I awoke in a field of dead grass. It wasn’t yellow—it was black, like burned hay left to rot under a cloudless sky. Every blade crunched when I shifted, brittle and lifeless. All around me, stretching endlessly, was a sea of white fog. It pressed against the horizon like a boundary, smothering sound, motion, even time. I saw no one. No shapes, no movement. Just me and the silence.

  What is happening?

  Then it clicked.

  Oh. I’m sleeping. Another nightmare, probably. The kind that gnaws at your chest and doesn’t let go. Will Yuri appear again this time? The thought made my stomach tighten.

  Tap.

  Someone touched my shoulder twice—light. Not one of malice. I turned slowly, half expecting the twisted grin of that deformed face.

  But it wasn’t Yuri.

  It was Jackie.

  He looked the same as before everything went wrong—no burns, no missing pieces, just that same confident smirk. “Been a while.” he said.

  I blinked. “No, it hasn’t. It’s barely been half a month.”

  Jackie raised a brow, then smacked the back of my head. “Don’t call me out.”

  Typical Jackie. Same casual tone, same playful edge—but I could feel something else behind it. The way his eyes lingered, the way his voice cracked ever so slightly. He wasn’t just joking. He knew everything. He could hear me. Read me. Every passing thought, every flicker of guilt or doubt—he caught it all.

  I sighed. “When will this nightmare end? Say something cryptic and get it over with.”

  Jackie didn’t respond with words at first. He just lifted a finger and pointed ahead.

  I followed his gesture.

  Nothing. Just the same endless expanse of blackened grass and that suffocating white haze.

  He kept his finger raised. “That lies at the end of this tower.”

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  I frowned. “Nothing?”

  He nodded slowly. His expression dimmed—sorrow behind the grin. “No great reward. No great consequence. Just nothing. Not the end my best friend deserves.”

  He vanished from behind me, appearing a few paces ahead in the middle of the field. The grass at his feet rippled as he stomped down hard. The ground splintered, cracked open. No sound followed. Not even the crumble of earth. Only vibration, heavy and hollow, as the soil began to rise like a wave. It lifted beneath me, swallowing the horizon, threatening to bury me whole.

  As the darkness swallowed my feet, I heard his voice one last time—strong, almost fatherly.

  “So do not falter, Haruto. Find meaning past this place. Return to us in one piece.”

  I smiled faintly. This wasn't so bad.

  I’ll see you soon, Jackie.

  Meanwhile...

  The tent roof creaked when he ducked inside. He was a runt—as all Blue Orcs are—tiny beneath my gaze, barely coming up to my knee. The guards bristled, spears raised, ready to skewer him for stepping into my presence. I waved them back with one lazy wrist. Let the small ones tremble. It amuses me.

  He bowed so low his brow almost kissed the woven floor, then unrolled the scroll with shaking hands. The letters were clumsy, but the meaning was plain.

  “The Great Sage of the Blue Orcs Koko has sent me and this letter to inform you the great power is sending climbers to this realm soon to the coast. The tower promises a great boost in power to those who help kill them. The Great Sage Koko requests your help in the endeavor to kill these climbers.”

  A sound rose in my chest. Half-laugh, half-growl. Feast. Battle. Power. It had been too long since the last time the heavens spat climbers down for us to gut. Last time I had cut one throat, and my blood sang for days afterward; my strength doubled before the moon turned. The memory made my hands itch for bone.

  “Let Koko know the Red Orcs will help. But as the superior orcs, we will get first contact.” I answered.

  He blinked, hesitant. “I’m not sure Huyu will allow that.”

  I slammed my fist into the armrest of my throne. The tent shuddered. The weakling flinched so hard he nearly passed out. I do not suffer counsel from others when hunger drums in my belly.

  “I do not care what Huyu wants! We Red Orcs get everything we want!” My roar split the air. I rose to my full height. Thirty feet of muscle and and the messenger’s eyes bugged wide. I reached for the haft of my mace.

  “Go back before I lose my patience and kill you.”

  He bolted from the tent, the flap slapping behind him like a curtain falling on a sacrificial rite.

  Fiki—loyal, steady Fiki—tightened his fingers around his spear and grinned at me with a soldier’s hunger. “Wutu, you’ll let us come, right?”

  They are good fighters, these ones. Better than most Red Orcs. Brave. Fierce. They smell of iron and sweat and the promise of victory. They deserve a chance at the spoils.

  I bared my tusks and let the threat in my chest unfurl into a hunger-sound that sounds a lot like laughter to smaller ears. “Of course!”

  Let the climbers come. Let the great power toss them onto our shores. Let the Blue Orcs bow and bring us news. Let the climbers fight. Let them fall.

  Then we will feast on power!