Before Urga entered the tent where Rafe was waiting—no, from the very moment she departed her homeland for the ominous black mountain where the ’God’ was said to have descended—she had been painting a picture of this deity in her mind, bracing herself for death.
’The Orcs didn’t write down what the God looked like... but he probably looks similar to them, right?’
After all, they were Orcs.
Just like her own Grey Wolf Tribe, the Orcs worshipped the law of the jungle—where the strong take everything. They proved their worth through martial prowess, a race of warriors born for struggle, unlike her people who were forced into becoming warriors by their harsh environment.
So, Urga reasoned:
If the Orcs worshipped him as a God, he must be far larger and stronger than them. His appearance would surely be hideous enough to strike terror into their hearts, perhaps with tusks jutting up to his forehead like the mammoths of the snowy plains.
Regardless, she was going to offer herself to a God whose face she didn’t even know.
When she offered herself, what would the God do with her?
Would he grab her roughly and swallow her whole in one gulp?
Or, treating her as a rare delicacy of ’virgin meat,’ would he snap off an arm on the first day to chew on with a wet crunch, tear off a leg to boil on the second, and by the third day, toss her into a cauldron of boiling grease?
Would she be slaughtered so brutally that being swallowed whole would seem like a mercy?
These gruesome thoughts, born in the bitter cold of the snowfields, bit at her tail one after another, never ceasing even as days passed. In fact, as the distance between her and the black mountain shrank, the horrific images swirling in her mind only grew more vivid.
Yet, Urga never stopped walking toward the black mountain.
If anything, she marched even more proudly.
It wasn’t as if she were going there to die for a crime. She was the Princess of the Grey Wolves, marching toward an honorable death for the sake of her tribe’s tomorrow.
That was why she had set out with her companion wolf—so no one could hold her back, so she wouldn’t hesitate.
But perhaps she had thought too much.
Marching day and night without a moment’s rest, Urga finally arrived late at night at the hidden basin—the paradise the Orcs spoke of. As soon as she entered the guest tent assigned by the High Orc, she collapsed, her consciousness snapping like a film reel as she fell into a deep slumber.
Snort... Zzzzz...
She was a warrior who had reached the realm of a Master, the rival of the continent’s only Grand Master, Eleonora.
She didn’t feel physical fatigue from walking for a few days, but she was mentally exhausted by the ominous thoughts that had plagued her since leaving home.
Because of that, she hadn’t even been able to formulate a plan for tomorrow—how to lead the conversation when she met the ’Nameless God’ the Orcs worshipped, or how to guarantee her tribe’s survival.
And to make matters worse, she had overslept.
She had fallen into such a sweet, deep sleep that she snored loudly, oblivious to the bustle outside, until the High Orc personally came to wake her up. She scrambled to her feet in a panic.
’I’m screwed!!’
The survival of her tribe was at stake, yet instead of waiting for him beforehand, she had made the Nameless God wait for her?!
’And why the hell is this God-or-whatever coming at the crack of dawn?!’
Still, she couldn’t exactly curse the God to his face.
Instead, Urga barked ferociously at the High Orc who came to wake her, as if taking her anger out on him, but reality didn’t change.
In the end, Urga hurriedly fixed her messy hair and sprinted toward the tent where the Nameless God was waiting.
And as she drew closer to the tent the High Orc had pointed out, a familiar scent drifted into her nose, and suddenly, her life flashed before her eyes like a panorama.
Was this what they called a ’revolving lantern’ of memories?
From the day of her birth when all the Grey Wolf warriors chanted her name, to the first time she hunted a reindeer, to meeting the wolf with the scarred left eye who became her unparalleled partner...
The time she went raiding with her tribe on wolf-back only to get her ass handed to her by Eleonora. The time she danced a frantic waltz of blades with Eleonora. The time she finally inflicted a sword wound on Eleonora’s stomach. And finally, the memories of chasing that platinum-blonde bitch around while she slaughtered warriors like a blood-crazed maniac.
Ideally, she would have preferred a comfortable life, but her entanglement with that damn female knight had made her existence incredibly exhausting. But that, too, would end today.
The moment she entered that tent, her life was as good as over.
Even realizing that her end was imminent, Urga felt surprisingly calm. Perhaps accepting it made her steps lighter.
Whether I die this way or that way...
If I’m going to die anyway, let’s not die like a shivering, pathetic mutt, but as a noble female warrior befitting a Grey Wolf. Chest out, proud and tall.
This was the final duty she could perform for her tribe as their Princess.
In the end, Urga couldn’t live the life she wanted, but if sacrificing this body meant her tribe would survive, that was enough.
With that final resolve, she marched unhesitatingly into the tent, toward the Nameless God waiting beyond the veil.
’Even if I’m to be eaten in one bite, I’ll say my piece properly before I di—’
’’Huh?!’’
There was a man.
