elder!” The scout vanished again into the trees.

Lireath exhaled slowly. She reached for her staff, the ancient wood humming faintly as it touched her hand, then pulled her ceremonial robe over her shoulders. Her composure returned, though her heart whispered that this was no simple meeting.

It had been almost forty years since she last stood face-to-face with the Orgre chief. He had been brutish then, but still an ogre chief, bound by honor. The aura she felt pressing closer now was different, tainted, heavy, sharpened by something unnatural.

She stepped outside.

The guards at the gate tightened their grips, tension spilling through the ranks as the heavy footsteps drew near.

Then they saw them.

The ogres emerged from the treeline, towering, weapons at their sides, Gorrak at the head like a warlord drunk on his own power. His new form was striking, horns curved proudly, his skin hardened, his eyes burning with violent certainty. His elites spread out behind him, each one emanating a dangerous aura that made the guards’ knees itch to buckle.

The ogres stopped before the gate.

“Dark Elves!” Gorrak roared, his voice carrying like thunder. “Summon your Elder! I have no patience for children playing guard. Open these gates at once!”

The guards braced, their spears crossed, their faces pale but firm. “No one enters without Elder Lireath’s command.”

Gorrak’s grin tightened into something sharper. His hand flexed as if itching to crush their skulls where they stood.

Just as the tension reached its breaking point

She appeared.

Lireath stepped forward, robe flowing, silver hair cascading like moonlight. Her presence was a quiet storm, the kind that needed no force to command attention. Her staff tapped against the stone path as she moved past the gates, stopping just outside, her eyes locking onto Gorrak’s.

“It has been a while, Ogre Chief.”

Her voice was calm, but it carried weight.

The guards behind her relaxed slightly, like children whose mother had just taken their place at the front.

Gorrak’s lips curled upward, a wolfish grin spreading across his face.

“Lireath,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “You’ve hardly aged a day. Still hiding behind your walls, still playing mother to weaklings.”

His gaze flickered over her form, admiration mixing with mockery.

Lireath stood firm, staff lightly resting against the ground, silver eyes fixed on the towering ogre before her.

“Ogre Chief,” she began, her voice smooth, calm, carrying the kind of authority that only centuries of wisdom could grant. “What is it you wish to speak with me about?”

Gorrak’s grin widened, teeth flashing as though he had been waiting for that very question.

“Ogre Chief? No, Elder Lireath,” he said with mocking amusement, tapping his chest. “That title belongs to the past. I go by a new name now. Gorrak.”

He gestured behind him, one massive hand sweeping toward the four figures who stood tall at his back, each radiating the intimidating presence of fresh evolution.

“My elites. Krasha. Varrg. Jukra. Renak.” His voice boomed like a drumbeat, as though daring the names themselves to be challenged.

Lireath’s eyes narrowed slightly. She could see it, the faint glimmer of change in their forms. The unnatural sharpness in their aura. They had evolved, but not through natural means. Something foul lingered beneath their newfound strength.

Her lips curved in the faintest of smiles. “How impressive,” she said, her voice laced with sarcasm as sharp as a blade. “I congratulate you, Gorrak. Truly, your… transformation is remarkable.”

Her gaze held his, unflinching. Strong, yes… but compared to Lord Tengen, you are nothing.

“And what is it you need of me?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral, though the faint emphasis on his name was not lost on him.

For the first time, Gorrak’s smile faltered. His jaw flexed, a vein ticking at his temple, but he forced a laugh.

“I’ll ignore your disrespect, Lireath. Out of respect for your… beauty and age.”

He stepped forward, planting one massive foot against the earth, and extended his hand as though making a magnanimous offer.

“I will speak plainly. I plan to unite the Forest. To rule it. To lead it into an age of strength. If your Dark Elves submit to me, I will grant you a favorable position at my side. A seat at the table of power.”

The guards along the walls stiffened, fingers tightening on their weapons. The air grew heavy, suffocating.

Lireath’s expression didn’t waver, though her voice gained an edge of ice. “Shove your offer where the sun does not shine, Gorrak.”

Gasps rippled quietly among the Dark Elf guards, but none dared speak.

She raised her staff ever so slightly, silver eyes narrowing.

“And hear me well. Conquest was forbidden by Ashryn-sama himself. To seek it now is not only foolish, it is blasphemy.”

For a moment, silence. Then...

“Ashryn?” Gorrak barked out a laugh, the sound booming through the trees. “He died like a weakling. His name means nothing now!”

Lireath’s jaw tightened, a dangerous flicker flashing in her gaze at the insult to her God.

