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This was originally a ceremony commonly held when orc tribes interacted with each other.

The orcs, who revered strength, believed they could understand each other by competing in skill. By clashing weapons imbued with each other’s souls, they believed their souls communicated, thus truly connecting with their opponent. Therefore, when orc tribes interacted, the warriors of each tribe would exchange swords to measure the trustworthiness of their opponents.

A vile person can never be strong!

Therefore, a strong person can be trusted!

This was the orcs’ belief. To humans, this might seem like a simple-minded way of thinking, but at least the orcs believed in it.

‘The problem is… whether they will acknowledge the Ritual of Hotu against humans…’

Feeling nervous inside, Repenhardt looked at the orcs. The Ritual of Hotu was an orc tradition, and he wasn’t sure if they would acknowledge it in interactions with different races…

“The Ritual of Hotu!”

“A human knows of our great tradition!”

“Grandmother! Let’s accept it!”

As expected, they were orcs. They weren’t a race that thought too deeply. At Repenhardt’s suggestion, their expressions changed, and the hostility vanished, replaced by eyes shining with interest.

“A human knows boldness!”

“Indeed! True conversation can only occur when blades clash!”

…The atmosphere was more excited than expected. Just the fact that their opponent knew of their tradition significantly increased their favorability. Orcs were indeed simple-minded. Tilla and Siris clicked their tongues.

“…So simple!”

“As expected of orcs.”

At that moment, Stalla raised her right hand. The murmuring among the orcs instantly ceased. She began scrutinizing Repenhardt with serious eyes. Repenhardt swallowed nervously. No matter how favorable the orcs’ response was, it would mean nothing if the orc in front of him did not give her permission.

Stalla spoke.

“A human knows of our great tradition.”

“It was a fortunate encounter.”

Despite his inner anxiety, Repenhardt replied calmly. Suddenly, Stalla smirked.

“May I ask your name?”

“Repenhardt.”

Stalla stroked her chin and continued in a low voice.

“Repenhardt, while others may not know, I am aware. Humans, unlike us, betray the song of the sword. A human can even betray a sword imbued with their own soul.”

Repenhardt’s expression hardened slightly.

‘Damn it, did I fail?’

At that moment, Stalla’s gentle voice followed.

“But you know the language of blessings, and you understand our traditions. I think it is meaningful to share swords with someone like you.”

In an instant, Repenhardt’s expression brightened. Stalla concluded with a solemn voice.

“Proving your strength alone will not earn trust. The resonance of your soul through the sword will determine your fate. Will you do it?”

Repenhardt nodded confidently. At his resolute gaze, Stalla raised her hand high and shouted.

“Stalla of the Blue Bear Tribe! I accept the Ritual of Hotu!”

* * *

“……So, it has come to this. Everyone will have to fight. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

After explaining the Ritual of Hotu, Repenhardt scratched his head as he looked at his companions. It wasn’t that he had hidden it on purpose; he hadn’t expected to encounter the orcs so soon and hadn’t had the chance to explain the plan.

Russ nodded at the explanation but then showed a puzzled expression.

“Of course, hyung and I will fight, but… do Siris and Tilla have to fight too? They’re not humans, and especially since they’re women…”

“To the orcs, we’re all just outsiders. Even if we were orcs, we’d still have to fight. Their way of thinking is different from humans. Besides, orcs don’t distinguish between men and women in battle.”

The Ritual of Hotu is about proving one’s worth through combat. As long as Siris, an elf, and Tilla, a dwarf, claim to be warriors, they cannot be exceptions. To be treated as equals by the orcs, they must participate in the ritual.

Tilla gripped her axe, her eyes gleaming.

“I am also a warrior representing the Steelhammer clan. I welcome a duel.”

Siris silently nodded, running her fingers along the blade of her scimitar, indicating her consent.

On the other hand, Sillan’s face was filled with fear.

“Do I have to fight too?”

Though a veteran at supporting from the rear, Sillan would likely get beaten by any passing civilian in a one-on-one fight. Naturally, Repenhardt had no intention of sending Sillan into battle.

