Without breaking a sweat, Valkar quickly and efficiently dispatched the remaining goblins.
It wasn't a battle. It was extermination.
Each swing of the bone axe was a lesson in economy of motion. No wasted energy. No dramatic flourishes. He moved through the panicked horde like a scythe through wheat, and the goblins were the wheat. Their rusty blades and crude clubs might as well have been wet noodles against his toughened hide. He barely registered the glancing blows, the scrapes, the futile attempts to pierce his skin.
As for the goblin chief, he was the most miserable one.
Valkar brutally hammered his head with the blunt side of the bone axe again and again, until his entire skull was forced to merge with his body.
Ding!
[You have killed: Goblin Chief (Level 4)]
[+287 Exp]
[Level Up!]
[Current Level: 5]
"Good... halfway there," he grumbled.
The last goblin, a tiny creature that had been trying to hide behind a fungus-covered rock, shrieked as Valkar's shadow fell over it. It made a desperate, lunging attack, its tiny dagger aimed at Valkar's knee.
Valkar didn't even look down. He simply sidestepped, bringing the flat of his axe down on the creature's back. There was a wet crack, and the goblin went limp, its spine shattered.
Silence descended upon the cavern, thick and heavy. The only sounds were the dripping of blood, the terrified sobs of the princess, and the ragged, pained breaths of the dark-haired woman.
Sylvana could no longer stand. She had slumped to the ground, the brutal slaughter she had just witnessed draining the last of her adrenaline. Her sword, a rusty goblin blade she'd snatched in desperation, fell from her nerveless fingers. Her body screamed, a symphony of pain from a dozen different wounds, but her focus was on the monster who had saved them. A monster that was now turning its glowing amber eyes towards them.
Valkar stood amidst the carnage, a verdant island in a sea of green viscera and scattered limbs. Blood, none of it his, slicked the floor around him. He looked down at the two female elves, his expression a mask of cold calculation. His new mind, a gift from a goddess, was already dissecting the situation, weighing variables, calculating outcomes.
One female was a trembling, useless bundle of silk and tears. The princess. The other was the warrior. The protector. She was injured, but there was fire in her eyes, defiance even in defeat. She was strong. She would bear strong offspring. His new mind supplied this thought, not as a conscious choice, but as a biological imperative, amplified and sharpened by the curse.
The curse. The fire in his loins, which had dimmed to a low simmer during the fight, now roared back to life, fed by the proximity of fertile females. The ticking clock in his vision felt like a physical weight.
He took a step toward them.
"Stay back!" Sylvana snarled, pushing the whimpering princess behind her with her one good arm. She grabbed the rusty sword again, its edge nicked and blunted, pointing it at the approaching orc. Her purple eyes were burning with a mixture of terror and fury.
Valkar paused. He saw not a threat, but a spectacle. A wounded wolf snarling at a dragon. The corner of his mouth twitched. It was almost amusing.
"I said stay back!" she repeated, her voice trembling but holding.
He didn't listen. He took another step, then another, until he stood over them. His shadow engulfed them, a living mountain of green muscle and death. He looked down at the warrior, his amber eyes lingering on the nasty gash on her thigh.
He lowered himself to their level.
Sylvana tensed, her knuckles white on the hilt of the sword. The pressure Valkar gave her was too much, and she reacted on her instincts and thrust the rusty blade forward.
It was a weak, desperate thrust. An attack a child could have dodged.
Valkar didn't even bother to dodge. He simply caught the blade in his massive palm.
CLANG!
The sound of metal striking flesh echoed in the silent cavern. But it was the metal that gave way. The rusty, inferior-quality sword, already stressed from the battle, snapped in two.
Sylvana stared at the broken hilt in her hand, her mind blank with shock. Her last, pathetic weapon. Gone.
"..." She looked up at him, her defiance crumbling into raw, naked fear.
Valkar dropped the broken piece of metal. It clattered to the ground. He looked at her, then at the princess cowering behind her.
"I can protect the two of you and keep you alive and well," he said, his voice a low, calm rumble.
"!!!" Sylvana's purple eyes widened. That was not what she expected.
She knew how orcs are. They were monsters. Brutes who only understood violence. Stupid creatures who only thought with their stomachs, fists, and their... other organs. This one, however, spoke with a clarity and purpose that was unsettling.
"I... I don't understand," she stammered, her mind struggling to reconcile the blood-soaked monster with the calm, reasoning being in front of her.
"It's simple," Valkar said, his gaze shifting to the princess, then back to her. "You are weak. You are injured. You will die in these tunnels if I leave you. I will not. I can lead you out. I can provide food and safety."