Still, Gorrak extended his hand again, mock-pleading. “I offer you one more chance, Lireath. Join me. Bend your knee willingly, and spare your people the pain of resistance.”

Her eyes hardened, the warmth gone, her voice carrying the chill of winter steel.

“I will not repeat myself. Your ‘offer’ is rejected. And if you dare to dishonor Ashryn-sama again… you will regret it.”

The air thickened as their gazes locked, a battle of wills pressing down on everyone around them. Gorrak’s smile warped into something darker, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he leaned closer, towering.

“Then know this. Refusing me makes you my enemy.”

Lireath met his glare, utterly indifferent to the crushing aura he was trying to project. Her voice was calm.

“Then enemies we shall be.”

The silence stretched, the tension so sharp it could cut flesh.

Then, suddenly, Gorrak laughed. A booming, self-assured laugh that sent echoes through the trees.

“Very well! I’ll give you time to think, Lireath. Consider it a privilege. The Dark Elves have always been… special to me.”

He turned, waving a massive hand. “We’re leaving!”

The ogres fell into step behind him as he marched away, the ground trembling with every stride.

Lireath did not move until the last trace of their aura vanished beyond the trees. Only then did she exhale, her grip on her staff loosening slightly.

Foolish brute.

But her heart was heavy. She knew one thing for certain.

If battle had broken out at the gates, the village would have been reduced to rubble.

And next time, Gorrak might not come just to talk.

Just as Lireath turned to retreat into the gates, relieved to have bought her people time, the earth quivered once more.

She froze, her silver brows furrowing.

No…

The heavy thud of armored feet returned. The ogres had stopped mid-march, and Gorrak himself had turned back, his massive silhouette looming larger with each step as he strode toward the gates once more. His elites followed in silence, heads bowed, the air behind them thick with menace.

Lireath pivoted, staff tightening in her grip. Her robes fluttered gently in the wind as her calm but sharp eyes met Gorrak’s smirk.

“Well then,” he rumbled, tilting his head with false casualness, “there’s something I can’t ignore.”

The guards braced at the gates, and Lireath straightened her posture, her tone unyielding. “Speak.”

Gorrak’s crimson eyes glinted. “Why are you so confident, Elder Lireath? The ogres hold more military might than your people could ever muster. And here” he spread his arms wide, gesturing to himself and the four elites behind him, “ stand five who have ascended beyond their kind. Yet you, even with a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes… you never once showed fear.”

He narrowed his eyes, voice dropping into suspicion.

“Tell me, have you allied with one of the Five Great Races?”

For a heartbeat, silence hung thick in the air.

Then, a laugh. Bright, mischievous, shameless.

“Nope!” Yoruha’s voice rang out from above the gate. She leaned casually against the stone, flashing a huge grin and throwing a peace sign. “It’s because we have Tengen-sama!”

Dravel, beside her, chuckled into his hand, his curved daggers glinting in the fading light. “Absolutely true. When that idiot of a lord is around, all worries just… poof! Gone.”

On either side of the twins stood Shiki and Saki, both gripping their staffs, their robes flowing like they were standing on some kind of stage.

“Tengen-sama is so cool,” Shiki chimed in, her voice lighthearted but sharp.

Saki, clutching her staff nervously, nodded quickly. “Mm… Tengen-sama is… amazing.”

From the ground, the Dark Elf guards gazed up at the four of them standing on the wall, a striking formation of blades and staffs, loyalty burning in their eyes. It looked less like a defense and more like the unveiling of the main cast in a grand tale.

If Tengen were here, Lireath thought with a tiny smile, he would have fawned over this scene like a child at a play.

Gorrak’s grin dimmed. His eyes flickered between the four High Dark Elves.

They’ve evolved as well…

For a fleeting moment, suspicion crossed his mind.

Could it be? Did the same man who named us also name them?

But no, they spoke with such unshakable faith in this “Tengen.” Could the namer and this mysterious lord be one and the same?

His thoughts twisted and coiled until his patience snapped.

“Lireath.” His voice cut through the air, low and heavy. “Who the hell is Tengen?”

The Elder’s eyes softened, her lips curving into a serene smile warmer than sunlight.

“Tengen-sama,” she said with unwavering devotion, “is my lord. Our lord. The true leader of this village.”

The name left her lips like a prayer, and every Dark Elf present straightened with pride at the declaration.

The ogre chief’s jaw clenched. His voice dropped, almost a growl.

“So… this ‘Tengen’ is the reason you choose to defy me.”

