Chapter 39: Festival (1)
Massive flames roared between towering bonfires as meat sizzled in abundance. Dwarves, elves, and even orcs—all races gathered without discrimination, stuffing their faces with food.
—Snort! Pork tastes so good!
“Grr! This canned beer, was it? What a killer brew!”
Even with nearly eight thousand souls feasting and guzzling to their hearts’ content, the food never dwindled.
Kim Minwoo chewed on his own hunk of meat by one of the bonfires.
‘Not bad.’
They’d stocked up plenty on salts and peppers and such, so the marinating had been thorough.
He glanced at the cluster of elves.
They ate meat, sure, but as a race, they preferred fruits and veggies by nature. Sure enough, every one of them clutched a banana or ear of corn.
Fortunately, they seemed to be enjoying it.
That was when…
His eyes met Elise’s as she munched on corn. She stood and approached him.
“This is delicious. I’d love to try growing it once the weather warms up.”
“Then check this out.”
He handed her a book detailing how to cultivate the seeds.
A gate was a fragment of another world.
Naturally, the languages and scripts differed entirely, but speech still translated.
The same went for text in books. Barring a few special cases, most writing translated seamlessly.
This particular book even had simple annotations in easy-to-understand language for clarity. Elise flipped it open and nodded.
“Fascinating. So many seeds I’ve never seen.”
“They’re from another world.”
“Is your world peaceful?”
“To a degree.”
“… That’s a little enviable.”
“Ours will be too.”
We’ll clear it.
Her expression darkened slightly at his words.
“We might be able to take down an Apostle. But the Witch and the Ice Dragon… they’re on another level.”
“I know.”
“Can we really beat beings like that?”
“There’s a saying from my world: Nothing is impossible.”
Literally.
Every gate had a clear path. And it wasn’t always just one route.
—Cold dragon wants cold land. Wicked Witch wants fresh corpses. Ice Dragon freezes. Witch gets corpses.
He recalled Vectahr’s words from before.
The Witch wanted corpses.
The Ice Dragon wanted cold land.
Sharing benefits like that? No way they’d be laughing together.
They must have been at each other’s throats.
‘Up till now, it was win-win for both.’
But now?
With the land frozen solid and every living thing dropping dead, could the Witch really be thrilled?
If the cold dragged on, all life would be wiped out.
‘Benefits tilting to one side.’
The Ice Dragon was still raking it in.
But the Witch? She’d get bored soon.
Fewer corpses overall.
‘That’s why she started purging them.’
No more corpses to squeeze out, so one last big haul.
Desire was the spark of all rifts.
And the current situation?
‘Perfect setup to poke at the Witch’s greed.’
Witch and Ice Dragon.
Together, they’d be a nightmare.
But one at a time…?
‘Much more doable.’
First up: Nab that Apostle.
* * *
“W-What the hell?”
Belitas blinked in disbelief.
He was that flustered.
He’d been dead certain of victory when they started the festival.
He’d fortified the fortress thoroughly.
Day 3.
Food running low by now, right?
Day 4.
They’ll come today for sure.
Day 5.
Festival still going?
Day 6.
Orcs numbering over fifteen thousand already? Going out now would get us slaughtered?
Day 7.
‘How long is this damn festival gonna last?!’
Madmen.
Word came that the orcs had surpassed twenty thousand.
And they weren’t skimping on rations either.
They were feeding those bottomless orc pits until their bellies burst.
Yet the festival dragged on!
Every day, orc hordes swelled insanely.
‘Can’t even go out anymore.’
Belitas broke out in cold sweat.
Sure, orcs were levels below the fortress troops, but numbers beat quality.
Without the fortress advantage, defeat was certain.
‘If the festival lasts just two more days… we can’t hold.’
Now they were piling in five or six thousand daily. At thirty thousand orcs, even the fortress wouldn’t save them.
Damn it all!
Asking other Apostles for help? Too many issues. They were all rivals clawing for the Witch’s favor.
Even if he bowed, they wouldn’t send real backup.
‘No choice.’
He’d have to beg the Witch in the center. Better than losing the fortress.
He raised the crystal orb from his pocket.
Black mana flowed in, and it glowed.
“G-Great Witch. Your humble servant Belitas contacts you with a report.”
—What?
Her playful tone made him shudder.
The Witch’s moods were a rainbow.
Put differently, batshit crazy.
She’d chat smiling one second, then rip out a subordinate’s throat the next. Routine stuff.
He really didn’t want to say it, but…
Belitas squeezed his eyes shut.
“The orcs are revolting. Already twenty thousand strong—too many to suppress.”
