With his victory, Tristan had become the new chief, and all two hundred plus orcs are now under his command.

Now, technically this should increase their chances to weather the siege of the incoming barbarians. Each second he wasted here was a second lost from preparation time.

A lot of things came to mind, but all of them interrupted when Tristan saw Ghral has returned back to approach him. This time, he carried a large, ornate axe made of gleaming metal. The axe was crisp and clean, a contrast to the shoddy, dirty things he used to see all around the place. Ghral looked down to the ground, knelt with both feet, and offered the axe to Tristan.

Tristan asked him.

"Are you giving this to me?"

Tristan had no idea how to lift an axe properly, let alone wield it effectively in battle. But from the carving and the metal it was made of, it does not take a genius to see that it was quite a valuable item.

But right as Tristan took the axe, the other orcs turned nervous. The whispers that once reverberated throughout the place disappeared

If there was anything Tristan learned from following this band of green-skinned people, it was the fact that they were never quiet. Something is amiss.

He looked at Karra and pleaded wordlessly for an answer. What he got gave him even more of a headache.

"Ghral surrenders his life to you, he wants you to kill him."

"Wait… What!?"

"It is our tradition." The female orc said.

From her short explanation, it seems that there weren't supposed to be two chiefs in one tribe, and the duel was done to ensure that the winner becomes the new chief and the old chief's tribe would follow the new one. But the fate of the old chief is either death or exile.

"What about joining? Is the old chief joining the new one not on the table?"

"Yes, but that is a very rare case, it was not honorable to do that"

"Well then, there's nothing usual about this situation. Why can't he?"

Tristan has just learned that even losing toward a famous orc would rarely result in the losing warchief joining the winning one. Much less for an elf. The only reason Tristan was being offered a challenge for the chief position was that the clan recognized him as a worthy golug.

As for Grahl, he never thought of Tristan as worthy. If he lost, his only fate would certainly be death.

Tristan had zero knowledge of this particular tradition, and he was pressured by time to make his decision. If only he knew, he would think twice about accepting the duel. Now, even if he has control of 200 orcs, the fighting force he could use to defend against the siege of the barbarians was cut by half without the presence of Ghral.

"My chief, I suggest you decide soon, or Ghral will kill himself to protect his honor."

"What would happen if I kill him?" This definitely can be an option. Although it's a waste of such a warrior, at least he might receive a large amount of blood essence from him.

"I suggest against doing that, my chief." Karra said. "Even though Ghral was sometimes foolish, he had treated us well, and many of us are fond of him in our own way. I have no authority to tell you what to do, but if you kill him, there is a chance the other orcs would hold a grudge. Letting him go as an honorless exile would give more favor to you."

Tristan can only sigh inwardly. Personally, he thinks this was a stupid and weird tradition, one that he would love more than anything else to tear down with his bare hands. But the situation grew even more pressing, and nothing could be changed with his opinions alone.

Tristan had a third choice he could try. If he was successful, he could keep Ghral under his command. But there was no way to make sure of how much chance of success he has to actually do this properly.

[Blood Seal]

[Orc, Battle power 128]

[Blood seal would take 1500 blood essence to take effect]

[Proceed?]

Tristan was bewildered to discover that yes, actually he could. There was no option to do that while he was fighting the elf soldier before, so why was it possible to be used on such a strong orc warlord like Ghral? Though the attempt would take a massive amount of 1500 blood essence, it was certainly worth it. Ghral, though not exactly the smartest person, was as strong as he is.

[Blood Essence: 2102]

After a few moments of thinking, he decided to risk it and spend the points.

"Proceed." He muttered.

A string of thin, reddish mist came seeping out from the tip of Tristan's fingers, it was so thin and barely visible if one did not look too close, and none of the orcs seemed concerned. As for Ghral, the orc thought of it just like a fly coming towards his face.

Tristan was about to smile in victory, but he got a shocking announcement.

[Blood Seal result : Failure]

"What the fuck?! It can fail?" Tristan barely managed to restrain his urges to scream.

Fortunately, the mist returned back to him, a small blessing in the wake of failure. But when the notification came to him, once again he felt devastated.

[Blood Essence: 1952]

He just lost 150 blood essence, which was 10% of the amount he used for the attempt, for nothing at all. Due to how difficult they are to collect, even that relatively small number pained him.

"Dammit!"

Not wanting to risk losing a bunch more of the precious resource, Tristan decided to place the axe back on Ghral's hands and sentence him to be exiled.

The huge orc warrior picked up the axe, tore open a large wound on his chest, and called upon his white wolf. The two of them rode away from the fort never to be seen again.

Tristan was left speechless, and he could do nothing but stare as the fleeing Grahl's figure became smaller and smaller in the distance. Rather than wanting to gloat about his victory, his thoughts strayed to the 200 green-skinned people he had to lead and the broken fort he still has no way to reinforce.

It doesn't feel like a victory, it felt more like being handed someone else's dirty laundry.

"I really am fucked, aren't I…"

--------------------------------

Written and Directed by Avans, Published by W.e.b.n.o.v.e.l,