IM AN ORC?

Chapter 74: The Stone Horde

Ruk’s breath drew deep and steady, a slow drumbeat under the chaos. His chest heaved, swelling with a power that hummed beneath his skin like a living storm. His arms, thickened and hard as warped iron, flexed involuntarily. Fingers curled, then extended, twitching as if eager to rip the world apart. Against his bare chest, the dark artifact pulsed with a cold, chilling rhythm. It throbbed like a heartbeat, but one that beat with shadows and fire intertwined—a pulse that promised both salvation and destruction.

“Stone,” Zira’s voice rumbled low and fierce, her lips curling back into a snarl as she wrested her curved blade from its sheath with a rasping scrape of steel on leather. The blade sang faintly, catching what little light filtered through the gloom. “Heavy as the mountains themselves. Don’t let them pin you down.”

Her eyes darted sharply toward the nearest statue, which had lurched with an eerie deliberateness to life. The great blocky fist of the stone giant crashed down right where Ruk had been seconds before, the impact sending shards of stone spraying like hail. Dust billowed upward, choking the air and casting everything in a pale, shifting haze. The ground trembled beneath their feet—the cavern itself seemed to groan in protest.

Ruk’s body reacted before thought could catch up. He rolled hard to the side, muscles coiling like steel springs beneath his stretched skin. His boots scraped a rough arc against the stone floor as he came upright and lunged forward. His fist slammed into the statue’s thigh with a sound like thunder breaking the sky—stone cracked and shattered, jagged fragments tumbling onto the floor.

“Tougher than I thought,” Talen muttered, voice low and tight, eyes narrowed as he hefted his sword. He swung at a second statue with a sharp, precise movement. The blade sparked where it met the granite, light flashing like a bolt of lightning, but the stone barely flinched. “This sword’s magic doesn’t cleave stone well,” he admitted, voice laced with frustration. “More of a finesse weapon.”

Beside him, Mira’s hands moved in intricate patterns, fingers tracing invisible sigils through the thick, dusty air. Threads of shimmering light spiraled from her fingertips, weaving complex lattices that pierced the surface of the statues with a faint hiss. But the magic fizzled against the dense, ancient stone, leaving only tiny cracks that spiderwebbed but never fully broke. Her voice was tight as she spoke. “I can’t burn through them. Their bodies resist even the light.”

Lira knelt on the ground, pressing her palms flat against the stone floor. The earth beneath their feet rumbled, a deep vibration that sent dust trickling from overhead ledges. Roots, thin and wiry at first, twisted upward in a writhing embrace, snaking around the ankles of a towering statue. The figure staggered, a slow, unnatural lurch as its great leg was yanked sideways.

“Hold them fast,” Lira urged, eyes glowing with a faint emerald light. “But they’re strong. We don’t have much time.”

Ruk’s gaze snapped toward a hulking figure, its massive stone form striding toward Zira. “Zira!” he called, sprinting to her side. She met the statue’s heavy blow with a fierce yell, parrying with a clang of her blade. The stone hardly yielded, but the impact sent a shudder rolling through her arms.

The orc consort gritted her teeth, muscles rippling beneath battle-worn skin. “Don’t fall back!” Ruk barked, fists clenching tight. He thrust both forward, dark energy flaring from the artifact like black lightning wrapping around his knuckles. His strike tore into the statue’s chest, chunks of stone exploding outward, raining like gravel at their feet.

Zira’s grin was cruel and wild as she wiped blood from a fresh cut across her cheek. “You weren’t kidding about that thing,” she teased, spinning and slashing at a second attacker. “It’s a wrecking ball in your hands.”

Talen sidestepped a lumbering statue, eyes sharp and calculating as he jabbed his sword into a narrow crack along its shoulder. “If only I could channel more magic into it...” he muttered, frowning deeply. “There must be a weakness. Something we haven’t seen.”

