Cassian soared high in the sky, so high he was theoretically safe from most projectiles. His turquoise eyes gleamed with focus, scanning the horizon like an eagle. He mentally traced the paths of roving Orc bands, noting their erratic movements.
"If they're all coming from that direction," he murmured, his breath forming a faint cloud in the cool air, "then that's probably where the ogre is."
He descended slightly, his hair whipped by the wind, and shouted to the group below:
"TO THE LEFT! LOOP THROUGH THE FOREST! THERE'S A GROUP OF ORCS AHEAD!"
Below, the knights marched at a leisurely pace, their armor clinking softly.
"Cassian's really effective," said one knight, adjusting his helmet with a satisfied smile. "We haven't run into a single enemy yet."
"A walk in the park," joked another, laughing loudly.
"Don't jinx it, Roland," growled a veteran, wiping sweat from his brow. "Wait till we face the ogre, and you won't be so cocky."
"Pfft, even if we run into Orcs, they're no match for us," Roland bragged, thumping his breastplate. "Not for us, boys!"
The mood was relaxed. Some knights joked, others talked about their families.
"My wife'll kill me if I come back with another scar," muttered one knight, rubbing an old gash on his cheek.
"Your wife?" snickered another, nudging him. "Mine threatened to make me sleep outside if I lose my wedding band again."
"Poor Tobin, kicked out of his own bed!" called a third, sparking laughter among the group.
"Laugh all you want," Tobin grumbled, feigning indignation, "but if I'm sleeping in the barn, I'm dragging you lot with me!"
Inside the carriage, Eric sat with a haggard man. Joren, in his forties, had a face hollowed by hunger and stress. His tattered clothes hung off his frail frame, and bruises covered his arms.
The group had found him wandering alone on the road, barely able to stand. They'd fed him and brought him to safety in the carriage.
Joren spoke with Eric, his voice trembling, hands clenched on his knees.
"The small town I was in… it was attacked and looted by Orcs. Me and the townsfolk were taken prisoner."
Eric listened intently, hands clasped, his piercing gaze fixed on Joren.
"I escaped because the others put all their hopes in me," Joren continued, eyes downcast. "I was the only one with a chance to bring help."
He raised an arm, showing scars and burns marring his skin.
"I was strong before," he whispered, voice breaking. "But the Orcs' mistreatment… it left marks."
A knight near the carriage, eavesdropping discreetly, muttered to another: "Look at this poor bastard. Those savages broke him."
"Save your pity, Lars," his comrade replied, shaking his head. "He's alive. That's more than most can say."
Joren lifted his head, ignoring the whispers. "But the leader of those green savages… he's the worst." His voice shook, eyes haunted. "A cruel, strong giant. He uses captured humans for his own amusement. At the moment I—"
"Wait," Eric cut in sharply, leaning forward, eyes blazing with intensity. "You're sure there was a green giant there?"
Joren nodded vigorously, hands trembling. "Yes, Your Highness. An ogre. Huge. Bigger than any Orc."
Eric leaned back, a fierce grin spreading across his face. The ogre's closer than expected. That damn bastard's caused too much chaos.
He grasped Joren's hands, locking eyes with him. "We'll do everything to save the captured townsfolk. I'm counting on you to guide us well."
Joren's face lit up, tears welling in his eyes. "Thank you… thank you, Your Highness," he stammered, voice thick with emotion. "The sacrifice of everyone who helped me escape won't be in vain."
I'm coming back with help. And not just any help, he thought, clenching his fists.
---
Elsewhere
The ogre Thomas strode among his troops, a barrel of ale in hand. He stood nearly four meters tall, with bulging muscles and dark green skin scarred from countless battles. His tusks jutted far from his jaw, and a gold earring gleamed in his left ear.
"That's the problem with humans," he growled, taking a long swig, his voice rumbling like thunder. "Always hiding behind walls."
"Like rats in a cage," sneered an Orc beside him, sharpening his axe.
