Orc in the modern world

Jason stood at the edge of the encampment, the wind carrying the distant sounds of the human city beyond the trees. The lights of the modern world flickered like stars, yet they felt... insignificant. He narrowed his eyes, the eldritch markings on his arms pulsing faintly. The whispers were louder now, no longer mere suggestions but near-constant voices blending into his own thoughts.

'They are fragile, fleeting creatures,' the voices cooed. 'What claim do they have over this world?'

His fingers twitched, trails of green and black energy crackling between them. He had power—more than he ever imagined in his past life. And yet, something gnawed at the back of his mind. Something that felt like an old, faded memory, barely recognizable.

A distraction.

Gorvak approached, his heavy footfalls deliberate. "The scouts have returned, Warchief."

Jason turned, his expression impassive. "Report."

A kneeling orc warrior raised his head. "The hunters are mobilizing. Their leader—he is aware of us. He has seen the Rift and knows what it means."

Jason's lips pressed into a thin line. "And?"

"He prepares a response. He does not act recklessly, but he does not fear us."

That... intrigued Jason. Most humans would run or crumble beneath the weight of the unknown. But this one did not. He tilted his head, eldritch power flickering in his gaze.

'He is different,' the whispers mused. 'He may be the key to unlocking greater truths.'

Jason exhaled slowly. "Do we know what he is?"

The scout hesitated. "Not entirely. He is old, older than he appears. He does not wield magic as we do, but something about him feels... unnatural."

Gorvak grunted. "A worthy foe, then."

Jason nodded absentmindedly. 'A worthy foe... or a resource waiting to be harvested.'

The thought came so naturally that he didn't even question it. What was a life worth if it could be used to strengthen his own power? The remnants of his past humanity didn't even stir.

"We strike before they do," Jason decided. "Not with brute force. Not yet."

Gorvak raised a brow. "Then what?"

Jason's gaze drifted back to the city lights. "We test them. We show them a glimpse of what we are capable of. We let them know that resisting is futile."

The orcs around him nodded, eager for the hunt. Jason didn't share their excitement. He felt no thrill, no hesitation—only a cold certainty that this was the natural order of things.

The strong survive. The weak are consumed.

And humanity had yet to prove it was strong enough to survive him.

As the wind howled through the trees, Jason turned away from the city. The first strike would come soon. And when it did, the world would begin to understand that the age of orcs had begun.