Mira’s brows knitted tightly, frustration and fear mingling in her gaze. “Our time is running out. The High Priest’s chanting won’t last forever, but while it continues, the statues move.” Her voice dropped, a whisper tinged with dread as her eyes flicked toward the shadowed alcove where the figure stood, weaving his dark words like venom. “If we don’t break his concentration—”

“We stop him,” Lira finished, roots tightening their grip on another statue and yanking it hard. The creature staggered, stones grinding against stones. “If we can’t stop the statues, we stop him.” Her eyes settled on Ruk, steady and unyielding. “You—”

“I’ve got this,” Ruk interrupted, stepping forward. Darkness swirled around him, thick and tangible, as his form grew taller, broader—more than orc, less than beast. His skin took on an almost metallic sheen, veins pulsing with newfound strength, a light beneath the surface that warned of power beyond reckoning. The artifact throbbed against his chest, syncing perfectly with his heartbeat.

A stone fist swung at him—a crushing, slow blow. Ruk caught it barehanded, gripping the massive wrist with savage force. The statue’s arm shattered instantly, fractured rock tumbling like cracked armor to the ground.

“Ruk!” Zira’s voice sliced through the din as she moved beside him in a blur, axe swinging in deadly arcs. “Keep them off me. I’m running out of room!”

Ruk cracked his knuckles loudly, voice low and fierce. “Watch this.” Both fists slammed into a statue’s midsection, the dark energy from the artifact crackling and flaring like a black tempest. The stone exploded outward, fragments scattering like hail, the edges licking with shadows that seemed to pulse with life.

Mira’s breath caught, eyes wide. “You’re breaking them apart with your hands.”

“Feels like breaking boulders,” Ruk rumbled, chest rising and falling with a ferocious rhythm. “The artifact’s power—it’s changing me. Making me more... than a whelp.”

Talen circled another statue, sword poised and ready. “If you keep drawing their attention, I’ll try to reach the Priest.”

Zira’s grin was fierce, despite sweat and grime darkening her skin. “And I’ll carve a path through these rock monsters.”

The statues closed in, slow but relentless, limbs creaking and grinding with every step. Ruk met them head-on, shattering limbs and crushing stone with brutal efficiency. Zira danced between them, her blade flashing, carving death in arcs. Talen, despite the futility of his sword against stone, moved methodically, eyes always locked on the chanting form in the shadows.

The High Priest’s voice rose in a harsh chant, syllables dripping with ancient power like venom. Shadows writhed around his hands, weaving a lattice of dark energy that kept the statues animated, tethered to his will. He glanced at the group, eyes gleaming with cold triumph and arrogance.

“You cannot resist the will of the gods forgotten,” the priest intoned, voice like ice. “The artifact belongs to us.”

Ruk growled in defiance, ignoring the threat. He hurled a statue aside like a rag doll, the stone crushing against the hard floor. “It belongs to me.”

Mira’s hands snaked through the air, weaving threads of light that coiled tightly around the priest’s feet—aiming to bind and trip him. “Now, Talen!”

The swordsman lunged, his blade crackling with blue energy, sparks flying as it cut through the air toward the High Priest’s throat. The priest twisted with unnatural speed, deflecting the blow with a surge of dark magic that exploded into shadows, hurling Talen back. He staggered but recovered quickly, circling warily.

“Keep him busy!” Zira shouted, driving her blade deep into the base of another statue’s neck. Stone shattered, grinding to dust like sand beneath her relentless assault.

Ruk’s eyes gleamed with dark fire. He stepped forward, fists glowing with the artifact’s black flame. “I will end this.” His blows rained down with thunderous force, shattering statue after statue. The cavern itself trembled beneath the fury of his assault.

The High Priest’s chanting faltered, lips trembling with disbelief. “You cannot—”

But the statues began to crumble, their forms cracked and broken under Ruk’s relentless onslaught. The dark energy around the artifact flared bright, licking the ruined edges with unnatural shadows. With a mighty roar, Ruk shoved the last statue apart, a roar of victory echoing through the vast chamber.

Silence fell like a shroud.

The High Priest stumbled back, eyes wide with shock and fury. “No... this cannot be.”

