The female orc wouldn't be able to resist this desire either; she drew all her perception to its limit and began to examine the large square.
The old man's words were not in vain; life was going on with all its chaos and ordinariness. The mass, the majority of which consisted of Druids walking arm in arm with orcs, was filled with infinite life energy.
Perhaps coincidence, perhaps fate, exactly at this moment, a palanquin would start to pass through the square under the protection of almost hundreds of orc and druid warriors.
At that moment, all life would almost stop, even time would resist flowing; regardless of which race they belonged to, everyone had fallen to their knees.
With their hands on their chests, heads on the ground, and the most respectful expressions placed on their faces, they were waiting for the special person requiring such precautions to pass.
The only exceptions were Nafız and the old man sitting in rags; the guards protecting the palanquin and the plain-clothed officials walking beside it had noticed this situation.
This was enough for them to be filled with anger; a few of them had already taken action to punish this disrespect. Ten orc warriors with their heavy armors and magnificent axes were coming toward where Nafız was.
"Squad halt, get to your positions immediately!"
While the enemy came upon her, the female orc went on alert as if she would enter a war at any moment, until the tough-looking orc warrior at the head of the protection unit shouted.
Receiving the order, the ten orc warriors returned to their places rapidly; although Nafız, following them with her eyes, didn't know the reason for this retreat, she was sure it wasn't related to her.
After the warriors, the female orc's eyes would shift to the palanquin; it was impossible to see who was inside this mount wrapped in dark curtains, but even so, Nafız insisted on trying.
When she couldn't reach her desire no matter how hard she forced, she also understood that what prevented her wasn't only curtains but a shapeless protection shield; she knew only someone very close to the palanquin could do such a thing.
Thus, reducing her target, she focused on the civilians walking beside the mount; all these people were druids in their middle ages, only one among them was different.
Judging by his short stature and different physical features, this person was a human just trying to escape childhood; this person, whose entire face except his eyes was covered with a mask, had a mysterious air.
"It can't be, this can't be him!"
Although Nafız thought she said these words internally, she had actually screamed as if tearing her throat; while all eyes turned to her for a moment, one of them was slowly withdrawing and returning to its old colorlessness.
What caused the female orc to lose her control like this was nothing but her gaze intersecting with the mysterious-looking child; when two eyes touched each other, Nafız would understand who she faced.
"Since you saw the reason for your presence here, wouldn't you want to sit down now?"
When the miserable-looking man, brave enough to stand without breaking his composure despite the palanquin owner's might and powerful enough to deter the orc warriors wanting to take action against him, spoke, the female orc would sit in the place prepared for her almost involuntarily because she was no longer in this world.
She was thinking of the man who visited them during the seclusion they retreated to in order to repair her self-confidence and emotions defeated in the great war on the Orc Steppes.
"Kids, I have to kill you; there is a game whose result I wonder about, and you are doing whatever you can to spoil this!"
They were the same eyes; the gaze of the adolescent child now walking beside the palanquin and the owner of these words. How could Nafız forget the feeling her greatest enemy gave?
"Old man, tell me quickly, who is that child with his face covered by a mask?"
The panicked state of the female orc, whom he made sit beside him with difficulty, didn't seem to concern the miserable-looking man one bit; after sipping the tea in front of him with slow movements, he would speak with a weary tone of voice.
"Why do humans ask questions to which they know the answer?"
Although this wasn't the answer she expected, the last hesitation on the subject she was ninety-nine percent sure of had also disappeared; right now, there was a single thought in Nafız's mind.
"If I were you, I wouldn't even think about this; although they don't want to mess with me, if I want to attack, I don't think I have much chance!"
Could the anger and killing intent radiating from the female orc escape the old man's attention?
"Where did you get the idea that I need you; sit and watch me slice them all!"
As soon as her words finished, Nafız would take out her daggers from her wristbands inherited from Mora, or at least she expected it to be so.
Unfortunately, the situation was very different; neither the daggers she wanted nor the wristbands that were Abarran's work were in their place.
"If you want to get yourself killed, I cannot stop you, but I would like to say that you cannot use the equipment and skills you haven't acquired yet while in a time period where you shouldn't exist!"
This was what happened; Nafız, feeling no extraordinary power and item in her body, could finally see what was going on.
"Don't look at me like that, young friend; inside the palanquin is one of the few princes who are candidates to rule all orcs in the future, and the druids around him are some of the mightiest individuals among their own race!"
"If they focus only on defense, even the strongest version of me and you can only dream of breaking the shield they will form!"
Thus, Nafız was forced to watch the childhood of her greatest enemy, whom she would have to face eventually, pass before her eyes; she was tied hand and foot, and the pain of bowing to her fate was searing her heart.
Unlike the female orc writhing in the claws of spiritual pain, her friend Alyon was getting soaked with blood flowing from his body.
"Come on, sons of bitches; I will deal with all of you one by one!"
His huge muscles were swollen as if they would explode at any moment; a pair of coal-black eyes was shining madly from within the black flames covering his body.
"Sir, the orc in our target is using lineage power!"
This news coming to the command center, where it was decided to send elite warriors onto Alyon before, had created almost a bombshell effect.
"How can it be; all orcs possessing lineage power should have been killed long ago!"
The upper echelon of the enemy units was shocked in the full sense of the word faced with this surprise; although it wasn't a variable of a scale requiring them to change their plans, it was still a development they never expected.
"Sir, he must have survived by hiding from the genocide, but still, defeated by his nature, he came to our feet. My suggestion is, let's destroy this boil with a long-range attack using our mages!"
The commander offering the solution was very calm; although he knew many warriors surrounding Alyon would also lose their lives meanwhile, his voice hadn't even trembled.
"Let what is necessary be done immediately; I don't want that dirty orc to breathe anymore on this earth!"
The hard part was giving the order; the rest would come like unravelling a sock. The mage team had already taken action to release their strongest attacks.
A minute later, hundreds of attacks locked onto the location of the orc, on whom red and black danced crazily, would fill the sky; this attack locking a wide area had a single purpose: Certain Death.
Besides fire, ice, wind, earth-based spells, there were also arrows and spears inside this attack; the enemies Alyon fought were almost spewing all their rage.
What was interesting was that the warriors, who understood they would die, attacked the orc with black flames in place of grey hair instead of fleeing; this situation outside the normal was perhaps the most striking detail.
"You will die, spawn of the devil!"
"Mother, father, sleep peacefully; your revenge is being taken!"
Alyon, who heard such words perhaps hundreds of times since he appeared on the battlefield suddenly, felt the anger kneaded with the hatred his enemies felt toward him down to his marrow, even if he wasn't aware of what was going on.
When the collective attack almost reached him, the orc warrior was still cutting down people running to death; although he knew he would die, he was also daredevil like his enemies.