Ashfang Hollow.
The name was premature. It was no kingdom. It wasn't even a village. Just a ravaged patch of land surrounded by jagged cliffs and ashen trees, scorched black by past battles. But it was his.
And it was quiet—for now.
Gorak stood in the center of a small ridge overlooking the valley below. His skin was caked in blood and dust, his breath steady but heavy. In his hand, the bone axe still pulsed faintly with energy from the Crucible. Beside him, a pale stone obelisk shimmered softly—the Territory Beacon.
[Territory "Ashfang Hollow" established.][Status: Unstable (Lacks Infrastructure, Defenses, Inhabitants)][Threat Level: High – Monsters and Rogue Survivors may invade.][Accessing Map Layout…][Resources: Limited]
– Water Source: 700 meters south– Iron Vein: Buried under northern slope– Wildlife Density: Medium– Magical Residue: Detected in underground fissures
"Barely worth calling land," Gorak muttered, his tusked mouth curling. "But it will do."
He spent the next hour surveying the area. He marked choke points, loose boulders that could be used as traps, and natural shelters in cave mouths. No tools. No workforce. Just muscle, instinct, and patience.
But what he lacked in resources, he made up in clarity. Gorak was no fool. This world—whatever it was—didn't reward brute strength alone. It rewarded adaptation. Intelligence. Ruthlessness. And something few orcs ever bothered with: planning.
[World Core Update][Warlord Ascension Path – Tier 0]
Class Perk Gained: Command Core (Dormant)Unlocks at 3 followers sworn to your banner.
Followers.
That was his next move.
If Ashfang Hollow was to survive—if he was to survive—it needed more than just blood and bones. It needed people. Soldiers. Crafters. Builders. Allies.
And allies didn't appear from thin air.
Gorak's eyes narrowed.
It was time to hunt again.
By nightfall, the sky bled crimson as twin moons hung low over the ridgeline.
Gorak moved silently through the dense woods southeast of his territory. He had wrapped his arms in the hide of the slain beastkin from the Crucible, creating makeshift vambraces. His axe was tied to his back, and in his hand was a jagged spear carved from obsidian rock fused with bone.
He wasn't hunting beasts this time. He was hunting survivors.
The World Core had revealed something else:
[Nearby Survivors: 1 – Status: Injured | 1.2 kilometers east of Territory Beacon]
They were close. Weak. Vulnerable.
But possibly useful.
Gorak crouched by a shattered log, nose flaring as he caught the scent—burnt hair and dried blood. Orcs had excellent olfactory memory, and this scent wasn't from a beast.
It was from something humanoid.
He moved swiftly, silent as a stalking panther.
The survivor sat slumped beneath a crumbling boulder formation, clutching his side. He was lean, wrapped in mismatched armor plates, one leg splinted with vine and bone. His skin was pale gray-blue, eyes glowing faintly silver. A half-ogre, no doubt.
Beside him, a crude staff lay buried in the dirt—wood tipped with a blood-soaked talon. A spellcaster.
Gorak watched from the shadows.
The half-ogre mumbled to himself. "Stupid trial... stupid rules... baited into a death trap... all for what?"
He paused. His ears twitched.
"You going to keep watching me from the trees, or are you here to finish the job?" he growled, turning his head just slightly.
Clever. Even injured, still alert.
Gorak stepped out. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be talking."
The half-ogre raised a brow. "You're an orc. Didn't expect words before weapons."
"I'm not just an orc."
"No," the half-ogre rasped, his gaze sharp. "You're the one who cleared the Crucible. I saw the sky change. Felt the tremor in the ground. You did that."
Gorak said nothing, but his grip tightened slightly on the spear.
"You've come to claim survivors, haven't you?"
"I've come to claim everything," Gorak replied evenly.
The half-ogre chuckled, then coughed violently. Blood stained his lips. "Then maybe we should talk terms before I bleed out."
They sat by a flickering flame as Gorak finished binding the half-ogre's wound with clean strips of moss and cloth. The half-ogre introduced himself as Drask, a wandering battle-mage from the eastern wastelands. He'd been pulled into the World Core's realm like Gorak—without warning, without mercy.
"What I don't get," Drask muttered, "is why you're helping me. You could've just gutted me and taken my gear."
Gorak leaned back against a boulder. "You're worth more alive."
"Is that so?"
"You're a mage. Tactical. Calm even when injured. That's rare. And I don't need blind loyalty. I need useful men."
Drask snorted. "You planning to play warlord?"
"I've already begun."
Drask studied him for a moment, then looked away, face unreadable. After a long silence, he said, "Then I suppose I should make it formal."
He drew a symbol in the dirt—three circles around a sun—and pricked his thumb, pressing blood into the mark.
[Drask has sworn to your banner.][Command Core Activated.][Unit Type: Tactical Support – Caster | Rank: Rare][Skill Unlocked: Command View – Allows issuing orders via mental interface.]
Gorak felt it immediately. A surge of connection pulsing through his mind. Not control. Not domination. But a network—anchored by will, reinforced by shared intent.
[Command Core Status: 1/3 Followers][Begin forming your Warband.]
"So it begins," Gorak said.
Drask leaned forward. "You know they'll come for us. The other factions. The beastlords. Even the other warlords."
"I know."
"They'll smell weakness."
"Then let's give them something else to smell," Gorak said with a cruel grin. "Smoke and blood."
The next few days were a blur of movement.
Drask, though still injured, revealed himself as invaluable. He erected a crude barrier of flame sigils around the Beacon, deterring low-tier monsters. With Gorak hunting for game and harvesting usable materials, they stabilized a small perimeter.
[Ashfang Hollow – Status: Stabilized][Population: 2][Threat Rating: Moderate][First Defense Tier Unlocked – Perimeter Traps Available][Unlockable Structures: Watchtower (Basic), Training Ground (Basic), Storage Pit]
They chose to build the Watchtower first.
Working together, they constructed it from stripped logs, bones, and vines. The base was crude, but the height gave them visibility over the valley. Drask enchanted the upper rim with an alert rune, glowing softly in the dark.
[Structure Completed: Basic Watchtower][Territory Control +5%][Defense Rating Increased]
And then—on the fifth night—the air shifted again.
A new presence entered the region.
[Alert: A Wild Pack has entered Ashfang Hollow.][Threat Detected: Alpha-Class Fenwolves | Estimated Number: 12][Time to Arrival: 4 hours]
Drask paled. "Fenwolves? That's no scouting party. That's a test."
Gorak rose to his feet, fire gleaming in his eyes.
"Good," he said. "Let them come."
[Quest Triggered: Defend Ashfang Hollow – First Siege]
Survive the Fenwolf AssaultBonus Rewards for Zero CasualtiesTime Limit: Sunrise
As the full moon rose and the howls echoed through the night, Gorak stood atop the Watchtower, eyes fixed on the treeline. Behind him, Drask chanted low, preparing spells.
The future wasn't certain.
But for the first time in his life, Gorak had something to protect.And gods help whatever tried to take it from him.
To be continued...