Praise the Orc

Chapter 227: EPILOGUE (1)

"Hey, are you alive!"

"Are you alive? You look quite stupid!"

Two orcs clad in chainmail armor stood like statues.

Their halberd blades gleamed in the sunlight.

They noticed Sabichwi and snickered. Because of their fierce appearance and tusks, it didn’t seem much like a smile but more like a distortion of their faces.

Intimidated by their imposing demeanor, Sabichwi audibly gulped.

Indeed, this was Orcrox, the homeland of warriors. Even the gatekeeper guards looked exceptionally strong.

Back in his homeland, he was considered one of the strongest orcs as a fighter, but in front of the guards of Orcrox, he could barely open his mouth.

"You're not already nervous, are you?"

"Don't worry and come on in! We have plenty of other cowards here!" they burst into laughter.

The guards extended their fists, and Sabichwi awkwardly bumped fists with them.

"Anyway, since you've come to Orcrox, I wish you luck. Become a great warrior."

The gate opened.

As Sabichwi entered Orcrox for the first time, he saw a bustling city. It was a completely different world. Sabichwi was so mesmerized by the cityscape that he wandered around and bumped into someone.

Sabichwi tumbled over.

"Hmm?"

The person he bumped into looked down at Sabichwi with a menacing face.

Sabichwi was acknowledged as the top fighter in his tribe, so naturally, he had his pride as a man.

However, facing the orc before him, his body trembled.

What kind of place was Orcrox, filled with orcs like this? The orc standing tall in front of him was a monster, easily twice his size.

"Did you just bump into me? Krrng!"

As he loomed over, Sabichwi nearly wet himself. Actually, Sabichwi was the one who had fallen after the bump, so why was he being scolded?

Then someone came to his rescue.

"You stupid! Why are you picking on a kid?"

"I wasn't picking on him! Krrng!"

"Are you okay?"

It was a female orc.

If ten orc men walked by, all ten would turn their heads to look at her. She was that beautiful. Those sharp eyes, a menacing face, and sturdy tusks! Was this the representation of the city women?

Any young man full of vigor would be captivated by her!

"This kid looks pretty clueless," she chuckled.

"Well, the guy I fell for before also looked clueless like this at first."

"Who are you talking about, Anya?!"

"Who do you think I’m talking about? Obviously not you. That sexy guy, remember him?"

"How dare you talk about another man in front of your husband! Let's go to the training ground! It's a couple's fight! Krrng!"

"Oh, you want your forehead axed again? Enough, let's go. Zankus is waiting."

"Couple's fight...!”

"Hmph!"

"Kugh!"

They bickered and passed by Sabichwi.

Watching their backs, Sabichwi was dumbfounded.

That orc was truly a fearsomely formidable man. To have such a beautiful orc warrior as his wife, he was admirable. Even the sight of her back, with a throwing axe at her waist, was captivating.

If he became a true warrior, perhaps he too could marry a beauty like that female orc.

With renewed determination, Sabichwi headed toward his destination.

He was going to Orcrox's training ground to become a warrior.

There, they said, was the legendary instructor, Hoyt.

After wandering around the city for a while, Sabichwi finally arrived there.

Hoyt was instructing the orcs on the training ground with his arms crossed.

"Are you alive! I'm Sabichwi of the Sambat tribe. I come before you because I want to become a warrior!"

"Keke, a country orc."

Hoyt had a surprisingly gentle appearance. Sabichwi, expecting someone as fearsome as the orc he had met earlier, was a bit disappointed.

However, that disappointment soon turned into fear.

Hoyt showed Sabichwi a gentle smile, then suddenly started beating the life out of him.

Sabichwi rolled up into a ball, enduring the beating for a long while. It was an overwhelming force that made resistance impossible. He retracted his first impression of Hoyt. Of all the orcs he met today, this one was the most vicious.

Sabichwi, with a tear-streaked face, cried out.

"W-why are you hitting me out of nowhere? Ugh!"

"Let's just say it’s a... tradition. Remember this feeling of helplessness."

The orcs training on the ground laughed uproariously at the sight.

"It's been a while, so perhaps I went too far. Get up."

Hoyt patted his shoulder, helping him to his feet.

"Regretting coming here already?"

"N-no, not at all!"

Despite having been thoroughly beaten, he did not want to lose in spirit. Sabichwi did not look away and met Hoyt’s gaze.

Hoyt grinned.

