Hero
Hero
All my plans for a stable landing went straight to hell when one crazed orc bastard suddenly charged at me. After barely fending off an axe blow that would've split my skull wide open, two questions nagged at me as I lunged at the bastard.
One: the strain on my body was far less than I'd expected.
I'd practically braked mid-air by shooting my needle in reverse, and I'd been ready to douse my shoulder with a potion, but it was just a dull ache. I could feel instinctively that my joints weren't damaged, and they moved fine. I didn't know if this was another side effect of channeling Magic Power recklessly, but thanks to it, I entered the fight in vastly better shape than I'd anticipated.
The other question was: 'Why is this so-called chieftain charging at me in person, swinging his axe around?'
I had to admit, his judgment and skill were the real deal. His decision had been terrifyingly smart for an orc. If he hadn't come at me and had just left me alone, I would've touched down and immediately started clearing the surrounding orcs with my needles before making a dash for the gate. I didn't know if this came from some orcish love of battle, but I was willing to give him credit for it.
Still, do chieftains usually take the field themselves...?
If it'd been any other orc, I'd have written it off as a meathead blinded by bloodlust making a stupid move. But judging by this bastard's judgment, his skills, and his gear, I was starting to think I'd have to treat this orc a little differently.
Why bring up his gear? Because even though I'd been holding back, he still blocked a sword wreathed in Magic Power. I had no idea what that axe was made of, but it was clearly not forged by orcish craftsmanship.
"Eldmia! I will kill you and make my song echo all the way to the Great Grasslands of the Sky!"
"You've got a long tongue!"
Setting aside the mangled pronunciation, unlike other orcs, his command of the common tongue was remarkably fluent. Did an orc's intelligence actually increase with age, proving the old saying that age brings wisdom? Or maybe he'd originally been a shaman, which might explain why he was smarter than the average orc.
I didn't like it. Higher monster intelligence never boded well for humans. And I didn't like the bastard's reaction either, ignoring everything around him and acting like some kind of battle junkie. I was busy as hell, and watching him enjoy himself on his own just made me want to find and smash that gate even more violently.
"Then try slicing it off again!"
What the hell was he talking about? When had I ever cut off a stinking orc tongue that he's telling me to do it again? He was supposed to be a shaman—had he been possessed by the vengeful spirit of some clansman who'd gotten his tongue cut off?
Honestly, if he'd been genuinely insane, it would've made fighting him a lot easier. But unfortunately, aside from those brief outbursts of nonsense, the bastard was way too lucid.
Even though I didn't bother whistling and was just controlling my needles silently since no one was watching, he blocked them like a ghost and even threw out shaman spells in between attacks. I'm dead certain that if this bastard had a bow in his hands, he'd have been shooting arrows at me while I was still falling from the sky.
For an orc, he had his own structured fighting system. He didn't hesitate to use every single tool at his disposal. And yet, the fact that he was leading this massive horde of orcs meant his sheer close-quarters combat alone was more than enough to crack open the skulls of all his rivals.
Because if he'd fought other orcs with that kind of cheap shit, they'd have beaten him down for being a coward. Only after exactly four exchanges of attack and defense did I decide I needed to wrap this up faster and cranked up the density of the Magic Power coating on my sword.
This would be enough to split his axe in two, even with a thrust.
Once I was confident in that, I dodged a spell that was clinging to me like it wanted to grab my feet and plunged into the bastard's guard once more.
"Fast!"
Even at a speed that would've left most ordinary humans too flustered to react, the orc kept his gaze fixed on me with perfect precision. Hell, his eyes didn't just predict my landing point and look there—they tracked my movement the entire time.
Could even a mere orc develop this much just by living long enough? It was a sobering reminder of just how much I still didn't know about this world. I drove my sword toward the bastard's heart. He reacted swiftly to that too, shielding his heart with the flat of his thick two-handed axe blade, but it didn't matter.
Thrust, then cut straight up to the crown. Against a monster this strong, he was bound to be hard to kill, so this wasn't excessive in the slightest.
-Clang!
"The fuck?!"
The problem was that my sword was stopped dead by that axe blade, completely shattering my expectations. The only upside was that the bastard hadn't blocked it comfortably either. Despite his hulking frame, the force of a thrust meant to be a one-hit kill had sent him staggering back two steps, preventing him from exploiting my opening.
He adjusted his grip on his trembling two-handed axe and roared.
"I thought it a flimsy weapon, but there is something different about it!"
"You're the one swinging that shitty-ass axe and you're criticizing my weapon?"
I reset my stance and swept my needles through the surrounding orcs. There was no discomfort whatsoever in channeling my Magic Power, and the needles pierced through the skulls of the gawking orcs who'd been standing around with their mouths hanging open just as effortlessly.
My Magic Power was fine. That meant the massive, simple-looking two-handed axe the bastard was carrying was the kind of top-tier weapon you couldn't even buy with money.
Finding a reward far beyond my expectations in a place I'd thought would be nothing but a grueling struggle just to escape lifted my mood and gave me a second wind.
"You possess a warrior's axe... I will be taking it!"
I was absolutely taking that with me.
◈
Kakula thought to himself.
Eldmia strangely smelled of his own kin.
When the human instantly recognized the value of his prized two-handed axe and sent a gaze dripping with greed, it was almost chilling. To not lose his greed even in the midst of such an exhilarating battle. Eldmia was a warrior worthy of being called strong.
Maybe the War God had truly descended upon a human, Kakula mused as he cast his shaman spells. Binding and weakening spells would be devastatingly effective just by grazing an opponent, but against Eldmia, they were meaningless. Any offensive spells were blocked by some unidentifiable magic, and spells meant to bind the body were dodged like a ghost. None of the foes he'd faced until now had been able to do that, and Kakula felt pure admiration.