“You don’t have to fight.”

“But then I won’t be properly treated, right?”

“You’re not a warrior. This is strictly for warriors.”

Repenhardt averted his eyes as he saw Sillan’s relieved expression. In truth, Sillan was exempt because he was still a child, but Repenhardt left that part out. Even the most brutish orcs wouldn’t consider a child—a least in appearance—as a participant in the ritual.

Of course, even after the ritual, Sillan would still be treated like a child…

‘He’s already being treated like a kid, isn’t he? He probably won’t even notice. Maybe.’

Feeling a slight pang of guilt, Repenhardt chose to ignore it. After organizing the order, he shouted towards the orcs.

“We are ready!”

The orcs spread out and created a wide space. After making a large clearing in the center, the orcs began stomping and shouting. Amidst the earth-shaking noise, Stalla declared.

“Outsiders, we will begin the Ritual of Hotu! Those who wish to prove their worth, step forward!”

As planned, Siris slowly walked to the center of the clearing. Stalla looked Siris up and down and then shouted to her tribe.

“Jalkato! Take up the Ritual of Hotu!”

A sturdy orc warrior, holding two swords, darted forward and shouted.

“An honor, Matron!”

With his eyes gleaming, the orc warrior called Jalkato surrounded himself with an aura of energy. Displaying a momentum that surpassed that of most orc gladiators, Jalkato crossed his swords in the air and shouted.

“I am Jalkato, son of Derata, inheritor of my father’s sword! I will face you!”

Siris stared blankly at Jalkato. He seemed to be growling something in Orcish, which she couldn’t understand. Realizing this, Jalkato switched to a different language.

“I, Jalkato! Fight you!”

Though not fluent, the common language was understandable. Sillan muttered in surprise.

“Oh, that orc knows the common language too…”

It was a muttered remark, but Stalla, from afar, caught it and smiled sadly.

“World belongs to humans now. Orcs must know the common language. All warriors know it.”

It was a sad reflection of a fallen race, but Sillan took it differently.

“Gasp! So all orc warriors can speak the common language?”

These brutish-looking orcs were actually bilingual intellectuals! Realizing this, Sillan glanced at Russ with a sudden understanding.

“Mr. Russ, do you know any languages other than the common one?”

“Uh, no? Just the common language is enough for daily life…”

“Could it be that we are the least educated ones?”

“Hmm…”

Regardless of the two human men sinking into self-doubt, the ritual continued. Looking at Jalkato, Siris also raised her scimitar and introduced herself.

“I am Siris Valencia of the Dahnhaim Tribe.”

She didn’t use her family name, Serendi El Areliana, but instead the name she received from Repenhardt. It seemed trivial, but it was her own way of reciprocating her feelings towards Repenhardt. Of course, Repenhardt didn’t notice at all. Expecting a man to pick up on such subtlety was excessively harsh.

‘Tsk…….’

Slightly peeved, she quickly composed herself and began to focus on the opponent in front of her. Siris, with her sword pointed, and the orc warrior Jalkato, with his dual swords extended, glared at each other, their fighting spirits ablaze.

In a split second.

The two warriors charged at each other.

“Taah!”

“Kraaaah!”

With two shouts of battle cry, Siris’s scimitar and the two Orcish swords clashed. The blades scraped against each other, sparking repeatedly.

Crackle!

Amidst the piercing sound of clashing metal, Siris and Jalkato, still locked in combat, both showed astonished expressions. Pushing their blades against each other, Jalkato murmured with a puzzled look.

“How does a body so frail have such strength?”

Amazingly, Siris wasn’t being pushed back at all, even while engaging in a direct power struggle with the orc warrior Jalkato. Considering that Siris’s waist was even thinner than Jalkato’s thigh, it was truly an extraordinary sight.

Of course, it wasn’t that Siris actually possessed strength equal to Jalkato.

‘He certainly has good strength, but still…….’

Recalling her usual sparring sessions, Siris faintly smiled.

