Sarion and Veryan moved like ghosts through the dense forest, their footsteps muffled by fallen leaves. Ancient trees towered above them, their branches weaving a canopy so thick that only scattered beams of sunlight penetrated to the forest floor. The air hung heavy with the scent of moss and decay, while unseen creatures rustled in the undergrowth. Sarion's expression had hardened into something that promised the end of the Yin's invasion of the Zen Forest.
"Chief, how do you intend to pin down Vorgrim? He is the only real problem our group will face during this expedition. A chief's bloodline is notoriously hard to slay."
Veryan's voice carried genuine concern—he knew well the power that flowed through a chief's veins, the ancient blessing that made them nearly immortal among their kind. Sarion remained silent for several heartbeats before coming to an abrupt halt, his red eyes gleaming with deadly certainty.
"Yes, it might be hard to kill a chief—but not when it's another chief doing the killing."
Understanding dawned in Veryan's eyes, but worry clouded his features. "That's true, Chief, but don't forget—that also puts you at Vorgrim's mercy. Be careful!"
Sarion's lips curved in a predatory smile before he resumed their deadly march deeper into the forest, his mind already working through the brutal calculations of their coming battle.
---
"Chief Vorgrim, Sarion has come into view. How do you want to engage, sir?"
Vorgrim's savage grin split his blue features like a wound. "Moktar!"
"Yes, Chief!" A towering blue-skinned ogre stepped forward from the assembled warriors, his massive frame casting a shadow as he knelt before his leader. Scars crisscrossed his arms and chest—testament to countless battles survived.
"You will accompany me to greet our enemy. Let's move out."
The two Yin warriors advanced through the forest until both groups stood at a respectful—and lethal—distance from each other. The very air seemed to thicken with anticipation, as if the ancient trees themselves held their breath.
"Ahhh... Sarion, I see you've been faring quite well. Sorry to inform you, but today your peace ends. Today the Yin Clan takes one step closer to uniting all ogres of the Zen Forest under our banner."
Sarion remained statue-still after listening to Vorgrim's proclamation, his face betraying not even the slightest hint of emotion. This silent treatment ignited Vorgrim's rage like oil on flame.
"Moktar! Show this arrogant fool that I am to be answered whenever I speak!"
Moktar cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing through the clearing like breaking bones. "Yes, Chief!"
The massive ogre exploded forward, his fist cutting through the air toward Sarion's skull. But before the blow could connect, Veryan moved with fluid grace, catching the punch mid-flight with seemingly effortless ease.
Moktar's eyes widened in shock as he leaped backward, suddenly hyperaware of the deadly aura radiating from Veryan. The warrior's bloodlust pressed against him like a physical weight, and he knew with crystal clarity that one mistake would mean his death.
Sarion remained unmoved, looking at Vorgrim with something that might have been pity—the way one might regard a condemned man walking to his execution. He raised a hand, and Veryan immediately stepped back, recognizing the gesture.
Moving with deceptive casualness, Sarion approached until he stood beside Moktar. He placed a seemingly gentle hand on the warrior's shoulder. At first, Moktar felt nothing unusual, but in the next heartbeat, crushing pressure drove him to his knees like the weight of a mountain.
"Do not stand before me unless I give you permission, plebeian."
Sweat poured from Moktar's trembling form as he gasped for breath, certain his end had come. Then Sarion lifted his hand, and the pressure vanished like a nightmare upon waking.
"Vorgrim! I do not wish to spill blood today. My wife Bria has just given birth to the most beautiful child, and I want nothing more than to spend time with him. Can you leave?"
Surprise flickered across Vorgrim's features before a cruel smirk twisted his lips.
"Oh! Bria has given birth to your child? This is excellent news! After your death, I'll have a consolation prize. I'll make Bria my plaything, and as for the child—they'll become a personal slave to my brother's offspring... hahaha!"
Lost in his maniacal laughter, Vorgrim failed to notice that for the first time, emotion blazed across Sarion's face. Pure, murderous rage transformed his features into something terrifying—a predator ready to kill and wear his enemy's skin as a trophy.
Sarion moved like lightning, his fist connecting with Vorgrim's face before the blue ogre could react. The impact sent Vorgrim flying backward, his body crashing into an ancient oak with such force that it left a crater in the massive trunk.
"I cannot forgive those foul words when they're directed at my family. Vorgrim, you will pay with your life."
Vorgrim pulled himself from the shattered bark, blood streaming from his nose. The punch had come without warning, but if he couldn't handle such an attack, how could he call himself a chief?
"That's what I'm talking about, Sarion! A fight between chiefs—our descendants will speak of this battle for generations!"
---
Deep in the forest, near the heart of the Yin Clan's village, Venna stood like a beautiful nightmare. Sarion had tasked her with holding the entire settlement hostage, granting her permission to eliminate anyone who proved unreasonable.
