Chapter 1043: Bonfire Banquet
If they appeared in the Blazeforge Realm, they could easily challenge the Golden Orcs for dominance. Shaking the Golden Orcs' rule would be a trivial matter for them.
However, along the way, Leon had more or less calculated that the total number of people in this tribe probably only added up to a little over twenty thousand.
That number was far too small. Even the weakest of the eight orc tribes in the Blazeforge Realm had more than a hundred thousand members.
The upper echelons might rival the Golden Orcs in strength, but with so few in number, at best they could shake the Golden Orcs' rule in the Blazeforge Realm—never truly seize it.
Still, even with just over twenty thousand in the tribe, sweeping away the twenty-nine humans here—plus one alchemical golem—would be effortless.
The group was invited to the plaza, where the delicious aroma of roasted meat wafted through the air. The towering chieftain strode over in large steps, bursting into hearty laughter before even reaching them.
"So these are the heroes who saved our tribe's brave warriors? Your courage has earned our friendship. We've prepared a bonfire banquet in your honor—welcome!"
The chieftain's voice boomed like thunder, his volume terrifyingly loud. Even without magic to amplify it, his massive voice carried far across the plaza.
With the chieftain's words, the orcs in the plaza raised their hands and cheered, while squads of sturdy orc women wove through the crowd, hefting enormous wine jars nearly as tall as a person.
Everyone here was a mage, and as they stared at those wine jars—big enough to bathe in—their faces turned a little green. Refusing wasn’t really an option.
A bonfire banquet was a traditional orc custom, held only for honored guests or major celebrations. With the tribe’s three Sky Rank elders all present, this was the highest level of welcome. Refusing would be a slap in the orcs’ faces—and might even make them enemies.
A crowd was dragged over to sit around the bonfire. Dida, unsurprisingly, was seated right beside the chieftain. Looking at the roast meat in his arms—thicker than his own waist—and seeing blood still streaked across it, with juices dripping from the cracks, Dida’s face turned distinctly green.
With a thud, a massive wine jar, at least a meter and a half tall, was placed in front of Dida. The chieftain roared with laughter, grabbed a chunk of roast weighing thirty or forty pounds, and tore into it with huge bites. Blood dripped down as he devoured most of the meat in seconds, then lifted the giant wine jar and gulped down half of it as if swallowing a whale.
"My friends, please—don’t be shy. As friends of our tribe, it’s only right that we share our wine and meat with you."
All the mages looked a bit green. Each had a wine jar a meter tall in front of them, holding dozens of pounds of liquor, and the rare, half-raw meat still streaked with blood made cold sweat break out across their foreheads. Even the alchemical golem was treated as an honored guest, with its own pile of meat and wine jars.
Leon sat beside Dida, cold sweat slowly dripping down his forehead. He snuck a glance at the wine jar—at least a meter and a half tall—and the thirty-pound slab of rare meat in front of Dida, a trace of relief in his eyes.
Good thing Dida’s been the one charging ahead these past few days…
Leon, without changing his expression, sliced off a piece of meat with a small knife and stuffed the rest into Hubert’s hands, shooting him a fierce glare.
Hubert beamed, eating with blood and grease smeared all over him. Two jars—each holding dozens of pounds of wine—were emptied into his stomach without pause.
Dida, looking a little pale, managed to eat a bit of roast meat and sip some of the fiery liquor, then hurriedly changed the subject.
“Honored Chieftain, you’ve lived here so long—do you know what’s going on with those undead out on the grasslands?”
Dida began asking about the undead army. Everyone perked up and listened closely—their main reason for coming to this tribe was to ask about the undead horde. After nearly being surrounded and wiped out, they had to get to the bottom of things.
Judging by appearances, these orcs seemed to have lived here for ages. They must know a lot about the undead—maybe even some secrets.
But when the chieftain heard Dida’s question, his expression flickered, as if he was a bit lost.
“Undead? What undead? You ran into undead out there? Damn—could it be necromancers have appeared?”
Dida frowned, feeling the chieftain was dodging the issue.
“Not necromancers—just hordes of undead, like a tide. There were so many. We were chased into that canyon by the undead army.”
The chieftain shook his head, a hint of doubt still on his face.
“Undead army? Impossible. We’ve lived here for who knows how many years, and never heard of any undead—let alone an undead army…”
Dida couldn’t understand why the chieftain would lie—especially with such an easily exposed lie. They’d lived here for countless years; how could they never have seen or encountered those undead?