Not the monster she had imagined, but a man with black hair and perfectly normal human features, sitting on a throne, deep in thought.
"We... ell, co... me... in."
"W-Wait a minute?!’’
This was unexpected!
She had been absolutely convinced that since he was a God worshipped by Orcs, he would be bigger and more hideous than any Orc. But who was this human male?
’Just like me, he has black hair and those eyes wet with sorrow... a sharp jawline unlike the warriors of my tribe, and muscles that are perfectly balanced...!’
Aside from his sporty haircut and the areas covered by clothes, his skin was tanned dark, and his muscles were built only where necessary for farm work.
Compared to the hulking, rugged warriors of the Grey Wolf Tribe she lived with, he looked almost... fragile. An ordinary appearance that one might find anywhere in a city. And yet—
’’Hnnngh...?!’’
From the moment Urga first laid eyes on him, every time she looked at him, her heart pounded insanely. Without realizing it, her face flushed red, and she spoke to him cautiously.
"T-That... Are... are you the Nameless... God...?"
’’...’’
If anyone who knew her usual self saw this—acting like a frightened puppy—they would either rub their eyes in disbelief or clutch their bellies laughing like a sow hiding behind the throne.
But Urga didn’t even know what words were coming out of her own mouth.
’What is he thinking about so deeply?’
She was too distracted, staring blankly at Rafe, who was tilting his head as if pondering something, his chin resting on his hand.
But that only lasted a moment. Remembering why she had come, Urga glared at Rafe, who still hadn’t given her a single glance.
She had gone out of her way to speak to him, and he was ignoring her!
Just because he was a God, did that make him everything?!
’J-Just because you’re handsome, you think you can look down on people!?’
Her face burned just looking at him, and the strength slowly drained from her glaring eyes. Of course, since she had naturally sharp eyes, it still looked like she was glaring.
Regardless, to proceed with the talk, she had to get that man’s attention.
Oblivious to her beet-red face, Urga let out a loud, exaggerated cough.
"Ahem! I’m asking if you’re really the God!"
’’Uh?’’
Just a single ’Uh?’ and then he went right back to deep thought. For some reason, her heart raced again, and a strange impatience bubbled up. Urga shouted to snap herself out of it—no, to get the man’s attention.
"I’m asking you! Are you really the Nameless God?!"
’’For now?’’
Smirk.
’’Kuuuughhh?!’’
She didn’t know if this impossibly fragile-looking man was really a God, but if he was, she was committing unspeakable blasphemy. Yet instead of getting angry, he smiled at her so gently?!
’’Eeek... Eeeeeeeeek...!’’
’W-What do I do? What should I say?! I never imagined the God would be such a handsome person?!’
Even when she crossed swords with Eleonora, she had never been this flustered. But in front of this mere man—this fragile male that even a child of her tribe could beat—this Urga was...!
Whether he knew her turmoil or not, Rafe, with that smile still lingering on his lips, spoke his next words.
"Before we talk, I’d like to know Big Sis’s name first."
’’Name? W-Wait, who are you calling Big Sis!?’’
’’Big Sis...! He called me Big Sis!’’
Big Sis. It was a word she had heard plenty. In truth, though she was a Princess, formalities meant little to the warriors of the snowfields, so she had heard it endlessly from the rough men of her tribe.
But to hear ’Big Sis’ from this fragile man before her—this male who looked like he needed to be hugged tight and protected!
’Calling me Big Sis... C-Calling me Big Sis...!’
Unaware that her inner thoughts were leaking out, Urga stood there agonizing over how to handle this man who kept throwing her off balance.
Worried that her shouting earlier might have offended him, she nervously stole a glance at him.
Smirk.
’’Ah...’’
Rafe didn’t seem to mind her rudeness at all. Instead, he showed her a smile that felt almost... warm. Urga closed her eyes right there and took a deep breath.
Before stepping into this tent, she had prepared words for the Nameless God.
She was an offering, a living sacrifice for the Nameless God. She would offer up this one life, so please save our tribe.
Words like those of a pathetic, frightened mongrel begging for mercy, stripping away all pride and ego.
After all, the future of her tribe depended on her. She had to offer her body to receive the God’s grace. She wasn’t in a position to cling to her pride.
Even if it was humiliating, she thought she had to do whatever it took to receive the God’s blessing.
But the moment her eyes met Rafe’s, all of that was wiped from her mind. Only a single thought began to dominate Urga’s brain.
’It’s this man.’
And she admitted it.
’’I am the Chieftain of the proud Grey Wolf Tribe of the bitter cold, daughter of Grey Fang, Urga! For the future of our tribe, Nameless God!! I have come to be your broodmare!!’’
Urga, daughter of the Grey Wolf and Grey Fang, had fallen in love with this man at first sight. Forget being an offering or a sacrifice—she genuinely wanted to become this man’s breeding sow and bear his children.