Return of the Woodcutter

Standing on the canyon\'s edge, a man dressed in parts of leather and metallic armor observed the challengers\' situation from his hiding place.

His cloak fluttered with the wind, covering his head from the sun. There was no real nighttime on the sixth floor. Either two suns hang in the fake sky or one.

Though, that didn\'t bother Behir Lamat, the moderator of the sixth floor. At his level, there were no need for sleeping.

Sleep was for the weak.

He considered himself the dutiful type and did his best to prepare challengers for the outside. And since those who reached the sixth floor were considered "okay" in his dictionary, he intended to teach them the meaning of helplessness, temporarily.

He had feared the black challenger would actually break that delicate balance. Fortunately, the orcs managed to restrain him using his weakness.

What stupidity that was.

Bonds between companions were unnecessary and led to irrational outcomes. Behir would not have hesitated to abandon his team in a desperate situation, not that it mattered now.

The Grand Duels would start in less than three days. It was dangerous but also an opportunity for challengers to grow stronger.

Why? Because orcs willingly fought and died when their time came, even their soul submitted to their killers due to their abnormal practice of an honorable death.

That resulted in an easy soul to digest and an almost instantaneous appropriation, since the soul did not resist its fate. Moreover, it could lead to a rare occurrence where the killer had a chance to acquire the dead opponent\'s soul.

It was actually the secret behind the orcs\' strength. They had grown powerful so quickly compared to hobs and goblins for that very reason. Dueling each other to death, the winner took it all.

A warring species by nature, it was considered normal to kill one another in their culture, as long as the fight was honorable. Not that it mattered, since more orcs would respawn. The others already alive would not take notice of it since they were formatted this way.

Maybe the Khan and Khül noticed it, but they had a foggy mind, so that did not matter. Thinking about these two creatures, Bahir wondered how the challengers would fare against them during the Grand Duels.

Normally, those two were out of reach due to their ridiculous power, particularly the Khül. The Khan was still barely manageable by level 2 challengers, but the Khül was on a whole other level.

According to what Bahir had seen, the black challenger has attained quite a bit of strength.

\'Hum, the sacred event might just be another opportunity to allow him to grow more, or not. Should I teach him, or let the events unfold as they are supposed to happen?\' Behir pondered.

Reaching a conclusion, he smiled with satisfaction, using the Tower system to update the settings. Changing the original course of the event.

***

Aito spent his first day in captivity with Sam as his sole company. The baldie kept talking to him, harassing his patience. Though he didn\'t reply. There were many occasions where Fury almost activated under the baldie\'s endless questioning and yapping.

It was a real training of tolerance and patience.

However, that gave him a sudden idea, something he hadn\'t thought about before. Control over his emotion, most specifically, over his anger.

Until now, he had just tried to keep it in check, chain it, never to let it run loose. Sam was testing his patience to the very limits.

Aito tried to transform the baldy\'s talkativeness into another training. Liberating his anger, activating Fury when his patience was about to burst. Then, calming himself, his gift progressively disappeared.

He repeated this process multiple times for who knew how long.

Time passed slowly in his cell. With no references, he couldn\'t tell if one, two, or ten hours has passed. Apart from training his anger, he used this time to plan ahead, reviewing the past plans, discarding them for new ones, then recovering them again.

A little mental training to keep his mind sharp.

When the baldie fell quiet or asleep, hard to tell, Aito had enough peace to train himself with visualization, something he has done almost every time before sleeping.

The more he trained, the better his phantom images got. He was far from Gwen\'s level, but slow and steady learning was the way to go.

As per usual, he pictured his teacher as his opponent. The moderator of the third floor always kicked his ass in his mind\'s world, no matter how much he tried.

After his hundredth defeat, he fell asleep. His last thoughts went to his companions currently held up who knows where.

The next day, he continued his anger training as soon as he woke up with Sam\'s yapping.

\'Don\'t kill him for now. Be patient. Don\'t kill him for now. Be patient.\' Those thoughts kept crossing his mind a thousand times per hour.

He was glad when someone unexpected entered his cell, shutting the baldie up. With its imposing figure, Krugan imposed respect even Sam dared not oppose.

At the looks of it, the baldie had suffered a crushing defeat under the huge orc\'s hands, probably. Apparently, the orc leader had come to actually feed Aito and discuss a few things with him.

Having eaten nothing the previous day, chained up, Aito couldn\'t exactly say no.

After all, it had always been his dream of being spoon-fed by his enemy. Who wouldn\'t like to have a big black creature with biceps almost twice George\'s size feed you in a dark dump cell beneath the earth with your other bald enemy as a companion?

\'Truly a fucking nightmare.\'

Krugan was apparently a curious orc and wanted to talk with Aito of the human world. Since that would shut up Sam and his unbearable mouth for some time, he did not refuse.

Turned out, the orc was a more pleasant companion when it came to talking. Trading multiple and seemingly banal information with Krugan, Aito discovered something quite interesting about them.

Orcs grew stronger thanks to their deceased, willingly giving them their souls. He had heard it happening from Gwen when one loved one gave his soul to another, allowing for almost instantaneous digestion and appropriation, but that was rare.

For an entire species to do that just because of their culture was amazing in and of itself. What\'s more, they didn\'t keep it a secret, which meant it was truly part of who they were.

In exchange, Aito shared info about humans on Earth, not that it could harm challengers. Sam kept to the side, gawking at their conversation with eyes full of confusion. After all, he could not understand what the orc and humans were saying.

Once Krugan left with a satisfied face, Sam immediately shot up from his bed, asking, "Are you an orc? Is that the secret of your strength?"

"Idiot," was all Aito answered.

The rest of the day passed as usual. Sam yapping. Aito enduring, going crazy, learning to control his anger.

Ironically enough, he soon learned that letting it loose was the best way to control it. That didn\'t mean he got angry all the time, but he had undeniably taken a step towards activating Fury at will.

That made him think about a certain comic series where a character transformed into a giant green monstrosity with absurd strength. Apparently, his constant anger state allowed him to transform at will.

\'Seriously though, what kind of bullshit was that? Who the fuck is always angry and leads a normal life this way?\' 

On what Aito assumed was the third day, contrary to his expectations, Sam stopped yapping. Krugan came once more, offering his prisoners food, opening a discussion with Aito.

"Tomorrow is the day of the Grand Duels," Krugan said with a somber face, appearing weirdly sad.

"What\'s with that face? I thought you wanted a fight with me," Aito said, mockingly, though Krugan took it unexpectedly seriously.

The orc nodded. "I did and still do, but cannot. The Khan has spoken and the rules have changed. I will have to suffer the shame of standing on the side, watching you and other warriors fight to glory. It pains me. However, it is also my duty as the second in command to assure the throne has someone to sit on were the Khan to die in glorious battle. I\'m truly sorry, human warrior."

"Well, to my mind, that doesn\'t change anything. I\'ll just have to kill your Khan, that simple."

"Hum, confidence is good. But the Khan is strong, human warrior. Probably as strong as you are. Her power is only second to the Khül."

"Her? I thought only males fought."

"Ahaha! You have no eyes, human warrior. Female and male alike fight, that is our law. Maybe your human females are delicate and fragile. However, ours are fierce, strong, capable to contend with males here. If you let your guard down, you will die an inglorious death. After all, only the strongest of orc can be called the Khan."

"Hum, if the strongest orc is the Khan, then who or what is the Khül?"

"Khül and Khan are one and the same.. Like the two suns in the sky, they stand next to each other, yet never touch."