"How can they be so incompetent? There isn't even one novice-level warrior among them." Nafız was absolutely furious after a day of training.
"For someone at your level, training so many beginners is truly hard work; I understand your situation, but many of them only got the chance to hold a real weapon today. We have quantity more than quality; couldn't you just try to pick the best ones available?"
"Are we choosing tomatoes from a market stall, you pimp! My nerves are shot as it is; don't talk carelessly with me." Alyon, trying to soothe the situation, unknowingly threw fuel onto the fire. Because of the persona she inherited, Nafız was growing more aggressive by the day and could not tolerate the incompetence in tasks she found easy.
Nafız, storming out of the tent as the conversation ended, shouted with an ear-splitting voice: "Warrior section gather! You will be training under night conditions! Those who are not here by my second command, don't let me see your face again!"
The Warrior section orcs, who thought they could finally rest and eat after a long and exhausting day, were utterly bewildered by the command from their Chief. Because they all dropped what they were holding and rushed to the training ground, the interior of the tribe turned into a chaotic marketplace. Meanwhile, Alyon had already begun thinking about much more important matters inside his tent: "Market stall, tomatoes, what are these? She finally yelled 'pimp' at me; I hope what she said is a good thing."
Seeing Domuzkuyruk appear at his tent door, he chased away the absurd thoughts in his head, and they began planning the work the supply section would do for a month.
While the relentless training of the warriors continued, the supply section was also having busy times. A large group of orcs was sent to Lofty Mountain to cut down trees and transport large rocks. The orcs, sent to this mountain without any protection, continued their journey anxiously, finally arriving at the place they feared.
Some of the orcs who had been here before could not believe their eyes when they saw the mountain's current state. In this place, where they once feared taking a few steps beyond the foothills, there was now not a single trace of a living creature. Their respect for the Chief and the female orc beside him was increasing manifold against the backdrop of the scene the orcs saw while working under the heavy smell of blood.
The orcs who remained on Lofty Mountain for about two cycles of the day saw that large trenches were starting to be dug around the tribe when they returned. Domuzkuyruk, greeting the astonished orcs unloading their cargo, ordered his assistant to note the quantity of incoming supplies. The Chief of the Supply Section, seeing that the trees were uprooted and brought back just as he said and that the rocks were in the desired size, was ecstatic.
"You all did a great job; now go and rest! The mess hall will be open for you!" The orcs, listening to their Chief's words, seemed to be thrilled. These orcs, who were previously fed by the leftovers of the Chief's lineage and the soldiers, were now learning that the mess hall was kept open for them. Seeing the reward for their two days of intense and dedicated work had wiped away all their fatigue.
Nafız, seeing the incoming materials, sent a group of warriors to the supply section to clean and shape the trees. "If you still haven't learned to swing an axe when you return, just wait and see where you'll go." Nafız, sending off the weakest links of the group with threats, gave her command to the remaining warriors.
"All of you will take a rock and come here; we will continue training tonight as well." The torture they had endured for days had already exceeded the orcs' psychological limits. Although a few warriors initially tried to rebel, unable to control their nerves, what happened to them served as a major deterrent for the rest of the group. When their Chief made the bodies unrecognizable, they understood that disobedience was not an option.
"Raise the rocks in your hands above your heads and hold them that way for as long as you can." Following Nafız's command, all the warriors began waiting with rocks in their hands. After a while, one of the warriors collapsed, unable to endure it, and the rock in his hand rolled beside him. From then on, with every passing hour, the orcs succumbed to time one by one.
Although their powerful physiques allowed them to dominate most races, their low intelligence and insufficient psychological resilience were the orcs' weak points. As important as strength was in a battle, intelligence and a stable psychology were equally important.
When the last orc remained, the daylight was slowly starting to hit the tribe. Nafız was met with a surprise when she approached the orc who had shown such endurance. This person was the orc who had taken her to the supply section during the naming ceremony and was Domuzkuyruk's son.
"Isn't your father the Supply Chief? What are you doing here, big boy?" Nafız wanted to learn the limits of the orc who had lasted this long. Seeing no answer, she increased the intensity slightly.
