Island God: Going From Level 1 To World Ruler-Chapter 76: Yin & Yang (Episode 1)
***Author Note***
Hey! The main reason for this author note is to inform all of my readers of a recent technical error in my chaps.
You may have noticed the publishing hours recently have been all over the place. This is not because of a shortage of Chapters, so I’d like to clarify that firstly.
The reason why is because an informant told me that some Chapters may be published under a specific word count. After their immense verification and trust in their words, I decided to try it out.
But I have discovered that this "new rule" is not in place and that the word count for Chapters are still the normal amount.
Moving forward, all Chapters will be the same length as before (unless extra long).
Sorry for the delay and miscommunication. This disclaimer will be in all of the shortened Chapters.
To make up for it, there will be an extra Chapter release tomorrow!
—-
Dorhal stood alone atop the ledge that lay before his brother’s grand mansion.
He faced the fountain in the center. His hands were placed on the bottom of a sword’s hilt that was turned on its head.
It was a massive broadsword that almost no human could wield. Made of shining white steel that was over an inch thick in the center.
’The Fountain of Ekes Kaiba, founder of the white orc nation under Karak-O.’ He said to himself, seemingly in deep thought. A serious gaze remained on his face.
The sun slowly drifted under the horizon in the distance.
A series of heavy but distant footsteps sounded from behind. They were heading straight toward him.
Dorhal glanced behind his shoulder for a second, noticing Dormon making his way to the meeting area. Dorhal looked back over at the fountain.
"This fountain was once flowing with a white elixir. Our forefathers called it the Elixir Of Life... the very liquid that gave us orcs the blessing of pale skin, larger bodies, and a more fierce mind." Dorhal said, his tone almost sentimental.
"Huh?" Dormon replied, arriving beside his brother. "So what of it? No orc alive today has seen this thing flowing in their lifetimes. It’s almost a myth now." He didn’t seem too impressed.
"Yet it still remains here. Although the branches may have reached out to the sun, the trunk remains." Dorhal paused, turning to face Dormon, "The foundation remains, but the branches have forgotten it in their quest for sunlight."
Dormon furrowed his eyebrows, "What are you trying to say?" He said in a low tone.
"A peace treaty... that is what you must offer Midas, the player," Dorhal said.
Dormon furrowed his eyebrows. As if the mere suggestion was enough to anger him.
"Why? So that we can be nameless slaves to his bidding?" Dormon replied. "You may think of me as being foolish, but you always have. There isn’t a big difference now. If we enter a peace treaty with that Player, he will undoubtedly deny it. If not in the present, then surely in the future."
Dorhal remained silent.
"His goal is to conquer Fell-Terra, and ours is to conquer him. To use him and make sure our world stays intact. You may think you are protecting our kin, but in truth, you are blinded from the bigger picture." Dormon’s words seemed to be driven by an unseen wisdom.
Dorhal’s eyes widened slightly with surprise. He couldn’t remember the last time he had an actual conversation with his brother. One where they could share their vulnerable thoughts without worry.
But it was understandable that now was the correct time. After all, the fate of everything they ever knew was on the line.
"His goal prevents him from accepting a treaty of peace. Even if he accepts one now, he will NEED to make us surrender to achieve his goal at some point. And when that happens... we will be under the foot of the man who slew countless of our brothers and sisters. Parents... family, friends. They all died for no other reason than being pawns in Midas’s plan to defeat us." Dormon said, glancing over at Dorhal and peering into his eyes, "As inhabitants of this world, we must fight back. We must slay the player. Surrender is not an option... and although I do not like to admit it, peace is only a hope that can never be achieved in the circumstances we are in. Do you understand now? We must garner his trust and kill him when he least expects it."
After Dormon finished speaking, Dorhal did not reply.
The tattooed orc seemed to be lost in thought. His eyebrows scrunched inwards. He was upset, but also maintained a stoic demeanor.
Looking in from the outside, one could not guess what he was thinking.
*Dum taka-dum-ta...*
A low beat of drums could be heard in the distance.
*Dum-dum taka-dum-ta*
The beats continued, growing in sound as the seconds passed.
*Dum taka-dum-ta dum-dum taka-dum-ta*
*Dum taka-dum-ta dum-dum taka-dum-ta*
*Dum taka-dum-ta dum-dum taka-dum-ta*
Eventually, the ground itself rattled with dust and debris as the floor trembled. The vibration of what sounded like hundreds of drums made the earth dance.
Dorhal and Dormon faced the southern sky where the sun was setting.
From the horizon came a swarm of mosquitoes that blocked out the waning sun.
At the center of the bright orange sun was the silhouette of a young man who was standing atop the largest mosquito.
Midas rode in on Bzzrt, his hands crossed, his feet wide, and his grin fueled with confidence.
All around him were hundreds of mosquitoes carrying goblins that played drums.
Gool was at the forefront of the group.
He dropped down onto the ledge below, the first and only.
*DUM*
He beat his drum just once, but fiercely. It was enough to send a signal through the crowd, stopping all drums in unison.
"His greatness has arrived!" Gool’s voice echoed, "Prepare to be greeted by the king of Demadur himself, Lord Midas!"