"Rats we'll crush, boss!" shouted another, brandishing his weapon, sparking grunts of approval from the horde.
"Less talk, more smashing!" barked an older Orc, elbowing a younger one. "Thomas wants prisoners, not corpses!"
Orcs scrambled out of Thomas's path as he picked up speed, some diving aside, his strides shaking the ground.
The fortress's defenders, seeing the ogre charge, screamed in panic.
"Fire! Fire everything we've got!" yelled a human captain, voice hoarse from the ramparts.
"It's useless!" an archer shouted back, dropping his bow, hands trembling. "He'll smash it all!"
Arrows flew. Spells hissed through the air. Catapults launched stones.
But Thomas ignored them, charging onward.
BOOM.
He slammed into the gate full force. Wood and metal exploded, fragments flying in all directions. A massive breach opened.
Thomas turned, a satisfied grin on his massive face. "CAPTURE AS MANY HUMANS AS POSSIBLE!" he roared, his laughter shaking the remaining walls.
The Orcs howled in glee, rushing through the breach.
"For Thomas!" shouted one, waving a mace.
"Take the living, not the dead!" growled another, grabbing a fleeing human.
Suddenly, an Orc on horseback galloped up, shouting at the top of his lungs: "THOMAS! THOMAS!"
The horse skidded to a stop near the ogre, kicking up a dust cloud. The messenger, face panicked, gasped. "The main camp's under attack!"
Thomas froze, eyes narrowing. Then his face twisted in rage.
CRACK.
He accidentally crushed the ale barrel, liquid spilling across the ground.
"WHAT?!" he roared, his voice shaking the nearby Orcs.
"A monster, boss!" the messenger stammered, wiping sweat from his brow. "It's tearing through everything!"
"And the prisoners?" Thomas growled, grabbing the Orc by the collar.
"They… they're being freed! The knights…"
Thomas dropped the Orc, who collapsed to the ground. "Useless idiots!" he swore, tusks snapping in frustration. Without another word, he sprinted toward the main camp, his powerful muscles hauling his massive frame. Each stride shook the earth.
"Follow him!" shouted an Orc, mounting his horse.
"He'll kill us all if we lag!" muttered another, running after.
Five minutes of full-speed sprinting later, Thomas stopped, panting desperately. His body radiated heat in waves.
*I… underestimated… the distance…*
He collapsed onto the grass, chest heaving. Everything I have is there.
An exhausted Orc caught up, gasping. "Boss, why'd you stop? We're almost there!"
"Shut it, Skrag," Thomas growled, shooting him a dark look. "I'm catching my breath, not you."
"Sorry, boss," Skrag mumbled, lowering his head. "But… we gonna lose the camp?"
"Not if I get involved," Thomas rumbled, standing, eyes burning with determination.
Just a few months ago, Thomas was nothing but an ordinary ogre. A brute.
By chance, he'd entered a tower.
Inside, he'd encountered a gravely wounded adventurer about to leave after challenging the tower.
As the green creature he was, he'd taken pleasure in attacking the defenseless human.
In return, he gained everything the adventurer owned.
Nothing fit him except a single earring belonging to the adventurer.
Once the adventurer died, the earring latched onto the ogre, attaching to his ear.
Thomas remembered hearing laughter from nowhere, satisfied with the adventurer's death, but he couldn't identify it.
While wandering the tower's first floor, the ogre met an ancient scholar trapped in a stone pillar.
The scholar hadn't spoken to anyone in ages. No one could hear his voice.
The ogre, with his simple mind, was suddenly the only "blank slate" available.
The scholar's voice reached him clearly, while "too-smart" adventurers couldn't hear it, drowned by their own thoughts.
The scholar spoke directly into the ogre's mind.
At first, Thomas thought he was having strange thoughts.
Then he realized "the voice in the stone" was speaking to him.
Out of boredom and desperation for company, the scholar taught him.