Zira wiped her blade clean on her tattered cloak, breathing hard but steady. “Just stone after all.”

Mira lowered her hands, exhaustion etched deep into her features. “For now. But the magic that animates them lingers.”

Lira withdrew her roots slowly, calm but alert. “We need to move. The priest will find another way.”

Ruk flexed his fingers, the artifact’s pulse slowing to a steady beat. “I’m ready,” he said, voice low but resolute. “Whatever comes next.”

Outside the chamber, the cavernous hall seemed to hold its breath. The stone groans echoed like a grinding storm, every second more statues stirring, ancient limbs creaking with unnatural life. Around them, cold grey faces—defiant, sorrowful, wrathful—turned slowly toward the group. The air thickened with the scent of dust and forgotten curses.

A weight settled on Ruk’s chest heavier than the artifact itself. The cold pulse beneath his ribs was steady now, a heartbeat forged from iron and fire.

“We can’t fight them all,” Mira’s voice cut through the clamor, fingers weaving loops of shimmering light that arced toward the advancing stone forms. She fired strands of woven magic; the beams shattered limbs but the tide of statues pressed forward, unyielding.

Talen’s sword sang as he struck down a towering warrior whose helmet shattered like brittle bone. “Overwhelming numbers,” he grunted, sweat streaking his brow. “We must get to the source—the High Priest.”

Zira crouched low, cleaving through a monstrous gargoyle statue with a furious swing that sent shards of stone scattering like hail. She spat, breath ragged. “He’s the puppet master. Cut the strings, and the puppets fall.”

Ruk’s teeth clenched, muscles thrumming with power he barely recognized. His skin, newly toughened and nearly metallic, absorbed blows that would have cleaved him before. Bruises blossomed but healed swiftly, knitting torn skin before the next strike landed.

“I’ll charge him,” Ruk said in a low voice, eyes burning with fierce intent. “You cover me. Clear a path.”

“That’s madness—” Mira began, but Zira’s fierce glare cut her off.

“Ruk’s right,” the orc consort said, voice like iron. “If we get trapped here, none of us walk out. He’s the key.”

Ruk roared, surging forward with the artifact’s pulse thrumming like a living thing beneath his skin. Stone fists smashed his shoulders and arms, jagged edges tearing flesh and hide, but each blow bounced off his evolving armor of sinew and shadow. Blood welled, but healed before the next strike landed.

Talen’s voice rose above the din. “Mira, hold the left flank! Zira, wedge yourself at the front. Keep them from closing in!”

Flashes of light lanced through the darkness as Mira’s magic scorched marble limbs, while Talen’s sword glittered, slicing stone like paper. Yet the tide of statues pressed relentlessly, ceaseless as the rising tide. freeweɓnovel.cøm

Ruk’s jaws clenched in savage determination, breaking through the wall of stone with a primal cry that echoed like thunder in the chamber. His massive fists smashed a gargoyle’s face to rubble, sending chips flying like hailstones. Another slammed into his side, nearly toppling him, but he staggered forward, eyes fixed on the robed figure standing atop the broken dais—the High Priest.

The priest’s face was a mask of cold fury, eyes burning with unholy fire. His hands wove intricate, twisting gestures. Shadows spilled from his fingertips like living smoke, thick tendrils slithering toward Ruk’s chest.

“You cannot hold what is mine,” the priest hissed, voice venomous. “The artifact will return to its rightful place.”

Ruk tightened his grip on the heavy, jagged blade strapped to his back. He didn’t draw it. Instead, he let the artifact’s pulse surge through him, a dark fire igniting his veins.

The shadow tendrils wrapped around his arms, cold and suffocating. His vision blurred, colors twisting and warping, memory and reality tangling like a snare. Faces of enemies long dead whispered in the dark recesses of his mind.

“Resist!” Zira’s voice cut through the darkness as she cleaved a statue lunging at Ruk’s back. “Don’t let him take the artifact!”

