Horne, Gorgin's mother, was utterly astonished.

  Both of her heads, with their four eyes, simultaneously betrayed a profound sense of bewilderment.

  As an adept in fire magic herself, she could unmistakably sense that, in that fleeting moment, a surge of fire elements had erupted from within the otherwise unremarkable big bone hammer.

  This was simply unfathomable. How could such a thing occur?

  Could it be that Nu was on the verge of becoming the tribe's next ogre mage?

  She swiveled her gaze towards Nu.

  The fellow was already in the throes of celebration, randomly seizing a female ogre.

  Even as he celebrated, he clutched the big bone hammer as if his life depended on it.

  Horne's two heads exchanged glances.

  "It's impossible!"

  one head declared.

  "Absolutely impossible!" echoed the other.

  Subsequently, Horne turned her attention to her son.

  "Gorgin, what on earth is going on here?" she demanded.

  "That's just an ordinary bone!"

  Gorgin shrugged nonchalantly.

  "This is the power of belief," he explained.

  "What belief?" Horne pressed.

  "Spell it out clearly." Gorgin's lips curved into a grin.

  "Ogres think Krummashaaar!" At this, Horne was convinced her son had lost his wits.

  Shaking her heads, she turned and retreated to her shed.

  Gorgin, on the other hand, was quite pleased with this outcome.

  In this unforgiving world, might made right, and force was the cornerstone of survival.

  Dwarves were one thing, but how on earth had those puny races like gnomes and goblins managed to eke out an existence in this endless desert?

  The answer was simple: technology.

  Whether through alchemy or magic potions, their ultimate aim was to augment their strength.

  However, such pursuits were anathema to ogres, who had relied solely on their brute force to reach their current standing.

  Now, though, Gorgin's tribe had finally acquired a semblance of "technological prowess."

  What's more, this ability seemed to function even more effectively the less brainpower one possessed.

  Krummashaaar, the ogre equivalent of "I think," Gorgin was inclined to hail as the ultimate power.

  Nu, for his part, had transformed into the tribe's most boastful member.

  Gorgin had informed them that their own weapons could potentially possess similar abilities, provided they believed wholeheartedly.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  But the ogres remained skeptical.

  They were firmly convinced that only weapons bestowed by the chief could wield such power.

  After all, within the tribe, the chief and the ogre mage were the paragon of authority.

  Whatever they decreed, the ogres accepted without question, never pausing to consider the logic behind it.

  Gorgin, however, was not about to dispense this newfound ability haphazardly.

  There was a method to his madness.

  Nu, for instance, was a natural choice.

  He was the tribe's most formidable warrior after Gorgin and his mother and had been Gorgin's childhood companion.

  In contrast, the other ogres, whether old or young, paled in comparison to Nu in terms of combat prowess and had yet to make any substantial contributions to the tribe.

  Thus, it was only prudent not to distribute this power recklessly, at least not all at once.

  As the days trickled by, the tribe remained devoid of new arrivals, be they guests or foes.

  It was as if the world had forgotten their existence. Nearby races were well aware of the ogres' presence and had no intention of courting trouble.

  Meanwhile, Gorgin's chief's hut was taking shape at an astonishing pace.

  Karlov's construction skills were clearly superior to those of the ogres.

  While the ogres were content with a basic shelter, Gorgin had far loftier aspirations for Karlov.

  He tasked Karlov with the ambitious project of rebuilding every dwelling in the tribe and assigned two ogres to assist him.

  Initially, the ogres balked at the idea of taking orders from a human.

  However, when the promise of substantial rewards upon completion of the task was dangled before them, all but Horne and Nu eagerly volunteered.

  In fact, the competition was so fierce that it devolved into a brawl within the tribe.

  The thunderous din of the fight sent the gnolls scurrying for cover, their tails between their legs.

  In the end, two burly, but bruised, ogres emerged victorious and took their places beside the trembling Karlov.

  Nu surveyed the chaos with a sneer, then, hoisting his big bone hammer, sauntered past the assembled ogres with an air of supreme arrogance.

  His silent swagger grated on the nerves of every ogre present, who glared at him with barely concealed animosity.

  Gorgin, witnessing this spectacle, couldn't help but be reminded of his own triumphant moments.

  This project was a long - term endeavor, and Gorgin doubted the two chosen ogres fully grasped just how long it might be before they reaped the rewards of their labor.

  The ensuing days were uneventful.

  Gorgin patiently awaited the completion of his new abode.

  Absent the ceaseless chatter of the world channel, life seemed almost idyllic.

  The gnolls, under the astute leadership of the dog captain, organized themselves into three patrol teams and maintained a vigilant watch around the tribe, with the oasis receiving particular attention.

  While the native magical beasts and wild animals were of little concern, any incursion by intelligent races was met with swift resistance.

  The gnolls would capture those they could overpower, issue warnings to the rest, and, if necessary, retreat to summon reinforcements.

  One night, while the ogres slumbered, the patrolling gnolls returned triumphantly, dragging a man and two women in their wake.

  One of the gnolls was visibly injured, limping painfully.

  Yet, despite their wounds, the entire pack was abuzz with excitement.

  This was a significant accomplishment, a testament to their loyalty and contribution to the tribe.

  In this harsh desert environment, any tribe member who failed to pull their weight was expendable.

  The dog captain, ever the shrewd tactician, wisely refrained from rousing the ogres in the dead of night.

  He had witnessed firsthand the ogres' notorious temper when disturbed from their sleep.

  Moreover, the capture of two humans, while not insignificant, hardly warranted waking the slumbering giants.

  Instead, he soothed the injured gnoll and dispatched a fresh patrol before settling in to await the dawn.

  The following morning, Gorgin beheld the trembling trio, surrounded by a curious throng of ogres.

  The ogres, grudgingly, accorded the gnolls a modicum of respect.

  After all, the gnolls had not only spared the ogres the burden of night watch but had also provided them with potential "food sources."

  The gnolls, for their part, strutted about with an air of self - importance, as if they had single - handedly won a great battle.

  "Good work. Keep it up," Gorgin commended casually.

  The gnolls, overjoyed, wagged their tails vigorously.

  "You're injured?"

  Gorgin inquired, noticing the wounded gnoll.

  Given that gnolls were a relatively low - power intelligent race in this world, he was puzzled as to how a man and two women, presumably from Blue Star, could have inflicted such damage.

  "Great Chief, that male human is likely a low - level mage. He's the one who injured me," the gnoll confessed, prostrating itself before Gorgin.

  Gorgin's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  "Oh?" he exclaimed.

  Pointing towards the oasis, he added, "Head to the oasis. You're permitted to hunt a prey."

  The gnolls, elated, bowed deeply and hastened off to claim their reward.