Noting the prompt as the domain all around faltered with the death of the warlord, it was evident that I was not the only subject to the notification about the System Sanctioned Duel. I had been expecting it though, as the prompt I had been offered only moments before the start of the fight, the whole make-up of it had been very similar to when I had been challenged by the human general of Mordria, Garret.

 

This time, however, I had been on the side of the challenger. And according to the prompt, as a major figure at the head of a new faction, I could issue this challenge to the warlord for an additional reward. That reward being the establishment of the Blood Moon Clan, recognized by the System itself.

 

What the implications to that were and what it truly meant to be a Sanctioned Faction in the eyes of the System, was something I honestly had no idea as to. But one thing I knew for sure, then it was that the System was no one to skimp out on the rewards it provided, so all of this was undoubtedly something useful for the future of my home and people.

 

Taking in a deep breath of the slightly cold late autumn air, I felt the weight that had settled upon my heart ever since seeing Lily's state lighten ever so slightly. Simply resolving the debt wasn't enough to make up for the regret I held onto - I knew that. But this had helped as my mind would've never been able to rest easy while knowing the culprit who had hurt my woman, indirectly or not, still was among the living.

 

I crossed the distance between the corpse of the orc that even in his bloodied and motionless state looked positively menacing. With that perpetual grin etched onto his face even in death, it was a testament to how this monster had done nothing but live in battle. Death had never been something the warlord feared, that more than obvious which quite intrigued me. If only the circumstances had been different, then maybe he could've been a potentially powerful ally, or puppet if the situation called for it. Still, what had happened wasn't something I could look past.

 

It had been with one-sided ease that I took down the massive orc. Granted, I had spent my entire mana pool just keeping all my magics going and empowering both my body and spear. But the fight had essentially been effortless. Despite all the warlord's incredible physical strength, fighting experience, and undaunting personality - in the face of my powers as a Sanctioned Lord, it was all futile.

 

That said, it wasn't like I'd be able to take on multiple individuals of his caliber, it was just that he hadn't been troublesome to deal with like all the other Sanctioned Lords had been in the Trials, with all their unique skills, abilities, and strengths.

 

As long as I didn't need to fight against the projection of a literal god or a spirit necromancer capable of summoning ghastly ghosts that could sap even my vitality, I was entirely confident in my ability to take on anyone even remotely within my own level of power.

 

By the warlord's side, the bone cleaver rested, its size almost eclipsing all of me. I had been fascinated by it, especially because I could feel just the bare remnant of power whatever creature it had once been a part of. Attempting to even imagine what it had previously been when it was alive threw my mind for a loop and made me wonder why exactly some only decently powerful orc possessed it.

 

It definitely felt like an item that should've been beyond even the warlord's power, as I doubted anyone here in the lowlands had the capabilities to even carve the weapon into the shape it had. After all, with both the full-powered attacks and the flurry of exchanges between our weapons, I hadn't even managed to put a scratch on the weapon.

 

Shrugging, I just put the massive cleaver into my [Ring of Holding], briefly considering who I should give it to. Of course, Bob immediately came to mind. But the more I thought about it, the less good that idea seemed, so I decided not to. This was because I saw much more potential in the power of the weapons crafted directly from my own blood, so while the bone cleaver was undoubtedly better than the blood cleaver Bob currently possessed, it wouldn't be for long.

 

Others under my rule had better uses for it, and coming in tune with a weapon, especially with one as unique and innately powerful as this one, usually meant bonding with it for life.

 

Well, that was a deliberation for another time.

 

It was time to head home.

 

Turning around, I was about to step away when the rush of figures stopped me. Most of the council, generals and commanders all, had scaled back up the mountain, everyone sharing a variety of facial expressions. Anywhere from fear to bewilderment. But directly before me, a towering ogre glared down upon me.

 

It had been one of the warlord's right-hand men.

 

"What? Wish to join your master?" I asked as the huge monster didn't say anything, letting the glow of my mana mist around my hand in clear indication of what I was offering.

 

"Maulrin, do not be a fool!" One of the greenskins, this one an orc sporting a stone-brown skin color, called out, taking a few steps forward.

 

The ogre turned to scowl at the orc, but the much smaller monster didn't back down. It was only as he briefly caught my gaze that he showed some hesitation.

 

"-Ahem... there should be no reason for you to forfeit your life as such."

 

"Then, what about the campaign?" The ogre rumbled, his tone making him sound slow in the head though he was clearly intelligent. There was just something about the way almost all ogres spoke that did not help with their tendencies to be in the lower end of the spectrum in regard to brains and smarts. "The Tyrant is no more, then neither is the coalition,"

 

The brown orc looked troubled at this, seemingly not having an answer to the ogre's question. He looked to me.

 

"I do not care for your wars anymore, so let it end here. Let us say that this victory befalls - what was the name again? Mordrenn? - uhuh, this victory is on my behalf."

 

This completely mollified the ogre as even his anger at me having killed his master could not make him stand up against those words. At first, I was surprised that he wouldn't go down fighting as I had expected, but then I remembered why they held so much sway.

 

While I could not take control over this army for not being a greenskin, I had still bested their warlord in single combat. That gave me more than enough power to end the war. With no banner to rally under anymore and the victor using the merit of his victory to simply disband the army, there was nothing they could say or do against it.

 

I was satisfied with that as I honestly had no intentions of bothering myself with this any further.

 

Though this warlord Mordrenn who was the warlord of both Frenn and Ruela and the opposing force to the now-deceased Tol'zeroth, could probably swoop right in and take control of this army as she essentially stood as the beneficiary of this war's outcome, I did not worry about her using it against me in tandem with her own considerable army.

 

If anything, it should only cost me another day's worth of work. I feared no mere warlord anymore, and if they decided to find trouble with me any more than they already had, they'd quickly come to realize the folly of their mistake.

 

Walking, entirely ignoring the ogre that had to get out of my path despite his frame towering over my comparatively diminutive figure, I called forth Sombra.

 

The sudden coalescence of the wyvern threw the stunned crowd into disarray, shock and petrifaction taking over from the monster's obvious presence of power around her, inundating the much weaker greenskins. I paid them no mind, even as Sombra seemed to take some delight in scaring the ever-living shit out of the greenskins by shrieking in their faces right before taking flight.

 

I just rolled my eyes as she tooted happily high in the air, taking worryingly much joy in frightening others.

 

"What am I to do with you?" I sighed lovingly, failing to keep any real reprimand in my voice.