Chapter 127: Give us our Queen!
Silas stared at the sleeping giant before him, then at his own hands, and back at the sleeping giant.
"Yeah. I’m cooked."
The system, for once, offered absolutely no advice.
[...]
"Very helpful."
He scratched his cheek while trying to think.
’Storage?’
[Living beings cannot be placed inside Storage.]
’Expected.’
’Fated Echo?’
[Negative.]
’Thread Manipulation?’
[Not enough threads. You are almost out of mana.]
Silas sighed.
"So... how exactly am I supposed to..."
BOOOOOOM!
The sound interrupted him, causing him to look behind him. He saw that one of the enormous orc warriors had slammed the butt of his gigantic battle axe into the ground, causing the ground to cave in a bit. Not waiting, another orc followed, then another.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
The rhythm spread as dozens became hundreds, then hundreds became thousands. Soon, the valley itself began to vibrate. The orc shamans stepped forward. Unlike the warriors, they carried enormous staffs carved from ancient trees, their robes made from beast hides dyed crimson and black.
One elderly shaman raised both hands, and the others immediately followed. Then, they began chanting. It wasn’t a language Silas understood, unlike Gromda’s dialect or the normal dialect of the orcs.
This one sounded ancient and primal, and each syllable seemed to resonate with the runes engraved upon Gromda’s sleeping body.
"Oth’gar..."
"Mor’kath..."
"...Runa Jot..."
"...Gra’khan..."
Their voices overlapped until the air itself trembled. The crimson runes across Gromda’s skin answered as they glowed dimly, as though recognizing the chant.
Silas’s smile slowly disappeared. "That can’t be good."
And it really wasn’t good in any way. If anything, it was very, very, very, very... scary. Don’t think this is some fantasy. Hell no! This is a freaking scary thing. Imagine hundreds or thousands of monstrous giants with an average height of eight feet pounding and chanting.
Silas might be an SSS-Rank and a Heartweaver Fae, but he was still a human at heart. And something like this would scare the shit out of anyone. Unless, of course, you are a madman.
The warriors moved, but they weren’t attacking. Not yet. Instead, they began dancing, and their dance was far from elegant. They were dancing violently, as if they had a grudge against the art of dancing.
Their massive feet pounded the earth, while they swung their axes through the air. Their huge fists struck their armored chests, and each strike sounded like war drums.
Dust rose into the heavens, while the entire valley echoed with the rhythm of countless warriors celebrating or preparing? Silas couldn’t tell which.
The giant orc women stepped forward next, and unlike the warriors, they carried no weapons, but their presence alone made Silas tense. Each of them stood well over nine feet tall.
They were powerful, ugly, and terrifying. Mostly because they were all ugly. From Gromda’s tribe to Gorgath, all the orcs he’d met were monstrous-looking and ugly. Unlike them, Gromda looked more human-like.
The eyes of the orc women never left Gromda. Then, one of them shouted.
"OUR QUEEN!"
Another answered.
"GIVE US OUR QUEEN!"
Then another.
"Our Queen!"
"GIVE US OUR QUEEN!"
"GIVE US OUR QUEEN!"
"GIVE US OUR QUEEN!"
Within seconds, the chant spread through the valley. Thousands of orcish voices, male, female, old, and young, all merged into one overwhelming roar.
"GIVE US OUR QUEEN!!"
"GIVE US OUR QUEEN!!"
"GIVE US OUR QUEEN!!"
The mountains echoed the words.
"Wait." He slowly pointed at himself. "...Me?"
The answer came immediately. Every single head turned, and thousands upon thousands of glowing eyes locked onto him simultaneously.
"..."
Silas felt every hair on his body stand. The warriors stopped dancing, the shamans stopped chanting, and even the wind seemed to disappear. There was only silence.
Then, the ancient-looking elder stepped forward. His crystal eye shone brightly.
"Contractor."
Silas smiled awkwardly. "Yeeeees?"
"You carry... Our Queen’s scent."
"..."
"You hold... Our Queen’s contract."
"..."
"Our Queen... belongs beside you."
Silas nodded rapidly.
"Exactly!"
"So..."
"I’ll just take her home and..."
The elder raised one finger. "After."
Silas froze. "After?"
"You remain."
"..."
"Our Queen remains."
"..."
"You become..." The elder’s lips slowly curled into a smile that somehow looked more terrifying than anger. "...King."
Silas’s pupils shrank in disbelief. "Excuse me?"
The valley exploded.
"THE KING!!"
"THE KING!!"
"THE KING!!"
Silas looked horrified.
"No!"
Thousands of warriors slammed their fists against their chests.
BOOOOOOM!!
The sound nearly burst his eardrums.
"I OBJECT!"
Nobody listened. The giant orc women stepped closer, their chants getting louder.
"GIVE US OUR KING!"
The shamans resumed chanting. This time, their staff began glowing.
"Wait... Why are they glowing?"
The system finally spoke.
[Warning!]
Silas narrowed his eyes.
"That sounds bad."
[Correction... Very bad.]
"..."
[The Runic Jotun has no established kingdom.]
"The... okay?"
[According to Gorgath’s oldest laws...]
Silas suddenly didn’t want to hear the rest.
"Don’t."
[The Contractor automatically inherits royal authority.]
"Don’t."
[The assembled tribes are attempting to perform a Coronation Rite.]
"DON’T."
[Probability of successful coronation: 99.98%]
Silas slowly backed away.
"Nope."
The nearest giant smiled. "He retreats."
Another nodded.
"As tradition demands."
Silas stopped.
"What tradition?"
The elder answered calmly.
"The king... must be chased."
"..."
Silas’s face went blank. "What?!"
The elder lifted his staff.
"BEGIN."
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!
The entire valley erupted as thousands of giant warriors roared, while the women laughed. The shamans raised glowing staffs, and every single pair of eyes lit up with dangerous excitement.
Silas finally realized something. They weren’t hostile, as that would’ve been easier. They were excited. Way too excited.
His survival instincts screamed louder than they ever had against the Solar Tyrant Gallus. He slowly looked around and saw thousands of giants with no escape.
There was his sleeping thirty-foot-tall girlfriend, an enthusiastic civilization, and himself.
"..."
He inhaled deeply. Then pointed accusingly at the invisible system.
"You."
[...]
"You did this."
[Negative.]
"It was your idea to bring her here!"
[Affirmative.]
"That’s literally the same thing!"
The first giant took a step forward, followed by others. Silas looked at the approaching tidal wave of smiling giants and reached one perfectly logical conclusion.
"...I’m in deep shit."