Africa Leveling

Jajwok stood at the Mage Academy's gates, his patched leather satchel slung across his shoulder. The weight wasn't just from the few belongings he carried; it was the expectation that came with his assignment to the Orc Kingdom. His companions—Kit Mi Kai, Kipkemboi, and Olamsuri—watched as he adjusted the straps of his satchel, their expressions a mix of amusement and worry.

"Don't forget to write," Olamsuri teased, her tone light, though her golden eyes betrayed concern.

Jajwok smirked. "Write? What am I, a bard? I'll send smoke signals instead."

Kit Mi Kai rolled his eyes. Kipkemboi clapped Jajwok's back with a grin, nearly knocking him off balance. "Try not to get eaten by a troll," Kipkemboi quipped.

"Can't promise that," Jajwok replied, stepping onto the enchanted chariot waiting to whisk him away.

The journey to the Orc Kingdom was anything but smooth. The chariot jolted and bumped over rugged terrain, and the magical reinsman—a stoic automaton—offered no comfort or conversation. Jajwok passed the time whistling a tune and occasionally muttering, "I hope they at least have decent food."

When the Orc Kingdom's colossal gates came into view, Jajwok's breath hitched. The sheer size and craftsmanship were overwhelming. The gates were hewn from volcanic rock, their surfaces etched with runes that pulsed faintly in the evening light. A pair of orc guards, each wielding axes taller than Jajwok, stepped forward.

"State your purpose," one of them growled, his voice resonant like distant thunder.

Jajwok held up his Mage Academy insignia. "I'm here for training," he announced. "Try not to break me on the first day."

The guards exchanged a glance, then opened the gates. "Welcome to Thra'Mork," the taller guard said. "Try not to die."

Inside, the Orc Kingdom was alive with activity. Blacksmiths hammered away at molten steel, their forges glowing against the dusk. Traders barked out deals in a harsh, guttural tongue, their wares ranging from monstrous pelts to gleaming weaponry. Warriors sparred in open arenas, their roars of exertion echoing through the air.

"Jajwok of the Mage Academy?" a voice called.

Turning, Jajwok met the piercing gaze of Thruk, a grizzled orc whose scarred face spoke of countless battles. "That's me," Jajwok replied.

Thruk snorted. "I expected someone... bigger."

"Yeah, well, I expected an easier training ground," Jajwok shot back, earning a chuckle from nearby orcs.

Thruk motioned for Jajwok to follow. "Let's see if you've got what it takes."

The training grounds were a sprawling expanse of dirt and stone, encircled by towering statues of orcish heroes. Thruk handed Jajwok a battle-axe, its weight nearly making him drop it.

"Your task is simple," Thruk said, gesturing to a pit in the center of the grounds. "Survive against whatever comes out of there."

Jajwok raised an eyebrow. "Whatever? Can we narrow that down a bit?"

Thruk ignored him and banged his fist against a gong. The ground trembled as a gate in the pit creaked open, revealing a massive, tusked boar with fiery red eyes.

"Oh, great," Jajwok muttered. "I'm dinner."

The boar charged, its hooves churning the dirt. Jajwok barely dodged, the heat from its breath singeing his cloak. He swung the axe clumsily, missing by a mile.

"Focus!" Thruk barked. "Use your environment!"

Jajwok scanned the area, his mind racing. He spotted a broken spear lodged in a nearby log. As the boar charged again, he feinted to the left and grabbed the spear. With a yell, he drove it into the boar's flank.

The beast roared, thrashing wildly. Jajwok seized the moment, climbing onto its back and using the axe to deliver a decisive blow. The boar collapsed, its fiery eyes dimming.

The crowd of orcs erupted in cheers, some even slapping Jajwok on the back. "Not bad for a twig," Thruk admitted, though his tone remained gruff.

Jajwok's training wasn't just about combat. Over the following weeks, he immersed himself in orcish culture. He learned their songs—gruff, rhythmic chants that spoke of honor and glory. He joined in their feasts, where roasted beast and fiery ale flowed freely.

But it wasn't all camaraderie. Orcs valued strength above all, and Jajwok's human frame made him an easy target. One evening, during a sparring session, a burly orc named Gorn shoved him to the ground.

"Too weak," Gorn sneered.

Jajwok got up, wiping the dirt from his face. "Maybe," he said, "but I'm faster."

Gorn lunged, but Jajwok sidestepped, using his agility to evade the orc's strikes. With a well-timed trip, he sent Gorn sprawling, earning laughs from the onlookers.

Later that night, Thruk approached Jajwok by the campfire. "You're proving yourself, human," he said. "But strength isn't just physical. It's also here." He tapped his temple.

Jajwok nodded, the flames reflecting in his eyes. "I'll keep that in mind."

Despite the challenges, Jajwok formed bonds with some of the orcs. One of them was Kagra, a young orc with a keen interest in human inventions. The two often stayed up late, exchanging stories and ideas.

