Africa Leveling

The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning flesh and the metallic tang of blood. The desolate battlefield, strewn with shattered weapons and fallen warriors, pulsed with the ominous aura of demonic energy. Jajwok tightened his grip on the twin axes gifted to him by his orc mentor, Urgak, feeling their weight and the burden of the mission pressing against his soul.

This was no ordinary skirmish. The orc village had been besieged by a horde of demons for weeks, their twisted forms relentless in their pursuit of destruction. Scouts had uncovered the source of the invasion—an ancient rift to the underworld that had opened deep within the cursed mountains. It was Jajwok's team's mission to seal it, but he knew the cost would be steep.

The orcs had prepared him for this day. Their grueling training had transformed him from a lost, half-mad wanderer into a warrior who could stand toe-to-toe with the fiercest of foes. But even with his newfound strength, doubt gnawed at his heart.

"Stay close, human." Urgak's voice rumbled like distant thunder. The towering orc warrior stood at Jajwok's side, his emerald skin glistening with sweat and blood. "The demons will show no mercy, and neither will we."

Jajwok nodded, his jaw set in determination. Around them, the rest of the squad readied themselves. Orc shamans chanted ancient spells, their voices weaving a barrier of protection, while warriors sharpened their blades and whispered prayers to their ancestors.

As they marched toward the rift, the ground beneath their feet trembled. The air grew colder, each breath forming a misty plume. And then, they saw it—the rift. A swirling vortex of darkness, pulsing with crimson light, it seemed alive, hungry, and aware of their presence.

"Defend the shamans!" Urgak roared, his voice cutting through the rising chaos.

The demons emerged from the rift like a plague. Clawed, horned, and covered in jagged armor, they screeched and lunged at the orcs. Jajwok leaped into action, his axes whirling in deadly arcs. He struck down one demon, then another, the movements coming instinctively after months of relentless training.

But the demons kept coming.

For every foe he felled, two more seemed to rise. Beside him, Urgak fought like a force of nature, his massive warhammer crushing demons with each swing. The shamans chanted louder, their magic weaving through the air as they worked to close the rift.

Jajwok's muscles screamed in protest, but he pressed on. He knew this was their only chance to stop the invasion. Yet, amidst the chaos, a chilling realization dawned—this battle was a diversion.

A massive shadow loomed over the battlefield. From the rift emerged a demon unlike any they had faced before—a towering behemoth, its six burning eyes fixed on the shamans.

"Protect the shamans!" Jajwok shouted, breaking into a sprint.

But the demon was fast. Too fast.

Before anyone could react, it unleashed a torrent of black fire, engulfing the shamans in a blazing inferno. Their chants faltered, and the protective barrier began to waver.

"No!" Jajwok's cry was swallowed by the roar of the flames.

Urgak charged the behemoth, but even he was no match for its power. With a single swipe of its clawed hand, the orc warrior was sent flying, his body crashing into the jagged rocks.

Desperation surged through Jajwok. He knew what he had to do. The shamans were gone, the orc warriors scattered, and the rift was on the brink of unleashing even greater horrors.

He turned to the remaining orc mage, a frail elder named Kragzul. "Is there a way to close the rift?"

Kragzul hesitated, his eyes filled with sorrow. "Only with a blood sacrifice. The life force of a powerful warrior might be enough."

Jajwok didn't hesitate.

"Then use me."

Kragzul's eyes widened. "You don't understand. This is no ordinary sacrifice. Your soul will be bound to the rift, torn apart to seal it. There's no coming back."

Jajwok met the mage's gaze, his resolve unshaken. "Do it. If it saves your people, if it stops this madness, then my life is worth it."

Kragzul nodded reluctantly, his hands trembling as he began the ritual. The demon behemoth roared, sensing the shift in energy, and charged toward them.

Jajwok closed his eyes, memories flashing before him—his time in the Evil Forest, the faces of those he had fought beside, and the realization that, for the first time, he had found a purpose worth dying for.

The mage's voice rose in a crescendo, and Jajwok felt a searing pain as his life force was drawn from his body. The rift quaked, its crimson glow fading as it began to collapse.

The behemoth was mere feet away when the rift imploded, taking Jajwok and the demon with it.

Jajwok's sacrifice was complete, and the rift was sealed. But in the ruins of the battlefield, Kragzul knelt, his eyes fixed on a lone figure—a young orc, its body glowing faintly with arcane energy.

The mage's voice was barely a whisper. "It worked… He lives."

Kragzul's breath hitched as he crawled toward the young orc lying motionless amidst the battlefield's wreckage. The glow surrounding the youngling began to fade, leaving behind a faint aura of residual magic. His gnarled fingers trembled as he placed a hand on its chest.

"Jajwok… is it truly you?" Kragzul whispered, his voice barely audible over the dying echoes of battle.

The young orc's eyes fluttered open, revealing an eerie golden glow—a stark contrast to the emerald irises typical of orcs. They darted around, filled with confusion and an overwhelming sense of displacement.

"Kragzul?" the orc muttered, its voice foreign yet achingly familiar.

Kragzul's heart clenched. The ritual had worked, but at what cost? "Yes, it's me. You… you're alive, Jajwok, though not as you once were."

The young orc struggled to sit up, its movements clumsy and uncoordinated. Memories flooded Jajwok's mind—his final stand against the demon, the searing pain of the ritual, and the moment his soul was torn from his body. But this… this was something else entirely.

He raised his hands, his breath hitching as he took in the green skin, the thick fingers, and the sharp claws. Panic surged through him. "What… what have you done to me?"

Kragzul bowed his head, shame etched into his weathered face. "Your sacrifice sealed the rift and saved us all. But I couldn't let you go. I used the last of my power to bind your mind and soul to this youngling's body. You live, Jajwok, but now… you are one of us."

Jajwok's heart raced. The weight of what had transpired pressed down on him like a suffocating shroud. He wasn't human anymore. His body, his voice, even his reflection—it was all gone, replaced by this alien form.

A low growl escaped his throat, a sound he hadn't intended to make. "You had no right! My sacrifice was meant to end it, not… this!"

Kragzul flinched but didn't waver. "I acted on instinct, to preserve the one who gave everything for our people. I know this isn't what you wanted, but it is what was necessary."

Before Jajwok could respond, a deep roar echoed across the battlefield. He turned sharply to see the remaining orcs rallying against the few surviving demons. Though the rift had been sealed, the aftermath of the battle was far from over.

Urgak, bloodied but alive, emerged from the fray, his warhammer dragging behind him. He stopped short when he saw Jajwok—or what Jajwok had become. His eyes narrowed, suspicion and unease flickering