Night fell.
On the northern side of Sunset Canyon, at the Gallant Cavalry Kingdom Ruins.
The campfire crackled, its orange glow casting the faces of the Orc women into fierce and wild relief.
A powerful Dire Wolf pawed impatiently at the ground, a low growl rumbling in its throat.
Two elite Pigman Infantry struggled to secure themselves on its widened saddle.
One wolf, two riders—this unprecedented arrangement made the surrounding Orc commanders both excited and curious.
“Hey, look at that trick!”
A brawny Wolf Rider woman pointed at the Dire Wolf, grinning wide.
“How does Lady Shala Wiseclaw even come up with these things? Those soft-bellied humans would never dream that our Wolf Riders could pull this off! Isn’t this just like giving the infantry four legs, letting them fly right up the city walls?”
“Exactly, exactly!”
The Dog-headed Female beside her tore at the sinew on a bone with her claws, agreeing eagerly.
“That so-called Sunset Fortress? Just the name sounds limp. Once our Flying Wolf Squadron charges in, won’t the humans inside be bawling as they throw open the gates?”
The Orc commanders erupted into coarse laughter, the air thick with the scent of roasting meat, blood, and the promise of imminent slaughter.
Amid the raucous noise, a particularly burly Pigman woman—Piggelu—sat alone in the shadows a short distance away.
She gripped a massive bone club, silently drawing meaningless circles on the ground.
One side of her rugged pig face was swollen high, a clear five-fingered handprint glaring in the firelight.
Yet in those beady eyes flickered a worry at odds with her comical appearance.
“Piggelu, why aren’t you coming over to eat? The lamb’s just roasted!”
A Dog-headed Female she was friendly with came running over, carrying a large bowl of meat, and sat down beside her.
“No appetite,” Piggelu muttered in a low voice.
“Still sulking over what happened earlier?”
The Dog-headed Female nudged her ribs with an elbow.
“Lady Shala was just mad you let the prisoner escape. But she punished you herself because she values you, you know. When has she ever looked anyone else in the eye?”
“I know Lady Shala is always right…”
Piggelu replied gruffly.
“I’m just stupid. My soldiers couldn’t even guard a single prisoner.”
She looked up, gazing south at the canyon swallowed by night.
“But I just feel… something’s not right.”
“What’s not right?”
“I can’t say.”
Piggelu’s brow furrowed, her little eyes narrowed to slits as she struggled to put her slow thoughts into words.
“It’s just… too quiet. Are humans… really that stupid?”
“They know we’re coming, and do nothing?”
“At the very least, shouldn’t they set an ambush on the road?”
The Dog-headed Female commander paused, then burst into laughter, spilling a few pieces of meat from her wooden bowl.
“Oh, Piggelu, you worry too much!”
“Humans are weak, it’s in their nature! Spineless to the core! Remember those ‘peerless cavalry’ of the Cavalier Kingdom? And what happened to them?”
“One Wolf Rider charge, and they all fell apart!”
She pointed to the center of the camp, at the tent adorned with skulls and leather.
“Besides, with Lady Shala here, what’s there to fear?”
“When has the Divine Oracle ever been wrong?”
“She said we’ll win this time—so there’s no way we’ll lose!”
Piggelu fell silent.
Lady Shala’s Prophecy had indeed never failed.
But unease still gnawed at her heart.
At that moment, the curtain of the lavish tent was quietly lifted, and a slender figure stepped out.
Shala Wiseclaw.
Her appearance instantly silenced the once-boisterous camp.
The Shaman Robe, pieced together from all kinds of beast pelts and ragged cloth, swayed in the night breeze, revealing the graceful curves beneath.
In her hand was a Spine Bone Staff made from some unknown creature, its tip set with a Gemstone glowing an eerie green, casting shifting light and shadow across her sly yet alluring fox face.
“My warriors!” Shala’s voice was sharp, yet carried power.
All the Orcs stopped what they were doing, turning with gazes mixed with awe and devotion toward this Fox Tribe Shaman who could commune with the “gods.”
“Tomorrow night, we will trample Sunset Fortress.”
She strode to the center of the camp, the staff reflecting a cold green light.
“Just now, I have seen a vision of victory through the Divine Oracle.”
At the words “Divine Oracle,” the Orcs’ already bloodshot eyes ignited with a fanatic flame.
They raised their weapons high, throats rumbling with suppressed excitement.
“The human army is nothing but lambs awaiting slaughter!”
Shala’s voice grew even higher, laced with a spellbinding power that whipped up their spirits.
“The city walls they boast of will crumble to dust beneath our assault!”
“And that fleeing Prince Wendy of the Cavalier Kingdom—Wendy Black—will be the perfect sacrifice to the Great Earth Mother!”
“Now, the entire army moves out!”
“Roar—!”
Thunderous howls shook the night sky, the Orcs’ battle spirit fully ignited.
But in this sea of frenzy, Piggelu shivered for no reason.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that when Lady Shala mentioned the prince, her expression was… a little off.
Completely different from her usual calm when talking about sacrifices.
It was like… a beast, starved for three days and nights, seeing the most tempting prey—an irrepressible greed and hunger.
The thought barely surfaced before she forced it down.
No! Lady Shala is the messenger of the gods! How could she be wrong!
Having thoughts that blaspheme the Divine Messenger—she deserved to be thrown to the Dire Wolves!
“Piggelu!” Shala’s sharp voice rang in her ear.
“P-priestess!”
Piggelu jumped up, bowing her head like a guilty child.
Shala walked up to her, her cold fingers gently brushing the swollen handprint on Piggelu’s cheek.
The motion seemed soft, but it made Piggelu’s bristles stand on end.
“I know what you’re worried about, my most loyal Piggelu.”
“You fear the humans will ambush us. You fear we’ll meet setbacks.”
“But…”
The fox’s lips curled into a sly, confident smile.
“The gods told me—this time, we cannot fail.”
She leaned close to Piggelu’s ear, whispering in a voice only the two could hear, as venomous as a serpent: “Because this prince is the prey fate has decreed will fall into my hands. No one else can take him, no one can stop it.”
The Priestess patted Piggelu’s stiff face and turned to assign tasks.
Piggelu stood rooted to the spot, as if Shala’s fingertips still burned on her cheek.
Yet that ominous premonition not only failed to fade, but blazed even fiercer—like oil thrown on a fire.
Prey decreed by fate… What did that mean?
***
As night deepened, the Orc army surged southward like a black tide.
Inside the lavish tent, Shala Wiseclaw knelt alone before the Obsidian Earth Mother Statue.
“Great master, tomorrow, your faithful servant will bring you the perfect Container.”
Suddenly, the statue’s eyes flashed with an evil red light without warning.
A deep, hoarse voice—like it came from the abyss—echoed directly in her mind.
“Shala… that ‘Container’… there is a variable…”
“Master!”
Shala shuddered all over, prostrating herself in excitement.
“You finally answer me again!”
“He… is not what he appears…”
The voice broke up, as if interfered with by some force.
“Beware… a fate that does not belong to this world…”
“Yes! Master! Your servant understands!”
Shala kowtowed repeatedly, though her heart surged with stormy waves.
“Remember… the Key… is also… the Lock… beware…”
The voice abruptly ceased, and the statue’s eyes went dark once more.
Shala remained kneeling, unmoving for a long time.
As the invisible pressure faded, cold sweat had soaked through her Shaman Robe.
“Wendy Black…”
She slowly stood, lifting the tent flap to gaze south at the canyon shrouded in darkness, her crimson eyes swirling with greed and suspicion.
“What secret are you hiding?”
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