The dwarves of Giant Sand City had surrendered.

  Every surviving dwarf, be they young or old, male or female, was herded together and made to kneel on the sandy expanse outside the city.

  In this battle, a staggering two - thirds of the young and able - bodied dwarves of Giant Sand City had perished.

  The elite warriors were nearly decimated, and only a handful of militiamen remained. Fortunately, their timely surrender had prevented a massacre.

  The ogres and the slave troops, engaged in fierce street battles with the city's militiamen, had not yet resorted to wanton killing.

  Otherwise, the civilian population would have suffered as well.

  Now, all the forces of the Dragon's Lair Tribe within the city had withdrawn.

  The ogres, thoroughly bored, idly picked at their noses, ground their teeth, and sprawled across the sand, soaking up the sun's rays. In stark contrast, the slaves were on edge.

  During the battle, it was clear that the ogres were the driving force. Despite their larger numbers, the slaves had not been the decisive factor.

  Gorgin strolled up to the slaves, surveying these battle - scarred yet still menacing - looking individuals from various races.

  “Quite a few casualties, huh?” A quick glance told Gorgin that the numbers had dwindled by around a third. There were perhaps only about two thousand slaves left.

  “Although you didn't make a huge difference, your courage is to be commended, and your morale has potential. Now, regarding your slave status...” Gorgin paused dramatically.

  At his words, the slaves' hearts leapt into their throats, and they looked up at the ogre chief with yearning eyes.

  “Hmph.”

  Gorgin bared his teeth in a grin that was more menacing than warm.

  “It's hereby abolished!”

  Instantly, the slaves erupted in jubilation, their voices swelling into a single, resounding cheer: “Long live the chief!”

  Gorgin raised a hand, signaling for quiet. “I've always said that we ogres of the Dragon's Lair Tribe are true to our word. I'm sure our dwarf leader here can vouch for that.”

  The dwarf leader, kneeling at the head of the dwarven group, lowered his head in submission, accepting the victor's implicit rebuke.

  “Now that you're no longer slaves, here's the deal. Those of you who wish to remain in the Dragon's Lair Tribe and follow me, stay. Those who don't, take a day's worth of food and water and be on your way.”

  The slaves exchanged furtive glances.

  Some were clearly tempted, others were raring to go, while a few remained stoic. The advantages of staying were plain to see.

  This was an ogre tribe led by a two - headed ogre mage. Despite its relatively small size, it was a force to be reckoned with.

  What's more, the tribe now boasted three oases, a significant expansion of its resources.

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  This was clearly a time of growth, and the population was bound to increase. Having shed their slave status, they stood a chance to rise through the ranks with good performance.

  Most importantly, they no longer had to fear raids from other cities or tribes. No one in their right mind would dare to tangle with ogres.

  Leaving also had its allure. The diverse mix of races here, hailing from different corners, was a far cry from the familiarity of their home cities or tribes.

  However, the practical issue loomed large: how could they possibly make it back to their origins with just a day's provisions?

  It wouldn't even get them out of the Giant Sand City area.

  But the thought of voicing this concern to Gorgin was unthinkable. In their eyes, the chief, who had kept his promise and provided the supplies, had already shown remarkable generosity.

  Pressing for more would be ungrateful.

  They quickly weighed the pros and cons in their minds. In the end, the scales tipped in favor of staying.

  Almost immediately, someone was about to step forward and pledge their allegiance to Gorgin, but an orc beat them to it.

  “Mighty chief, I don't need to deliberate. I'm eager to stay and become a part of the Dragon's Lair Tribe!”

  It was the orc who had previously intervened to stop the other slaves from attacking the goblin craftsmen in the Dragon's Lair Tribe.

  “You're that... that...” Gorgin squinted, trying to place him.

  The face was familiar, but the name eluded him.

  “I'm one of the ten slaves you chose to bring back when you first attacked the Hot Sand Consortium's city.”

  The orc was a mountain of a man, his skin a deep, ruddy hue, his eyes like twin copper cauldrons. Two thick braids hung down his back, and a long, unkempt beard framed his chin.

  In his hand, he clutched a hefty dwarf hammer.

  He dropped to one knee, his right fist thumping his left chest in a show of deference.

  “Mighty chief, I'm deeply grateful for this glorious opportunity. I offer you my unwavering loyalty. For the Dragon's Lair Tribe!”

  “Hiss...”

  Gorgin's eyes widened as he noticed the Branding of the Rock on the orc's left arm. This was unexpected.

  Was the requirement for obtaining this mark really so low? Or perhaps orcs were more easily swayed to loyalty?

  Regardless, the description of the Branding of the Rock was clear.

  A satisfied smile spread across Gorgin's face.

  Even a brutal ogre like him couldn't deny the pleasure of being sworn to. The other slaves who had intended to stay cursed their slowness.

  A sea of them dropped to one knee, vying to express their loyalty to Gorgin.

  “Hahaha!!”

  Gorgin threw his head back and laughed heartily.

  “Excellent! Very good indeed!”

  “You!” Gorgin pointed at the orc.

  “What's your name?”

  The orc shook his head.

  “Now that I'm part of the Dragon's Lair Tribe, my old name holds no significance. I'll answer to whatever name you bestow, chief.”

  “Interesting! Truly fascinating!”

  Gorgin couldn't help but admire the orc's words. They were music to his ears.

  “Very well. From this day forward, you'll be known as Nuya and will fall under the command of Nu, my most trusted enforcer!”

  The orc bowed his head deeply. “Nuya thanks the mighty chief for the honor of a new name!”

  “Rise. For now, you'll be responsible for overseeing those who've chosen to stay. Figure out how to manage them as you see fit.”

  Gorgin waved his hand, clearly in high spirits.

  Nuya's face was alight with barely - contained elation.

  He knew he had made the right choice and that his fortune was about to change.

  “Don't get too cocky. I won't interfere in your methods, but I expect results. I've given you this chance. Whether you succeed or fail is up to you. If you can't handle it, I won't hesitate to replace you.”

  Under the jealous glares of the others, Nuya immediately made a solemn vow. “Nuya swears on his soul and honor to never betray the chief's trust!”

  Gorgin waved dismissively and turned his attention to the remaining slaves who had yet to make a decision. There were only a handful of them, perhaps fewer than a hundred.

  To his surprise, the burly men who were clearly from Blue Star had opted to stay.

  “Karin, take these folk to collect a day's worth of food and water, then see them on their way.” Karin nodded obediently.

  Casting a longing glance at Nuya, she swayed her hips and led the reluctant slaves towards the dwarves' warehouse.

  She couldn't help but envy Nuya.

  He had so effortlessly ascended to a position of power, while she, despite her scheming, still had punishment hanging over her head...

  The others silently cursed their luck. They believed Nuya had simply been the first to pledge loyalty and lucked into the position.

  They were certain they could have done the same. Little did they know that Gorgin had seen the Branding of the Rock on Nuya's arm.

  Otherwise, as far as Gorgin was concerned, no matter how sweet - tongued you were, without the mark, you were out of luck.