Chapter 19: No Mercy

Step. Step.

They walked in silence. Valkar's heavy footfalls were the only constant sound in the oppressive dark, a steady, rhythmic beat that echoed her own frantic heartbeat. Sylvana stumbled, her injured thigh screaming with every movement, but she forced herself onward. She would not show weakness. Not in front of him. Not in front of the monster she had just sold herself to.

The princess, gently holding onto Sylvana's torn tunic, followed behind her. Her sobs had subsided, replaced by a hollow, trembling silence. She kept stealing glances at the orc's broad, green back, her face a pale canvas of fear and disbelief.

As for Valkar.

'I got a mate... I got a mate...'

He kept repeating the words inside his mind, a victorious chant that warred with the gnawing fire of the curse. He had done it. He had survived. He had found a solution. But as he looked at the rigid, defiant posture of the elf walking ahead of him, he felt a strange pang of something that wasn't triumph.

His mother's teachings, buried under layers of brutal new instinct, stirred. A mate was not a prize to be taken. She was a partner. A shield-maiden. The bearer of your future warriors. You respected her. You cherished her. You didn't... trade for her like a piece of meat.

But the curse didn't care about respect. It was a biological imperative, a screaming demand for release. And the clock was still ticking.

[Reminder: 39 Hours 18 Minutes remaining.] 

'I can hold on for a day, letting her rest.'

Looking at the elf's leg, at the way her muscles trembled with each step, he knew she couldn't mate with him in this state. And the quest didn't say he needed to have sex now. It gave him a 48-hour grace period to find a willing female.

'Mother said always treat women with respect, and that includes not forcing yourself on them.'

He made a deal, a heavy deal for the elf.

Valkar wasn't stupid anymore; he could see the fear and revulsion in her purple eyes. He saw the way she flinched when he came near. Forcing himself on her now, while she was weak and terrified, would… taint the victory. 

It would be taking what was promised, not earning it. His new mind, this cold, calculating thing, struggled to reconcile the primal urge with a new, unfamiliar concept: pride in the quality of one's mate. A broken prize was no prize at all.

His loins still burned, a relentless, insistent fire, but he could endure for a while. He was an orc. Pain was an old friend. This was just a new kind of it.

They walked for another ten minutes, the silence thick enough to choke on. Valkar finally stopped in a slightly wider section of the tunnel. He wasn't heading for the exit, not yet. He was going deeper, to explore and look for more women.

Valkar could clearly see that the two elven women weren't defiled by the goblins; they were still pure and unused.

So where did the goblins come from?

The answer was simple: there must be more females deeper inside this cave system, and he must find them. 

Not just for the opportunity to find more mates, but also to cut the source of the goblins at its root.

He glanced back once. Sylvana's purple eyes met his for half a second before flicking away. Revulsion. Fear. Exhaustion. All of it plain as daylight. The sight twisted something in his chest that had nothing to do with lust.

'She is injured, but she is strong. A mate like her... one that gives up her own life for another's... that's the kind of strength mother spoke of.'

In terms of appearance, the princess was arguably more beautiful. With her golden hair and delicate features, she was the embodiment of elven beauty, the kind of delicate flower a human prince would write poems about.

Sylvana was different. Her face was sharper, more defined, her features honed by discipline. There was a hardness to her, a strength in her jawline and the set of her eyes that the princess lacked. She was a blade, beautiful in its own deadly way.

And Valkar, being a warrior himself, found himself drawn to that kind of beauty.

He turned away from them and focused on the path ahead. The tunnel sloped downwards, the air growing even thicker with the foul stench of goblins. The faint, glowing fungi on the walls provided the only light, casting long, dancing shadows that made the cavern seem alive.

After a few more minutes of walking, and many stumbles from Sylvana, Valkar stopped.

"Wait," he rumbled, the word echoing in the narrow passage. 

Sylvana froze, her hand instinctively going to the broken hilt at her belt. The princess let out a small squeak of terror, huddling closer to Sylvana.

Valkar held up a hand, his head tilted slightly. He heard it. Faint, but distinct. The sounds of a large group. Shrieks, grunts, and a rhythmic clanking sound, like metal on stone.

"More of them," Sylvana whispered, her voice tight with dread. "How many are there?"

"Many," Valkar said, his amber eyes fixed on the darkness ahead. "But weak."

He looked at Sylvana's trembling form. Her thigh was a mess of dried and fresh blood, her face pale from blood loss and exhaustion. She wouldn't last another fight.

"Stay here," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Do not move. Do not make a sound. I will be back." 

He didn't wait for a reply. He simply turned and melted back into the shadows of the tunnel, a massive green ghost disappearing into the gloom.

Sylvana watched him go, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions storming inside her. Relief that he was gone, even for a moment. Fear that he wouldn't come back. And a shameful, grudging spark of something that felt a little like hope. He had saved them. He had offered a deal. And he was now, it seemed, clearing their path. She pulled the princess closer, the girl's trembling a constant reminder of the stakes.

Valkar moved with a predatory grace that defied his size. He found a small fissure in the rock wall, a place where the shadows were deepest, and peered through. The tunnel opened into a massive cavern, far larger than the one where they'd fought. And it was teeming with goblins.

At least fifty of the creatures milled about in a state of chaotic activity. But they weren't preparing for war or guarding a hoard. They were... breeding.

There were four holes in the walls of the cavern; inside each one of them was a female, two elves, one human, and what looked like a halfling. They were all naked, their bodies bruised and their eyes vacant, hollowed-out things that stared at the ceiling without seeing.

However, that's not the worst thing.

Their condition made even Valkar break a sweat. 

They had no arms or legs. They were nothing but torsos, heads, and reproductive organs.

"Ugh!... disgusting."

The realization hit Valkar like a physical blow. This wasn't just a warren. It was a farm. A living, breathing factory for producing more of these vermin. The goblins weren't just a threat; they were a plague, and this was the source of the infection.

The only good thing was that they had only four women.

But still, this went beyond simple savagery. This was a deliberate, calculated cruelty that turned even Valkar's orcish stomach. The old Valkar, the one driven by simple hunger for battle, might not have cared. But this new mind, shaped by Zura's teachings and awakened by Ishtar, saw it for what it was: an abomination.

"I must kill them all."

His eyes scanned the scene, taking in the details. The goblins were a disorganized mob, but there was a structure to the depravity. The four breeding pits were each attended by a slightly larger goblin, one that wielded a notched whip and seemed to be directing the flow of traffic.

Valkar didn't care about their numbers; for him, they were all just EXP on a plate.

He gripped the bone axe tighter. A direct charge was all he needed.

"Haa..." Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he calmed the fire in his loins; the scent of so many females—even in their horrific state—was a potent accelerant. He needed to focus on the hunt.

When Valkar opened his eyes again, they were glowing with amber fire.

[Rage] 

He activated his skill.

His skin turned red-hot as the boiling blood within him coursed through his veins. He grew larger, more imposing. The bone axe in his hand felt lighter, like an extension of his will.

Valkar didn't explode from the shadows with a roar. He simply stepped out. And when the goblins noticed him, it was already too late.

"QUEEIII!"

The last thing they saw was a red giant with an axe raised high.

"DIE!" 

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