Orc in the modern world

Jason's footsteps pounded against the pavement as he raced through the narrow alleyways. The walls on either side blurred past him, and his breath came in ragged gasps. Behind him, the sharp, rhythmic sound of footsteps grew louder.

'They're faster than I thought,' he realized. 'Who the hell are these guys?'

The whispers slithered through his mind, calm amidst his panic.

'They are seekers of the unknown. Hunters of magic. They smell the Rift on you.'

Jason's heart clenched. 'Hunters? How could they know what I am so quickly?'

'The Rift's power is not subtle,' the voices answered. 'You have left fingerprints on reality.'

Jason reached the end of the alley and skidded to a stop. A chain-link fence blocked his path. Without thinking, he leaped. His powerful legs launched him into the air, and he grabbed the top of the fence with ease, vaulting over it.

"There!" a voice shouted behind him.

Jason hit the ground running, but the adrenaline that had fueled his escape began to wane. The fel magic crackled beneath his skin, desperate to be unleashed.

'Use us,' the whispers urged. 'Turn and fight.'

"No," Jason muttered. "Not unless I have to."

He sprinted across a deserted street and into another alley. The footsteps followed without pause.

Glancing behind him, Jason caught a glimpse of two figures. Both wore dark suits and moved with predatory precision. One raised a hand.

A crackling projectile of blue energy shot through the air.

"Crap!" Jason swerved, but the blast caught his shoulder. Pain tore through his arm, and he stumbled forward, crashing into a pile of trash bags.

'Fel shield,' the voices said. 'Draw the sigil. Protect yourself.'

Jason raised his good arm, fingers instinctively tracing a glowing green sigil in the air. The moment the rune solidified, a translucent barrier flared to life around him.

Another energy blast slammed into the shield. The barrier held but cracked like glass.

The hunters advanced, their expressions impassive behind mirrored sunglasses.

"Subject secured," one said into a comm unit. "Prepare containment."

Jason's eyes flared green. "Not today," he growled.

The whispers surged, feeding his resolve. He slammed his palm into the ground, channeling the power within. Fel runes spread across the concrete, pulsating with sickly green light.

The hunters hesitated, exchanging wary glances.

"Open the Rift," the voices commanded. "Let them see true power."

Jason thrust his hands upward. The runes coalesced into a swirling vortex of shadows and green fire. The air vibrated with unearthly resonance.

The street behind the hunters warped and split. A tear in reality appeared, revealing a blood-red sky and jagged mountains beyond.

The hunters recoiled.

From the Rift, monstrous figures emerged—hulking orcs with crimson skin, black armor, and glowing eyes.

"Lok'tar ogar!" they bellowed, charging the hunters.

Jason fell to his knees, drained. 'I... actually did it,' he thought, watching as the summoned orcs overwhelmed the hunters.

The Rift pulsed with chaotic energy. The orcs stood victorious, breathing heavily.

One of them turned to Jason and knelt.

"Warchief," the orc said.

Jason's vision blurred. The Rift began to collapse, and darkness swallowed him.

When he woke, Jason was no longer in the alley. He lay on rough stone, the scent of ash and brimstone in the air. A campfire crackled nearby.

The crimson orc who had called him Warchief sat across from him, sharpening a massive axe.

"You're awake," the orc said.

"Where... where are we?" Jason asked, his voice weak.

"Between worlds," the orc replied. "Your Rift magic brought us here. This place is a nexus. From here, we can strike into your world... or others."

Jason sat up, head pounding. The ground beneath him was covered in eldritch carvings. The whispers purred in satisfaction.

'You have begun the invasion,' they said. 'Your Horde rises.'

Jason looked at the orc warrior. "Who are you?"

"Gorvak Bloodfist," the orc said, thumping a fist against his chest. "Commander of the Rift Vanguard. We heard your call across the void. We are yours to command, Warchief."

Jason's mind raced. 'I'm just a high school kid. I didn't mean to start a war.'

But the whispers had other ideas.

'War has already begun,' they said. 'You are no longer Jason Miller. You are the Crimson Rift, harbinger of the Horde.'

Jason stared into the fire, the weight of destiny settling onto his shoulders.

"Warchief," Gorvak said, "what are your orders?"

Jason clenched his fists, the fel energy thrumming through his veins.

"We learn," he said. "We find out who those hunters were and why they're after us."

Gorvak grinned, tusks gleaming in the firelight. "As you command, Warchief."

The Rift flickered behind them, a doorway to a world unprepared for the storm to come.