"You have a good gaze. Let me ask you, why do you want to become a warrior?"

Sabichwi thought for a second.

Why had he come here? Why had he decided to become a warrior?

"I..."

He answered with resolute eyes.

"... I want to become a true warrior to protect the ones that are dear to me."

He was from the Sambat tribe, a peaceful village. Then one day, they were attacked by ogres.

After a fierce battle, they managed to defeat the ogres, but the battle left them with many casualties. As they conducted the funerals, the shamans prayed for the souls of the deceased. During those sorrowful rites, Sabichwi made a vow to himself.

He was going to become a strong warrior, so he wouldn't lose anyone dear to him ever again.

"Is that so?"

Hoyt smiled and nodded.

"Follow me."

He followed Hoyt into a massive stone building next to the training ground.

"This is the place everyone who wishes to become a warrior visits."

They walked down a long corridor into a dark chamber. Hoyt snapped his fingers.

Then, a light flared up.

"Ah!"

As the torch illuminated the interior, they were surrounded by several giants. Sabichwi soon realized they were statues.

"These are the great warriors who have entered the Hall of Fame."

The statues felt as if they were breathing. They were that detailed and intricate. They stood in the Hall of Fame exactly as if they were alive, looking down at them.

Legendary warriors who had left their names in history.

His heart raced.

"Whose footsteps do you wish to follow?"

One of the orc statues stood out to Sabichwi.

It was a ferocious-looking orc holding an axe. His face was hardly visible under a steel helmet, but it seemed like a fierce gleam was shining through his eyes.

"This one is...?"

"Lenox the Warrior. A former instructor and a great warrior who is still respected by all of Orcrox. It's thanks to Lenox that Orcrox exists today. He can be said to be the spirit of Orcrox."

Even just seeing the statue, it felt as if Lenox's imposing presence was fully conveyed.

Sabichwi felt like he missed out on something by not meeting him himself.

He then looked at a statue standing next to Lenox, and the statue grinned at him.

"...!"

Sabichwi stumbled backward. Was it an illusion? The statue's grinning face remained on it.

What had he just seen?

"And this is...?"

"Are you telling me that you don’t know who this is?"

Hoyt burst into laughter.

"Don't lie to me. There’s no way you don’t."

It was the statue of an orc warrior, grinning down at him with a huge greatsword slung over his shoulder.

His body was covered in scars, looking as if he could collapse at any moment, yet he stood straight, chest out, chin up, grinning proudly.

A warrior who knew no surrender.

"Crockta...?"

"Yes, that's him."

"Crockta is from Orcrox?"

"Most don't know. His story began in Orcrox. He was a disciple of Lenox standing beside him and a friend of mine."

Sabichwi's heart began to race uncontrollably.

It was an odd thing. Facing Crockta's statue, he wanted to grab his weapon and swing it until he collapsed from exhaustion. He wanted to fight until his body broke apart and thus, become a warrior whose name would be remembered in history.

Without further thought, Sabichwi declared.

"I want to follow Crockta’s footsteps!"

"Crockta... huh? Excellent."

They left the Hall of Fame.

"When Crockta first came here, Lenox, who was an instructor then, asked him why he wanted to become a warrior. Just as I asked you."

"What was his answer?"

"What do you think he said?"

They returned to the training ground.

The heat was intense. Not a single person was down. If someone fell, they got up. If one arm was injured, they used the other. Everyone continued their battle against themselves until they fell unconscious.

"He said it was to protect the ones dear to him, just like you."

"Ah...!"

"And in the end, he did protect the people he loved."

Crockta.

The great warrior who saved the world from the Ashen God and ascended.

The only orc in history respected by all races.

"Here."

Hoyt handed over a great sword. It was so heavy that it was difficult to even hold it. Sabichwi struggled for a while.

"What are you doing?" Hoyt asked rhetorically.

"Sorry?”

"Why aren't you swinging it on the training grounds already?"

He gestured toward the training ground with his chin.

Sabichwi hastily climbed onto the training ground, awkwardly holding the greatsword.

The rumble of the training ground was felt by him too. Every time the warriors stomped their feet, his body also shook.

Hoyt shouted, "Listen up, everyone! A new rookie just arrived!"

"Wow!"

"Yayyyyy!"

"How long has it been since we had a new face!"

The warriors cheered, wielding their weapons.

"But this rookie chose to follow Crockta!"

"Pahahahaha!"

"He wants to follow Crockta!"