Ruk ground his teeth, mind battling the priest’s illusions. The dark magic tried to pry the relic free, ripping fiercely at his chest. A searing ache blossomed there, but he flexed his will like iron chains.

“You’ll have to kill me first.” His voice was a growl, thick with defiance.

The High Priest’s lips curled in a cruel smile. “Then die, orc abomination.”

With a burst of speed that belied his massive bulk, Ruk surged forward, smashing through the shadows with raw, brutal force. The duel became a blur of crashing blows and twisting magic. The priest’s robes billowed like smoke, hands darting in deadly arcs that bent space and time.

Ruk roared, swinging the artifact’s power like a hammer. Stone shattered around them, the cavern shaking with their clash.

Talen slashed at a cluster of statues attempting to flank the orc. “Mira, double the light weave! We need to blind him!”

Mira’s hands trembled, but she wove threads of searing light that flared and flickered across the High Priest’s form. Shadows hissed, recoiling like wounded beasts.

“Now, Zira!” Talen called.

The orc consort charged through the thinning crowd, her axe biting deep into stone. Each swing cleared space, a brutal dance of fury and precision.

Ruk saw the priest falter, a flicker of doubt in his burning eyes. Seizing the moment, he surged forward, driving his shoulder into the robed figure’s chest. The impact sent both crashing backward, stone dust billowing in their wake.

Pinned beneath Ruk’s weight, the High Priest’s hands clawed desperately at the artifact, desperation blazing in his dark eyes. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

“You will not take it!” Ruk snarled, fingers closing around the priest’s wrists with monstrous strength.

The priest’s magic sputtered, shadows dissipating like smoke in a gale.

Talen’s blade sliced through the priest’s throat in a swift, precise strike. The robed man gasped, eyes wide with shock, then went still.

Around them, the statues froze, ancient magics binding them faltering and fading. One by one, the stone warriors crumbled, their forms collapsing into heaps of dust and silence.

Ruk pulled himself up, breathing heavy, the artifact’s pulse steady once more. Zira wiped sweat and grime from her brow, a fierce smile cracking her battle-worn face.

“Not bad for a newly evolved Whelp,” she teased, elbowing him playfully.

Talen sheathed his sword, nodding solemnly. “We won this battle, but the war is far from over.”

Mira lowered her hands, exhaustion etched in every line of her face. “We need to understand what this artifact truly is—and what it’s making you.”

Lira stepped forward, calm but resolute. “And how to protect you. For now, you’ve earned your place among us, Ruk.”

Ruk’s gaze drifted to the dark relic embedded in his chest. It throbbed with a sinister light, a promise of power and peril woven tightly together.

“Then let’s make sure the next fight counts,” he said, voice steady and grim.

The ruined Silver City settled into a heavy silence once more, but the echoes of battle and the weight of destiny lingered in the air—stubborn, unyielding—as a warning whispered through the cold stones.

The cavernous chamber trembled beneath the thunderous march of stone feet. The petrified statues, once frozen in time, creaked and groaned as they closed in, their stony eyes alight with ancient malice. Ruk’s breath came ragged, the artifact—an orb of swirling shadow and fire—pulsed against his chest like a heartbeat of doom.

“The stones move too fast!” Zira’s voice sliced through the chaos, her axe swinging with brutal grace, shattering a gargoyle’s limb. “We’ll be crushed if we don’t stop that priest!”

Ruk’s hand clenched the artifact. The air shimmered, an eerie glow casting twisted shadows on jagged walls. “I can feel it... the power inside. It’s alive.”

Talen darted forward, blade flashing with enchanted light. “Ruk, that priest’s channeling foul magic. If we disrupt him—”

A hollow laugh echoed, sharp and chilling.

The High Priest emerged from the shadows, robes tattered, eyes burning with unnatural fire. “Fools. You grasp power you cannot comprehend. Return the artifact, or be consumed.”

Ruk tightened his grip on the orb. “I will not. This power is mine now.”

With a guttural roar, the priest extended a gnarled hand, weaving tendrils of black magic that coiled into a spear hurled at Ruk.

