Nafız brought Wobblehead to the coffins, holding him by the waist with one hand and supporting him with her shoulder. Wobblehead's condition was growing serious, and every step was accompanied by a groan.
"You first, hurry up!" Nafız spoke, pointing to the larger of the coffins. When they dragged the heavy lid off and dropped it to the floor, they saw a crystal sphere resting on the white inner lining. When Wobblehead took the sphere in his hands, he discovered there was a beating heart inside. At the same moment, the coffin's inner lining lifted, revealing a hidden compartment underneath. Wobblehead was looking in admiration at the suit of armor revealed in the lower section, when he was startled by a warning from Nafız.
"Quick, eat the heart in your hands before it stops beating!" Nafız's instincts told her there was something miraculous about this long-dormant organ beating.
Wobblehead, seized by sudden panic, tossed the football-sized heart into his mouth and began to chew. The moment the pieces of the heart reached his stomach, he lost consciousness and collapsed onto the ground.
Nafız leaned over Wobblehead anxiously. When she checked his breathing, she saw he was still breathing and sighed in relief. While he was unconscious, Wobblehead's pale face slowly regained its color. Accompanied by the sound of cracking bones from his body, the wound on his chest had closed and was almost completely healed.
After a long time, Wobblehead emerged from the deep coma. He was observing his surroundings from where he lay. Apart from the healing of his wounds, no physical change was noticeable. The real change seemed to have happened in his spirit; the temperament that had been the pinnacle of innocence since birth had completely changed. The sorrow that had settled in his gaze was the most important evidence of this.
"Thank you!" Wobblehead straightened up and addressed Nafız. "Thank you, truly, for looking after me." Nafız didn't know what to say to these words coming from an orc who always looked around carelessly. Wobblehead, finishing his words, stood up and walked toward the far corner of the room.
There was a creature lying face down on the floor. Kızgınboğa was agonizing in the corner of the room with the hammer still plunged into his body. Wobblehead grabbed it by the handle, pulled it toward himself, spun the massive hammer a few times with a single hand, and began to speak.
"Can you address me by the name Alyon?"
When the commanding voice reached her ear, Nafız watched Wobblehead, who had adopted entirely different mannerisms, with great astonishment.
"While I take care of Alyon's last gift, you can take your own legacy! Don't forget to be quick." Alyon spoke with a smile before tearing the faintly beating heart of the lying Kızgınboğa from its place.
"Yes, yes, it's fun selling my own trick back to me, isn't it? Go ahead and enjoy yourself!" Nafız, feigning annoyance, began walking toward the closed coffin. When she opened it, unlike the other, she saw the inside of the coffin was lined with a blood-red cloth. When Mora's hair involuntarily came to her mind, she muttered in sorrow.
"You preserve your attitude even in death."
Inside the coffin was a small glass vial and a few drops of blood floating within it. 'So this is our thing too,' Nafız thought. When she opened the vial's cap, a familiar scent reached her nose. This was the smell that had dazed her right when she was about to clash with Kızgınboğa in her mind.
As her consciousness wavered, Nafız chugged the vial. As the blood she swallowed began its journey, burning everywhere it passed, Nafız was screaming in agony. The pieces of blazing fire that were searing every inch of her body began gathering upwards after a while. When the blood reached her head, countless scenes, disappointments, and joys rushed in, as if trying to burst her brain. She was writhing in pain and screaming as she felt the agonies of the tough training Mora had undergone in her own body.
While being tossed about in the cycle of endless torment, she felt a coldness in her head. As the sensation spread through her body like a divine melody, Nafız came to.
"Get off me, you simpleton! Get your hands off me!" Nafız spoke angrily when she awoke from the pain. Alyon, stroking her head, had seated her on his lap like a curled-up kitten.
"Kindness doesn't suit you either; you're grumpy as always!" Alyon stood up with an indifferent attitude to put on the armor from the coffin. The armor was made of jet-black material, resembling the models of medieval Europe in form. Alyon spoke with pleasure while looking at his armor. When he put it on, the armor spontaneously reshaped itself to fit him.
"Mora's father's craftsmanship is first-class." Nafız couldn't hide her admiration.
When she returned to her own coffin, three beautiful gifts awaited her as well. In the second compartment, there was a composite compound bow, two leather wristbands of a pale red color, and a silver ring. Thanks to the consciousness she received from Mora, Nafız was already familiar with the uses of these items. Mora was known in the past as a unique warrior with two specializations. Besides being highly specialized in blood magic from the dark arts, her assassin skills were also incredible.
