Africa Leveling

The battlefield still crackled with lingering embers of golden fire. Jajwok stood amidst the ruins, his breath heavy, his body trembling from the surge of power that had erupted from within him. Around him, the surviving orcs stirred, shaking off dust and exhaustion, their eyes filled with a mixture of awe and unease.

The demon lieutenant's last words echoed in his mind.

"He is coming."

Jajwok turned to Kragzul, the orc mage who had studied demonic forces for decades. "What did he mean?"

Kragzul's expression darkened, his tusks clenching. "There is only one 'he' among demons that warrants such fear." He inhaled deeply before speaking the name. "The Demon King."

A cold wind swept through the ruins. Even the battle-hardened orcs, warriors who had faced death countless times, tensed at the mention of the name.

Urgak tightened his grip on his broken warhammer. "If that was just a lieutenant… then what are we dealing with?"

Kragzul's eyes flickered with concern as he studied the battlefield. "The Demon King does not move without reason. If his lieutenant was here, then something has drawn his attention." He turned his gaze toward Jajwok. "And I fear that something is you."

Jajwok's jaw tightened. He had felt different ever since his soul had been transferred into this orc body. The golden power within him had been growing stronger, more unpredictable. And now, it had unleashed something beyond his control.

Brakzul, the chieftain, stepped forward. "We cannot stay here. The demons will not stop. We return to the village—now."

The orcs did not hesitate. Wounded and weary, they gathered their fallen, leaving behind only ashes and shattered stone.

But Jajwok could not shake the feeling that something—someone—was already watching.

The Return to Black Crag Village

The journey back was tense. Though the ruins had fallen silent, Jajwok felt a presence in the distance, lurking beyond the trees. The others felt it too, their hands never straying far from their weapons.

When the village finally came into view, there was no relief. Instead, a heavy atmosphere settled over them like a storm waiting to break.

Brakzul wasted no time. "Every warrior is to report to the war council. We must prepare for what comes next."

The village bustled with activity as word of the battle spread. Orc children peeked from behind wooden huts, watching the warriors return bloodied but unbroken. The elders whispered among themselves. The shaman, an ancient orc woman with a staff adorned in bones and feathers, watched Jajwok with knowing eyes.

Kragzul led him toward the center of the village, where the war council gathered inside a massive tent. The air inside was thick with smoke from burning herbs, filling the space with an earthy scent.

Brakzul sat at the head of the gathering, flanked by Urgak and other clan leaders. Jajwok stood across from them, arms crossed, waiting.

Kragzul spoke first. "The demons will not stop. They were protecting something, and we disrupted their plans. But this goes beyond a mere battle."

Brakzul grunted. "Then speak plainly, mage."

Kragzul nodded toward Jajwok. "He is the reason they are coming."

Murmurs erupted in the council. Some orcs eyed Jajwok warily, while others exchanged uncertain glances.

Jajwok exhaled, stepping forward. "Then tell me why."

Kragzul met his gaze. "Because your power is not meant for this world."

Silence.

Jajwok narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

The mage's voice was firm. "Your soul does not belong to the body it now inhabits. When you died, something unnatural happened—you were reborn with the remnants of a divine essence." He leaned forward. "And that essence is what the demons fear."

Brakzul growled. "Fear? Then why do they seek him?"

"Because fear breeds destruction." Kragzul's tone was grim. "The Demon King will not allow something beyond his control to exist. He will come to erase it."

A tense silence filled the tent.

Urgak slammed his fist on the table. "Then we kill him first."

Jajwok smirked. "Agreed."

Brakzul studied them before nodding. "We prepare for war."

The Training Begins

The following days were filled with relentless preparation. Orc blacksmiths reforged weapons, warriors trained from dawn till dusk, and scouts ventured into the wilds, searching for signs of the approaching horde.

Jajwok trained harder than ever. His golden energy had saved him before, but he could not rely on it blindly. He needed control.

Kragzul guided him through brutal meditation exercises, forcing him to balance the raw power within.

Urgak, ever the warrior, sparred with him daily, pushing him to the limits of his physical strength.

Even the chieftain took an interest, testing Jajwok's leadership by throwing him into mock battles against groups of orcs.

Days turned to weeks. And then, the first sign of the Demon King's forces arrived.

The First Wave

It began with the screams.

Orc sentries at the outskirts of the village cried out in alarm as the forest beyond erupted in flames. A dark mist rolled in, carrying the scent of burning flesh.

Jajwok and the warriors rushed to the frontlines, weapons drawn.

From the smoke emerged grotesque figures—demons with twisted limbs, eyes burning with hunger. They moved unnaturally, their bodies shifting like living shadows.

Brakzul raised his axe. "No retreat. We hold the line."

The orcs roared in defiance, clashing with the creatures in a frenzy of steel and fury.

Jajwok moved like lightning, his blade slicing through demon flesh, golden fire illuminating the battlefield. Urgak fought beside him, his sheer strength sending foes flying with every strike.

Kragzul stood behind them, weaving spells that turned the ground to molten rock, trapping demons in searing heat.

Despite their strength, the demons kept coming.

Jajwok gritted his teeth. This is only the beginning.

Then, the sky darkened.

A deep, rumbling voice echoed through the battlefield, chilling the air.

"You cannot stop what is coming."

Jajwok looked up.

A massive figure loomed in the distance, standing atop the cliffs that overlooked the village. Cloaked in shadows, with burning crimson eyes, the presence radiated power beyond anything he had faced before.

The Demon King had arrived.

The War Begins

A hush fell over the battlefield. Even the demons ceased their assault, retreating as their master descended slowly from the cliffside.

Jajwok felt the weight of his gaze. Every instinct screamed at him to move, to flee—but he stood his ground.

The Demon King's voice was calm, almost amused. "You are the anomaly."

Jajwok tightened his grip on his sword. "And you're the tyrant who wants me dead."

The Demon King chuckled. "Not yet. I am curious, first." He stepped forward, his mere presence distorting the air around him. "You are not like the others. You are something new. Something… untested."

Jajwok glared. "Then test me."

The Demon King smirked. "Not today." His gaze flickered toward the orcs behind Jajwok. "But soon."

With a wave of his hand, the demons vanished into the mist, retreating as quickly as they had arrived.

The war had begun—but the true battle was yet to come.