Re:Crafting in Another World
Chapter 80: Orcs III - A great flame

Chapter 80: Orcs III - A great flame

Ka’ra leaned against the cracked stone pillar, scratching her head with a deep frown. Around her, a cluster of orcs growled and grumbled, their voices rising like a low storm.

"We don’t have enough humans!" an orc bellowed, slamming his heavy fist onto the ground, sending up a puff of dust. "Ukar killed the last batch fo human women we had! And most of the males... they don’t even let us peacefully breed them unlike women! They struggle and try to fight back and as a result they end up killing themselves."

The others roared in frustration, and Ka’ra let out a long sigh.

"I know," she said, her voice cutting through the noise. "I know. I’ve been thinking about it. Me and a few others have been scouting the forest edges lately."

Okaru, a brutish orc with a jagged scar across his forehead, leaned forward. "And?"

Ka’ra shrugged. "Humans... they’ve stopped building little villages near the forest. They know it’s dangerous now. They’re getting smart and careful."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"And that’s not all," Ka’ra continued. "There’s been an increase... a huge one. Human warriors. Adventurers. Dangerous ones. They’re hunting monsters—and us. If we could capture them, it’d be great. Strong bloodlines, strong stock... but," she frowned, "they’re too well-trained. Hard to capture alive."

Okaru grunted. "So what do we do then?"

A snarl rose from the orcs at the idea. Ka’ra’s sharp eyes glinted as a plan formed in her mind.

"We move forward," she said. "We stop picking at the scraps. We attack."

The gathered orcs shifted uneasily.

"Attack what?" one asked. "Not the big human lands...?"

Ka’ra grinned, a wolfish, daring smile. "No. Not yet. The small human towns. They’re bigger than villages, sure. But not as protected. Risky, yes... but lately, our blacksmiths..." She slapped a hand against her chest plate. "Orcaine armor. Stronger than anything we’ve had before. I fought a salamander the other day wearing this. Barely even broke a sweat."

Her fingers rapped against the black metal, the sound sharp and confident.

"And we won’t just charge in like idiots!" she barked. "We’ll burn their town first. Set fire to their homes, their crops, their lives. Create panic. Confusion."

The orcs leaned closer, listening.

"Then we swoop in, grab the humans—strong women and men to replenish our numbers. Children for food and possibly raise them as ultimate breeding horses."

A murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd, but a smaller orc raised a hand hesitantly.

"But... if we attack towns... won’t the humans unite? Send armies after us?"

Ka’ra’s grin widened, sharp and fearless.

"Are you scared?" she challenged.

A guttural growl rose from the throats of every orc present, their pride wounded.

"No!" they roared as one.

Ka’ra laughed, a fierce, roaring sound. "Then why worry? If they send armies..." She licked her tusk in anticipation. "That just means more humans for us!"

The orcs erupted into wild cheers, slamming weapons against their armor and stomping their feet.

But then—

Ka’ra went still.

She lifted her nose to the air and sniffed, her thick brows furrowing. Her face twisted into a sour expression.

Something was wrong.

Before she could even voice it, a shout came, harsh and panicked, in the harsh tongue of the orcs.

"Fire! Fire!"

Ka’ra whirled around and sprinted out of the room. The heavy wooden gates of their fortress loomed ahead—except now, they were ablaze.

And not just burning.

The thick walls, built from the strongest oak trees hundreds of years old, were going up like dry twigs. The flames weren’t natural. They twisted and writhed unnaturally, burning not just the wood, but even the soil beneath.

Orcs rushed around, buckets in hand, trying desperately to douse the fire. But no matter how much water they threw, the fire didn’t die. It didn’t even slow.

It was like... a curse.

"This... this isn’t normal fire!" one orc shouted, panic breaking his voice.

Another screamed, "It’s witchcraft!"

Ka’ra’s eyes narrowed, cutting through the chaos. She wasn’t so easily frightened. She scanned the forest line beyond the burning walls—and her breath caught.

There, standing beyond the inferno, was a man.

He was tall, clothed in torso that didn’t have arms and a leather pant holding a pickaxe on his shoulder that seemed untouched by the fire’s heat. His hair was wild and dark, his expression one of mild amusement, like a nobleman watching animals scramble in a pit.

Then his eyes locked onto Ka’ra’s.

And he smiled.

Slowly, mockingly, he lifted a hand and beckoned.

Come.

Ka’ra growled low in her throat, her hand twitching toward the hilt of her great club. Every instinct screamed to charge at him—but no. Not now.

Instead, she turned back to her people.

"Focus on the fire!" she barked. "Put it out first! Save the animals and our armors!"

Hours passed, and the fire only grew worse. It didn’t just consume—it corrupted. Burnt soil became blackened mess; trees withered and cracked into dust; even stone split apart, steaming and hissing and only thing surrounding village was a dark orange flame that rose up to the sky almost seven meters tall.

Finally, exhausted and beaten, the orcs gathered in the center of their ruined camp. Smoke hung over them like a funeral shroud.

Ka’ra stood among her people, chest heaving, ash clinging to her dark green skin. The air was thick with the stench of burnt wood and something... unnatural.

An old orc woman, bent and wrinkled like a crumpled leaf, slowly hobbled beside Ka’ra, her gnarled hands clutching a twisted staff. Her voice, dry as the scorched soil, whispered at Ka’ra’s side.

