Bignum looked at the man in front of him and frowned.
The man was smiling.
But it was wrong.
Not a genuine smile. This one was… tired. Like someone smiling because they forgot how to stop.
Bignum shifted the weight of his axe and rested it on his shoulder.
"Stupid half-breed," he muttered, not even trying to hide it.
The human—no, half-breed—did not react.
That alone was strange.
Bignum glanced in front as smoke drifted low, and the Trods howled like beasts that knew the next meal was close.
Bignum grinned.
"All of us will die," he said, voice simple, certain. "But good to die loud. Good fight. People remember."
Ruok bent down and pulled a pair of daggers from a half-floated goblin corpse without even looking at the body. Like he had done it before. Like he knew exactly where they were.
Bignum's grin faded just a little.
Ruok grabbed a floating strip of red cloth, wrung the water out of it, then tied his hair back.
Neat. Calm.
Too calm.
"Aren't you afraid of dying?" Ruok asked.
Bignum snorted.
He looked up.
Above the camp, Minerva circled in her phoenix form, wings wide, trailing embers that fell like slow-burning snow. Each beat of her wings stirred the air, hot and heavy. Soldiers looked up at her with a mix of admiration and hope.
Bignum watched her for a moment, then looked back.
"Afraid?" he said. "No. I like it. Death come, I take it."
Ruok smiled again.
"It was like you."
Bignum frowned.
"We just meet," he said.
Ruok nodded. "Yeah. But it feels like I've known you for a long time."
That… made Bignum uncomfortable.
The way Ruok looked at him—soft, almost gentle. Like someone longing.
Bignum took one step back.
"I'm not into men," he said bluntly.
Ruok blinked. "Me neither."
Then his eyes changed.
Sharp and focused, "It's time."
Bignum turned.
The Trods were already charging.
The world exploded.
Roars. Steel. Mud flying under heavy steps.
Trods came in waves—twisted beasts with too many limbs, too many teeth, and not enough sense to fear death. Some crawled, some ran, some leaped like they had wings that forgot how to fly.
Bignum roared back and charged.
His axe met the first wolf-like trod mid-leap. Bone cracked. Blood sprayed. He twisted his body and kicked another one aside, its ribs breaking with a dull crunch.
Simple and clean.
He grinned.
Then—
He glanced sideways.
Ruok moved.
No shouting. No panic.
Just… moving.
Every step placed right. Every dodge clean. Blades flashing in short, precise arcs. He didn't even look at most of his targets. His hands just knew where to go.
Like a machine.
Bignum frowned.
"He's good," he muttered.
Then a wolf lunged at him, and he buried the thought along with his axe into its skull.
The fight dragged on.
Mud turned thicker. Blood made it worse.
Bignum smashed through another trod when something massive crashed nearby.
He turned.
A giant mechanical arm—one of those strange war machines—had fallen from above, crushing a group of Trods beneath it.
Right where Ruok had been.
Bignum blinked.
Then he saw him.
Ruok was walking.
Casually.
Toward him.
Too casual like a man walking in a park.
Bignum opened his mouth to shout—
Something moved above.
Fast.
He raised his axe just in time.
A massive ape-like trod slammed its fist down.
The impact drove Bignum knee-deep into the mud.
"Ghk—!"
His teeth clenched. Muscles strained.
Heavy.
Too heavy.
Then—
A voice.
"Hey, King Kong. I'm tastier than that orc. His meat's tough like rock."
It was Ruok.
Bignum glanced up.
The ape turned.
A dagger flew.
Straight into one of its four eyes.
The beast roared, stumbling back.
Bignum didn't waste the chance. He swung his axe with all his weight—
But the trod's tail—thick, scaly like a crocodile's—whipped around and slammed into his side.
The world spun.
He flew.
Rolled.
Stopped.
For a second, he just lay there, staring at the sky.
"…That hurt."
He pushed himself up, one hand on his side, blood on his lips. He wiped it with the back of his hand and looked towards the ape.
Ruok was there, fighting the ape.
