Foundation of Smoke and Steel

Chapter 170

DanielThey left almost immediately for the parley with the Iron Tide. That was to be expected; what was not expected was that Daniel was thrown off. He had to admit it, and honestly, it was a strange time to notice the feeling.

Luckily, his thoughts had time to wander.

He had done some crazy and unprecedented things in this strange cultivation world—stuff that he wouldn’t have even considered back on Earth.

Like just a couple of hours ago, he blew the head off someone who looked like a magical samurai. Magic samurai—what would his otaku friends say to that? But the worst part was, he didn’t feel anything about it. Not a single bit. That fact alone should have scared him. It didn’t.

When he had first gotten here, he had expected more of a parallel world or a carbon copy of his own, just one that happened to coexist with a dose of magic. Fiction consumption had a tendency to shape someone like him with expectations. Parallel worlds were a common thematic setting in fiction, and thus the familiar and expectations of the characters and the audience could be managed. Tropes were tropes for a reason, apparently, and it was strange how quickly he had fallen into the patterns people discussed when telling these types of stories.

He had become dangerous, one might even say overpowered, at least in a certain context. He was married to a woman who didn’t like him and was probably the most ethereal creature in existence. He had taken charge, fought for, and had become something of a leader. It was crazy. Now, really, all he needed to complete the mid-fantasy vibe was a talking animal companion. He hoped it would be a tiger. Yes, definitely a tiger.

Checking back into reality, Daniel and the others followed Urdek toward the orc encampment, which was surprisingly open for a race as warlike as the orcs.

Daniel was something of a history buff, along with his engineering and physical pursuits. It probably said something about him and his upbringing. Growing up really, really smart had somewhat isolated him. Not that he had been a complete social outcast, but he had definitely spent a lot of time alone. And when you can read just about anything and remember just about everything, it makes it easy to accumulate knowledge and develop interests in different subjects.

This situation reminded him of images of Gothic Gauls and Germanic Celts. Saying all that, he wasn’t super familiar with the specific tribes the Romans conquered in his world. He knew the broad strokes. The Roman Empire lasted roughly a thousand years. It began as a Republic, rose for five centuries, had a golden age for about three, and then declined for roughly two. There was variation in those numbers, but that was the framework he remembered.

What he did know with nerdy accuracy was that organization, logistics, and uniformity had created the Roman war machine.

He thought back to the movie and the portrayal of the Gauls—massive, angry, individually skilled warriors who couldn’t stand against the Romans because one person could not do what two or three working in coordination could accomplish. It was probably a vast simplification, but it worked well enough in his mind to understand how great that Earthly Empire had been.

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This world, however, was different, and it complicated that analogy because of individual strength. A cultivator, a Murai, an orc could possess overwhelming personal power that could be effective against many people. Magic simply changed the equation of personal power. Look at someone like General Li, who could literally break armies. Daniel’s thought of change had already taken root. He had already proven that if magic could be harnessed through meaningful coordination, then even weaker magic users could overcome stronger opponents, provided they had enough of them and could synchronize properly.

So once again, coordination and cooperation could overcome the individual.

Which made him wonder about the orcs.

They seemed to favor individual strength despite possessing some level of logistics. You couldn’t move armies without food, shelter, and medicine, though he suspected the orcs’ robust constitution and their natural manipulation of mana and life energy helped with those problems.

Regardless, walking into the orc camp with the bowcasters, his entourage, and Li cultivators arranged in coordinated units gave him a sense—however faint—of what some Roman generals might have felt like when facing the tribes and roaming hordes of early Europe.

He had fought the red orcs. He had fought the sword demons. He had even taken down the Murai. But there had been something fallen about the red orcs and the sword demons. Understanding that they were demon-touched and corrupted—that was the best word he had for it—made the difference clear.

Now, looking at the groups of green-skinned orcs standing in a wide semicircle of tents and makeshift structures, with no obvious geometric formation to their encampment, he had to wonder if this was what those Roman generals felt during parley.

The Iron Tide displayed remarkable variety. Most of their skin carried some shade of green, but some leaned closer to gray. He found himself wondering if that reflected different subspecies or simple variation, something akin to melanin variation in humans—Black, Asian, Pacific Islander—though he had no intention of asking.

The orcs were talking among themselves openly. They were not hiding their curiosity. They weren’t outwardly hostile—just rugged, warrior-like, and clearly inclined to solve problems with their fists if words failed.

Daniel watched as one orc punched another in the face before others pulled them apart.

Daniel thought idly that if there were ever a way to align these warriors in a single direction, with genuine coordination, they would be terrifying.

Their use of life energy, Aether, Ethan had called it, was much more noticeable when many of them stood together. Even at rest, there was a subtle hum in the air, their collective shrouds overlapping and naturally bleeding into one another. It was powerful, but raw.

Daniel studied them carefully.

He didn’t really understand what Aether was. He only knew it was described as some form of life energy. That description didn’t sit cleanly with him, because that was what he had always thought mana was—a subtle energy that could be manipulated through will and discipline. Electricity for the body and world?

If that wasn’t life energy, what was?

But Aether was distinct. He could see it in the texture of their shrouds, in the way it moved differently from mana—denser in some places, less refined in others. Every cultivator had some sort of mana method—a structured approach to shaping energy into swordsmanship, spear techniques, casting, or simply enhanced breathing patterns that allowed them to channel mana more efficiently.

The orcs’ methods felt less codified.

More instinctive.

And far more dangerous than they looked at first glance.

Ethan said, his voice resonating in the back of Daniel’s mind and interrupting his thoughts.