"You've got some serious fists, I'll give you that," Caron said as he wiped blood from his mouth. Srom chuckled and replied, his tusks stained red, "Says the human who hits like a warhammer. Are you really a human? Among orcs, there'd be barely a handful who could take you on." "Well, I had a bit of help from mana," Caron admitted with a grin. "As did I," Srom said. "If not for the blessings of the primal spirits, my skull would've cracked open long ago." A human and an orc, both soaked in blood from head to toe, spoke like old comrades. Their appearance was gruesome—flesh bruised, bones likely fractured—but their exchange was warm and strangely brotherly. "Damn, it's been a while since I've had a fight like that," Caron said, rolling his shoulder. "Feels great." "Hmm. You're the first warrior to take that many of my punches and stay standing," Srom replied with a grin. "I've got a friend named Utula—he's a giant. You both have similar personalities," Caron said. "A giant? I've heard of them. They're towering warriors with great pride," Srom said. "Maybe one day we should all meet up for a good old-fashioned beatdown—" Caron began, but was cut off. "Shut up, Warrior," Seria said with a furious glare as she slapped both their backs hard enough to draw blood. Her palms, reinforced with holy power, landed like thunderbolts. Caron and Srom coughed up blood at the same time. "Damn... the Saintess' slap hurts like hell..." Srom groaned. "Seria, are you trying to kill us?" Caron wheezed. "Oh, I save your lives and this is what I get? Should I just let you die?" Seria snapped. This could've been resolved with a peaceful chat. Well, it wasn't even a real problem to begin with. The orcs had come in peace from the start. When a priest from the Order of Truth approached them, they'd beheaded him and presented his head as a gift. And yet, somehow, it had turned into this absurd mess. Armor was flung off, fists were thrown, and several elven warriors fainted from shock at the sheer brutality of it all. If Seria hadn't intervened, both Caron and Srom could have ended up with life-threatening injuries. Everyone present—except for Leo—had been utterly stunned by the raw madness of the spectacle. Only Leo nodded quietly to himself and said, "That's very normal of Caron. Wouldn't be him if he didn't pull something ." Leo knew Caron was unhinged, but Srom had surpassed all expectations. Even though Caron hadn't drawn his sword, it was the first time for Leo to see Caron overpowered in pure strength. Even with his muscles enhanced by mana, Caron had been pushed to the brink. And Srom, drawing on some unknown power, had matched him blow for blow. As a result, the craters in the earth were deep enough to shatter stone. If any ordinary human had been caught in the middle, they'd have been turned to dust on the spot. "Did you say that it's the power of primal spirits?" Caron asked. "It's part of our clan's shamanistic rites," Srom answered. "Our shamans call upon the strength of the primal spirits." "It definitely wasn't dark magic. Right, Seria?" Caron asked. "Yes, I sensed no traces of dark mana," Seria confirmed while treating Caron's wounds. Caron glanced at Orion and asked, "And what did you think?" "It did feel similar to the power of the spirits. Now that I think about it, it reminded me of Pluto," Orion answered. At the mention of Pluto, Srom—who had been silently enduring treatment—suddenly perked up. "Caron, do you also carry a spirit? When our fists met, I felt something divine," Srom said. "Oh, you mean this guy?" Caron asked with a smirk. With a casual wave, Pluto was summoned and perched itself on top of Caron's head, settling into a perfect balance as if it belonged there. Srom's eyes went wide. He exclaimed, "The Spirit of Rest! Caron Leston, so you are the Mokhtar!" "...What now?" Caron asked, confused. "Mokhtar, the great warrior foretold to free the orcs from their cruel fate!" Srom continued excitedly. "Uh... Pluto is technically a dark spirit," Caron said, glancing up at Pluto. "To us, it is called the Spirit of Rest!" Srom said, his voice filled with awe. "We can recognize it instantly. The being that rules all primal spirits. Endless terror and infinite warmth! A terrifying, yet peaceful shadow! It is unmistakably the Spirit of Rest." Pluto gave a content little nod, clearly pleased with the praise. For once, the usually irritable Pluto seemed genuinely happy. It seemed it had finally found someone who appreciated its true worth. "We've never really interacted with orcs before," Caron mused. "But it looks like they've made impressive progress in studying primal spirits... The spirit scholars will be thrilled." Orion nodded. Surprisingly, he didn't feel any particular hatred toward the orcs. He remarked, "As I've always said, humans are more dangerous than orcs." "Did someone say anything?" Caron asked, giving Orion a look. "Your eyes say otherwise," Orion replied. Perhaps the elves didn't discriminate against the orcs as much as they had against humans. When Caron thought about it, most non-human races hated humans far more than they hated each other. And really, no one could blame them. It was humans who had enslaved other races for their own pleasure. With the conversation winding down, the healing process came to an end. The two lunatics—one human, one orc—stood