Yoruha’s eyes snapped down, sharp as a blade. Her tone was scolding, condescending, like a teacher correcting a child.

“Tengen-sama. Get it right. You’re not allowed to spit his name out without honorifics.”

One of Gorrak’s elites bristled at the insult, stepping forward with his fist clenched. “You little!”

But before he could finish, Gorrak’s killing intent crashed down like a storm. The elite froze, trembling under the suffocating weight of his glare.

“I told you,” Gorrak growled, voice like grinding stone, “no one speaks unless I allow it.”

His eyes returned to Lireath, a mocking smile tugging at his lips.

“Your subordinate is quite rude, Elder. Don’t you think?”

Lireath gave a delicate shrug, tilting her head as if the matter were too trivial to concern her.

“That brat doesn’t listen to me. Complaining about her is useless.”

Yoruha smirked triumphantly from above, twirling one of her blades.

Gorrak’s smile vanished. “So tell me plainly, Lireath. You’re willing to make an enemy of me… for a weakling nobody who appeared from nowhere?”

The words dropped like poison.

The entire air shifted.

Every Dark Elf on the wall, every guard at the gate, every villager watching from hidden windows

Their expressions darkened. Their bodies stiffened. Their aura ignited.

Because in that moment, Gorrak had crossed the one line no one dared cross.

He had insulted their lord.

Yoruha’s face twisted with disdain. “Your mouth stinks, Gorrak. You should keep it shut.”

“Agreed,” Dravel said with a dramatic flourish, adjusting his daggers with a lazy grin.

Shiki’s eyes narrowed as she raised her staff, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Insulting Tengen-sama is a big no-no.”

Saki’s hands trembled, but her voice, quiet as it was, carried a blade’s sharpness.

“Gorrak… bad boy.”

A low growl rumbled from Gorrak’s throat. His patience finally shattered.

“I was planning to leave and give you time.” His voice bellowed with restrained rage. “But if this is how you see fit to answer me…”

His aura erupted, shaking the very ground beneath their feet, his elites stepping forward in unison.

“…then I’ll just have to crush the Dark Elves here and now.”

The moment Gorrak’s roar shook the air, the tension at the gates exploded into chaos.

With a single stomp, the Ogre Chief surged forward. His aura blasted out like a tidal wave, and the gates of the Dark Elf village rattled under the sheer force of his presence. Behind him, his four elites, Krasha, Varrg, Jukra, and Renak, fanned out, their newly evolved bodies radiating a sinister energy, their movements confident, bloodthirsty.

The Dark Elf guards at the gates tightened their grip on their weapons, their knees buckling under the suffocating weight of Ogre bloodlust. Still, they raised their spears and swords, chanting protective spells into the wooden gates.

But it wasn’t enough.

“CHARGE!” Gorrak bellowed.

The Ogres rushed forward like a stampede, their heavy steps shaking the earth. Dark Elves fired arrows and chanted mid-level elemental spells, but the Ogres batted them aside with raw strength, their hides tougher than iron, their regeneration immediate. Within minutes, the guards were forced back to the inner gates, cries of pain echoing as the defenders were battered against the walls.

Lireath’s staff glowed with radiant mana as she chanted barrier spells, weaving protective layers over the village, each barrier groaning under the sheer might of the Ogres’ assault. Her robes whipped in the wind, her expression calm but grave.

They’re stronger than expected, she thought. Far too strong for mere Ogres. What kind of shortcut did you take, Gorrak…?

Above the gates, Yoruha drew her twin blades, their steel catching the moonlight. Her playful grin was gone, replaced by sharp focus.

“You three,” she said, her voice steady as her golden eyes tracked the Elites approaching. “We keep them here. Don’t let them through.”

Dravel twirled his curved daggers, smirking even under pressure. “Fine by me. Been itching for some blood anyway.”

Shiki and Saki both raised their staffs, their silver hair whipping in the gust of magic gathering around them. Shiki’s lips curved into a mischievous grin, while Saki’s eyes trembled, but determination steadied her hands.

From below, Gorrak barked orders, his booming voice carrying over the battlefield. “Krasha, Varrg, tear down those pests at the wall! Jukra, Renak, flank them!”

The Elites obeyed instantly, leaping with impossible speed for their massive frames.

The impact shook the walls as Krasha, a towering beast of an Ogre with skin like dark steel, landed before Yoruha. His massive fists clenched, each one the size of her torso. His grin stretched unnervingly.

“You’re first, little elf.”

Yoruha smirked back, twirling her blades with deliberate showmanship. “Tengen-sama said idiots like you are my warmup. Guess he was right.”