The orb flared, erupting into molten energy that shattered the spear before impact.

Zira’s voice snapped, “Focus on the priest! Break his concentration!”

Mira wove shimmering nets of light, but shadows slipped through like smoke.

“He’s feeding off the artifact’s energy,” Talen observed, eyes narrowing. “If Ruk loses control, that power will consume us all.”

Ruk’s muscles tensed. The artifact’s pulse grew stronger, like a living thing awakening inside him. His skin prickled; strength surged through his veins. The line between orc and something greater blurred in the glowing chamber.

“I’m not just Ruk anymore,” he growled, voice thick with raw power. “I am evolution incarnate.”

The priest snarled, summoning a wave of dark energy that shattered the floor beneath their feet. Stone shards flew. Mira barely caught Lira before she tumbled into the abyss.

“Hold fast!” Lira murmured, hands glowing with earth magic, roots sprouting to anchor them.

Ruk stepped forward, artifact blazing. “Enough.”

He thrust the orb toward the priest. A shockwave exploded, fracturing the dark magic tethering the stone statues.

The statues halted, movements sluggish before their limbs crumbled like brittle bone, falling into heaps of silence.

The High Priest collapsed, eyes wide with shock and pain.

Ruk advanced, the artifact’s glow dimming but humming. “It’s over.”

Breathing ragged, the priest coughed, blood speckling cracked floor. “You... you’ve broken the ward, but do you know what you’ve done? This... this artifact is a beacon.”

Zira lowered her axe slightly. “A beacon for what?”

The priest’s gaze darkened. “The Ethereal Lords. Beings beyond mortal understanding—ancient, eternal. They have sensed the artifact’s awakening. Your journey... has only begun.”

Mira exchanged a glance with Talen, fear flickering.

Lira knelt beside the priest. “There’s time yet. Tell us what you know.”

His breath faltered. “They will come for the orb. And when they do... no wall of stone or magic will hold them back.”

Silence settled. The bruised group gathered close.

Ruk looked down at the artifact, now quiet in his palm. The weight of the world pressed upon him heavier than any armor.

Zira’s voice was low but resolute. “Then we stand together. Whatever comes.”

Talen sheathed sword, voice steady. “We prepare. Study lore, strengthen defenses. This is no longer survival—it’s war on a cosmic scale.”

Mira traced faint patterns, weaving protective light around them. “The Ethereal Lords... they exist beyond reality. We’ll need more than blades and magic.”

Lira’s eyes shone with fierce calm. “Then we gather allies—those who walk the earth and dwell in shadows. We don’t face this alone.”

Ruk lifted gaze to shattered ruins, silent stone witnesses to their ordeal.

“This artifact chose me,” he said, voice steady. “And I choose to wield its power—not as a curse, but as a weapon. Against gods... and monsters.”

Zira stepped forward, clasping his shoulder. “You’re not just an orc. You’re something new. Something dangerous.”

The chamber’s gloom deepened, but the group stood tall, the path ahead daunting but clear.

The forgotten gods had fallen silent, but the Ethereal Lords had awakened.

And so had the fury of Ruk.

The High Priest’s final breath still lingered in the cold air, a fragile thread barely holding the moment’s weight.

Talen’s fingers drummed against the hilt of his sword, the metallic rhythm sounding louder than the silence around them. His brow furrowed. “Ethereal Lords. What even are they? Gods? Demons? Some ancient force? I’ve never heard the name in any scroll or tale.”

Mira’s eyes darkened, shadows flickering beneath her lashes. “I remember a fragmented legend from the Academy archives,” she murmured, stepping closer to the fallen priest’s altar. “Beings that consume entire realms, leaving nothing but echoes behind. They don’t walk the soil or breathe the air. They exist between planes—devouring the fabric of existence itself.”

Talen’s gaze sharpened, the idea pressing down on his chest like a stone. “Covetous monsters beyond the veil, then.”

She nodded, lips tight, the memory unfolding. “The legend spoke of their hunger as insatiable. They cross cosmic thresholds, tearing worlds as easily as one might pluck a ripe fruit.”

