Africa Leveling

The silence after the Demon King's departure was deafening. The battlefield, once filled with the sounds of war, now lay eerily still. The surviving orcs stood frozen, gripping their weapons, their eyes locked onto the spot where the monstrous figure had stood just moments ago.

Jajwok exhaled, his heart pounding in his chest. He retreated. But why?

Brakzul, the chieftain, was the first to break the silence. He turned to the warriors, his voice booming. "Gather the dead. Tend to the wounded. We prepare for what comes next."

The orcs moved swiftly, their bodies still tense with lingering adrenaline. Jajwok sheathed his blade, his mind racing. The Demon King had spoken to him directly, studying him like an experiment. He's waiting. Watching. But for what?

Urgak clapped him on the shoulder, breaking his thoughts. "That could have gone worse." He smirked, though his grip was tight. "Then again, it could have been a lot worse."

Jajwok nodded but said nothing. He felt it—this wasn't over. It was only beginning.

The War Council's Decision

That night, the war council gathered once again, the tent heavy with the scent of burning incense. The orc elders sat in a semicircle, their faces grim. Brakzul stood at the center, arms crossed.

Kragzul spoke first. "He is toying with us. The Demon King does not retreat without purpose."

Jajwok leaned forward. "Then what is his purpose?"

The orc mage met his gaze. "He is testing your limits. And when he finds them, he will strike."

A deep rumble filled the tent as Brakzul exhaled. "Then we move first."

The gathered orcs turned to him, surprised.

The chieftain's voice was like steel. "We have spent our lives defending our land, waiting for the enemy to come. No longer. This time, we march to war before the storm arrives at our gates."

Urgak grinned, pounding his fist into his palm. "Now that's a plan I can get behind."

Jajwok frowned. "You want to attack him head-on? We don't even know where his true stronghold is."

Kragzul raised a hand. "We do." He gestured toward a worn, ancient map laid before them. "His domain lies beyond the Ashen Wastes, deep in the Abyssal Ravine." His finger tapped a darkened region. "Few who enter ever return."

The tension in the room thickened.

Brakzul turned to Jajwok. "You are the key to this war. This is your battle as much as ours. What say you?"

Jajwok looked around, studying the faces of those who had come to trust him—warriors, leaders, orcs who had fought beside him and risked their lives for him.

Finally, he stood. "We take the fight to him."

The orcs roared in approval, weapons clashing against the ground. The decision was made.

The Journey Begins

Preparations took days. Supplies were gathered, weapons reforged, armor strengthened. Every warrior chosen for the mission trained relentlessly, knowing the battles ahead would test them like never before.

Jajwok spent hours meditating with Kragzul, honing his control over the golden energy that surged within him.

"You are evolving," the mage observed one night. "This power… it is reshaping you."

Jajwok frowned. "Is that a good thing?"

Kragzul did not answer immediately. "It is dangerous."

Jajwok sighed, rubbing his temples. "I figured as much."

The night before their departure, Brakzul stood before the gathered warriors, his voice steady. "Tomorrow, we march into the Abyss. Some of us will not return. But we do not march for ourselves. We march for the future of our kind. For freedom from fear."

The orcs roared once more. The time for war had come.

The Ashen Wastes

The journey into the Ashen Wastes was brutal.

The land was scorched, filled with jagged black rock and swirling ash that stung the eyes and burned the lungs. No life thrived here—only whispers carried on the wind, voices of the dead warning them to turn back.

Jajwok ignored them.

The deeper they traveled, the more unnatural the land became. The sky turned a sickly shade of red, the ground cracked with veins of molten fire. Even the air felt heavy, pressing down on them like unseen hands.

Urgak trudged beside Jajwok, squinting into the distance. "I hate this place."

Jajwok smirked. "You hate everywhere."

Urgak grinned. "Not everywhere. Just here. And caves. And swamps. And—"

A screech cut him off.

The ground trembled. Shadows writhed in the distance, moving unnaturally.

Kragzul hissed. "They know we're here."

Brakzul raised his axe. "Prepare yourselves."

The first wave came swiftly—beasts made of darkness, their eyes glowing with unholy fire. They surged forward, teeth gnashing, claws slashing.

Jajwok didn't hesitate. He met them head-on, golden fire erupting around him. His blade cut through them like a torch slicing through mist.

Urgak fought beside him, swinging his warhammer in wide, devastating arcs. Brakzul held the front line, his warriors forming an impenetrable wall.

For hours, they battled through the wasteland, pushing deeper toward the Abyssal Ravine.

And then, they reached it.

The Abyssal Ravine

The land suddenly fell away before them, revealing a chasm so deep it seemed to swallow light itself. Jagged cliffs lined the edges, spiraling downward into endless darkness.

A single, narrow bridge stretched across it—cracked, crumbling, barely holding together.

Kragzul muttered a curse. "This is the only way."

Brakzul turned to the warriors. "We cross together. No one falls behind."

One by one, they stepped onto the bridge.

The deeper they went, the heavier the air became. Jajwok felt something pressing against his mind—a presence. Watching. Waiting.

Then, a voice.

"You have come far."

Jajwok froze. The voice was not spoken aloud—it echoed inside his mind. Deep. Ancient. Hungry.

The others heard it too. Brakzul's grip tightened on his axe.

"Keep moving."

They continued. Step by step. The chasm below seemed endless, shifting as if something lurked beneath its depths.

Then—

A hand shot out from the darkness.

An orc warrior screamed as he was yanked off the bridge, disappearing into the abyss.

Chaos erupted.

Figures rose from the darkness—demonic wraiths, their bodies half-formed, their faces twisted in agony. They swarmed the bridge, clawing, biting, shrieking.

Jajwok unleashed a blast of golden energy, clearing a path. "MOVE!"

Brakzul led the charge, forcing the warriors forward. One by one, they fought their way across, battling the wraiths with everything they had.

Jajwok turned to see Kragzul trapped, dark tendrils wrapping around his body.

Without thinking, he lunged—grabbing the mage's arm and pulling him free.

They reached the other side, panting, battered—but alive.

The wraiths did not follow.

Instead, they lingered at the edge of the abyss, watching.

Waiting.

Brakzul turned to Jajwok. "We're in his domain now."

Jajwok clenched his fists. Good. Let him come.