Chapter 104
Chapter 104
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>Translator: Lord First
>Chapter: 104
>Chapter Title: Real Combat is Common Sense (9)
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*
“Boss…? What… what do you mean by that?”
“It means you have to take on the role of that thing you were following.”
Ivan gestured with his chin toward the headless orc shaman. The orc glanced at the shaman’s corpse and trembled.
“What… what should I do?”
“Take it.”
With a flick of his foot, he nudged the artifact rolling on the ground.
The staff rolled over and over until it reached the orc’s feet. Suddenly, the orc’s gaze fixed on the staff.
Greed, conspicuous even amidst fear.
>It seems this thing really is something special.
Ivan narrowed his eyes, observing the orc. The orc cautiously glanced around before picking up the staff.
“Ugh…!!”
“See something?”
He didn't fully trust the words 'future prediction,' but it seemed some strange spell was indeed cast upon it.
The orc flinched, staring intently at the obsidian orb attached to the end of the staff for a long while.
Ivan slowly placed a hand on his hip. The handle of his axe felt cold between his fingers.
“What do you see?”
*
The orc blinked its small eyes.
-Do not move.
A strange voice echoed in its head. A low voice, like the growl of a wild beast. A voice that seemed to forge overwhelming fear and despair from some corner of its instincts and drive it into its mind.
-Do not move.
The orc froze stiff. It couldn't look away from the staff. It didn't know what this was, or what kind of magic it held, but if there was one thing it could understand…
It was whispering the future.
A vision washed over its eyes. A cold flash of light was rushing toward its throat.
-*Crack*!!
“Ugh-ack!?”
The orc, terrified, caressed its neck. It had vividly felt the sensation of an axe blade slicing through its throat and disappearing.
It hastily clutched its neck, but there was no wound.
An illusion. The orc, trembling in fear, raised its head.
It instinctively understood that if it had moved just then, it would have died just like that.
And before its eyes, Death was looking down at it.
“I asked what you see.”
The same posture as before it had grabbed the staff.
>Arms hanging loosely, blue eyes looking down without emotion, even the motionless outline of a body that made one doubt if it was even breathing.
The same as before, yet an entirely different being was there.
Death stood there. Death incarnate was looking down at it. Irresistible, unbeatable.
An overwhelming gap.
Now it understood. Thanks to perceiving the future shown by this artifact, the Demon King's Eye, it finally realized.
No matter what trick it tried, no matter what it did, no matter which choice it made from the countless possibilities of the future. The moment the being before it decided, it would die.
The orc had seen such beings long ago. Beings who wore the flesh of mortals but cast the shadow of immortals.
The demons revere strength. Survival is the sole essence of the demon race. Therefore, the orc finally, willingly, bowed its head.
It was a strong warrior who had advanced all the way from the demon residential area to this place, Krasilov, trusting only in the 'revelation shown by the Demon King's Eye'.
But no, rather because of that.
Because it possessed the skill to recognize the strong, and because the relic had forcibly awakened it to a powerful being's perspective.
Its spirit had been broken. Before the stature of a being that no effort or coincidence could ever reach.
The orc slowly lowered its head and, pressing the staff tightly to its chest, bowed respectfully.
“Spare… spare me… please.”
“Alright.”
From beneath the forest shadows, the sound of 'Death' laughing could be heard. But even in that moment, the blue eyes between the shadows were staring at its hands without any emotion.
-Do not move.
The staff warned it once more. If it showed even the slightest suspicious behavior, it would surely die. The orc cowered in fear.
“So it really does show the future.”
Ivan sheathed the axe he had half-drawn back into his sword belt.
*
Esidis is a student brimming with creativity. In fact, without a fair amount of creativity, a music student could not have emerged from Droan.
Her creativity usually led to fawning and delusions, but in a few special moments, it also became a factor in displaying surprising learning abilities.
For instance, at a point like this.
-Be most wary of places you think are safe.
This was a teaching from Uncle Ivan. Since Uncle Ivan was someone who always spoke the truth, aside from a few minor flaws, Esidis tried to memorize all his teachings without missing a single word.
Therefore.
“Guuuaaargh!!”
It was a simple matter to grasp the location and type of every trap Ivan and the Counter-Intelligence Command had deployed throughout this forest, and then turn them to her advantage.
Uncle Ivan had kindly written down a [Teaching] near every trap, so her learning efficiency had doubled.
-There are no straight lines in nature.
From basic rope traps, to somewhat complex net traps, and even cleverly hidden pit traps past those.
Esidis, with a camouflage bush on her head, hid silently, watching the orcs fall victim to the traps.
As she had once recalled, Esidis was a master of ambush. During her time in the Droan court, whenever she lay in wait, no one could see through her concealment. (The Huscarls adore Esidis.)
‘Maybe I have a talent for being a secret agent.’
The sad truth that conducting guerrilla warfare in a forest is not a quality of a secret agent, and that secret agents don't actually do things like hiding and ambushing, is not taught in school.
The only secret agent Esidis had ever seen in her life was Ivan, and since she was mimicking everything he did, she could only think that she might be the successor to the world's greatest secret agent.
Esidis smiled proudly and raised Thumper II (conductor's baton, 2 months old).
