Foundation of Smoke and Steel

Chapter 157

KargukHe traveled with the Iron Tide, yet his thoughts were not with the march.

They were with the Corrupted.

The demon-touched.

They were everywhere onthe mainland at least in this area and were far too numerous and organized to be coincidence. Karguk in his last life had spent countless hours studying the movements of demons and their servants, had fought them across continents and from everywhere from back alleys in large cities to the open fields of the plains, yet he had never seen before.

Where had the Corrupted come from?

That question gnawed at him as the column advanced. The Corrupted were not a people that simply appeared. They had to be fed. They had to grow. They had to be sustained. And yet, he knew nothing of them in his past life and before this campaign, before the collapse of the Southern Passage Gate, they had barely existed at all—or at least, not in any numbers that mattered.

Had they been hiding if so where?

The Pulse should have revealed them during the last war. It had scoured the land, stripped away veils, laid bare secrets that had endured for centuries some that were related to the demon invasion so that didn't The knowledge had not been perfect as the Pulse had been corrupted then—fouled by demon influence, twisted by the weight of endless slaughter. Perhaps it had missed things. Perhaps it had been .

There were many secrets buried in the land that even the Pulse could not draw out.

Regardless, Karguk could not remember encountering the Corrupted before. Not with any amount of numbers and not as a unified force. Sure would have known of a group of Corrupted capable of coordinated movement and sustained warfare.

Cleary something fundamental had changed.

He had always believed time to be a river. You could disturb it—throw stones, change currents, cause ripples—but the river itself continued forward. Events adjusted, but the main course remained largely the same.

That belief no longer held.

He was on the mainland now. One portal collapsed. A Gate found showing signs of the divine far to the south. A group of Corrupted were moving, attacking and advancing with purpose.

None of this matched what he remembered.

None of it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the approach of one of his scouts.

The orc stopped a respectful distance away and gave the recognized sign of deference.

“Lord Karguk.”

Karguk inclined his head. “Report.”

“The Corrupted are in a valley,” the scout said. “They are attacking a human settlement on the far side.”

Karguk’s jaw tightened. “Have we ascertained their purpose?”

“No, my lord. But there are signs of divine power.” The scout hesitated, then continued. “The shamans have spoken through the Pulse. It is undeniable. Something powerfully divine is present in that fortress. Our best assessment is that the band seek to claim it—either to locate the source or to consume it.”

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Karguk’s gaze darkened. “Do we know where the Corrupted hailed from? How there are so many of them, and how they remained unseen?”

“There are signs,” the scout said carefully. “Leading into the mountains.”

That made no sense.

“The Corrupted could not have taken the mountains,” Karguk said flatly. “Not with the dwarves there. The dwarves reclaim their spaces relentlessly.”

“So we believed,” the scout replied. “But groups of the band have been sighted along the old trade routes—deep paths, carved through the dwarven kingdoms before their withdrawal.”

Karguk considered that.

The dwarves were not traders by nature, but they had once been industrious beyond measure. Roads, tunnels, supply corridors—an entire subterranean network that had spanned the spine of the continent. That had ended nearly a hundred years ago, when they turned inward and became isolationist, content to dig ever deeper into their holds.

If those paths still existed…

If something had through them…

Could the Corrupted created refuge there?

His eyes narrowed. Secrets survived in places people stopped watching. And if the Corrupted had learned to use those forgotten roads then that would explain their presence here, but not why they had not been around in the last timeline. It did not make sense.

Karguk pictured the river of time in his head and realized that the river had not merely rippled but seemd to have changed course.

Another runner reached him at a dead sprint, breath ragged, eyes bright with urgency.

“Lord Karguk!” the orc called, dropping to one knee. “The battle is finished.”

Karguk straightened at once. “Finished?”

“Yes, my lord. The Corrupted have been completely destroyed. The humans were thorough”

For a heartbeat, Karguk simply stared.

Then a slow, dangerous excitement spread through him.

Completely destroyed.

That did not happen by accident. Not against the Corrupted. Not at those numbers.

His mind leapt immediately to a single name he had not spoken aloud with any but his most trusted.

If the reports were true—if the band had truly been wiped out to the last—then the odds were overwhelming. Either she had been there… or someone had risen who knew her ways. Someone trained by her. Someone who carried that same impossible presence that turned hopeless battles into slaughter.

And if that was the case…

Karguk’s excitement cooled into something more cautious.

Approach mattered.

If he marched an Iron Tide force toward a human fortress—especially one that had just survived a siege—it was far more likely they would mistake him for the next disaster instead of an ally. With the number of orcs in the area, it was doubtful the defenders had seen the full scope of the Tide yet. A misunderstanding could end with steel instead of words.

Perhaps he could approach alone.

Or with a small honor guard.

Or—

He paused, frowning.

What the universal sign of surrender?

A white flag?

Did humans really do that?

Did humans even white flags, or was that something armies prepared in advance? He could not recall the last time he had seen one. Orcs did not surrender often enough to need symbols for it.

He was still puzzling it out when Shira approached.

She leaned against a supply crate, arms crossed, expression openly amused.

“Well,” she said lightly, “you got us all the way down here, Karguk. What now?”

He snorted. “I was going to destroy the Corrupted.”

“And?”

“It sounds like they did a fine job of getting themselves destroyed.”

Shira nodded. “So it would seem.”

Karguk glanced back toward the distant valley. “Who do you think is at that fort?”

Shira tilted her head, thoughtful. “Hard to say. It’s on the old path leading up into the dwarven kingdoms. If my history lessons are correct, it was an outpost once.”

He blinked. “You took history lessons? Since when do read history? Wait since when can you read?”

She rolled her eyes and punched him. “I read better than you do and yes I read history because those who don’t know history, my dear Karguk, are destined to repeat it.”

He grinned, tusks flashing. “Yes, and history is written by the winners. So make sure you’re a winner.”

Shira smiled despite herself. “That was awfully insightful.”

“What can I say?” Karguk shrugged. “I’m a smart orc.”

She studied him for a moment, then smirked. “So. What were you thinking about so hard when you were standing there alone?”

Karguk showed her a slow, toothy smile.

“Do you have anything,” he asked carefully, “that we could use as a white flag?”

Shira burst out laughing.