With a roar, Krasha swung a fist that could shatter boulders. Yoruha slipped between his strikes, her movements fluid, fast like water. Sparks flew as her blades slashed against his arms, leaving shallow cuts. He laughed.

“Cute. But your toy knives won’t cut me!”

She bared her teeth in a grin, golden eyes gleaming. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

On the opposite side, Dravel faced Varrg, an Ogre with jagged scars running across his chest and arms, wielding two massive stone axes.

Dravel twirled his daggers lazily. “Ah, another dual wielder. Finally, a proper dance partner.”

Varrg snarled, his axes glinting. “I’ll split you in half, elf!”

The two clashed instantly, speed against brute force. Varrg’s axes came down like thunder, shaking the very wall beneath them, but Dravel slipped between every strike, his daggers carving thin red lines across the Ogre’s skin. Unlike Yoruha’s playful ferocity, Dravel’s movements were sharp, efficient, a predator circling prey but even he hissed when his blades barely pierced Varrg’s thickened hide.

“Tch. Tough bastard.”

Varrg grinned wickedly, blood dripping from shallow wounds. “You’ll need more than scratches, elf.”

Meanwhile, Shiki and Saki faced Jukra and Renak together.

Jukra was leaner than the others, his movements unnervingly quick, a glaive whistling in his hands. Renak was hulking, wielding a massive hammer that radiated pulsing crimson energy.

Shiki raised her staff, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Ooh, two against two. Don’t you love it when it’s fair?”

Saki’s voice trembled but held. “Shiki… focus.”

With a coordinated shout, the sisters unleashed their spells. Shiki’s staff erupted in a torrent of fireballs, exploding across Jukra’s path, while Saki’s conjured shimmering walls of ice to block Renak’s hammer swings.

The Ogres didn’t falter. Jukra cut through the flames with swift glaive arcs, closing the distance in a blur. Renak smashed through the ice like it was paper, shards flying in every direction.

“Not bad!” Shiki laughed, launching a beam of condensed light.

Saki’s brow furrowed, sweat dripping down her cheek as she reinforced barrier after barrier. They’re too strong…

The glaive narrowly missed Shiki’s head as Jukra lunged, and she twirled away with a laugh. “Ohhh, scary! That would’ve ruined my pretty face!”

Saki bit her lip, forcing herself to stand her ground. “Don’t… hurt my sister!”

Her barrier thickened just in time to block Renak’s hammer, though the impact sent her stumbling back.

All across the battlefield, the Dark Elves were being overwhelmed.

The guards fell back, dragged from the walls, their spells broken under Ogre fists. Screams and cries echoed as Lireath struggled to hold the central barrier together, her staff glowing brighter and brighter.

Gorrak stood at the center of it all, arms crossed, his grin smug.

“This is the difference between us,” he declared, his voice booming over the battlefield. “Submit, Lireath. Submit, or be destroyed.”

But Lireath’s eyes didn’t waver. Though her body trembled with strain, her voice was calm, resolute.

“You overestimate yourself, Gorrak. And you underestimate… faith.”

Above her, Yoruha and Krasha clashed in sparks and steel, her blades cutting faster and faster as his fists shook the wall with every blow. Dravel and Varrg danced a deadly duet, the sound of metal against stone echoing in the night. Shiki laughed manically as she unleashed another flurry of spells, while Saki stood firm, each barrier she cast buying her sister another second.

The village was being pushed back, the walls cracked, the defenders bloodied.

But none of them, not Lireath, not the twins, not the guards, let a flicker of fear cross their faces.

The battle raged deep into the night.

The walls of the Dark Elf village, proud and ancient, crumbled under the endless pounding of Ogre fists. Arrows snapped, spears bent, and spells fizzled as exhaustion wore down the defenders. What once sounded like a steady rhythm of defense turned into desperate cries and chaotic clashing, the line buckling inch by inch.

At the gates, Lireath’s staff glowed like a miniature sun, her mana stretched thin as she reinforced barrier after barrier, each one breaking faster than the last. Sweat ran down her pale face, but her golden eyes never wavered.

“Hold the line!” she commanded. “Protect your homes! Protect your families!”

But despite her words, the Ogres broke through.

With a unified roar, Gorrak’s elites smashed through the cracked wooden gates. Splinters and dust exploded into the air as the path into the heart of the village lay open. The Ogres surged forward, and with them, chaos followed.

The Dark Elves fought with everything they had.

