[Third POV]
In another world, dozens of Orc warriors lay in the bushes, observing the peaceful village in front of them. They were waiting for the signal from their chief.
Destroy, plunder, rape, kill, this was going to be another glorious and victorious battle for their tribe. They were ready to face and exterminate the rival tribe.
Each of them bore the red tattoo of a bear on their skin, its color a different shade of crimson. Slowly, they approached the village.
...
While in the village, we could feel anxiousness and stress filling the air. It was so intense we could almost touch it. Something was wrong and they knew it. Over the past few days, several hunting teams vanished, leaving no clues behind.
They had heard of a new, rising tribe, eager to earn fame and expand their hunting grounds.
With winter approaching, the disappearances were a grave concern. While some had gone missing in the past only to return, this time felt different. Too many were not coming back, and they simply couldn't afford to lose any of their warriors during such troubled times.
Inside one of the village's largest huts, a decisive moment was unfolding for four individuals. Two pregnant female Orcs were about to give birth. Outside, all their family had gathered, waiting for two new members to join them. At the entrance, the tribe's chief and his best friend waited anxiously.
The two of them had been pleasantly surprised to learn their wives would give birth on the same day. The tribe's tattoo shaman stood beside them, preparing to welcome the newborns.
The two women faced their challenges together, unassisted, as had been the custom since ancient times. It was their duty to show their strength and honor their ancestors.
"Aaargh"
The babies were coming when suddenly, on the other side of the tribe, a piercing warcry shattered the air:
"Ugulu Wa la RABOUUUUUU !"
"RABOUU!"
The assault was launched! War cries echoed from all sides, surrounding the entire village.
The small tribe of seventy was trapped. The timing couldn't have been more terrible. Both fathers' expressions hardened in an instant.
As the chief's best friend rushed inside the hut, the chief grabbed the tattoo shaman by the shoulders, a look of grim determination on his face.
(Orc language) "Crom! Bless the newborns as soon as they are born, then hide them to the best of your ability. Even if it costs you your life, you know how important they are! The tribe is done for! Although we'll die today, they will avenge us in the future, rebuild our clan, and bring it to greater heights. I trust you!"
Crom met his chief's gaze for a tense three seconds before disappearing into the hut as the other man emerged.
"They've given birth!" the chief's best friend shouted, his voice thick with emotion. "You have a daughter, and I have a son!"
A grim smile touched the chief's lips. "GOOD. I hope they'll get along and take care of each other! We don't have any more time! Let's slaughter those bastards and buy enough time for Crom."
Holding their weapons, they looked at the battlefield.
"Glory to Nayurn !"
"Glory to Nayurn !"
They charged into the fray, ready to fight to the death alongside their brothers and sisters.
...
[Pierre POV]
The space around me seemed to shake. I tried to move, to help my mother push me out, but I couldn't control my body as I wanted. I quickly became exhausted by the effort. Then, with another big push, I was expelled into the world.
'Oh ! light !'
'Euh well ! Although a little bit too blinding, it's a good start.' After what felt like hours, days, or even years in darkness, I had never been more grateful to see the light again. My vision was quite a blur, but I could still distinguish some green forms. There was a lot of noise, and I couldn't comprehend what was happening. I felt someone take me in his green arm and bring me to a table.
'Why do I feel like I'm missing something ? Wait, green arms ? Am I color-blind?'
Mmm...
'It can't be...'
'No, I can't have been reincarnated as a goblin! Or maybe something like Yoda? Is this another world?'
I didn't have time to think more about it when I felt a sharp pain in my chest. It felt like someone was stabbing my heart.
'Are they crazy? Who would stab a cute newborn baby in their right mind?'
The pain was so intense that I passed out after only a second. It hadn't been ten seconds before I was jolted awake by another painful stab in the exact same spot. This time, I didn't feel my heartbeat anymore.
'Will I die again? Should I fight to survive like in those novels? Wouldn't that be cliché? If I die, will I return to that dark place?'
'Mhmm, bad idea. I hate that place.'
'Then I shall fight to live!'
Just as I tried to will my heart to beat again, a strange sensation drew my attention to something warping my heart. Inexplicably, the thing began to shine. Please don't ask me how I knew it was shining, but I did. And then, a surge of warmth radiated from it.
boom
boom
boom
And I came back to life! I also felt incredibly tired and quickly fell back into my dreams.
[Third POV]
The enemy's surprise attack turned the battle into a massacre, inflicting irreversible damage on the tribe. Blood splashed, hearts were pierced, and heads were beheaded in a genuine bloodbath. The attackers advanced swiftly, killing everything in their path, until two great warriors charged out and threw themselves into the fight. They succeeded in pushing the enemy back for a time, but the numbers were against them. Overwhelmed and outnumbered, they eventually fell, but they died with honor.
...
Several minutes ago.
In the hut, a woman was crying. She hadn't even had the chance to embrace her child before he was whisked away to the table for his clan tattoo. She understood the necessity, but fear for her daughter's life consumed her. The ritual was agonizing, it was very rare to tattoo children since they rarely survived it.
The shaman hesitated for a moment before retrieving a majestic, ancient pen with a needle tip. At the sight of it, the mother's pupils dilated to the max. This ancient pen was used to infuse tattoos on internal organs. This was the legendary tool used to infuse tattoos directly onto internal organs. This method would not only conceal the tattoo from others, but also allow its user to harness a far greater power. Yet, the risk was immense; only one in ten young adult Orcs survived the process. Furthermore, the one who drew it had to sacrifice a portion of their own life force to ensure the tattoo's stability.
t was a dangerous operation with a high probability of her daughter dying, but she trusted Crom. They didn't have much time to live anyway, so she chose to believe her daughter was special—that she would survive. She began to pray their god for a miracle.
Crom's gaze was fixed on the little girl as he plunged the needle into her heart. Twice. She let out a cry, but she lived. He had just poured half of his life force into the mystical tattoo.
Overcome with a wave of relief, the first mother collapsed, but the ordeal was not over. The shaman's gaze shifted to her friend, who lay unconscious after giving birth. Now, it was her son's turn.
Crom took the boy to the table and proceeded as he had with the girl. But this time, something went wrong, and the boy's heart stopped.
The first mother let out a desperate cry as Crom fell to one knee. For ten agonizing seconds, no one moved or spoke. Then, they suddenly saw a gentle light coming from the boy's chest. After a moment, Crom confirmed that the boy was alive and well, and they all let out a cry of victory.
With the sounds of battle closing in, they knew they had to act fast. Crom used his last spark of life to summon a royal eagle before falling dead. The first and second mothers, who had just woken up a few seconds ago, placed their babies in a wooden cradle. They also put a wristband on each of the children, bid them farewell, and asked the royal eagle to take them to a safe place.