Alone.
And winning.
Bignum's eyes widened.
Ruok dodged every strike. Jumped over sweeps. Slipped under claws. His daggers flashed again and again, cutting, stabbing, blinding.
The ape roared, its movements growing wild.
Blue blood poured down its face.
As the last dagger pierced to its fourth eye, the ape was completely blinded.
Ruok stepped back lightly.
Looked at Bignum.
"Can you finish him?" he said. "My blades can't kill something that big."
Bignum snorted.
"Watch me."
He stood straight.
Pain still there. Didn't matter.
He walked toward the beast.
The ape flailed blindly, smashing the ground, its tail whipping around.
Bignum waited.
One step.
Two.
Then he jumped.
Axe raised high.
He roared as he brought it down.
The blade split the trod's skull open.
The body twitched.
Then fell.
Dead.
Bignum landed hard, breathing heavy.
He looked at Ruok.
The man was casually wiping his dagger on his sleeve.
Like he had just finished cutting fruit.
"…Weird," Bignum muttered.
Ruok looked up. "Time to retreat."
Bignum tilted his head.
Retreat?
Right on cue—
A horn echoed. Deep and loud.
Then a roar.
Orders followed. Soldiers began pulling back. Fireballs arced overhead. Ice rained down, slowing the Trods.
A silver dragon rose from the camp, roaring into the sky.
Minerva descended soon after, landing with controlled grace, already moving with the retreating army.
**
Back in camp, things were loud again.
Not battle loud.
Different loud.
Minerva and Olga stood at the center, arguing. Voices sharp—especially Olga's. People watching but not too close.
Bignum leaned forward slightly.
He wanted to see.
Ruok walked past him.
"It's just a girls' argument," he said casually. "Let's eat. I'm starving."
Bignum hesitated.
Then followed.
Food was more important.
The orc canteen smelled like burnt meat and strong broth.
Bignum pointed at a bench. "Sit. I get food."
Ruok nodded and dropped down, stretching his arms like he had just finished a long day's work.
Bignum returned with two plates piled with meat.
He handed one over. "Here."
"Thanks."
Ruok took his dagger.
Started cutting the meat into small pieces.
Bignum frowned.
"Waste time."
"It's necessary," Ruok said, chewing.
Then paused.
Then cut it smaller.
Bignum stared.
"…Your jaw weak."
Ruok snorted. "You just have a big mouth."
Bignum grinned and bit into his meat without trouble.
After a moment, Ruok asked, "Why do you like fighting?"
Bignum shrugged. "It's what we do best."
Ruok chewed slowly.
"Ever thought about a peaceful life? No war. Just… living in a quite peaceful place. Have family. Maybe a kid or two."
Bignum shook his head.
"No such thing," he said. "Peace is fight. Always fight. Not just fists. Words too. Humans use words more."
Ruok nodded slowly.
"What's peace for you, Bignum?"
Bignum didn't hesitate.
"Death. Good death. Smile when die. Like my father… my father's father…"
"It's grandfather," Ruok cut in.
Bignum ignored him.
"My father's father's father—"
"Okay, okay," Ruok said, raising a hand. "I get it."
He looked outside.
Quiet for a moment.
"I can't find peace in death," he said softly. "So I'll just keep living… chasing it."
Bignum chewed.
"If you want live, then fight."
"I am fighting."
Bignum shook his head.
"No. You not."
He swallowed and pointed his meat at Ruok.
"You fight not to die. Not same."
Ruok looked down at his plate.
"…Yeah. You're right. I didn't fight to live."
Silence.
Then something changed.
Ruok's hand tightened on his dagger.
Then loosened.
He placed it back on his side.
"Where's the demon camp?" he asked.
Bignum pointed west. "There."
Ruok stood.
Smiled.
"Thanks, man."
"For what?"
Ruok didn't answer.
He just walked away.
Bignum watched him go.
Then snorted.
"…Weirdo."
He went back to eating.
But his eyes drifted west.
Just once.
Before he finished his meal.