Yoruha was a whirlwind, her twin blades flashing under moonlight, slashing down Ogre after Ogre, her movements elegant yet feral. Her golden eyes burned with determination, even as her body was slick with cuts and bruises.

Dravel was a shadow, his curved daggers glinting as he slipped between towering enemies, each strike precise, lethal. He didn’t waste words, only silent glares and grim nods to those who fought beside him.

Shiki’s laughter echoed like a mad witch as her fire and light spells roared through the battlefield, detonating with force that made even the Ogres stumble. Saki followed her sister like a shadow, layering barrier after barrier, her frail body trembling but her silver eyes unwavering.

And still… the Ogres pushed forward.

Every clash sent the Dark Elves staggering back. The elites were monsters in their own right, Krasha’s fists shook the ground like earthquakes, Varrg’s axes split stone, Jukra’s glaive cut through barriers like paper, and Renak’s hammer turned buildings into rubble with a single swing.

The village burned. Homes crumbled. The air reeked of smoke, sweat, and iron.

By the time the fighting reached the inner square, the Dark Elves were bloodied and battered. Children were crying in the arms of their mothers, huddled in corners, while warriors stood firm, teeth grit, refusing to abandon them.

Gorrak strode into the square like a conquering king. His new form radiated arrogance, his body gleaming with unnatural strength. His grin stretched ear to ear as he raised his massive arm and bellowed:

“This is the fate of those who defy me! Submit now, Lireath, or watch your people crumble into ash!”

Lireath’s staff shook in her hand, but she stepped forward regardless, her robe scorched, her body trembling. “You underestimate us still, Gorrak. Even cornered, we will never bow.”

The villagers, bruised and bloodied, lifted their weapons again, rallying to her voice. Even wounded, they refused to kneel.

For the first time that night, Gorrak’s smirk faltered.

The elites regrouped behind him, their bodies scarred and bleeding. None had fallen, but none were unscathed either. Their breaths were heavy, their wounds deeper than they’d admit.

Krasha’s arm hung limply from a blade cut. Varrg’s chest heaved, his axes chipped. Jukra’s glaive dripped with his own blood as much as his enemies’. Renak’s hammer cracked from clashing against Shiki and Saki’s combined magic.

And behind them, the remaining Ogres dragged themselves forward, limping, burnt, cut, and panting. Dozens had already fallen.

Gorrak’s eyes swept the square, reading the battlefield with reluctant calculation.

Too many losses… too much resistance. These Dark Elves are stronger than expected. If we keep pushing, it won’t be conquest, it will be mutual destruction.

His pride raged at the thought, but even he couldn’t ignore it.

Finally, he raised a hand. “Enough.”

The Ogres froze. The battlefield quieted, save for the groans of the wounded and the crackling of fires.

Lireath’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong, Gorrak? Afraid?”

He bared his teeth, his grin returning, though there was a shadow of frustration behind it. “Not afraid. I’ve simply decided to be merciful. Consider this your reprieve, Lireath.”

He stepped forward, his aura heavy as ever, and pointed at her with a clawed finger.

“I will return. And next time, I won’t stop. Next time, I will kill you all.”

His voice carried like a curse, echoing over the broken village. Then, with a single commanding gesture, he turned his back.

“Retreat!” he barked.

The elites obeyed, gathering their injured and pulling the surviving Ogres away. Their heavy footsteps faded into the forest, leaving only the wreckage behind.

When silence finally settled, it was heavier than the battle.

The Dark Elves stood in the ruins of their home. Houses burned. Streets cracked. Blood stained the soil. The gates that once protected them were nothing but splinters.

But they still stood.

Lireath leaned on her staff, her eyes dim with exhaustion, but her voice steady. “Gather the wounded. Set up temporary camps for the women and children. Begin reconstruction immediately.”

Yoruha slid her blades into their sheaths, wincing at the blood running down her arm. She tried to joke, lips curving into a faint smile. “Well, that was… lively.”

Dravel wiped his daggers clean, his expression grim. “Lively isn’t the word.”

Shiki collapsed onto the ground, laughing breathlessly. “We lived! Did you see me roast that hammer freak?!”

Saki knelt beside her, hands glowing softly as she tended to the wounded. Her voice was quiet, but firm. “We… held the line.”

Lireath turned her gaze to the night sky, her chest heavy. The village was broken, but her people lived. And though they had suffered, none of her precious kin had been lost.

Still, her heart twisted as Gorrak’s words echoed in her mind.

He will return. Stronger. And next time, he won’t leave.

She closed her eyes, whispering in the depths of her thoughts.

Tengen-sama… please return soon.