The Journey Home

The result was only to be expected.

The old man grabbed Thor's Hammer and shouted himself hoarse for ages. In the end, he was exhausted and looked like an idiot, but Thor's Hammer still wouldn't budge.

"Phew. Huff, huff. You little brat, are you messing with me? Damn it, this lousy hammer isn't reacting at all." The old man panted heavily as he glared at Solam.

"Old man... I told you, this hammer only recognizes one master at a time. It won't acknowledge anyone else." Solam felt helpless, too.

The old man could tell Solam wasn't joking. He looked at the warhammer in his hands, then sighed.

"Forget it. Looks like I really wasn't meant to have it. But how did you learn its true name?" The old man seemed to have given up. He turned to ask how Solam had learned its true name.

"I don't know either. I just picked up the warhammer, and somehow I suddenly knew." Solam obviously couldn't tell him that he had an ability and had come from another world.

"Somehow? That's even possible?"

"Why not? Maybe the ancestor saw his weapon buried for all these years and got annoyed. Since I was so sincere, he decided to give me a little guidance." Solam didn't know what to say, so he simply made something up.

"...Damn it! Why didn't the ancestor give me a little guidance?"

"How would I know? Maybe he saw you keeping his precious weapon locked away in a box for all these years and got annoyed."

"..." The old man stared at Solam, speechless.

Still, the old man couldn't be bothered to pry further. The whole thing was strange to begin with, but no matter what, it was a good thing. At least the ancestor's weapon wouldn't be kept like a piece of scrap metal anymore.

"Forget it. Anyway, now Thor's Hammer—damn, we disciples and descendants really have been unfilial. It took us all these years just to learn the name of this warhammer." The old man spat on the ground.

"Now that you've earned your ancestor's protection and can truly wield this warhammer, you need to make it famous. Don't bring shame upon your ancestor. Understand?"

"I understand. I'll never let my ancestor or my teacher down." Anyone could say the right things, and Solam was especially good at it.

Seeing that Solam knew how to play along, the old man stroked his big beard with a grave expression, as if pleased with his pupil.

"Now that I've passed down the warhammer from our ancestor, I'm officially telling you that you've graduated. From here on, you're on your own. Every Shaman has to find his own path. There's nothing more I can teach you." The old man suddenly spoke seriously.

"No way. Old man, you're not kicking me out because I won a fortune from you and you're holding a grudge, are you?" Solam said in shock. Honestly, he hadn't expected to graduate so soon.

At Solam's words, the old man's solemn, strict-teacher act immediately crumbled.

"Damn it, is that what you think of me? Am I the kind of person who'd do that? Why would I hold a grudge just because you won enough to bankrupt me?" The old man looked heartbroken.

"Heh."

"Damn it! What's that look for? Don't think I don't know what 'heh' means. I remember—you're the one who taught me!"

The two master and apprentice spent ages taking shots at each other.

"Ahem." Only after Solam had left the old man with nothing to say did he clear his throat and speak sternly. "Seriously, you're a clever kid, much cleverer than I was at your age. There really isn't anything left for me to teach you. A Shaman doesn't learn everything by sitting in one place and listening to others preach. You have to go out and see the world for yourself before you can gain real insight. Honestly, you're talented. You should travel and broaden your horizons—that's the best way to grow. Avalon is too small for you. You're already fifteen, and you'll come of age next year. It's time to go out and make your way in the world." The old man looked at Solam earnestly. He truly believed Solam was better suited to the vast world beyond. Solam had a curiosity most Orcs lacked, and Avalon was too small for him.

"Yeah, I really want to see the world beyond, too. I want to find out if Dwarves really live in cities carved out of entire mountains. I want to see if human cities are really so grand and dazzling, and learn about all those strange races and different civilizations. I want to explore those forgotten ruins and all those other planes. This world is so colorful—if I don't go see it for myself, then what was the point of coming to this world?"

Solam had grown up listening to his grandfather's adventure stories. After joining the Forge Clan, he had also heard plenty of tales about his ridiculous teacher's youthful travels. Naturally, he was filled with longing for the world beyond.

Besides, he hadn't been lying just now. Since he had no memories of his previous life, he wasn't interested in things like ambition or lofty aspirations. He had come to this world, and he simply wanted to experience it properly, so he wouldn't feel that his journey to another world had been for nothing.

