War with the Orcs
"War with the Orcs"
Author: TranslatorAtYourService
This post is a translation of an article from the Ark Japan server.
Original: (link)
"Whoa, imagine a web shooting out from the dark—that'd give you a real jump scare."
"Indeed. It would be hard to even react."
I ignored Nyangnyang's comment—"Can't you just flick it away with your hand, nyang?"—and kept reading.
There was info on all sorts of monsters, but one thing caught my eye.
"So that's why wyverns sometimes come sniffing around here."
"Fortunately, they're not too strong, so I hear Mae drives them off easily."
"Nah, they looked pretty badass to me."
If I weren't EX-rank and just some average awakener, I'd have gotten smashed flat. Small-scale awakeners operating out in the open must have it rough.
Further down, there was stuff I already knew about—like orcs.
"Heh heh. Already knew that and handled it perfectly."
"I hear they're still using carrots effectively at night."
"Yeah, you said things looked pretty good last time you checked."
"Indeed."
I kept reading, surprised by the sheer volume and detail of the knowledge. Was this the power of collective intelligence?
"Scrap this right away. Might come in handy someday."
"This one will commit it to memory as best as possible."
"That'd be great."
No need to take notes myself. Just pull it up if I ever run into those monsters.
"But since it's a translation, it must be from somewhere else. Is there an original post?"
"Isn't this it at the end?"
The turtle pointed to a link to the original Japan server post. I clicked it—flooded with Japanese. Nope, no way I can read this. Back to the translation.
Curious about the author's other posts, I searched their username. A bunch popped up:
Translations from Japan, America, all over—survival tips from every server.
"How many languages does this guy even know?"
Definitely a professional interpreter before the gates.
Curiosity piqued, I dove into the posts.
"Whoa, there's info on everything."
"Quite fascinating."
The translations covered everything: survival tips, monster types and countermeasures, wound care, water sourcing—you name it. And not just text; photos too, laid out like a documentary. Add a voiceover, and it'd be perfect.
Time flew by. Before I knew it, it was late. Exhaustion hit as I was about to crash—then a fresh post popped up.
Too intriguing to ignore. Haven was swarming with orcs anyway. I clicked.
"On the Orc High Entity, Orc King (Translated)"
Author: TranslatorAtYourService
(Blurry photo of the Orc King)
I scrolled down—empty comments.
"Huh? That's it?"
"Feels like it cut off mid-molt or something."
"Wait, you molt too?"
"Of course. Though not right now."
That's the shocking part. Turtles molt? Mind blown.
The turtle poked me as I reeled.
"It's late. Time to sleep?"
"Yeah, you're right."
The post's abrupt end left me deflated, sleep crashing in. I hugged the turtle, hit the bed, and passed out instantly.
The next day.
Up early for the routine. Planted rice, potatoes, carrots for quick growth. Onions and sunflowers? Just stockpile a bit—not urgent.
Off to the Bomb Flower Farm. Mornings meant clean fields post-digestion. Harvested ripe ones, replanted empties with minimal quick growth. The rest would grow off monsters Mae brought.
New routine item: Check the Tree of Life. Fruit today too. Only one per tree, so frequent visits—but doubling up means I'll fill the mountain around my house eventually.
Back home: hot rice with a whole can of spam demolished. Under the Tree of Life, cool cola and french fries. This is living the good life.
Dozed off blissfully, then time to divvy canned plants. Rice sack first, then healing potions and potatoes. Carrots for Haven, a few sunflower blooms for the military.
Sent to both, lunch routine done. Free time: mana refill for more plants, or pet the companions for mental recharge.
Mae usually returned then with updates. If more needed, quick-grow and second shipment.
But today, Mae flew in urgently.
"...Why the rush? Trouble?"
"Falconer."
"What?"
"Haven requested aid."
"Aid? What kind?"
Already sent potatoes, etc. Vampires there too?!
"...Haven's elites are isolated."
"Details."
"Last night, carrot guerrilla ops."
"Makes sense."
"But they fell into a trap."
"Trap?"
"Orcs powered up the power plant, lit the city, ambushed and cornered the unit."
Shocking. Orcs operating human tech? Restoring city lights?
"Orcs learned and studied our stuff?"
"Appears so."
"The elites?"
"Holding in a nearby building."
"Can't you ferry them one by one?"
"Too many for one trip. A second run leaves the rest vulnerable."
Logical.
"So you dropped potatoes and bailed?"
"Yes. But insufficient."
"What now..."
Rescue a trapped group? No clear plan.
Then the turtle beside me thumped the ground thud thud!!
All eyes on him. He declared grandly:
"At last, this one's time has come."
"...Huh?"
"Mae, take this one there."
An old, empty warehouse.
The stench from orc corpses at the entrance choked the air, but no one cared.
"Orc great warrior!!!"
A massive orc great warrior smashed through the wall. But its head flew off in an instant—Seola's sword beam.
"...Hah, hah."
Panting, Seola swung relentlessly. One clean slice per orc to hold the tide.
Exhausted allies fell; she filled gaps, bearing extra weight. Orc blood showered her, eyes barely open, but she swung on.
"These damn things never end!!!"
"When's backup coming?!"
They clung to faint hope of reinforcements. Slim odds—Haven was likely under attack too. Distant explosions confirmed it.
"W-We’re done. Totally screwed."
"Like this... so pointless..."
Survivors despaired early. Seola slashed on, yelling:
"Don't give up!! Mae just dropped potatoes, remember?! The Druid will do something!!!"
"But... how? Even Bomb Flowers won't handle that many..."
BOOM—
The burning warehouse wall collapsed. Orcs poured into the empty space.
"Uwaaaah!!!"
They fought back desperately, but numbers pressed, wounded mounted.
"Potatoes!! Eat potatoes!!!"
Some force-fed heavies; others swung in a frenzy.
In that brutal field, victory seemed orc-sided.
"...That's enough."
A deep, gravelly voice halted every orc.
They retreated. Then emerged a colossal orc.
The Orc King—the blurry photo from yesterday.
Seola didn't know, but chills ran deep.
He'd spoken human words.
"...It talks? A high entity?"
"High entity. 'Superior' wounds my pride a bit."
"Uwaaaah!!!"
Seola charged, sword flashing. Orc King parried with his axe, shattering her blade, then cleaved her.
SPLAT—
Blood sprayed; Seola crumpled. Body enhancement saved her from dismemberment, but blood loss pinned her.
"Strong one eliminated. Take the rest alive."
Orc King withdrew coldly. Orcs advanced.
Screams, shouts, defiance stung his ears.
The din lifted his mood—until an odd sound cut in.
KABOOM—
The ceiling split. Something huge dropped through, landing with a shockwave.
All orcs but the King flew back.
GRRROOOOARRR—
The beast that appeared: a massive turtle.