Africa Leveling

The village was abuzz with preparation. Word had come from the northern scouts: a demon horde had been sighted near the borders of orc territory. The demons were not mere wanderers but an organized force, their banners visible from miles away. Such a threat could not be ignored.

Jajwok stood among the warriors as Urgak outlined the plan. The chieftain had tasked them with a dangerous mission—eliminate the scouting party of demons before they could relay information back to their main force.

Urgak's deep voice cut through the chatter. "This isn't just about protecting the village. It's about sending a message. They think we're weak, scattered. Let's show them the strength of the Black Crag Clan!"

The warriors roared in agreement, their voices echoing off the cliffs. Jajwok stayed silent, his eyes fixed on Urgak.

"Jajwok," Urgak said, gesturing to him. "You're with me. If you can handle the Pit, you can handle this."

Jajwok nodded, gripping the hilt of his blade. The weapon was still crude, but it felt more comfortable in his hands now. The Trial had been a test of survival, but this—this was war.

---

The hunting party moved swiftly through the dense forest that bordered the village. The trees loomed high above them, their gnarled branches casting eerie shadows in the moonlight. Jajwok stayed near the back, his senses alert for any sign of danger.

Kragzul had pulled him aside before they left, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "The demons are cunning," he had warned. "They'll use fear and deception against you. Trust your instincts, and remember the power within you—it's your greatest weapon."

Jajwok had scoffed at the advice, but now, as the forest seemed to close in around them, he couldn't shake the mage's words.

Urgak raised a hand, signaling the group to stop. He knelt, studying the ground. "Tracks," he muttered. "Fresh. They're close."

The warriors tightened their grips on their weapons, their eyes scanning the darkness. Jajwok's heart pounded in his chest, his fingers twitching with anticipation.

A guttural growl shattered the silence.

The first demon burst from the shadows, its grotesque form barely resembling a humanoid. Its skin was mottled and oozing, its claws long and jagged. It lunged at the group, but Urgak met it head-on, his warhammer crushing its skull in a single blow.

More demons followed, their shrieks filling the air as they charged. The orcs roared in response, their battle cries shaking the trees.

Jajwok found himself in the thick of it, his blade slicing through the nearest demon. The creature's blood was thick and black, staining his hands as he fought. His movements were fluid, almost instinctual, as if his new body was guiding him.

But the demons were relentless. For every one they felled, two more seemed to take its place. Jajwok gritted his teeth, his muscles burning as he swung his blade again and again.

"Jajwok!" Urgak's voice rang out.

He turned just in time to see a demon leaping toward him, its claws poised to strike. Without thinking, he raised his hand, and a burst of golden light erupted from his palm. The demon shrieked as it was consumed, its form dissolving into ash.

The battlefield fell silent for a moment, the orcs staring at Jajwok in shock. Even the demons hesitated, their eyes flickering with something akin to fear.

Urgak was the first to recover, his grin splitting his face. "Well, I'll be damned. You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

The demons regrouped, their hesitation replaced by fury. They charged again, but this time, the orcs fought with renewed vigor. Jajwok's golden light became a beacon, cutting through the darkness and bolstering the warriors' spirits.

When the last demon fell, the forest was deathly quiet. The air was thick with the stench of blood and ash.

Urgak clapped Jajwok on the shoulder, his laughter booming. "You're not half bad, human. Maybe you'll make a decent orc after all."

Jajwok managed a faint smile, though his body ached and his mind swirled with questions. The power he had unleashed was growing stronger, but so was his unease.

---

The hunting party returned to the village as heroes, their victory celebrated with feasting and song. Jajwok sat near the edge of the square, watching the festivities from a distance.

Kragzul approached, his expression unreadable. "You've tapped into your power," he said quietly.

Jajwok nodded. "I don't know how I did it. It just… happened."

"The more you fight, the more you'll learn to control it," Kragzul said. "But be warned—power like that comes at a cost."

"What kind of cost?" Jajwok asked, his voice tinged with frustration.

Kragzul didn't answer, his gaze drifting to the horizon. "That remains to be seen. For now, rest. The demons won't stop with a single skirmish. War is coming, and we'll need every advantage we can get."

Jajwok watched as the old mage walked away, his words lingering in his mind.

---

As the celebration wore on, Jajwok found himself wandering through the village, his thoughts heavy. The golden light he had wielded was more than just a weapon—it was a reminder of who he had been, and who he was becoming.

He paused by the river, staring at his reflection. The scars from the Trial had begun to fade, but the mark on his shoulder remained, a constant reminder of his oath.

He clenched his fists, determination hardening his features.

If war was coming, then he would face it head-on. He had died once already—he had nothing left to lose.

The village's celebration raged on, but Jajwok's mind refused to settle. He stood apart from the crowd, observing the flickering firelight that cast long shadows across the square. The orcs' voices were loud, their joy raw and unrestrained. They danced, drank, and feasted as if tonight's victory would be their last.

Yet, the weight of their shared triumph only deepened the knot in Jajwok's chest.

