"Gulag, silence that ugly woman immediately!" While the City Lord was raging in fury due to what he heard, Gulag watched the changes happening to him with astonishment. A surge of power was flowing from his veins into his whole body; his withered flesh and bones filled with energy.
Gulag hesitated after receiving the order, certain he would cause major damage if he struck the female orc in this state. "King of the Button Makers, why are you so angry now? I think I really guessed right; look at that!" As Nafız escalated the tension, the City Lord's right-hand man was forced to make his move. He quickly rushed at Nafız with his featherlight feet and threw a solid punch.
The punch that should have found its target sliced through the air, and old Gulag was thrown forward a few paces. When he turned around furiously, he saw the female orc smirking at him. Nafız, turning her back to the City Lord, signaled with her eyes to strike now, and Gulag landed a solid punch on her. Nafız, flying past him due to the impact of the blow, hit the opposite wall, scattering the thick velvet curtains.
When the waving of the burgundy curtains stopped, the loud sound that followed cheered up the City Lord. Unable to suppress his impatience, he called out to his right-hand man: "Come here quickly, Gulag, I want to take that big-headed fool's life myself!" The skinny old man rushed to his Lord's side to administer the serum to Godfreybefore collapsing from exhaustion as the drug's effect faded.
Unlike the previous time, the City Lord was already waiting for him, his arm rolled up. Godfrey, having finally obtained the medicine he had awaited for years, leaped quickly from his throne after the injection. Having lost control to the extent that he couldn't see his right-hand man collapsed behind him, he charged toward the orc looking at him with handcuffs on his hands. Godfrey, aiming for the orc's head with his tightly clenched right fist, delivered his blow with a jump.
"Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!"
The throne room, which witnessed the groans of people every day for various reasons, echoed today for the first time with its owner's scream of pain. The City Lord couldn't believe what he was experiencing; he could clearly feel the power filling his body. Feeling like he could do anything, seeing his hand turn out like this against an orc was like a bad joke.
"So that's all the medicine can do, my little friend." Alyon, looking at his enemy writhing in pain, shattered the purple handcuffs with a sharp movement. After pausing briefly, the orc began to walk slowly toward the City Lord, moving like a mountain. Under the effect of the intense pressure coming from the person before him, the City Lord screamed with a mixture of pain and rage.
"Miloş! Damn it, help me!" Godfrey's hopeful gaze, shouting toward the curtains, turned to horror with the first head that rolled in front of him. The City Lord, starting to gasp in fear, came close to losing consciousness when seven severed heads of his secret guards gathered before him.
"Guard! Guard!" Godfrey's voice, calling the door guard for help, was cut short by a slap from Alyon. Alyon had delivered the slap only because Godfrey's voice annoyed him, as the guard waiting at the door was one of Gulag's trusted men. The group had received strict orders not to let anyone enter the room while they were inside.
Meanwhile, the thick velvet curtain waved once more; this time, the arrivals were Nafız and a person she was dragging, unconscious. This mercenary, named Miloş, served as the head of the City Lord's secret personal guards. Alyon, seeing that Nafız hadn't killed the strongest of the eight guards he sensed: "Nafız, when you start reaping, you never miss a tall weed; this friend must be very lucky."
Nafız, throwing Miloş, whom she dragged by the collar, next to the two people lying on the floor, spoke, fixing her eyes on Gulag. "First, let's save this old man; then I plan to share the scheme on my mind with you." Nafız, walking over to the old man, took out a handful of gruel-like medicine from her ring. One hundred breaths after Nafız shoved the medicine into Gulag's mouth in a not-so-gentle manner, the old man slowly began to open his eyes. Since his poor body was exposed to some of the side effects of the power medicine he took, his face was pale as chalk, and his pulse was very weak.
"Gulag, rest a little; we have enough time now." When Alyon spoke, pointing at the unconscious City Lord, the worried look in the old man's eyes disappeared. Scanning the room with his eyes from where he lay, and seeing the seven heads on the floor and Nafız, he spoke in pain, ignoring the separation of his flesh from his bones. "You knew about these people when you told me to administer the power potion to Godfrey before I punched you, didn't you?"
Nafız, tossing her hair with a sarcastic attitude after the old man's words: "Contrary to your physical strength, you seem to have a sharp mind, old man. I needed some time to kill these guards hidden behind the curtain; I knew that idiot would attack Alyon under the drug's influence," she said. Nafız had made this plan to neutralize the guards the moment the City Lord ordered Gulag to test the potion. She gave the old man an instruction to buy time, taking Gulag's punch over the purple handcuffs and using the momentum to throw herself into the guards.
"His taking the power medicine first could also prepare a ground for your serum to take effect. Apply your potion once you recover a bit, and let us see what skills you possess." As soon as Nafız finished speaking, Gulag hurriedly interjected. "It's not certain when I will fully recover; please administer the serum immediately." The old man, fearing everything would be overturned by unforeseen reasons after things reached this point, made an offer. When he took the serum out of his robe pocket and extended it to Nafız, he felt an arm wrap around him and lift him from the ground.
Looking at the owner of the arm in astonishment, he heard Alyon's voice right next to his ear: "You've been living for the dream of this moment for years, haven't you? No one can take this pleasure away from you." Alyon, carrying Gulag to the City Lord's side, lifted him with one hand, providing the right conditions for him to administer the medicine. Gulag, administering the prepared serum to the City Lord, let all the pain accumulated over the years flow from his eyes like the waters of a broken dam.
Gulag, feeling the pain he was wrapped in start to leave him, put a warm smile on his face like a rainbow after the rain when his crying stopped. The current state of the throne room—the old man grinning despite his missing teeth, the two orc warriors, the City Lord lying on the ground, and seven severed heads—resembled a Renaissance painting.
"You should have hit him a little softer; the poor wretch whose face is completely smashed. It's not clear when he will wake up!" Nafız snapped at Alyon in an angry tone while looking at the City Lord after the medicine had been administered. "I hit him lightly; how was I supposed to know he was so weak?"
While the two argued heatedly, Miloş, lying bound with blood ropes in a corner, began to come to. Nafız, sensing her captive was awake, walked toward him, while Miloş couldn't stop himself from trembling with fear, as if he had seen a devil. "Since our sleeping beauty is awake, instead of waiting aimlessly, why don't we ask him a few questions?" The female orc walking toward where he lay, sending out murderous looks contrary to her giggling voice, made Miloş think he was living his final moments. In these moments, with the fear of death squeezing his heart like a vice, the guard cast aside his pride and cried out: "Mighty warrior, I will tell you whatever you want to know. I will do whatever you want; please spare my life!"