Ruk shifted, the artifact nestled against his chest thrumming suddenly—a low, cold pulse that seemed to ripple through the very bones of the ruin. This time, it wasn’t a dark, choking energy but something vast and distant, like a call sent across a starless void.

He placed a hand over the artifact, eyes narrowing. “It answers. Not with rage, but with... waiting.”

Zira crouched beside him, her hands gentle but deliberate as they traced the new skin blooming over his wounds. The orc’s flesh had hardened, the scars replaced by something tougher, almost armored. Yet along his neck, dark veins crept their way upward, snaking beneath the skin like shadows reaching for the surface.

“Your new skin is holding,” she observed, fingers brushing the hardened scales. “But these veins—they’re spreading. Not just corruption or sickness. It’s as if the artifact’s power is reshaping you, moving deeper.”

Ruk swallowed hard, the sound rough. “I feel it too. Like a tether entwining itself within my blood.”

Talen folded his arms, glancing between Ruk and the artifact. “If this thing calls out to those Ethereal Lords, can we stop it? Can you control it before it drags them here—before it drags us all?”

Mira’s voice dropped, haunted. “If the legends are true, no weapon forged by mortal hands can stand against them. We’ll need knowledge—deeper magic, forgotten rites. Perhaps the very fabric of reality might be bent or broken to keep them out.”

Lira’s gaze burned brighter as she folded her arms, stepping into the dim light spilling from the altar’s cracked candles. “We aren’t just fighting for our lives anymore. The whole world, maybe all worlds, are at stake. We can’t wait for others to act. We have to move—find a way out of this Silver City before whatever answered arrives.”

Ruk’s shoulders squared, the weight of the artifact pressing heavier with every breath. “Then we leave the ruin behind. But first...” His hand hovered near the artifact’s surface, fingers trembling. “We must understand what tether we’ve forged. Or it will be the death of us all.”

Zira’s voice was calm but urgent. “You need rest. The artifact’s changes won’t wait, but neither will your body. If you collapse now, you’re no use to anyone.”

“Rest is a luxury,” Ruk said, voice low. “That pulse—it’s already reached far beyond these stones. Whatever it called is coming.”

Mira knelt, pulling a fragile scroll from her pack, edges worn and brittle. “There’s an old map, hidden in the Academy’s deepest vaults. It shows routes through the Silver City that lead beyond the walls—ancient exits forgotten by time, sealed against those who would misuse the city’s power.”

Talen’s eyes narrowed. “You’re suggesting we escape through the old passages? If they’re sealed, how do we open them?”

Mira’s fingers traced the faded ink. “There’s a key—a phrase, a rite, something said to awaken the city’s ancient wards. If the High Priest knew the Ethereal Lords were stirring, perhaps he left clues here.”

Lira crouched beside the scroll, eyes scanning. “Then we have a direction. We follow the map, find the key, and leave before the sky darkens with their arrival.”

Ruk’s hand tightened around the artifact, the veins along his neck pulsing in sync with its heartbeat. “And if we fail?”

Talen exhaled, voice raw but steady. “Then we fight. Because surrender is the only true death.”

Zira rose, glancing once more at Ruk’s spreading veins. “We don’t have time to argue. Night falls soon, and with it, whatever answer came to that artifact will be here.”

The chamber seemed to contract, the shadows thickening around them. The silence was no longer peace—it was a countdown.

Mira rolled the scroll carefully, securing it inside her satchel. “We move at first light. Tonight, we prepare.”

Lira’s hand brushed Ruk’s shoulder, a brief touch that carried more promise than words. “We walk out of this city together, or not at all.”

The group gathered their gear, the weight of cosmic fury pressing heavy but shared. Outside, the Silver City stretched in eerie stillness, ancient stones whispering secrets too vast for any one mind to hold.

And somewhere beyond the veils of reality, the Ethereal Lords stirred—drawn by a call that might soon rewrite the fate of worlds.

They would meet that storm on their own terms.

For now, the journey was just beginning.