side by side and clasped hands in a warrior's handshake. "From this moment forward, we are friends," Caron declared. "O mighty warrior Mokhtar! As promised, I shall send my people back to the mountains. Now tell me—where are we headed?" Srom asked. "To the elven capital, Galad," Caron replied. "That's the city of the World Tree. Then I have a favor to ask, Caron Leston," Srom said. "Name it," Caron said. "Would you come with me to speak with my people? They will need your presence to fully accept this situation," Srom explained. It wasn't a difficult request, so Caron nodded without hesitation. There was no trap here—he could sense that clearly. He had no reason to refuse. "Truly, you are a mighty warrior," Srom said. "The more I see of you, the more I admire you, O Mokhtar of this age!" "But seriously... What does Mokhtar mean in your language?" Caron asked. "In Orcish, it means 'bloodthirsty war maniac,'" Srom answered. "...And that's supposed to be a compliment?" Caron asked. "War is sacred and blood is holy. Among orcs, it's the highest praise one can give. Now, mount the wolf," Srom replied. The massive wolf was easily twice the size of the ones the elves rode. Srom climbed aboard, then pulled Caron up behind him. With practiced ease, he yanked the reins and took off. Leo watched the two figures grow smaller in the distance and sighed deeply, then said, "Maybe he was meant to be born an orc, huh, Seria?" Seria, half-resigned to the madness, nodded slowly and replied, "...This must be the will of the Light." "He just fits in too well with the orcs..." Leo trailed off. As the two talked, a thunderous roar erupted from the orc encampment. The earth shook beneath their voices. As the cheers from the Blackclaw orcs rose like a tidal wave, Leo nodded with grim certainty. He muttered, "...He really should've been born an orc." If Caron had been born an orc, he really would've lived however he pleased. Well, I guess Caron is already living exactly as he pleases, Leo thought. And just like that, Caron gained a new nickname—Mokhtar—and a new ally. The Blackclaw orc clan thus became part of the Caron Cartel. The orcs began returning to the Rahal Mountains immediately. Seria took care of relaying the proper message to the Holy Kingdom, and the orcs left quietly, without causing any incident. And so, Chieftain Srom of the Blackclaw clan joined the group heading to Galad, and from that moment on, the journey remained peaceful. Time passed, and at long last, the elves who had been dispatched to the Holy Kingdom returned to Galad, together with Caron and his group. Galad was the city of spirits and elves. Unexpectedly, it was bustling with activity. "Fresh goods straight from the empire!" "Artifacts from the Imperial Magic Tower! A rare chance to study human magic at an unbeatable price!" "Specialty crafts from the tiger clan, renowned for their skillful hands...!" It was crowded enough to resemble the imperial capital itself. Elves from the Eastern Great Forest had migrated in, and even merchants with official permits had begun trading in earnest. If someone asked which city on the continent was changing the fastest, the answer would undoubtedly be Galad. What was once a quiet, reserved place now had the air of a grand festival. In fact, a festival was actually underway. "The Mother World Tree has awakened!" "May the blessings of the forest be upon you!" A grand celebration had erupted in honor of the World Tree's revival. The elven leadership had thrown open their storehouses, and festivities were unfolding throughout the city. The three materials Caron had gathered were what ultimately brought the World Tree back to life. Amid the joy and excitement that filled the city, Caron was walking through the streets with Aqua at his side. "Dad, eat this one too!" Aqua said. "What kind of skewer is this?" Caron asked. "It's a rabbit skewer! It's super nutty and tasty!" Aqua answered. "Eat as much as you want, Aqua," Caron said. Upon hearing that Caron was returning to Galad, Aqua had come early to wait for him. In the time they'd been apart, she had grown—quite a bit, in fact. In human years, she looked to be around thirteen now. Of course, her appearance was something she could change at will. She was, after all, a dragon hatchling. "She's... just too adorable," Seria said warmly. "Hehe," Aqua chuckled. Seria stroked Aqua's head with a smile full of joy. "You smell nice, Saintess," Aqua remarked. "Yes! It's the scent good humans have," Aqua explained. With a child in their midst, the atmosphere couldn't have been more wholesome. Aqua had quickly warmed up to Seria, chatting cheerfully as if they'd known each other forever. Meanwhile, Chieftain Srom of the orcs had gone with Orion to meet with the regent. Now that the orcs of the Rahal Mountains had officially allied with them, a formal audience was necessary. "Seria, Leo, could I ask you two to look after Aqua for a bit?" Caron asked. "What about you?" Leo asked. "I need to talk to Sir Kerra about something," Caron answered. Hearing that, both Seria and Leo nodded with easy smiles. Compared to that crazy bastard, spending time with adorable little Aqua was a hundred times more enjoyable. "I'll get you something yummy," Leo said to Aqua. "What do you want to eat?" "Pudding! Aunt Misha's shop at the three-way street has the best