"This... this is a sign, child," the old crone rasped, her white eyes clouded with visions only she could see. "The end... our end, it draws near."

Ka’ra turned her head slightly but said nothing.

"I have heard," the old woman continued, "of a flame that does not die, a flame that feasts on life itself. The Immortal Flame... the Wrath of Agni, Spirit of Fire, the Wild One." Her voice lowered into a trembling mutter. "One of the strongest spirits to ever exist. And now, it comes for us."

Ka’ra narrowed her eyes, not because she doubted the old woman’s words, but because her mind was elsewhere—back to the figure she saw through the flame. That man. Standing tall and proud beyond the blaze, beckoning her forward with a single, taunting gesture.

Who was he? Her fists clenched at her sides. Was he Agni? But he looked human...

Her thoughts were interrupted as Ukar, son of the previous chief Thromgar, swaggered forward with a grin splitting his face.

"Hah!" he barked loud enough for the gathering orcs to hear. "All because of this she-orc we called leader!" His voice was thick with mockery and anger.

A low murmur rippled through the crowd. Some orcs looked at each other with uneasy agreement, their tusks twitching in suppressed emotions.

"When my father, Thromgar led us, nothing like this ever happened!" Ukar shouted, pounding his fist into his chest. "Our walls stood strong! Our enemies feared to even glance toward our tribe! But now look!" He swung his arm wide, gesturing to the smoldering ruins. "Gone! All gone! Our Ancient Oaks, blessed by centuries of spirits—reduced to cinders!"

Ka’ra’s lip curled, but she held her tongue, watching.

"The only way to save ourselves," Ukar growled, voice thick with self-righteousness, "is to sacrifice Ka’ra to whatever spirit we have angered!"

A stunned silence fell over the orcs.

Ka’ra’s follower girls, fierce and loyal, immediately let out low, threatening growls, stepping closer to their leader with bared teeth.

Ka’ra turned her head to the old woman. "Is that true?" she asked, voice cold and steady.

The old woman did not meet her gaze. Her head dipped lower, and she muttered, "If you plead with Agni... perhaps the spirit will forgive. Spirits are cruel. They demand offerings, blood, sacrifice. Maybe... maybe things would get better if you gave your life."

The words struck like a blow to the gut. But before Ka’ra could answer, her girls roared in fury.

"This is bullshit!" snarled Grenka, the tallest among them, slamming her fist into the dirt.

"Look around you!" another girl, Lurra, shouted, waving toward the flaming ruins. "That old oak wall was barely keeping wild boars out! It was rotting! It was weak! Now..." she turned to the flames, her eyes shining, "Now we have something stronger. Something powerful. A gift Ka’ra brought us!"

Another orc girl, Mara, added, "This is not a curse! It’s a blessing! Ka’ra is chosen by the spirits, not cursed by them!"

A wave of uncertain murmuring went through the orcs again. Some nodded slowly, while others still scowled.

Ukar’s face twisted in anger and disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Ka’ra raised her hand, silencing him without a word.

Still, Ka’ra’s heart was not at ease. She looked at the flames again... and beyond them, she remembered the man’s gaze. The gesture.

Was that Agni? she thought. But he looked... human. She felt something when she saw those eyes, as if they were calling her.

Ka’ra’s decision formed in her chest, heavy but certain. She stepped forward, lifting her chin high.

"Fine," she said. Her voice carried clear and sharp over the crowd. "I will go."

Her follower girls gasped.

"Ka’ra! No!" Lurra cried.

"This is dangeorus!" Grenka shouted. "You can’t—!"

Ka’ra turned and grinned at them, a feral gleam in her eyes. "I do know it is dangerous," she said, excitement lacing her voice. "When I saw him, I felt something. Something... calling to me."

Grenka frowned deeply. "Saw who? This is dangerous!"

Ka’ra laughed, tossing hershort red hair over her shoulder. "Since when have we orcs feared danger?"

The follower girls shifted uneasily, but they said no more. Their loyalty burned as fiercely as the cursed flames.

Ukar sneered. "Go then, she-orc. Maybe you’ll be spared. Maybe you’ll burn like the rest of your foolish ideas and beg spirits to undo this curse."

Ka’ra gave him no reply. Instead, she looked at the old woman.

"Where should I go?" she asked.

The crone shook her head slowly. "If it is truly Agni who calls you... you will find him. Or he will find you. Justr leave this land, child."

Ka’ra smirked. "Good. Makes it easier."

Without another word, she turned her back on the crowd and strode toward the burning wall, her shadow stretching long and black against the unnatural fire.

The orcs watched her leave, some with hope, others with fear, and a few with hatred.

The flames seemed to part for Ka’ra as she walked, leaving a thin, narrow path between walls of living fire. She didn’t look back. The weight of the tribe, the tension, the hatred—they were all things she would leave behind for now.

Ahead, past the smoke and the whispering tongues of flame, she knew that man waited.

Was he Agni? Was he an enemy? A trickster? A god?

Ka’ra grinned wider, baring her tusks.

Does it matter? she thought. I’ll meet him on my terms.

As she disappeared into the burning veil, the old woman muttered behind her, "Be careful, child... Spirits are not bound by mercy."

And being the next strongest, Urak automatically became the temporary leader of the orc tribe.

And somewhere in the forest, hidden by the smoke, a pair of amused succubus eyes watched Ka’ra’s approach and muttered. "So he was right! It is this orc woman,"

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