🧚The Lament of the Saintess Chapter 2: 1VS1 Bonfire Gladiator Tournament (1)

Gulaba's words made sense, but Aunt Ironaxe didn’t immediately agree. As a capable chieftain, emotions always came last; the tribe's interests were paramount. Some might think orcs were mindless beasts or savages, but they couldn't be more wrong. While orcs might be bold, boisterous, and quick to anger, they were no less cunning than any race in Time Town.

To other races, orcs were synonymous with warfare, but Aunt Ironaxe knew better. Orcs simply used their warlike image to avoid the troubles of actual war. They thrived in one-on-one duels but were timid in large-scale battles. A lone orc would fight to the death, but an orc army would often collapse at the first sign of trouble, scattering like wild animals.

The true warriors were the seemingly fragile humans. Once cornered, they would unite and sing their war songs, becoming unbeatable. Aunt Ironaxe had to admit that the orcs' long-standing alliance with humans was a calculated peace offering, driven by a careful balance of benefits.

Did the young orcs truly enjoy guarding the homes of human lords? Not likely. They’d much prefer to hack off those fat, greasy heads, guzzle their fine wine, and ravage their women until they died. Yet, the reality was that strong young orcs often ended up sleeping with livestock in the human lords’ stables, listening to the faint moans of human ladies in the dead of night, and taking out their frustrations on the mares and sheep.

If any of those lust-driven young orcs dared to show interest in the human ladies, they would quickly find themselves sold to the gladiator pits as lion fodder—more often than not, unarmed.

The lizardmen schemed against the humans, the elves feared them, the vampires hated them… but did the orcs really enjoy being subservient to humans? Perhaps a Time Town without humans would be the best Time Town of all.

“Quite the exhilarating thought…”

Aunt Ironaxe shook her plump face slightly. While humans were certainly aggressive, the elves were no pushovers either. Those self-proclaimed noble weaklings despised orcs to their very core. Elves excelled in small group tactics, and any lone orc would quickly find themselves swarmed. Most of the orc slaves in the markets were caught by elven slavers.

Eliminate the humans, and the orc slaves would have no buyers. But without buyers, the elven slavers wouldn’t keep them alive either. No trade, no killings—was it really that simple?

More importantly, if the orcs openly turned against the humans and allied with the elves and lizardmen, it wasn’t certain the latter would even accept them. What was certain was that the humans would unite all their forces to annihilate the orcs for their betrayal. Whether humans would disappear from Time Town was uncertain, but the orcs would surely face extinction. Truth be told, Gulaba's visit to the orc tribe today was less a request for help and more a thinly veiled ultimatum.

In Time Town, weakness was the ultimate sin.

“Those vampires are stubborn creatures. Convincing them won’t be easy. We need a foolproof plan,” Aunt Ironaxe said, despite her inner thoughts.

“If it weren’t difficult, I wouldn’t have come to seek your help, Aunt Ironaxe. Hahaha…” Gulaba laughed heartily, the carefree Sword Saint always brimming with a carefree spirit that sparked envy in others.

Grisela, sharp-eyed and quick-witted, couldn’t bear to see Aunt Ironaxe in an awkward position and swiftly took over the conversation. “Old drunkard, you’ve come just in time. Tonight is the 1VS1 Bonfire Gladiator Tournament. Last time, you lucked out and took the championship, but now that I’ve got the OCD Redemption (katana), I’ll definitely defeat you this time.”

Gulaba narrowed his eyes slightly before bursting into laughter. “Hahaha, mighty Grisela, I’m no match for you. Last time, you only let me win out of sheer kindness. I surrender right now.”

Instead of being pleased by the Sword Saint’s humility, Grisela grew angry. “Are you insulting me, you old drunkard? You’re dead tonight! Watch me beat you until you’re rolling in the dirt!”

As the younger warriors playfully chased each other around, Aunt Ironaxe’s face softened into a kindly smile, as if the earlier tension had never existed…

Night fell, but the sky over the tribe was lit ablaze by the massive bonfire. Countless young orc men and women, clad in various armor and armed with sharp weapons, gathered around the fire.

Contrary to the tense atmosphere one might expect, every young warrior preparing for the 1VS1 Bonfire Gladiator Tournament wore a smile. They laughed loudly, downed strong liquor by the mouthful, and shamelessly eyed their opponents' armor, weapons, and even their heaving chests and buttocks.

Orcs were a raiding people, not producers. Everything they had was either bought or stolen—and most of their money came from plunder anyway. To them, farming or crafting was lowly and foolish. Why toil in the dirt for a year when you could simply chop off a few farmers’ heads and take their harvest?

It was within this culture that the 1VS1 Bonfire Gladiator Tournament was born—a grand event renowned across Time Town. The tournament was ingeniously designed: participants donned their sturdiest armor and wielded their most powerful weapons, then fought one-on-one.

The loser usually didn’t die, as the rules prohibited finishing off an opponent who had lost the will to fight. The victor then had the right to claim one of the loser's three possessions: their armor, their weapon, or the loser themselves. The method was simple—the loser would remove their armor, stand behind the victor with their armor, weapon, and bare body. The victor would down a large cup of strong liquor, then toss the cup over their shoulder. Whatever the cup struck, they would take as their prize.

The 1VS1 Bonfire Gladiator Tournament held great significance for the orcs. It allowed young warriors to hone their skills and gave the strong a way to gain more resources in a relatively peaceful manner. Otherwise, with orcish tempers, it wouldn’t be uncommon for someone to lose their head over a mere knife.

Most importantly, if the victor randomly chose the loser themselves, the two would usually head straight to the tents behind to mate. Stronger warriors had more mating rights, ensuring the next generation of orc children would be even stronger. As for the rare cases where a victor ended up with someone of the same gender—well, these rough orcs had their own ways of handling such situations.

Perhaps this was why the great Sword Saint Gulaba loved the orc tribe so much. Besides the strong drink and shared temperaments, this was likely a key reason. Ever since the old drunkard started participating in the 1VS1 Bonfire Gladiator Tournament, he had won the championship multiple times in a row. However, his luck never seemed to hold—each time, the cup landed on some piece of junk metal. Many orcs who coveted the Sword Saint lamented his misfortune.

“Children! Grip your weapons tight. I declare: the 1VS1 Bonfire Gladiator Tournament begins!”