“So, what’s next?”


    “What else?”


    Isaac lifted Horace’s skull. Immediately, the entire Orca Fleet turned north, setting course toward the waiting Issacrea Fleet.


    “We bring our allies and, this time, reim the Holy Land.”


    ***


    A father is the first wall a son must face, his earliest rival. A son grows by learning disappointment and authority from his father, and when he finally surpasses his father, he is prepared to be one himself.


    But within the cycle of rebirths dictated by the Olkan Code, this besplicated.


    For most orcs, the lineage of one’s father is uncertain, so their n societies are matrilineal. Yet things differ for the most honorable raiders in the Khan’s army. The Khan is both a father and a symbol of authority, and through him, orcs learn what a father should be. However, the rare exception existed in An, a keshik of the Olkan Code, who knew precisely who his father was.


    His father was none other than the current Khan, Sahn Khan.[An, look ahead.]


    An lifted his gaze and focused on his father, Sahn Khan, standing on the opposite side of the in. Since the recent defeat at Issacrea, Sahn had visibly withered. His appearances on the battlefield had grown rare, and the pace of the Great Raid had slowed to a crawl.


    Whether it was the shock of his defeat or the loss of his beloved steed that had weakened him, none could tell. But the orcs had begun whispering.


    They said Sahn Khan could no longer wield the Netherworld Bow.


    [No one knows what the Netherworld itself thinks, for choosing the Khan is its sole authority. But it is true that no one has seen Sahn Khan draw the Netherworld Bow since his defeat by Issacrea’s lord. Do you understand what that means?]


    “Yes.”


    [Then go and kill Sahn Khan. If he cannot wield the Netherworld Bow, the next Khan will be you.]


    With the calm authority of a Manseungja, shemanded An to kill the supreme leader of the Olkan Code.


    The words were hardly shocking. The Olkan Code had always changed Khans this way. When Khans could no longer wield the Netherworld Bow, most voluntarily stepped down by taking their own lives. However, not all could bring themselves to do so.


    It was likely that Sahn would be one of thetter.


    “What if he can still shoot the Netherworld Bow?”


    A question with an obvious answer, yet An wanted to hear it from the Manseungja’s own mouth.


    [Then you must die. But die facing forward, for that is the only choice left for you, a keshik who defied the Khan’smands.]


    Most orcs knew that An had taken a divergent path from Sahn. The only reason he had not been assassinated or executed was because of the Manseungja’s protection.


    An sighed and scraped the ground with his hoof.


    The earth was soft and uneven—poor footing for a charge. If Sahn drew the Netherworld Bow, he could likely shoot twice at this distance. An knew he couldn’t evade two arrows and still close in for the kill.


    All he could do was hope that the bow would not be drawn.


    [Go.]


    An’s massive bodyunched forward. His speed rivaled that of a flying arrow.


    Sahn deftly raised the Netherworld Bow. Despite his aged and wrinkled arm, his muscles swelled with strength unbefitting his years. The bowstring tightened under the iron-tipped arrow. An clenched his jaw.


    The distance closed by half. Close enough that Sahn would likely only need one shot. Yet he held back, whether waiting for a perfect chance or desiring closer proximity.


    An charged head-on, eyes fixed on the arrow aimed at him.


    They were close enough to see each other’s expressions.


    Close enough to see each other’s eyes.


    Just when An reached the range where the slightest release of the bowstring would skewer him—


    An’s curved de shed through Sahn’s shoulder, down to his sternum.


    Sahn let out a brief gasp and copsed. The taut bowstring slipped from his fingers, yet the arrow did not fly, nor did it even budge. Numerous eyes watched, yet none dared voice shock or anger.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    “…Olkan, I return to the yellow ins you have prepared after my wandering is done.”


    Kneeling, the Khan continued his quiet prayer.


    “But and without my steed can never be a paradise for me…”


    With hisst words, Sahn released his final breath, leaving nothing else for An—no advice, no anger.


    As Sahn’s bow touched the ground, it absorbed his final breath, emitting a soft, golden light. Like every Khan before him, Sahn would not reincarnate but would be one with the Netherworld Bow. Thus, his power and wisdom would aid the next Khan.


    An breathed heavily, reflecting on Sahn’sst words.


    ‘Were you so unwilling to part from a world without your beloved steed that you clung to life, even knowing you were unfit to be Khan? Did you wish to find a way to that afterlife of other faiths?’


    To the Olkan Code, the Netherworld was a realm for plundered faith and wisdom. While some thought of it as a ce where one might pige beside Olkan in glory, few saw it as a spiritual refuge.


    To them, true valuey here on this earth.


    Thus, Sahn Khan, now one with the Netherworld Bow, would never be reunited with his beloved steed.


    The mare who had been his beloved and An’s mother had likely found her rest in another paradise.


    At that moment, someone stepped forward to wipe the blood from An’s body. It was Teherma, the shaman-general who had served Sahn. Draping a yellow nket over An’s shoulders, he wrapped a string of prayer beads around his neck and muttered a prayer.


    Only then did An look around. All the orcsy prostrate before him, honoring the birth of a new Khan. An felt aplex surge of emotions. Just then, the Manseungja whispered,


    [Raise the Netherworld Bow.]


    Anplied, lifting the bow high.


    [As Khan, make your first decree for the Great Raid. Shoot the bow in the direction you wish to go.]


    Although she spoke of a raid, it was clear that she meant for him to decide the nation’s direction.


    For nomads, choosing a path was a matter of life and death, a decision that determined the fate of the tribe.


    If An fired west, it meant continuing the Great Raid. If he fired east, it signified a return to their ancestral homnd, the Great ins of Man Sahar. Either path would be difficult.


    A figure came to his mind.


    Isaac Issacrea, the Holy Grail Knight. The one who had delivered defeat to the Khan’s army.


    After a moment’s consideration, An lightly plucked the bowstring.


    The immense Netherworld Bow was heavy, impossible to lift even for ordinary Khans. Drawing the bow was another matter entirely. Yet as An held it and drew the bowstring, it bent like a reed. Power pulsed through the empty string.


    The orcs’ eyes widened as he raised it.


    With a mighty *thrum*, the bowstring released, sending a glowing arc soaring into the sky.


    The orcs watched the receding light, ncing around uneasily, worried that their new Khan mightck a sense of direction. But An soon spoke to reassure them.


    “We march south.”


    South. Thend where the Codex of Light and the Immortal Order shed.


    Thend of Holy Land Lua.


    The new direction of the Olkan Code’s Great Raid had been decided.