From Slave to King: My Rebate System Built Me a Kingdom With Beauties!

The battlefield was set and the mines were bigger in this area so it was a lot easier for these three orcs to fit in.

Naz and Naruz exploded into the space shoulder-to-shoulder, axes already spinning. Kraghul met them in the center, his own axe rising in a lazy arc that looked almost bored. Steel rang like a bell as Naz's blade crashed against his. The impact jolted her arms to the elbows, but she rolled with it, letting Naruz come in from the side. Naruz's axe hooked low, aiming at his hamstring. Kraghul stamped down, trapping the head against the floor, and drove his elbow into Naruz's temple. She staggered, tusks clacking, but didn't fall.

Naz roared and swung overhead. Kraghul caught the haft with his free hand, yanked her forward, and slammed his forehead into hers. Bone cracked against bone. Stars burst across Naz's vision, yet she twisted, driving her knee into his thigh hard enough to numb the muscle. Kraghul grunted, surprised, and for the first time his smile thinned. These orcs were strong or at least as strong as one would expect an orc to be.

They circled, ready to launch another wave as they knew together, they stood a chance at overcoming this threat. They didn't need to speak a single word among themselves, everything came natural.

Naruz shook off the daze and charged again, axe coming in a brutal horizontal sweep meant to open his ribs. Kraghul parried, but the force still drove him back a step. Naz used the opening, lunging low with a shoulder charge that caught him in the gut. Air whooshed from his lungs. For three heartbeats the three of them were locked together, axes crossed, breath hot and snarling.

Naruz ripped her axe free and chopped at his neck. Kraghul ducked; the blade shaved a lock of hair from the young orc and buried itself in the stone wall behind him. Before she could wrench it loose, Kraghul's fist hammered into her jaw. Her head snapped sideways, blood flying, but she answered with a vicious hook to his kidney that made even Kraghul stagger.

Naz came from the other side, axe reversed, haft smashing across his cheek. Skin split. Blood ran warm down his tusk. He tasted iron and laughed, low and delighted.

Five minutes of pure fury. The cave rang with steel and flesh. Naz's lip split. Naruz bled from a gash over her eye. Kraghul's skin trickled with blood, his left arm bruised purple, but his eyes stayed cold and amused.

There was something wrong, the two female orcs noticed they were the only ones running out of breath.

Kraghul looked calm for someone who wasn't only outnumbered but incurring similar injuries to the female orcs he was up against.

Then his laughter stopped, Kraghul's eyes showed seriousness for the first time.

"This bastard! He was holding back!?" Naz thought to herself, she knew this wasn't ideal for her baby but she needed to fight or the baby would be cursed by the same fate either way.

Kraghul's stance shifted, subtle as a predator finally deciding to hunt. The air itself seemed to grow heavier.

The intent was clear, he had removed the shackles he placed on himself for this fight.

He moved and even his speed was faster which took both orcs by surprise.

His axe blurred. Naz barely got her guard up; the impact tore the weapon from her hands and sent it clattering across the stone. Before she could draw breath, Kraghul's boot slammed into her chest. She flew backward, hitting the wall hard enough to crack ribs, sliding down gasping.

Naruz screamed in rage and charged. Kraghul sidestepped at the last instant, caught her axe arm mid-swing, and twisted. Bone snapped like dry wood. Her axe fell. He spun her, forearm across her throat, and drove her face-first into the ground. One knee pinned her back; the fight left her lungs in a broken wheeze.

Twenty seconds. Maybe less. This was how long it took Kraghul to defeat these orcs the moment he decided to get serious. He was on a different level but this was not surprising considering his lineage.

He was from one of the more violent tribes, it would be foolish to think his age was a factor when it came to his strength.

Silence returned, broken only by the wet rattle of Naz's breathing and Naruz's muffled groan.

Kraghul stood over them, chest barely moving, blood dripping from his split cheek. His gaze dropped to Naz's swollen belly, the curve unmistakable even beneath her battered armor. A slow, terrible smile spread across his blood-slick tusks. There was a reason he didn't outright land his blows on her torso which would have guaranteed the death of whatever was inside her womb.

He knelt, picking up a fallen goblin knife—short, curved, perfect for close work.

Naruz instantly knew what was about to happen but she was too powerless to stop it.

"D-Don't... You bastard..." Naruz muttered under her weakened breath, words barely audible, not like Kraghul was paying her any attention. Naruz was no longer a threat because she had been subdued by him.

"Half-breed whelp," he murmured, voice almost tender as he looked down at Naz.

"Let's see what it looks like before it ever draws breath," Kraghul had the evilest grin on his face.

Naz's eyes widened. She tried to crawl backward, one arm cradling her stomach, the other reaching for a weapon that wasn't there. Naruz thrashed weakly beneath his knee, snarling through her bloodied mouth.

Kraghul raised the knife, tip hovering just above the taut skin of Naz's belly, Naz's eyes filled with tears.

"Are you crying for your child?" Kraghul questioned but none of that mattered to him.

"I'm sorry, I truly am," Kraghul apologized and for a second, it felt heartfelt.

"However, I am bored and I have to pass the time somehow," Kraghul muttered under his breath before the tip of the knife made its way into the first layer of her skin.