"That chief always stresses me out. Sometimes I feel he's cheated me out of my love for him. The favors he asks are always impossible tasks, but he still won't let me draw his blood. Let's get this over with so I can return to my experiments."
She stretched languidly before walking through the village gates. Two guards manned the entrance, and the moment they spotted her, she extended her hand. A wand materialized from thin air, its surface carved with eldritch symbols that seemed to writhe in the dim light.
"Hey, who are yo—"
"Nulkren Thek Mordul." Venna's chant cut through their challenge like a blade through silk. Dark mist poured from her wand, flowing into the guards' heads like living shadow. Within moments, their eyes grew vacant as their minds fell under her dominion.
She embraced herself with perverse pleasure, caressing both their chins while whispering into their ears simultaneously. "Come now, let us go and subdue your village. Make sure you watch my back, boys."
---
Grimjaw had positioned himself behind Vorgrim's assembled warriors like death incarnate, ready to paint the forest floor red with their blood. His hands moved in practiced motions, and twin daggers materialized with a faint, sinister glow.
With a predator's patience, he crept toward his first victim. His hand clamped over the ogre's mouth, and before the warrior could struggle, cold steel separated head from shoulders. Blood sprayed in a crimson arc, alerting a nearby comrade.
"Intruder! The intruder killed Grok!"
Grimjaw stepped from the shadows, both daggers raised high and gleaming with fresh blood. "Alright, alright... you caught me. Your prize will be instant death... hahaha!"
He moved like a whirlwind of steel, his blade finding another throat before the ogre could react. By the time the remaining warriors turned toward the commotion, he was already selecting his next target.
"Don't run from me! I promise it won't hurt—I'll make it quick!" Grimjaw's laughter echoed through the trees as he pursued the fleeing ogres, systematically reducing their numbers.
Of the twenty-eight ogres who had remained behind, Grimjaw had already claimed fifteen lives. He continued his deadly dance until only ten survivors cowered before him, their weapons abandoned as they surrendered in terror.
Grimjaw frowned at their capitulation, blood splattered across his face but his maniacal grin unchanged. "You cowards! The chief already told me not to attack anyone who surrendered. You're no fun at all."
He dismissed his daggers, using the back of his hand to wipe gore from his features. "I've done my part. It's up to Venna and the chief now."
---
Venna had already infiltrated deep into the Yin settlement, ten mind-controlled ogres now serving as her personal guard. The remaining villagers had accepted their fate with resigned terror—until one figure stepped forward with defiant courage.
"You are bold indeed! You storm into our clan, take control of our members' minds, and hold my people hostage. You will pay with your life, woman."
Venna embraced herself with obvious delight at seeing this newcomer. "Mmm... so I assume you're the vice chief of the Yin Clan. What is your name? It would be tragic if you died without proper introduction."
The warrior took two measured steps forward before announcing himself with pride. "I am Brogak Yin, vice chief of the Yin Clan and brother to Vorgrim."
Venna licked her lips as if tasting something delicious. "How fair. This Venna will be the one to end you. Ready yourself."
Provoked by her casual dismissal, Brogak charged forward with a devastating punch. But before he could close the distance, something felt wrong—and before he could react, an axe wielded by one of the controlled ogres severed his arm at the shoulder.
"Arghhh... you witch! How dare you?!"
His cry of agony was cut short as an arrow pierced his heart with surgical precision, fired by another of Venna's puppets.
"Kufufu... you fool! The spell I used on your kinsmen is kijin-class magic. You're looking at them as though they're the weak subordinates you once knew, but in truth, they now possess the strength of newly evolved kijin."
Brogak felt his life force ebbing away, the arrow having found its mark with deadly accuracy.
"My love... I'm sorry, but I won't be able to see the twins grow. I'm on my way to meet you."
His body crumpled to the earth, lifeless. Venna gazed down at Brogak with something resembling pity before releasing her spell. The controlled ogres began dissolving into black mist, carried away by the wind like dissipating shadows.
"Such a shame—a spell that could have been my masterpiece only lasts this long. Any longer and I would have been required to fight personally. It's up to the chief now."
---
Moktar remained on his knees even after Sarion had passed, knowing with absolute certainty that he was no match for anyone on this battlefield—not even Veryan.
Sarion and Vorgrim now faced each other in the clearing's center, ready to settle their blood feud once and for all. The very air around them began to shimmer with spiritual energy, the raw power of two chiefs preparing for mortal combat.
Vorgrim launched himself forward with an axe kick aimed at Sarion's head, but the Crimson chief blocked with his forearm, immediately countering with a devastating punch that Vorgrim barely managed to deflect. Their battle fell into a deadly rhythm—attack and counter, strike and block—neither warrior giving ground to the other.
The clearing filled with oppressive tension as their spiritual energies clashed like invisible storms. The ancient trees groaned under the pressure, and any lesser being caught in their aura would have been reduced to dust in moments.
Two chiefs locked in combat, their battle destined to reshape the balance of power in the Zen Forest forever.