Hearing Solam say that, Blackhand didn't suspect he had come from another world. He just thought the boy really was different from other Orcs.

In Avalon, Orcs were deeply attached to their homeland. They didn't want to leave. Most Orcs never left Avalon in their entire lives. Only a few would leave for a short time to travel, and even then, they would be gone only a few years at most.

Part of the reason was that people outside Avalon discriminated against Orcs. When Blackhand had traveled in his youth, he had faced plenty of prejudice. Many city guards would see what he looked like and refuse to let him enter. That was the better outcome. Some people would see that he was an Orc and attack him without a word. He had ended up in countless fights because of it.

If he hadn't accidentally saved a group of Dwarves, he wouldn't even have been allowed into the Dwarven kingdom, let alone lived there. Even so, he had suffered plenty while learning the Dwarves' forging techniques.

Though the Avalon Orcs were all big and burly, they were actually quite sensitive. Many couldn't stand that kind of discrimination and returned home.

Another reason was their attachment to Avalon. This land meant something special to the Avalon Orcs; it was much more than simply their homeland.

Avalon—the sanctuary of Heroic Spirits. The Heroic Spirits here didn't just refer to ancient heroes. The name also meant that whenever an Avalon Orc died, their soul would return to this land and continue to protect the other Avalon Orcs.

That was why almost all Orcs preferred life in Avalon. Very few Orcs thought like Solam.

Blackhand himself also preferred living in Avalon, but he didn't dislike Solam's curiosity. He believed a Shaman who lacked such curiosity would never achieve much. Blackhand had studied the lives of several legendary Shamans, and many of them had spent a long time traveling the world. Even the Prophet had traveled across the entire continent after embarking on the path of a Shaman. Solam also had one advantage: he looked very different from an ordinary Orc. He looked more like a human, so at least he wouldn't be discriminated against for no reason.

"All right. Even if you want to travel, you'll have to wait until you're stronger. With your current strength, going out now would be dangerous." After thinking things over, the old man warned Solam. The world beyond was far more dangerous than Avalon. When he was young, he had nearly died several times. He wanted Solam to travel and broaden his horizons, not get himself killed. He needed to grow a little more first.

"By the way, get ready over the next couple of days. It'll be snowing soon, and the journey home will be a pain then."

"Yeah. There isn't much I need to prepare. I just have to finish the axe I'm giving Little Saurfang, then say goodbye to everyone else in the clan."

Two days later

Many members of the Forge Clan came to see Solam off. He had made quite a few friends during his two years here. The married women and old ladies especially liked the clean, well-behaved boy. (Solam was probably the only person in all of Avalon who brushed his teeth and bathed every day.)

"Be careful on the road, Ram. Don't be stingy with the Wind Serpent jerky I gave you. It's so cold—make sure you eat enough on the way." An old Orc woman held Solam's hand and fussed over him. (Wind Serpents were beasts unique to the Lava Mountain region. They could dart between trees and looked a bit like flying snakes from his previous life, but they were much larger and highly venomous. They were hard to catch, but their meat was delicious.)

"I will, Granny Yakula. You take care of yourself, too."

Another woman shoved a leather pouch into Solam's arms.

"Little Ram, take this. Your uncle found some Fire-Feather Chicken eggs in the woods yesterday. Eat them on the way. You're so young, and you have such a long journey ahead. You can't go hungry." (Fire-Feather Chickens were birds much like ordinary roosters, but as big as turkeys from his previous life. They were fierce, and their beautiful feathers made them look like balls of fire from a distance.)

"How can I accept this, Auntie Mora? Give them to Kurutar and the others!" Solam tried to refuse. There was already so much stuff that Frostfang was nearly overburdened. If he took any more, Solam would have to walk home.

"If they want some, they can go find it in the woods themselves. You're going home, and it'll be hard for you to get these again. Take them. Don't be so formal with your aunt." Kurutar was Auntie Mora's son. He and Solam had fought plenty of times, and Kurutar had been beaten by his mother over it more than once. Eventually, though, he and Solam had become friends.

Seeing how warmly Auntie Mora insisted, Solam couldn't bring himself to refuse. That was just how Orcs were: when they liked someone, they showed it with all their heart.

Solam didn't manage to leave all morning. He spent the entire time exchanging pleasantries with the crowd that had come to see him off.