one!" Aqua answered. "Let's go before Caron infects us with his madness," Leo said, already taking Aqua by the hand. Seria followed behind with a contented smile. Caron watched Aqua's figure grow smaller in the distance, then smiled to himself. He remarked, "She's growing up well." "If anything, I rely on her these days," Kerra said with a chuckle. "Honestly, she's more mature than I am sometimes. Oh—and soon, she'll be able to leave the Great Forest too." "Really?" Caron asked, raising an eyebrow. "Thanks to the World Tree's recovery," Kerra explained. "Apparently, if a branch of the World Tree is planted elsewhere, its divine power extends to that area too." "Then maybe we should try planting one in Azureocean Castle," Caron said thoughtfully. "It's about time my parents met her." Azureocean Castle was, without question, the safest place Caron knew. More than anything, it was where the elders of his family—including Halo—resided. One could search the entire continent and still struggle to find a more secure location. Caron gave a slight nod, then began walking forward as he said, "Beatrice told me to say hello to you for her." "Ha! I knew that rascal was still alive," Kerra said with a grin. "So, has she gotten stronger?" "If you fought her now, you'd lose," Caron replied. "...Come on," Kerra said. "I'm being serious. Even I thought she'd probably beat me if we fought today," Caron added. "Hah, if I hadn't been stuck raising a kid, I wouldn't be this rusty. Damn, that hurts my pride," Kerra said. Despite his words, however, his expression wasn't exactly displeased. "Since Beatrice is joining us too, it looks like we'll have a chance to get everyone together again soon," Kerra said. "I'll set something up," Caron said. "At that meeting, we should re-establish the ranks. What do you say we reform the Imperial Guards? We can call it... the Legendary Imperial Guards. Sounds cool, right?" Kerra suggested. "I've always thought this, but you have the tackiest ideas for someone like you," Caron remarked. "Hmph. I think it sounds fine. Ah—this way," Kerra said. They continued walking together, exchanging light-hearted banter. A few elves recognized them and waved enthusiastically. Kerra, ever the sociable one, responded cheerfully, calling out names with a friendly tone. He had always been popular and personable, and it seemed he'd become quite well-known in Galad as well. Updates are released by NovelHub(.)net "Judging by how things are moving, it looks like the real plan's about to start. Am I right?" Kerra asked. "It's a little early, but yes. We've got to start getting ready," Caron replied. Kerra knew Caron planned to bring down the Demonic Realm. And he was ready—willing, even—to lend his strength to that cause. "I want to reach 9-Star before stepping into the Demon Realm," Caron added. The 9-Star level would mean a realm beyond ordinary limits—a level one had to reach in order to completely destroy the true forms of the Demon Kings. It could take a long time, possibly longer than expected. But Caron couldn't afford to walk into the Demon Realm unprepared. His goal was to obliterate it, after all. "Commander, that won't be easy," Kerra said. "I never thought it would be," Caron replied. "But it has to be done." The Malevolent Emperor, the Demon King of Havoc, had declared war on the continent. Caron needed to grow stronger. Stronger than ever, strong enough to crush all of the demon's schemes. In the end, he would see the Demon Realm completely annihilated. Seeing the seriousness in Caron's expression, Kerra nodded silently and said, "You'll make it happen, Commander. You always do." Eventually, the two of them arrived at a building. There was no sign or nameplate on it—just an old, rustic structure with a timeless charm. "She's waiting for you inside," Kerra said. "You're not coming with me?" Caron asked. "She only invited you. I'll stay out here and keep watch," Kerra replied. With a formal gesture, Kerra opened the door. Caron gave him a brief nod and stepped inside. The warmth hit him immediately. A soft glow lit the interior of the tavern. Sitting at the bar was a woman who gazed at him with calm eyes. "You're here," she said. "I heard you like fruit wine, so I thought this would be the perfect place." "Elven fruit wine really is something else," Caron replied, shrugging as he took the seat beside her. "You look well," he added. "It's good to see." "It's all thanks to you," the woman said. "I'm glad you know that," Caron said with a faint smirk. He took the glass she handed him and drained it in one go. Wiping his lips with his sleeve, he spoke again, his voice low and steady. "I've completed all the assignments. I think it's time you told me everything." "I figured you'd have pieced most of it together by now," the woman said. "I have," Caron said. "But I want to be sure." He set his glass down and added, "I want you to tell me the truth about my reincarnation. All of it." The woman let out a faint, bitter smile and slowly nodded. She said, "There's one thing we need to clarify first." And then, at last, the truth Caron had longed to hear spilled from her lips. "The fate of a man named Cain Latorre... never existed to begin with. Which means..." The woman paused and locked eyes with him, her voice solemn. "You were always meant to be born as Caron Leston."