Indeed, while Jalkato possessed the formidable strength typical of an orc warrior, unfortunately for him, her usual sparring partners were Tilla and Repenhardt. She was more than used to techniques for handling powerful swords. No matter how strong the blow, she could deflect it using the elasticity of her knees and waist, sequentially reducing its power, making it manageable even with her strength.

The elf girl and the orc warrior faced each other with their swords locked.

Each time Jalkato tried to overpower her with brute force, Siris would slightly twist her scimitar, diverting the point of attack. Despite the significant difference in their body weights, with Jalkato’s strength far surpassing hers, the force of his attacks was misdirected, preventing him from applying his full power effectively.

Admiringly, Jalkato leapt back to create distance.

“Impressive! Elf woman! You are a true warrior!”

As Jalkato retreated, Siris immediately launched an attack. Swinging her scimitar repeatedly, she executed diagonal slashes. The silver blade targeted Jalkato’s waist and shoulder simultaneously.

However, Jalkato was also a seasoned warrior. Although momentarily flustered and pushed back, he quickly steadied himself and assumed a defensive stance.

Bang! Tatatang!

With composure, Jalkato once again began to deftly wield his twin swords.

His dual swords moved wildly as if they were living creatures, attempting a counterattack. With his left sword, he deflected Siris’ incoming strike and simultaneously launched a lightning-fast thrust with his right sword. As Siris dodged the thrust, the left sword, which had been on defense, switched to offense and attacked again. The two swords in his hands constantly switched roles between attack and defense, making it feel like facing two opponents at once, which was incredibly difficult to handle.

Exchanging attacks and defenses, Siris inwardly clicked her tongue.

‘This is no joke…’

Even during her time as a slave in Elvenheim, she had often fought against human knights and could confidently claim victory. Even the renowned golden knight, Sir Eusus, was inferior to her in swordsmanship. Moreover, the current Siris had further honed her skills through constant sparring with Repenhardt and Russ, both aura users.

At her current level, it was safe to say that there were hardly any opponents who could match her unless they were aura users.

Yet here was an ordinary orc warrior displaying skills on par with hers without any difficulty. Repenhardt’s words came to mind anew.

– As far as I know, they are the strongest combat group on the surface. Even including humans, elves, and dwarves.

Indeed, if all the warriors of the Blue Bear Tribe possessed such skills, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call them the strongest combat group on the surface.

However, as time passed, the tide of the battle began to tilt to one side. One of them had a distinct weakness.

Siris swung her scimitar, still exuding a chilling aura, and her eyes gleamed.

‘Surely, his swordsmanship has reached a high level, but…’

Jalkato’s dual swords continued to swirl chaotically without losing their momentum. However, with her elven precision, Siris clearly perceived the state of his swords.

‘Unfortunately, his swords can’t keep up with his skills…’

Due to the countless clashes, Jalkato’s dual swords were already chipped and worn out. Unlike Siris’ scimitar, which was meticulously crafted by a dwarven master and enchanted with various support spells by Repenhardt, Jalkato’s dual swords were nothing more than crudely made, cheap weapons.

‘If that’s the case…!’

With a triumphant smile, Siris deflected Jalkato’s offensive. Seizing the moment when the two swords briefly veered aside, she leapt into the air.

“Hiyah!”

She gripped her scimitar firmly with both hands and raised it above her head.

A downward strike with all her body’s momentum!

Though the move was rather large due to the force behind it, Siris timed it perfectly, leaving Jalkato no room to evade. In a hurry, Jalkato crossed his twin swords above his head to defend.

“Hah!”

And that was precisely her aim. Her target was not Jalkato but his twin swords. She intended to destroy his weapons.

“Taaah!”

With all her strength, she brought down a powerful strike onto the crossed blades. At that moment, Jalkato bared his teeth and let out a strange voice.

“Skevan! Satara!”

The swords resonated.

Wooo!

A hazy white light covered the blades of his twin swords. Despite being chipped and battered, Jalkato’s beloved swords, Skevan and Satara, began to shine and emitted a fearsome sharpness as if they had just been reforged.