"Are you relying on your dung-collector father to give you the courage not to answer my questions?" The orc, afraid that he would drop the rock in his hand if he spoke, his teeth began grinding with rage.
"No! My Chief, I am an orc who wants to be a warrior, and my trust is only in my own strength."
"Tell me your name, son of Ayıboğan's bastard!" When Nafız said these words, looking at the crowd, the training ground rang with laughter.
"My name is Küçükdomuzcuk, my Chief!" Nafız was utterly enraged upon seeing that Ayıboğan had given his own name to his grandson.
"This blast of nostalgia is finally going to make me vomit. As if knowing your father is the Chief of the dung-collectors wasn't enough, now you've learned you have a talentless grandfather whose name you carry. I suppose that's why you still haven't dropped that rock, right?" As Nafız's speech continued, the warriors, who hadn't rested for a full day, were delighted, and their laughter shook the steppe.
"No, I am not putting this rock down because you haven't given the order, my Chief!" As Küçükdomuzcuk spoke, shouting with his remaining strength, Nafız's lips began to curl upward.
Suddenly, two whips emerged from her wristbands and began to dance across Küçükdomuzcuk's body. Küçükdomuzcuk couldn't hold the rock as blood spurted from all over his body, and he fell to the ground with it. Nafız continued to mercilessly whip the orc on the ground; meanwhile, the laughter of the other warriors ceased, and a deathly silence fell over the area.
When the entire body of the orc on the ground was covered in blood, Nafız finally retracted her whips back into her wristbands. After lightly wiping her blood-soaked face, she turned to the warriors: "The orc on the ground has completed his task. Take him to the healer's section to recover. This orc, who will henceforth be called Sangre, is the most authoritative person among the warriors after me. Make sure you show him the necessary respect."
With the warning from Nafız, a group of warriors gently lifted the blood-soaked orc and set off toward the healer's section, while the orcs who witnessed the events had only one question in their minds: what happened here just now?
In this world, noble lineages harbored certain secret abilities in their blood. While these abilities could be of many different natures and their power varied according to the user, there was no way to steal them from their owner. The ability inherited from Mora's lineage was in a class that could be considered unique among other abilities. Since her first ancestor, no one except herself had managed to unleash power comparable to her might. Nafız, remembering the great tragedy Mora experienced in her youth, couldn't help but think, "Maybe mediocrity is happiness."
Domuzkuyruk, receiving the news immediately upon waking, set off toward the Chief's tent in fury. The distressed father, seeing Nafız cleaning the blood that had splattered on her, attacked, losing control of himself, with no thought but revenge in his mind. The Chief of the Supply Section, whose son had been beaten senseless, didn't care about the world; even when knocked to the ground by blows, he continued to get up and attack.
"I heard what happened; whoever you are, you will pay the price for this!" Domuzkuyruk's shouting had caused Alyon, who was sleeping inside, to wake up.
"What is all this noise? What dispute could my two section chiefs possibly have that they fight right outside my door?" Alyon, emerging from his tent, snapped at the fighting pair outside.
"Chief, this brute attempted to kill my son during training. I appeal to your justice!" When Alyon wanted an answer, he saw Nafız, who continued cleaning herself while gesturing with her hand for Domuzkuyruk to speak. Upon this situation, Domuzkuyruk quickly began recounting what he had heard.
"My Lord, my son was the only person who endured until the end of the training. Despite all the humiliation and insults he endured, he stated he would not leave the training without an order." Domuzkuyruk, who started speaking without pause, took a short breath and continued:
"At the end of everything, this killer tried to drown my son in his own blood with whips that appeared in her hand." Domuzkuyruk, seeing the Chief turn to Nafız in astonishment before he finished his sentence, began to rejoice, thinking he had achieved his goal, but this situation didn't last long.
Domuzkuyruk, whose joy was broken by the Chief shouting at him, was about to be frozen by the words he heard. "Quickly, kneel at Nafız's feet and beg forgiveness. Your son has been blessed with the Blood Baptism!"