"Why?" Sylvana's voice was barely a whisper. The question hung in the air, heavy with suspicion. "Why would you help us?"
As much as it was unheard of and obscured to have a conversation with an orc, she had to admit he made a good point. She looked at her leg, at her wounds, at her trembling princess. He was right. They were dead without help.
But an orc's help? Seriously?
Valkar's amber eyes glowed slightly in the dim cavern. He slowly raised a finger and pointed at the raven-haired elf.
"Because you are strong," he said, a statement of fact, not a compliment. "You fought well. You protected her. That strength deserves to live."
"..." Sylvana flinched at the backhanded praise. She wasn't used to this. Not the casual observation, not the calm demeanor.
He then pointed a massive, clawed finger at the whimpering princess.
"She's weak. A liability," he stated, his tone devoid of emotion.
"!!!" The princess flinched, letting out a fresh sob at the brutal assessment. Sylvana immediately moved to shield her, a fierce glare in her purple eyes.
"Don't talk about her that way!"
Valkar ignored her outburst. His gaze dropped to the princess's trembling form, then back to Sylvana's defiant face.
"I can protect the two of you and keep you alive and well," he repeated, his voice a low, calm rumble. "But everything has a price."
He didn't need to elaborate. The unspoken hung in the air, thick and heavy as the scent of blood. Sylvana was not a fool. She understood the ways of the world, the brutal calculus of survival. A deal with a monster was still a deal. And life, even a life bought at a terrible price, was still life.
She looked at the princess, her lady, the girl she had sworn to protect with her life. The thought of her falling into the hands of these goblins, or any other creature in this godsforsaken wilderness, was a poison in her soul. Then she looked at the orc. He was a monster, yes. But he was a monster of a different sort. He was powerful, decisive. And right now, power was the only currency that mattered.
"What is the price of this... protection?" Sylvana asked, her voice barely a whisper. She dreaded the answer, but she had to ask for the princess.
Valkar's amber eyes glowed slightly in the dim cavern. He slowly raised a finger and pointed at the raven-haired elf.
"You," he said, a statement of fact, not a compliment. "You will be my price... my mate."
"W-What!!!" Sylvana's world, what little was left of it, was shattered. Her breath hitched. Her blood ran cold. The word "mate" echoed in the cavern, a death knell to everything she was, everything she had ever hoped to be.
Mate. With an orc.
It was a fate worse than death. It was an abomination. A violation not just of her body, but of her very soul.
"No... she can't—"
The words came from the trembling princess.
She looked up at Valkar, her tear-streaked face a mask of horror. She saw not a savior, but a different kind of monster, one who spoke of deals and prices instead of just mindless violence.
"She's not... she's not a thing to be sold!" the princess stammered, her small hands clenching into fists. "You can't!"
Valkar's gaze, unimpressed, slid from the warrior to the noble. He dismissed her words like an annoying fly. His focus was on the one who mattered, the one with the strength he'd observed, the one whose survival was… negotiable.
"I can," he rumbled, the words a simple statement of fact. "And I will. She will be my mate. In return, you both live. I will protect you. I will feed you. I will lead you out of this pit. Or," he let the silence hang, a heavy, suffocating blanket, "you can stay here. Not all goblins are dead, and other things live in these lands. Things that don't make deals."
Valkar slowly stood up and extended a hand to Sylvana, who still stared at him in wide-eyed shock and disgust. His offer was not gentle. It was a transaction, laid out in brutal, simple terms.
He was hoping for the elf to accept, but he was already prepared for another outcome. His mother Zura had raised him to respect and treat women well, to protect them and cherish them.
But now Zura wasn't here. The succubus's curse was.
And the curse doesn't ask for permission.
He watched the conflict war on Sylvana's face. He saw the revulsion, the sheer horror of the prospect. But beneath it, he saw something else. The protector's duty. The desperate calculus of survival. She looked at the princess, her face pale and tear-streaked, then back at the mountain of muscle and impossible power before her. The choice was a knife twisting in her gut.
"I... I..." she stammered, her voice a raw whisper. Her gaze dropped to the bloody, goblin-infested floor, then to the broken sword in her hand. What other choice was there? Death for herself and the princess, or this... this deal?
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath that shuddered through her entire body, and when she opened them again, she had already made her decision.
"I will do it," she said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. She forced herself to look at him, to meet those burning amber eyes without flinching. "I will be your... mate. But you will swear on your honor that the princess will be protected. That no harm will come to her. She is innocent in this."
Valkar smiled. It was not a kind smile. It was the smile of a predator who had successfully cornered its prey.
"You have my word."