A truly worthy opponent. This was clearly a blessing bestowed by the ancestors in the Great Grasslands of the Sky for the sake of a descendant worried about dying of old age.
"Squeeeeeak!"
Even in this euphoric state, his own attacks—which could bisect even the toughest orcs vertically—could not slice through Eldmia. Wielding a weapon as fine as his own axe, Eldmia moved in a frenzy, sometimes dodging, sometimes blocking. And amidst it all, he never forgot to use those strange needle-like projectiles to kill his surrounding kin without laying a finger on them, while his attacks aimed at Kakula were nothing short of ferocious.
Truly remarkable. If the War God was this formidable, what must the War Goddess have been like? If he won this battle, he might even challenge the War Goddess, but somehow, he felt like he'd never get the chance.
Amidst the emotion of regret—one he'd rarely felt in his entire life—Kakula's axe swung down like a thunderbolt once more. But Eldmia flowed past the attack like the wind, his hand and sword weaving a dazzling dance before instantly darting toward Kakula's throat.
It was a deceivingly small motion, but knowing full well that allowing the strike meant death, Kakula threw his body backward without hesitation. Despite the ferocity of the exchange, there was no sign of it ending soon. And the longer it went on, the hotter Kakula's body grew, surging with vitality.
He couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt this euphoria in battle. His thirty years as chieftain leading the largest tribe on the Great Grasslands hadn't been unsatisfying, but they were nothing compared to this.
"Not enough! That won't kill Kakula!"
In a battle that had even the other orcs roaring with fervor, Kakula shouted in excitement, and Eldmia's expression twisted strangely as he muttered under his breath.
"Retard."
And then, out of nowhere, he started slowly backing away.
Was he running away? Why, after fighting so fiercely just moments ago?
As the heat of his excitement suddenly cooled, Kakula finally registered where he and Eldmia had been fighting.
"You, you bastard!"
And he roared in fury.
Before he knew it, Eldmia was standing right in front of the cavern that led to the ancient mystery. After killing the kin around it with another volley of those little metal skewers, Eldmia had leaped into the cavern without a shred of hesitation.
While making some incomprehensible gesture, thrusting a fist forward with the middle finger raised.
For some reason, Kakula felt an enormous sense of humiliation from the act, and a profound emptiness at the realization that the bastard's goal had been to destroy the mystery from the very start.
"Squeeeeeak!!"
Fueled by the rage that surged in an instant, Kakula's massive body launched forward like a battering ram. The only thought in his head was to slam into the cowardly Eldmia's back and kill him. Humans were humans after all. He would snap his spine and make him die in agony.
That thought vanished the moment he plunged into the darkness of the cavern, replaced by a searing pain in his right shoulder. Before he could even grasp the situation, Eldmia's mocking voice reached his ears.
"Simple bastard."
The realization that Eldmia had leaped down from above, landing on his shoulder and precisely stabbing into his opening, hit him simultaneously with the dizzying pain. And Kakula, in a manner unbecoming of an orc, humbly acknowledged his mistake.
At the same time, his mood lifted again.
"A treacherous human, but one who does not flee from battle, I see!"
"Bullshit!"
The instant Eldmia twisted the embedded sword and tried to pull it free, Kakula—thinking faster than he ever had in his life—grabbed Eldmia's blade with his bare hand. Contrary to his belief that this wouldn't hurt him, a stinging pain spread through his grip, which was a bit surprising. But the thought that this would let him win the battle made even that pain a pleasure.
"Squeeeeeak!!"
And Kakula charged again. Towards the ancient mystery glowing in the distance, and the orcs still pouring out of it.
His target: the structure supporting the mystery. No matter how tough he was, a human was still a human. Getting crushed between the structure and Kakula's solid shoulder like this would be a fatal wound. Glancing at Eldmia as he ran, he saw him frantically looking between his trapped sword and the structure behind him, clearly grasping the situation.
"You brainless, muscle-brained son of a bitch!"
At that moment, the needle that had slain so many of his kin shot toward Kakula's left eye. Reflexively, he almost dodged it, but Kakula forcibly restrained his body and let out a booming laugh. Remembering its formidable power, he twisted his head as far as he could to prevent it from piercing straight through his skull, but decided to sacrifice the eye.
He'd give up an eye. This foe was worth that much. The instant that resolve hardened, the needle pierced his eye, but the excitement of battle made the pain less than expected. Still, thanks to that, the distance to the structure closed rapidly, and Kakula shouted, tasting victory.
"Die, Eldmia!"
In that fleeting moment, mere collision away, as he ignored the orcs being knocked aside and trampled underfoot...
"Eat shit and die!"
Instead of letting go of his sword, Eldmia's fist flew straight into Kakula's face.
Inwardly and outwardly, Kakula laughed at the sight. A mere human's fist? A pitiful last resort...
-THWACK!
"Squeak?"
And against his own will, he felt his head wrench violently to the side and his body tilt, unable to hide his bewilderment.
'Did I really just get hit by a fist?'
Could there have been some hidden weapon he'd missed? A small hammer, maybe?
In the grip of a question that felt eternal, Kakula's body lost its direction and tilted hard. His charge, which had been aimed at the structure, instead toppled through the mystery toward the homeland beyond, and Eldmia, still gripping the sword embedded in his shoulder, heaved a deep sigh and muttered.
"Every goddamn time I get tangled up with a gate, it turns into a shitshow."
With no time to do anything, the two collapsed and went tumbling past the ancient mystery onto the floor of the Great Grasslands.