"No, ogre, don't push that door, it's sealed. Pull the lever on the left."
"That symbol, see? It means 'food.'"
Thomas grew smarter through this strange encounter.
Guided by the scholar, the ogre found a leaking basin in a hidden room.
Following the scholar's instructions, he drank from it.
Each sip brought flashes of memory, rudimentary skills: how to sharpen a blade, read a simple map, basic vocabulary.
His intelligence grew in spurts with each drink.
He became addicted to the water, spending more time by the basin.
But the scholar told him to stop.
"That water caused many deaths. Death by knowledge overload. Many went mad in the tower and died foolishly. You could drink more than most because your intellect was lower when you started."
As the ogre spent time on the first floor under the scholar's guidance, he learned to read, understand the tower's skill books, and set traps.
The scholar was pleased to see him grow.
He even named him: Thomas.
But good things always end.
The ogre left the tower without warning, overnight.
Leaving the scholar alone in the dark.
No matter if I created a monster, the scholar thought. At least I felt less alone.
After leaving the tower, Thomas, now intelligent and driven by the earring, reached an Orc camp.
Before, he would've charged in to eat them.
Now, he paused.
The earring whispered in his mind: "Dominate. Rule."
Thomas stood to his full height.
He struck a tree to make noise and draw attention.
The Orc chief emerged, growling, ready for combat.
Thomas didn't charge.
He used the words the scholar taught him, his voice deep and commanding:
"You. Orc. Strong. But me, stronger. Follow me, you live and conquer. Say no, die here."
The Orc stared.
His instincts screamed this creature was a massive threat.
His Orc code demanded respect for raw strength.
The earring's magic amplified this, channeling Thomas's perceived strength to bend the Orc's will.
The Orc hesitated, then lowered his weapon and bowed his head.
Thomas's first subject was won.
The earring glowed faintly, satisfied.
It had the power to subdue anyone who saw its host as stronger.
Thomas, rested, stood, ready to reach the main camp. But his troops caught up.
"Boss, you're slow today!" an Orc joked, quickly silenced by a dark glare.
I took too long to recover, Thomas thought, furious.
---
At the Main Camp
Cassian sat with a few knights, the mood light.
"So, you're saying you don't really act your age?" asked a knight, raising an eyebrow.
"Confirmed?" added another, chuckling.
Cassian nodded cheerfully. "I'm eighty-six days old!"
The knights made shocked faces.
"Wait… what?" Roland exclaimed, eyes wide. "I thought you were some old mage using secret magic to look young!"
Cassian burst out laughing, clapping his hands. "Why would I do that? Too complicated!"
"Is he messing with us?" Tobin muttered, squinting.
"Let him be, he's weird but effective," Lars replied, shrugging.
Eric, standing back, thought: It makes sense. Cassian fell from the sky. Divine origins?
He approached. "Cassian, who are your parents?"
Cassian puffed out his chest, proud. "I have only one family. The great, the magnificent NoScopeSlayer123!"
The knights exchanged confused looks.
"Anyone know him?" Roland asked.
"Never heard of him," Tobin mumbled.
Cassian gasped theatrically, shocked. "Impossible! You don't know my father?!"
A chimera was wreaking havoc among the Orcs. Lion's head covered in white feathers, feline front, reptilian rear, with a whip-like tail and menacing black claws. Wings beat on its back.
It spewed lava, tore through Orcs, tossed them like dolls.
"Run!" screamed an Orc, stumbling in the mud.
"We can't! It's everywhere!" yelled another, dodging a lava jet.
Human prisoners were being secured by the knights.
"Move, quick!" ordered a knight, pushing an old man.
"My daughter! She's still back there!" sobbed a woman, struggling.
Other knights played cards, sitting calmly.
"How much you betting?"
"Three gold coins."
"You're nuts!"
The chimera was so effective the knights didn't need to fight.
"Is that thing ours?" a knight whispered, awestruck.
"Thanks, Cassian," muttered another.