Chapter 33: Primitive World III

Inside a dark and damp cave, Orkus awoke with a jolt, startled by the voices in his head.

"Conquer... you are the chosen one..."

He didn't know where the voice came from, nor why it echoed in his dreams, but every time he opened his eyes, he felt his body stronger. Something had changed within him. Something deep. He was no longer just another Gurka warrior. He was something else. Something more.

"I am the chosen one..."

He repeated that phrase as he stood up, back straight and black wings spread behind him like a shadow. Around him, his people watched with skepticism. In the Gurka tribe, respect wasn't asked for—it was taken. Strength dictated order.

"So you've come back, Orkus? Still breathing?" said a tall man, arms covered in scars and holding a spear that looked more like a carved log.

Orkus didn't respond. He just advanced. One step. Two. Then he attacked.

It wasn't a long fight. The sound of bone breaking and a dry scream were enough to silence everyone. The warrior with the spear fell to his knees, spitting blood and teeth.

"Enough!" exclaimed a young man, trying to intervene.

But the mere attempt was met with a blow from a wing that sent him crashing into the cave wall. Orkus stood tall, breathing calmly. The voice in his mind whispered again:

"The strong rule..."

"Listen," he said then, his voice rough but firm. "I've received a vision. A message from the heavens. Our people don't have to remain as beasts. We can unite, conquer, become masters of these lands. I will be the one to lead you."

The words would've sounded hollow had it not been for the brutal display they had just witnessed. Some looked at him with fear, others with a flicker of respect. What mattered was that no one dared oppose him.

The following days were filled with battle after battle. Orkus didn't rest. He challenged every minor chief who ruled nearby caves and territories. He defeated them all, without exception. The caves stopped being disorganized burrows and became training centers. Warriors aligned, clear orders, swift punishment. Orkus imposed discipline—something the Gurka had never known.

"Strength! Unity! Conquest!" he roared from a raised mound as the new recruits trained.

The youngest began to repeat those words like a mantra.

"The winged chosen one who will subdue the wild lands..."

And that echo spread. First in the cave, then through the nearby forests. Travelers, hunters, and spies from other tribes began to hear rumors of a Gurka uniting his people. An unprecedented event. Where once there was only chaos and feuds, there was now order—brutal as it was.

That rumor, like a whisper carried by the wind, eventually reached the white stone walls of the city of Ikarus.

---

"Orkus...?" Enoc repeated, seated before a rudimentary map on a wooden table.

The young man with calm eyes and white wings studied the marks left by one of the messengers. The reports were scarce, vague, but all agreed on one thing: something was happening among the Gurka. Something different.

"They say a man is organizing them. That he's defeated all the lesser leaders and now trains warriors for a grand campaign."

Enoc said nothing at first. He simply drummed his fingers on the edge of the map. A subtle discomfort stirred in his chest, as if something familiar brushed against his mind. Something he couldn't quite remember.

"And you say his name is Orkus?" he finally asked.

"Yes. Some even say he has black wings and glows when he fights. That he possesses unnatural strength."

Enoc nodded slowly. There was something strange about the story, but he couldn't say exactly what. What he did know was that any unification of the Gurka was a serious threat. Ikarus was strong, but not invulnerable.

He rose from his seat and walked to a window overlooking the city. The sky was clear, the sun slowly setting on the horizon.

"Father must know this. But... we need to verify it first. It may still be just an exaggerated rumor."

"Will you send scouts?"

"Yes. And one of ours with a keen ear. I want to know if this prophecy story is real... or just an excuse for war."

As he spoke, Enoc didn't notice the slight tremble in his left hand. His body was calm, but in his mind there were distant echoes, pulses he didn't fully understand. Implanted instincts.

Unknowingly, he had just stepped onto the board he himself had created long ago.

---

The city of Ikarus stretched lazily under the morning light, bathing its white stone towers and crystal-clear canals in golden tones. Enoc, arms crossed over his chest, watched from one of the high terraces the comings and goings of the villagers. The morning breeze lightly tousled his hair, and for a moment, he simply allowed himself to observe.

His routine had changed since he awakened as the leader's son. Now, he shared meals with his father, listened to council discussions, and was even occasionally summoned to assemblies—though he rarely spoke. He preferred to watch.

That morning, the council's meeting hall smelled of incense and tension. Pakur, firm on his carved wooden throne, listened patiently to one of the eldest councilmen, Sulan.

"I do not question your wisdom, Pakur! But we must accept that the Gurka are no longer disorganized. They've attacked three trade posts in two moons. They're not just packs anymore. There's structure... there's command."

Pakur nodded calmly.

"That's why we're reinforcing the border posts. We won't fall into provocation without proof."

Sulan frowned but relented. Enoc observed in silence. There was something more behind Sulan's words. Not just caution, but distrust. A crack in the unity of the council.

That night, Enoc dined with his father in the private dining room. The embers crackled and the aroma of stew filled the air.

"Father... Sulan seemed... upset. More than usual."

Pakur let out a soft chuckle.

"Sulan's always been like that. Cautious, stubborn. He was your grandfather's friend. But his heart is loyal."

Enoc lowered his gaze. Still, something didn't add up.

The next day, Enoc visited the city's archives. A silent, spacious hall filled with stone tablets recording history, trade, and genealogies. There, among the shelves, he saw her for the first time.

She had dark hair tied in a simple braid and wore a gray tunic stained with dust. Her white wings were neatly folded, and she moved the tablets with care. When she noticed his presence, she looked up, unsurprised.

"You're Enoc, right?"

"Yes. And you are...?"

"Avelia. I've been organizing records for as long as I can remember. Are you here for history or just escaping another assembly?"

Enoc smiled for the first time in days.

"A bit of both."

She continued her work but left space beside her. Enoc sat without a word. In silence, he watched her sort the tablets with a patience he could barely comprehend.

"You're not what I imagined the son of Pakur to be."

"And how did you imagine him?"

"Arrogant. Loud. Blind to what's happening outside this tower."

"I try... not to be."

She gave him a skeptical glance before returning to her work.

Over the following weeks, Enoc visited the archives regularly. They didn't speak much, but each encounter with Avelia left a strange feeling in his chest. A kind of calm he couldn't rationalize.

Meanwhile, the rumors about the Gurka continued to grow. Some merchants spoke of a "winged man" who had taken over a nearby cave and was now called "the chosen one." Others mentioned warriors who obeyed a single name without question: Orkus.

One afternoon, as they walked through the city's orchards, Avelia stopped before a withered plant.

"The roots are rotting. There's water, there's soil, but it won't grow. Do you know why?"

Enoc shook his head.

"Because the water doesn't move. It's stagnant. And when things stagnate, they rot. That's what I fear for Ikarus. We're stagnating, Enoc."

He looked at the plant thoughtfully.

"Then we must move the water... without destroying the soil."

Avelia smiled faintly.

"That sounds like something a good leader would say."

But beyond the walls of Ikarus, Orkus continued his advance. And each of his victories was an echo drawing closer...