“There really is an undead army, maybe hundreds of thousands strong—and they’re all orc undead. Not just orc skeleton soldiers, but undead wolf riders, skeletal kodo beasts, skeletal wyverns…”
Before Dida could finish, the chieftain abruptly cut him off, looking at Dida with a hint of hostility.
“My friend, you saved our tribe’s warriors and earned our friendship. We’ve welcomed you, even offered wine and roast meat. But how can you speak so carelessly, slandering us orcs?
Under the light of the great Beast God, every orc’s soul has only two destinies after death—either to become an ancestral spirit guarding the tribe, or to return to the embrace of the earth. We orcs would never become filthy undead, much less form some undead army…
The chieftain set down his roast meat, as if this was a matter of principle he would never compromise on.
Dida’s expression turned ugly; he was convinced they’d encountered an orc undead army.
“Honored Chieftain, why would we lie to you? This isn’t slander against your people, it’s just—”
As the leader of the Burning Tower and now the head of this group, Dida wasn’t about to let anyone question him.
But as Dida spoke, the chieftain’s face darkened.
Leon frowned. Dida really didn’t get the situation—talking about orc undead right in front of orcs was asking for trouble. Besides, this chieftain didn’t seem to be lying.
“Honored Chieftain, what kind of meat is this roast? And this wine—so spicy and strong, it must be hard to brew, right?”
Leon suddenly interrupted Dida’s questioning, quickly changing the subject. If Dida kept pressing, things would definitely get ugly.
Dida glanced back at Leon, frowning, only to see Leon make a gesture. Looking around, Dida noticed the atmosphere had grown tense—orc and human alike. Though unwilling, he dropped the undead issue.
The chieftain, hearing Leon’s question, instantly broke into a proud smile.
“That’s our free-range triangle cattle—pretty tasty, right? Tough, chewy. And the wine, ha, I personally improved the recipe. This is real men’s liquor—strong enough…”
The chieftain bragged with animated gestures, as if brewing this fiery wine was more of an achievement than reaching Sky Rank or defeating some powerful enemy.
In a blink, the topic of orc undead was forgotten, and the atmosphere returned to normal.
The bonfire banquet lasted three or four hours. The orcs sang and danced, the mood was lively, and some even brandished totems in mock battles for entertainment.
No one got the answers they wanted, and everyone was a little distracted. Leon, too, was left at a loss.
Observing the architecture of this orc tribe, every building bore the marks of ages past. Many had stood for at least a thousand years, and the tall outer palisade had been there for two or three millennia.
These orcs didn’t even know about planar paths or the concept of realms. With the scattered information gathered on the way back, it was clear—they’d lived here for thousands of years.
With so much time, how could they have never seen the orc undead army, or even be unaware of the undead’s existence?
Yet after watching for so long, Leon couldn’t spot any sign of the chieftain lying. That confusion at the mention of undead, and the displeasure at orc undead—there wasn’t a single crack in his demeanor. It really seemed like he didn’t know about the orc undead army.
There was definitely something off about all this—something strange…
Leon’s mind was full of questions, and Dida was even more baffled, completely unable to make sense of it.
After the banquet, everyone returned to their rooms to rest. As honored guests, they were naturally given quarters in a building that soared a hundred meters high.
After his routine meditation, Leon had just taken out the Book of Ten Thousand Spells to study when a sudden sense of foreboding crept into his heart.
He rushed to the window to look outside—and was greeted by a shocking sight.
Their rooms were on the upper floors, out of a total of less than twenty stories; they were on the fifteenth. From this height, they had a direct view of the world outside the tribe.
The tribe was perched at the edge of the mountains, close to the endless grasslands beyond. From here, everything on the plains was visible.
Bathed in moonlight, Leon’s pupils contracted sharply. The grasslands outside the tribe were flooded, like a tide, with orc undead—silent, endless, drifting across the earth.
Among that ant-like horde, tall skeletal kodo beasts mingled, and above, swarms of skeletal wyverns soared through the sky.
Some undead had even entered the mountains, wandering aimlessly, slowly approaching the tribe.
The undead moved about in great numbers, like patrols of tireless soldiers, scouting every corner without rest.
Seeing the undead army appear, Leon was shocked and wanted to wake the others—but glancing to both sides, he saw that all the windows were already open. Everyone was standing at their windows, staring out at the undead horde.