It was time to clean them up and finish the reconnaissance.
Day six of being stranded.
The (New) Hero's Party had now completely become a scout team.
It was thanks to meeting a good teacher.
*
The Demon King is not a simple title for a monarch.
In a world where value must be proven by strength, among a people who believe only struggle is their true nature, if they can nevertheless sheathe their blades against each other for a single purpose.
That is the faith of the Demon King. A lighthouse for a better land, a better life, a better world; a southern cross that vanquishes the darkness; a cradle for the weak, and a fortress for the warriors.
Therefore.
“Though you wander through the valley of death,
>fear not. For I am your comfort.”
There is a common prejudice that orcs are dull-witted. In most cases, this is true. It is because they expend all their capacity for learning on struggle.
But if there is something even they can recite, it would be the prayer for the Demon King.
The surviving orcs, each with a devout expression, were whispering as they tightly gripped their weapons.
“I am the southern cross in the darkest night.
>I am the lighthouse in the stormy sea.
>I am your cradle, and I am your fortress.”
“Fear not. For I am your comfort.”
Their glorious past record as the [2nd Dragon General's 103rd Infantry Battalion, 23rd Strike Team].
>Their present-day disgrace as inmates of the [3rd Quadrant Demon Residential Area, Northwestern Kadaron Plains Internment Camp].
No title or career was sufficient to describe them now.
Right now, they were simply demons, praying.
The orcs finished their prayers and rose to their feet.
“Filthy humans.”
One orc muttered, grinding its teeth. The few surviving orcs responded in kind, shouting out.
How on earth did they know to lay all sorts of traps in advance in the very land the Demon King himself had revealed?
During the march, a sudden raid had abducted all the great shamans and great warriors.
While avoiding traps, warriors would disappear, two or three at a time, sometimes as many as five.
After searching for them, only four were left.
And crucially, not a single leader was left to guide them. With even the 'Demon King's Eye' gone, the orcs were floundering in despair.
-*Rustle*.
Just then, from beyond the clearing where they had gathered, the sound of parting bushes was heard.
The orcs each gripped their weapons and shot to their feet, glaring at the bushes.
Is this the end? But at least we will meet a final end that would please Lord Tumore.
Just as they were preparing for their final battle with a warrior's resolve.
“You… are you the only ones?”
“Ignak?! Y-you're alive?”
“Yes.”
Tap, tap. The orc that appeared, leaning on a staff, was one of the missing great warriors. It was Ignak, who held the lowest rank among the great warriors.
The orcs shed tears as they looked at the relic in his hand.
“How on earth?! What happened to Lord Rotsrog?”
“I was the only one who could make it back alive.”
Ignak shook the staff with a grim face.
“In his final moments, Lord Rotsrog gave this to me and bought time. The human bastards have this forest surrounded.”
“This will be our final battle. May Tumore protect us.”
“It's too early to give up.”
“…Yes?”
Ignak scanned the orcs with resolute eyes.
“I hear there are young human nobles in this forest enjoying 'camping' for recreation. And that some of our warriors have been 'hunted' for their hobby. If so, is there any reason we can't do the same?”
If little brats who've never experienced war are gathered in small groups playing house…
Then couldn't we take those younglings as hostages and escape this hellish forest?
Ignak declared, gripping the Demon King's Eye tightly.
“I can see the revelations too, brothers. Although I can't see the distant future like Rotsrog, follow me, and let us return home alive.”
“But Ignak, what about the 'revelation' Rotsrog saw?”
“We must find another shaman back home and return. None of us can interpret the Demon King's revelation directly, can we?”
This operation is a failure. From the moment we lost the shaman, there was no one left who could confirm the 'Demon King's revelation' that the shaman had supposedly seen.
But that didn't mean they could just die a glorious death. If they couldn't relay this fact to their brethren back home, their people would just wait for them endlessly, slowly withering away.
So, someone had to return alive.
Persuaded by Ignak's words, the orcs nodded.
*
In the night forest, a flame becomes an all-too-visible target.
Crackle, crackle. A campfire, burning down and scattering red embers, with thick white smoke rising above it, wavered in the middle of the forest.
A group of orcs was walking in that direction, holding their gleaming spears and swords high. With resolute expressions, without fear.
*
-Target acquired.
Elfihera closed one eye, formed a circle with the index finger and thumb of her other hand before it, and whispered.
She had mixed a Farsight spell and a Darkvision spell on the spot, recreating them into a new magic.
The darkness of the forest was no longer a problem for her. She was perched on a tree, maintaining the spell between her fingers and looking down at the orcs.
Hearing her voice, Esidis waved her hand back and forth.
-*Rustle*!
From the bushes on the opposite side of the campfire, a fist rose once and then lowered.
Acknowledged. Ready. That was the meaning.
In the night forest, a flame becomes a highly visible target. This was the 'common sense' Ivan had taught them.
Like all the advice Ivan usually gave, this too could be interpreted in two ways.
High visibility meant a greater risk of being spotted by predators.
Conversely, a bait is meant to lure prey from a conspicuous place.
The aspiring scouts (20s, university students), who had now become respectable hunters, glared with cold eyes at the approaching group of orcs.
*