He turned his back on the festivities and wandered through the dimly lit paths between the huts. Each step felt heavier than the last, his thoughts racing. The power he had wielded during the battle had not just saved his life—it had terrified him. It was not a tool he understood, nor one he could control.

His path led him back to the edge of the village, where the river reflected the star-speckled sky. The cold water lapped gently at the rocks, its soft murmur a soothing contrast to the chaos he'd left behind.

Jajwok sat by the water's edge, his hands resting on his knees. The golden light had felt like an extension of his will during the fight, but it had come unbidden, surging forth when his life was at risk. Was it truly a part of him, or something the orc mage had planted during the ritual that saved his life?

The sound of footsteps behind him broke his reverie. He didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"Kragzul," Jajwok said quietly.

The old mage stepped closer, his staff tapping softly against the ground. "You're troubled."

"Is it that obvious?" Jajwok replied, his voice tinged with sarcasm.

Kragzul chuckled, lowering himself onto a nearby rock. "It doesn't take a mage to see it. You're carrying a heavy burden."

Jajwok didn't respond immediately. He stared at his reflection, the golden glow of his eyes faintly visible in the water. "What am I?" he finally asked. "This power—it doesn't feel like it belongs to me."

"That's because it doesn't," Kragzul said, his tone blunt. "At least, not entirely."

Jajwok turned to face him, his brows furrowed. "What does that mean?"

Kragzul tapped his staff against the ground, his gaze distant. "When I performed the ritual to save your soul, I bound you to the body of an orc. But your essence didn't merge perfectly with the vessel. There's something else inside you—something ancient, powerful, and deeply tied to the magic of this world."

Jajwok's jaw tightened. "So, I'm a freak. A human soul trapped in an orc body with… something else tagging along."

"Freak?" Kragzul raised an eyebrow. "Hardly. You're an anomaly, yes, but one with potential. That power isn't a curse, Jajwok—it's a gift. One that could change the course of this war."

"Or get me killed," Jajwok muttered.

"Power always carries risk," Kragzul said. "But the choice of how to wield it is yours. You can let it control you, or you can master it."

Jajwok's gaze returned to the river, his mind churning with questions. "And how do I master it?"

Kragzul stood, his expression unreadable. "That's something only you can discover. But remember this: power without purpose is meaningless. Find your purpose, and the rest will follow."

---

The following morning, the village was a flurry of activity. The victory feast had ended hours ago, but the warriors were already preparing for the next confrontation.

Jajwok joined Urgak near the armory, where the massive warrior was sharpening his warhammer.

"You missed the best part of the feast," Urgak said without looking up. "I thought you humans liked to celebrate after a fight."

"I needed some air," Jajwok replied, picking up a whetstone and beginning to work on his own blade.

Urgak smirked. "Well, don't get too used to quiet nights. The demons won't give us many more of those."

"Do you think they'll retaliate soon?" Jajwok asked.

Urgak nodded. "Count on it. They're not the type to take a loss lightly. If anything, last night's skirmish probably made them angrier."

Jajwok frowned, the weight of their precarious situation settling over him. The demons weren't just an external threat—they were a looming shadow that could engulf everything if left unchecked.

"What's the plan?" he asked.

Urgak set down his warhammer, his expression serious. "The chieftain's sending scouts to track the main horde. If we can pinpoint their location, we'll organize a preemptive strike. Until then, we keep training and stay alert."

Training. The word sent a ripple of dread through Jajwok's already sore body. But he nodded, knowing there was no other option.

---

By midday, Jajwok found himself sparring with Urgak again, their wooden practice weapons clashing in the training grounds.

"You're improving," Urgak said between strikes. "Still sloppy, but you've got potential."

Jajwok grunted, sweat dripping down his brow as he dodged another swing. "You say that like it's a compliment."

"It is," Urgak replied with a grin, pressing forward with a flurry of attacks. "Orcs don't give compliments easily, so take it while you can."

The sparring match ended when Urgak disarmed Jajwok with a swift maneuver, the wooden sword clattering to the ground.

"Not bad," Urgak said, helping him to his feet. "But you need to work on your footwork. You're too easy to predict."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jajwok muttered, picking up his weapon.

As they prepared for another round, a horn sounded in the distance—a sharp, urgent note that sent a chill down Jajwok's spine.

Urgak's grin faded, his expression hardening. "Scouts are back."

The two hurried to the village square, where the chieftain stood flanked by several scouts. Their armor was battered, their faces pale.

"The horde is moving south," one of the scouts reported. "Thousands strong. They'll reach our borders within three days."

The chieftain's gaze swept over the gathered warriors, his voice firm. "Then we have three days to prepare. Spread the word. Every able-bodied orc will fight. This is our land, and we will defend it to the last."

The crowd roared in agreement, but Jajwok felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his chest.

Three days. Three days to train, to prepare, to decide whether he was ready to embrace the power within him—or let it consume him.

As the warriors dispersed to make their preparations, Jajwok stood frozen in place, his thoughts a whirlwind of doubt and determination.

The coming battle would not only test the strength of the Black Crag Clan but also define his place among them.