( Buhara’s POV )
Kronos was not the only one who had unfinished business in other parts of the universe, as Buhara also had unfinished commitnts of his own.
As he returned to his Orc Village for the first ti in over a year, Buhara was pretty excited to et his friends and family who had all seen him off to the university with pride and gusto.
"Oye! Duhara, look— Buhara is back! That weakling is ho!" Guhara told Duhara, as Buhara’s two childhood friends who were working in the fields just outside the Orc Village, spotted their friends return before anyone else.
"GUHARA! DUHARA!" Buhara greeted, as his two friends dropped their plowing tools and charged towards their returning friend.
"BRING IT–" said Buhara, his facial expressions confident as he planted his feet and prepared for the traditional Orc greeting.
"Urararararara–" shouted Duhara and Guhara at once as they ran at their top speed towards Buhara with the intention of shoulder tackling him to the ground.
The closer the duo approached, the more montum they gained until they launched themselves in the air, with the intention to tackle Buhara to the floor.
*Thud*
*Thud*
Unfortunately, to the extre surprise of Duhara and Guhara, the two of them could not tackle Buhara to the ground as when they tried tackling him, Buhara did not budge an inch and instead stood firm.
"On the chief’s beard….. Buhara is strong now"
"On the chief’s weapon….. Buhara can no longer be called puny Buhara"
Duhara and Guhara noted, as Buhara laughed out loud.
"HAHAHAHA— Call Mighty Buhara now!" Buhara demanded, as his two friends began worshiping him imdiately.
"We hail Mighty Buhara"
"We support mighty Buhara as the next village chief"
The duo said, as Buhara wrapped his hands around their shoulders and started to rrily walk towards the village.
Buhara’s ho village was called Goruk-Tor, a small but bustling Orc settlent nestled in a valley surrounded by jagged mountains.
The village was a collection of sturdy, stone huts with thatched roofs, built to withstand the harsh weather and occasional raids from neighboring tribes.
At first glance, the most impressive feature of the village seed to be the central bonfire, where the villagers gathered for als and celebrations, however, the real speciality of Goruk-Tor were the series of blacksmith forges located in the village which made it a popular destination for crafting weapons.
The air of Goruk-Tor was always filled with the sounds of clanging tal from the blacksmith’s forge, the rhythmic thud of hamrs against anvils, and the chatter of Orcs going about their daily lives.
Life in Goruk-Tor was simple but harsh. The average Orc in the village spent their days working in the fields or hunting in the dense forests that surrounded the valley.
Strength was valued above all in the Orc society, and every Orc, young or old, was expected to contribute to the village’s survival.
Children were trained to hunt from an early age, learning the ways of combat and the lore of their ancestors.
Yet, despite the rough lifestyle, there was a strong sense of community among the Orcs.
They worked, fought, and celebrated together, with the village elders leading rituals and recounting tales of legendary Orc warriors. The bonds of family and friendship were unbreakable, and even in tis of hardship, the Orcs of Goruk-Tor stood together, resilient and proud.
Hence when Buhara, son of the village chief and one of the darlings of the village returned to Goruk-Tor after a year, the excitent amongst the villagers was palpable.
"Look at him now!" shouted an older Orc woman, her eyes wide with amazent. "Buhara’s grown so big! Did they feed you nothing but dragon at at that university?" She inquired, as she looked genuinely amazed to see Buhara’s rippling muscles.
Another Orc, a burly blacksmith with arms like tree trunks, chuckled as he pointed at Buhara’s broad shoulders. "If Buhara keeps growing like this, we’ll need to widen the doorfras of his father’s hut! The chief’s son won’t fit through anymore!"
"Or maybe," a cheeky young female Orc piped up, grinning mischievously, "he’s gotten so strong to carry his future wife over the threshold! Eh, Buhara? When’s the wedding, sister Sohara misses you dearly~"
This comnt drew hearty laughs from the crowd, with a few of the younger Orcs elbowing each other and winking at Buhara. "Better get started on making so little warriors of your own, Buhara!" another called out, earning a playful smack from his neighbor.
Listening to all these comnts, Buhara felt his face flush with embarrassnt, as he could only laugh along with the rest of them.
"Let et my father first before I seek out Sohara!" he bellowed, as he made his way back to his hut.
Naturally, the lighthearted banter continued as the villagers sward around Buhara, eager to welco him back with all the warmth and humor that made Goruk-Tor a true ho and they only paused when the village chief rushed out of his hut to greet his returning son.
"Chief–"
Your journey continues at .Côm
"Chief!"
"Chief–"
The villagers imdiately bowed in respect at the sight of Buhara’s father who was the strongest warrior in Goruk-Tor.
His red skin was covered in scars throughout, which were proof of the sacrifices he had made for the wellbeing of the village and the countless life and death battles that he had fought and won.
The respect that Buhara’s father commanded was not because of fear but rather love, as there was not a single villager in Goruk-Tor who would not die to keep the Village Chief safe.
"Chief–" Buhara said, bowing his head as his father embraced him warmly.
"You’re a climber now Buhara. You don’t have to call chief anymore" His father reminded as he hugged his son tighter.
Although he did not show it often, he was the one who had probably missed Buhara the most over the past year and was the one who was the happiest at his unexpected return today.
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