The first light of dawn crept through cracks in the cavern ceiling like thin fingers of blood, painting the unfamiliar stone in shades of red and gold. Kraghul's eyes snapped open, consciousness returning in a rush of pain and confusion. His body ached—wounds from the fights with Vrognut, Byung, and the other orcs throbbed like fresh brands. He tried to sit up, but his limbs wouldn't move. Thick ropes bound him wrist and ankle to a cold iron stake driven deep into the rock floor. Not ordinary ropes—these were woven with strands of steel, glinting coldly in the growing light, unyielding as chains forged in hellfire. He tugged hard, muscles bulging, veins popping on his green skin, but they didn't give an inch. Impossible to break, even for him.

Panic flickered in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a muffled grunt escaped. A thick gag of leather and cloth stuffed his maw, tied tight behind his head, tasting of sweat and dirt. He thrashed, the ropes biting into his flesh, drawing thin lines of blood that dripped onto the stone with soft plops. Kraghul knew whoever did this was experienced in binding orcs.

Where was he?

The place was isolated, a vast underground chamber far from any familiar tunnel. The air was stale and heavy, carrying the faint, musty scent of decay and bones. As the light strengthened, horror dawned. Skulls littered the ground everywhere—hundreds of them, scattered like forgotten pebbles across the uneven floor. Some were fresh, flesh clinging in rotting strips, eyes sockets still moist with decay. Others were old, bleached white by time, cracked and weathered. They stared up at him with empty sockets: human skulls with delicate jaws, goblin ones with pointed ears intact, orc tusks jutting from massive crania. Races mingled in death, a macabre carpet that stretched into the shadows. This was an execution ground, no doubt—a place where lives ended in agony, their remains left as warnings or trophies.

Kraghul's heart thumped hard in his chest, but despite this, he remained calm as there was a high chance he wasn't making it out of here alive. His breath came in hot, ragged bursts through his nose, nostrils flaring. He darted his eyes around frantically, scanning for escape.

The cavern walls were smooth in places, carved by tools or magic, with faint runes etched into the rock that pulsed with a subtle glow. Vines and roots dangled from the ceiling like hanging nooses, and the floor sloped gently toward a dark pit in the center, where more skulls piled in a gruesome mound. Water dripped somewhere in the distance, a steady plink-plink that mocked his helplessness. He strained against the ropes again, cords of muscle standing out on his neck and arms, but the steel fibers held fast, cutting deeper into his skin.

Who had done this? The Chieftess? No—her style was direct, brutal. This was calculated, meant to terrify before the end. Why not kill him while he slept? He had been out cold for... how long? a few hours? The thought sent a chill through his blood. They wanted him awake. Aware. To feel every moment.

Footsteps echoed from the shadows—slow, deliberate, crunching over skulls with casual disregard.

A figure emerged into the light. A dwarf.

Not just any dwarf—this one was dark-skinned, his complexion like polished obsidian, with red eyes that glowed faintly in the gloom, like embers in a dying fire. He wore armor of blackened steel, etched with runes that matched the walls, and a cloak of tattered hides that whispered as he moved. A wanted man, Kraghul recalled dimly—rumors from human bounties, a rogue dwarf whose wanted posted was everywhere with a high reward.

The dwarf stopped a few paces away, tilting his head as he studied Kraghul. He spoke in a deep, rumbling voice, words in a tongue Kraghul didn't understand—Dwarvish, harsh and guttural.

Kraghul thrashed, muffled growls escaping the gag, trying to communicate his confusion and rage.

The dwarf's red eyes narrowed, then he switched to the common language the orc understood, the language spoken by this kind.

"You have information to trade for your life?" The dwarf questioned.

Kraghul's eyes widened. He nodded frantically, ropes creaking with the motion, blood trickling down his arms from the cuts.

The dwarf stepped closer, knife flashing in his hand. He cut the gag with a single slice, the leather falling away wet and chewed. Kraghul gasped, coughing up phlegm and blood, his voice hoarse.

"What do you want? Gold? Weapons? I can—" Kraghul wasn't sure if this bait would work.

The dwarf held up a hand to silence him.

"Everything you know about Byung and Vrognut. Start talking," The Dwarf knowing who Vrognut was was no surprise but how did he know of Byung?

Kraghul's mind raced. He spilled it all—Byung the goblin, his strange strength wasn't natural, the escape from Elandor, the fights in the mine. Vrognut the cannibal, the wanted goblin that had caused havoc for quite sometime, left for dead in the caverns. He talked fast, details pouring out like water from a burst dam, hoping it was enough.

The dwarf listened with interest, his dark-skinned face impassive, red eyes flickering like coals. When Kraghul finished, gasping for breath, the dwarf smirked, a slow curl of his lips that showed teeth filed to points.

"Thanks," he said simply.

Kraghul's blood ran cold. He knew that tone—the dwarf had no plans to let him go.

"Wait—you said trade! My life!" Kraghul said but Kragul realized he was unnaturally scared, he shouldn't be this frightened even if his line was on the line. This dwarf must have triggered this fear artificially or the chances he would spill what he wanted to know was low without fear.

"I lied," The dwarf chuckled, low and dark.

Kraghul roared, thrashing against the ropes, but the steel held. The dwarf turned away, vanishing into the shadows, leaving Kraghul alone with the skulls and the dripping water.

But Kraghul knew better than to give everything. He had held back one detail—his identity, a secret that might buy him time if someone else came. For now, he waited, bound and gagged no more, but trapped in an execution ground that promised a slow and painful death.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.