"The balls on this rookie!"

"He's asking for some more beating!"

The warriors burst into laughter. Sabichwi scratched his head awkwardly.

"Show this fearless rookie what being a warrior is about! Swing it————!”

"Bul’tar!"

Bul’tar, the word that symbolized the orcs.

Honor and life, the most noble values they pursue.

It evolved from the ancient Orcish.

Language evolved. It was taking on a different form once again.

There was a warrior who was the embodiment of Bul’tar. His life was Bul’tar itself and he achieved salvation for the world with the body of a mortal.

Thus, in honor of his spirit, the orcs shout that phrase.

"Bul’tar Crocktaaaa————!"

"Bul’tar Crockta————!"

"Crocktaaaaa!"

Sabichwi lifted the greatsword. The heat of the training ground enveloped him.

The statue of Crockta that seemed to grin at him, was it merely an illusion?

Or, could it be that a great destiny awaited him too?

Sabichwi swung the greatsword and screamed.

"Bul’tar Crocktaaaa————!"

* * *

"How is it?"

Thompson carefully picked up the noodles.

And then he slurped them up in one bite.

"Wow, this is amazing!"

Jeremy, who was tasting the noodles beside him, suddenly stood up from his seat.

His face was flushed with excitement.

"This is revolutionary! You’re telling me a flavor like this existed this whole time?" He exclaimed.

"Hehehe, this is my masterpiece, created with all my heart."

"My brother, you are a demon, a demon of taste! This is a demonly delicious taste!"

"Thank you for the compliment, heheheheh."

Thompson gulped down the water, wondering what Jeremy would do if he found out the man smiling contently before him was indeed an actual demon.

Indeed, even he, who normally could not handle spicy food, couldn't stop himself due to the devilishly good taste.

"Brother Xantimur! Where have you been hiding such a chef? This is incredible!"

"I only recently discovered him myself. His skill is miraculous, isn't it?"

His business partner Xantimur was smiling beside Abaddon, the demon.

After Crockta defeated the Ashen God and ascended, much had changed.

The races agreed to eliminate discrimination against each other. The entire continent cooperated for peace. In such a climate, the "Xantimur Mercenary Squad" emerged.

His mercenary squad consisted of ogres, goblins, kobolds, centaurs, and other monsters that people shunned.

However, the monsters in the mercenary squad were different from ordinary monsters.

They were all mutants of the monster world with intelligence and incredible abilities.

Thompson had hired the Xantimur Mercenary Squad, and the attacks on his caravan during trading trips drastically decreased. Their prowess was real.

Thus, Thompson signed a long-term employment contract with Xantimur.

And recently, Xantimur had proposed a new business venture to him.

Thompson was aware of his true identity. The fact that Xantimur was a Black Dragon was a secret between just the two of them.

Because he knew that, Thompson did not expect him to introduce something suitable for mortals.

But, even so, Xantimur brought a demon.

The demon brought with him the "Demon Noodle Recipe", and Xantimur and the demon aimed to establish a network of restaurants selling the demon noodles across the continent.

"With such a flavor, indeed..."

"If you, Mr. Thompson, invest in me, I will hire those who are sufficiently tight-lipped to pass on the secret of the taste. Under the name ‘Demon Noodles,' we will spread the fiery taste of spiciness across the continent, hehehehe."

The wind of restaurant franchising was blowing across Elder Lord.

Thompson pondered.

This was a new attempt. With such a demonly taste, there was undoubtedly potential. But, pioneering a new market always comes with risks. He began to weigh the possibilities and risks.

Then, Abaddon whispered in Thompson's ear.

He was indeed a demon, capable of doing demonly things.

"If you refuse, Mr. Thompson... I might have to take my business proposal to the Blacksmiths Trading Company...? Hehehehe..."

"...!"

He could not let that happen!

Thompson stood up abruptly.

"Alright!"

Abaddon and Xantimur's faces brightened.

"Let's give it a try!"

Thompson extended his hand. Abaddon and Xantimur shook it. Jeremy, who was there for fun and had nothing to do with the business, also joined in shaking hands.

"Let's create a Demon Noodle craze across the continent!"

"Ohhhh, yes! Sounds great, my brother!"

"Thank you, hehehe..."

"I'm looking forward to it."

And so began the first step of the legend of the Demon Noodle.

The continent was on the eve of a storm.

Only one thing was going to hit the continent after this brief quiet!

And that was going to be: a storm of flavor!

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