When she put the silver ring on her finger, she gained a spacious storage area to hide her belongings and spoils. Only the current Orc Lord on the orc steppes possessed a ring like this. Nafız had to admit that Abarran had been quite generous to his daughter. The leather wristbands had silver skull reliefs on them. Although their appearance suggested they were merely decorative items, almost all of Mora's attack power was provided by these wristbands. The wristbands, like Alyon's armor, had a feature that allowed them to adjust their size according to the user's dimensions. With a single thought from Nafız, two daggers shot out from the outer side of the wristbands. The appearance of these daggers reminded Nafız of the daggers used by the warriors in a movie about Genghis Khan's life.
"The corpse must still be warm, I need to collect some blood essence." Seeing the daggers, the Minotaur corpse, whose heart had been eaten by Alyon, came to her mind.
"I will tear you to shreds! You'll enjoy it too, don't worry!"
Nafız was imitating the conversations the Minotaur had made when alive, as she plunged her daggers into the newly dead body. After tearing the corpse apart for a while, the color of the wristbands began to turn red.
"This isn't enough; I need to shed more blood."
Although the legacies they received were tremendous, they needed to improve themselves if they wanted to use the techniques and powers of their predecessors. Knowing how to do something didn't always mean you could do it.
Nafız, throwing her bow onto her back, said, "It's time for us to leave here."
When she and Alyon passed through the door in the room, they found themselves inside the Dark Cave. Upon exiting this cave, which they had entered mid-day, they saw that the night had already fallen.
"Is it time for us to go to the tribe, Trembler!" Alyon called out, looking at Nafız.
"Don't you dare address me by that name." Nafız snapped sharply at Alyon, with lightning flashing in her eyes.
"Alright, what should I call you?"
"When we return to the tribe, you will learn my name along with everyone else." Nafız, finishing her words, let out a sharp cry.
"We urgently need to grow stronger, what do you say, are you up for a contest?" Alyon, looking joyfully at the wild creatures running toward the source of the cry, said, "As far as I recall from my memories, there is no contest I have lost to you."
The duo drew their weapons and began running toward the swarm of wild creatures coming toward them. No one would ever know that the reason for the lingering smell of blood over the place later to be known as Red Mountain was the massacre that took place tonight.
While all these events were happening, strange things were also occurring in the orc tribe. Kalındiş, who emerged wounded from the Dark Cave, had taken the ten warriors he had left behind and returned. When they entered the tribe, the Chief's grandson headed toward his father's tent under the surprised gaze of the orcs.
"How could Kalındiş be so wounded? He had nearly twenty guards with him!"
"There must have been trouble on the hunt; what kind of creature could wound a warrior like him!"
The supply section orcs began discussing among themselves when they saw Kalındiş's condition as he passed their area. Rumors quickly swept through the entire tribe, and everyone had gained some half-baked idea about the subject.
"You fool, how could you speak like that in Kızgınboğa's cave? You should be grateful you returned in one piece." Kaplanyürek, as someone who had first-hand experience with the fury of the creature who is the Lord of Lofty Mountain, was giving a harsh lecture to his son.
"At least you had the sense to come to me first. Now we need to come up with an excuse that fits the situation." A treacherous glint appeared in Kaplanyürek's eyes as he finished his words.
"Now listen to me carefully! You will memorize word for word what I am about to tell you. When the emergency gathering takes place in your grandfather's presence tonight, you will say exactly what I told you.
Kalındiş could only respond by nodding his head due to the damage caused by the blow he had taken. Kaplanyürek, seeing this scene, softened a little.
"Go rest in your tent, I'm sending the healer to you."
When Kalındiş left with a limping gait, Kaplanyürek rushed like lightning toward his father's tent.
"Sir, please stop! Our Chief has commanded that no one enter!" Kaplanyürek, responding to the warning of the guard with a punch, hurried inside the tent entrance.
Chief Ayıboğan was enjoying a passionate moment with two female orcs under his arms. Seeing his son enter without permission through the door, his fury went through the roof.
"Kaplanyürek, what do you think you are doing!" Kaplanyürek, kneeling on both knees after the roar, spoke, adding a mournful tone to his voice.
"Father! I told you this day would come!"