Chapter 108: Mission

The atmosphere in the dimly lit cavern was heavy with the tension of confusion and frustration.

Volk's mind was thruming towards all the possibilities he could think of as he processed the reality they were now trapped in.

The notification that confirmed the safety of the elves brought him brief solace, but it quickly turned into a harrowing realization.

If the elves were in another realm, that meant he and the other Orcs were stuck in this one.

The unfamiliar surroundings only deepened his dread.

Volk, still staring into the distance, clenched his fists and turned to the older Orcs.

"Who do we need to kill to be accepted by this realm? Is it the monsters of this catacomb?"

His voice was firm, though tinged with desperation.

The other Orcs paused, surprised by his question, and for a moment, there was a brief silence. But then, almost in unison, the cavern erupted with laughter.

"BWAHAHAHAHAH!"

"BRAHAHHAHA!"

"KRAHAHAHHAHA!!!"

It was the kind of guttural, mocking laughter that grated against Volk's patience.

'Why are they laughing so much? It's normal for me to ask, after all; I am a young Orc. But why are they laughing? Are they trying to show that they are elders and superior?'

However, he chose not to dwell and focus on it, after all, these Orcs are hoodlums.

Not worth being angry about now as he had more things to think of.

Orcs from every clan—Dreadmaw, Bloodfang, Ironhide—were doubling over, clutching their sides, amused by his question as if he had just told the funniest joke in the world.

"Hear that, lads?!" one of the Bloodfang Orcs guffawed, slapping his comrade on the back. "This young pup thinks we just need to go kill some monsters! Like it's that easy!"

"Does he think this is some kind of adventure?" another Orc bellowed through his laughter, his tusks gleaming as he grinned wide. "Kill a few monsters, and we'll be home by supper?"

They jeered at Volk, their voices echoing off the cold stone walls of the cavern.

The sound was infuriating, their mocking tones digging into Volk's pride. He stood rigid, his eyes narrowed, as they continued their teasing.

"Does he think this is for real?" one of the Ironhide Orcs sneered, his voice thick with amusement. "Is this what the Dreadmaw Clan's reduced to? Dreamers who think they can just kill their way out of anything?"

The chorus of laughter swelled again, each Orc throwing in their jabs, each word grating on Volk's ears. Read latest stories on m_v-l'e|-NovelFire.net

He could feel the heat rising in his chest, making his blood boil with frustration.

This wasn't a game. His wife was somewhere in another realm, and here they were, laughing as if this was all some kind of cruel joke.

Suddenly, the old Orc who had been beside Volk the whole time stepped forward.

His leathery skin and the wisdom in his eyes seemed to silence the other Orcs, though his expression carried the same smug amusement.

The elder shook his head slowly, as though Volk had missed something obvious.

"Young Orc," the old one began, his voice gravelly and slow, "you don't understand how things work here, do you?"

Volk's jaw clenched as the elder continued,

"The monsters in this catacomb? They're nothing but food for us, lad. They're weak, pathetic creatures. We could kill them all day, and it wouldn't make a difference."

The elder paused, his eyes gleaming with something between pity and amusement. "If you really want to get out of here, we need something else."

Volk raised an eyebrow, his frustration mounting. "What do you mean? What else is there?"

The elder chuckled darkly, leaning in closer as if he were sharing a grand secret.

"We need someone from outside. Someone from this realm that we are sent to. They need to come in here, be drawn into this catacomb, and become the victim. Only then, once we've killed enough of them, will the realm accept us. And let me tell you something, boy... that will take forever."

A murmur rippled through the gathered Orcs, some nodding in grim agreement, others chuckling again at the prospect.

The elder straightened, the smirk on his lips returning. "So you see, lad, all this talk about fighting your way out? It's useless. We could wait here for a thousand years, or more, and only then... maybe... we'd get enough of them to leave."

Volk's eyes widened. His mind spun with the enormity of what the elder had just said.

Wait?

They were supposed to sit here, in this forsaken place, waiting for outsiders to stumble into their trap?

His fists trembled with the desire to act, to fight, to do something—anything—other than sit around and wait.

"So that's it?" Volk muttered, his voice shaking with rage. "We just wait here? For who knows how long? Until someone—someone—wanders in? And then we kill them and hope it's enough?"

The elder nodded, his expression calm, even satisfied. "That's it. And don't worry, lad. The crystal will keep us alive. We've got food, water, everything we need. As long as we meet our basic needs, we'll survive.

It might take a long time, but we'll live."

Volk's heart sank.

The reality of their situation crashed over him like an avalanche of solid ice. Sёarᴄh the NôvelFire.nёt website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

If this was how catacombs worked, then they were truly trapped. They might be stuck here for eternity, waiting, biding their time, with no guarantee they would ever escape.

The thought of being separated from Solluha'r, his wife, for an eternity was unbearable.

The elder gave Volk a pat on the shoulder, his expression one of mock sympathy. "Come on, lad. Let's go hunt. It's all we can do for now."

But just as Volk was about to slump in defeat, a sharp, familiar ding echoed in his ears.

A notification appeared in front of him, its glowing text capturing his attention.

Ding!

| Mission: Challenge and defeat all the remaining Orc Clans to work under the Dreadmaw Clan.

| Rewards: Getting out of the Dungeon.

| Failure: The Host and the whole Dreadmaw Clan will revert back to green Orcs. |

Volk's eyes widened as he read the words, and for a moment, he stood frozen.

His mind began to articulate every so he coukd absorb the implications of the mission.

Challenge all the other Orc Clans?

It seemed impossible, but the reward... the promise of freedom... it was right there, within reach.

Wait…

Volk would look around.

Their skins.

Green?

Slowly, a smile spread across Volk's face.

Not a smile of amusement, but one of sheer desire for beatdown. His grip on his axe tightened, and a fire burned and ignited in his chest.

He turned to the elder, who was still chuckling softly to himself, oblivious to what Volk had just seen.

Without a word, Volk pushed past him, his eyes scanning the crowd of Orcs, many of whom were still smirking or laughing.

"What's that grin on your face for, lad?" the elder asked, raising an eyebrow.

Volk ignored him. He raised his axe high above his head, his voice booming through the cavern with newfound confidence.

"What are you all waiting for?" he shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Hunt for me and my Dreadmaw Clan. Now!"

The laughter died instantly as the Orcs stared at him, bewildered.

Some exchanged confused glances, but Volk didn't care.

He had his mission, and nothing—nothing—was going to stop him now.

"Yes," he whispered to himself, the word barely audible as his smile widened. "If we can't get out, you all must know who would be under whom…"