"Humans rely too much on tools," Kagra said one night, examining Jajwok's enchanted dagger.

"And orcs rely too much on brute force," Jajwok countered, grinning.

The banter was lighthearted, but it underscored the mutual respect they had developed.

Jajwok's breath puffed in the chilly morning air as he joined the other trainees at the edge of Thra'Mork's sacred valley. Towering cliffs loomed on either side, their jagged surfaces carved with ancient orcish runes. The valley ahead was shrouded in mist, its depths rumored to hold trials that had broken even seasoned warriors.

Thruk stood at the front, his scarred face grim. "Today, you prove your worth not just with strength, but with your spirit. The ancestors watch over this valley, and they will test you. If you survive, you will return stronger. If you fail…" His voice trailed off, the unspoken fate clear in his eyes.

The group murmured uneasily. Even Gorn, who had been so eager to mock Jajwok, seemed uncertain.

"What kind of tests?" Jajwok asked, stepping forward.

Thruk's lips curled into a faint smirk. "The kind that will either break you or make you one of us. Go."

Into the Mist

The valley was eerily silent, save for the crunch of boots on gravel. The mist curled around Jajwok like a living thing, obscuring his vision and muffling sound. He kept his hand on the hilt of his enchanted dagger, every muscle tensed.

Ahead, Kagra's voice broke the silence. "Stay close! The ancestors' trials are said to be illusions—visions meant to challenge your resolve."

"Great," Jajwok muttered. "I love being haunted by dead people."

Kagra snorted. "Just don't wet yourself, human."

The mist thickened, and soon, Jajwok lost sight of the others. His heart pounded as shadows flickered in the corner of his eye. Then, a voice—soft and melodic—called his name.

"Jajwok…"

He turned, his hand tightening around the dagger. A figure emerged from the mist—a young woman with flowing dark hair and a kind smile. His heart lurched. It was his sister, Miko.

"You're not real," he whispered, his voice trembling.

"Isn't she?" another voice echoed. This time, it was deeper, colder. A monstrous form loomed behind the illusion of Miko, its glowing eyes piercing the mist. "Or are you too afraid to face your failures?"

The creature lunged, its claws slashing through the air. Jajwok dodged, his mind racing. The dagger in his hand felt heavier, almost like it resisted him.

"Fight back!" the voice taunted. "Or will you run like you did before?"

Jajwok gritted his teeth, the memory of his sister's death flashing through his mind. "I didn't run," he growled. "And I won't now."

With a surge of determination, he lunged at the creature, driving the dagger into its chest. The illusion shattered, the mist retreating slightly. Jajwok fell to his knees, gasping for breath.

"You did well."

He looked up to see Kagra standing nearby, her axe resting on her shoulder. Her face was pale, her usual confidence shaken. "The ancestors don't hold back," she said. "But you faced them."

"Barely," Jajwok muttered, getting to his feet.

The group reconvened at the heart of the valley, where a massive stone altar stood. Thruk awaited them, his arms crossed. "You've faced the ancestors' illusions," he said. "Now, you face each other."

The trainees exchanged uneasy glances.

"Your task is to reach the altar," Thruk continued. "But only one can stand at the top. Fight for your place."

Jajwok barely had time to process the words before Gorn charged at him, his massive fists swinging. He ducked, rolling out of the way.

"Figures you'd come for me first," Jajwok said, drawing his dagger.

"You're weak," Gorn snarled. "You don't belong here."

Jajwok smirked. "Let's see about that."

Their fight was chaotic, each strike met with a counter. Meanwhile, Kagra clashed with another trainee, her axe gleaming as it deflected blow after blow. The air was filled with the sounds of grunts and clanging steel.

Despite his smaller size, Jajwok used his agility to his advantage. He feinted left, then drove the hilt of his dagger into Gorn's ribs. The orc stumbled, growling in frustration.

Before Jajwok could press his advantage, another trainee lunged at him. He barely managed to block the attack, his arms straining under the force.

"Stay out of this!" Gorn roared, shoving the other trainee aside.

Jajwok took the opportunity to leap onto the altar, his chest heaving. Gorn followed, but by then, it was too late. Jajwok placed his hand on the altar's surface, and a surge of energy coursed through him.

The mist cleared completely, revealing Thruk's approving gaze. "You've earned your place," he said.

That evening, the trainees gathered around the campfire. The tension from the day's trials had faded, replaced by a sense of camaraderie.

"You fought well," Kagra said, nudging Jajwok with her elbow. "For a human."

"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment," he replied, grinning.

Even Gorn, though still surly, offered a grudging nod of respect.

As the fire crackled, Jajwok couldn't help but reflect on the day's events. The trials had pushed him to his limits, forcing him to confront his fears and rely on his wits. But they had also shown him the strength of the orcs—their resilience, their honor, their unwavering determination.

He wasn't just surviving in the Orc Kingdom anymore. He was beginning to understand it, to become a part of it.