—What’ve you been doing?
“… My apologies. All my fault. If you could lend just a bit of power…”
—I’ll send the Death Knight Order. That enough?
Death Knight Order.
One of the Witch’s top knight orders, rumored to leave nothing but corpses in their wake. Elite to the core.
Hope lit Belitas’s eyes.
“Yes! More than enough! We’ll sweep the orcs and offer you the glory of victory!”
—Disconnected.
The orb went dark.
Belitas finally exhaled.
‘Knights galloping through the night… three days tops.’
Orcs were many, but holding out was doable.
A smile crept onto Belitas’s face.
* * *
[The number of commanded orcs has exceeded thirty thousand!]
[Title: ‘Baby Commander’ advances to ‘Expert Commander’!]
Commander title.
Earned by leading large subordinate forces, it boosted troop morale.
‘Thirty thousand unlocks some real perks.’
Morale +15%.
A gem for massive battles.
Changes didn’t stop there.
[‘Takunda’ appointed as 3rd Myriarch!]
[Takunda evolves from Orc Chieftain to Great Chieftain!]
Every ten thousand orcs gathered promoted a chieftain to Great Chieftain.
Promotions were seniority-based.
First: Urkan.
Second: Dekum.
Third: Takunda.
All bulked up massively, muscles grotesquely swollen. Especially Urkan, the sole boss mob among them—his growth was standout.
A walking war machine.
Preparations complete.
“Festival’s over! Time to storm the fortress!”
—Orc! Orc!
Bellies stuffed, gear replenished—the orc army’s morale pierced the skies.
Thirty thousand orc legion.
Plus modest elven support.
A hundred archers joined.
Boom boom!
Drumming orcs pounded fiercely.
The grand host marched on the fortress.
Six hours to approach.
The massive fortress loomed ahead.
Walls about 15 meters high.
Atop them swarmed chimeras, wraith knights, dark mages, and necromancers. He scouted their setup and troop composition from afar.
‘Total around three thousand.’
Excluding summoned forces from their necromancers.
Factoring those in, fortress defenders topped five thousand easy.
Qualitatively, they dominated too.
Average orc level: a measly 151.
‘Doesn’t matter.’
No victory without sacrifice.
He’d braced for ten thousand buried in the assault.
Ladder-laden orcs snorted impatiently.
Eager to charge into fire on command.
That was when…
“Filthy vermin! You think you can defy the Witch and live?!”
A booming voice echoed from the walls. A human with long white beard bellowed thunderously.
“… That’s Belitas. The vile necromancer who’s slaughtered thousands and earned the Witch’s recognition.”
Elise whispered nearby.
‘So that’s the guy.’
Looked like a regular old geezer.
But a crafty necromancer, clearly. He bellowed triumphantly next.
“You worms must’ve heard of the Death Knight Order! Soon, the Death Knights will come reap your necks! Kra ha ha!”
Orcs snorted indifferently, unmoved.
Elves were different.
“Death Knight Order…!”
“They’re sending the Death Knight Order?”
Elves’ pupils quaked in terror. Only Elise kept her cool.
“How tough is this Death Knight Order?”
“… One of the Witch’s direct knight orders. They join tough fights personally. No one survives their blades.”
That tough, huh.
He smirked.
‘Things are rolling fun now.’
Gate difficulties were variable.
Hidden gates especially. Choices flipped difficulty on a dime.
If Death Knights were that fierce, difficulty should’ve spiked on entry.
But it stayed B-rank.
Boundary unchanged at 31.
‘One of two things.’
Either they hadn’t mobilized at all, or they were coming but not to fight.
One thing certain:
The Witch planned to sacrifice her Apostle.
He’d been unsure how tight the Witch and Ice Dragon were.
Now he knew.
Not close at all.
Yielding the fortress? Crystal clear meaning.
Give up fortress?
North thaws.
Ice Dragon weakens.
Life rebounds.
Corpse supply resumes.
True allies wouldn’t act like that. Loose interests bound them.
So no qualms backstabbing.
‘Still toeing the line—watching her step.’
Didn’t pull fortress troops.
Sending reinforcements too.
Excuse for Ice Dragon side.
“We tried our best to hold, but couldn’t.”
Something like that.
‘Perfect for sowing discord.’
Anyway.
Triumphant Belitas yelling his head off? Tough luck—backup unlikely.
“Assemble!”
—Orc!
They unpacked prepped gear.
Catapults hand-built by dwarves from blueprints.
Orcs assembled parts swiftly.
Five massive catapults loomed on the field.
Didn’t need to topple walls.
Draining enemy mana? Worth it alone.
“Fire!”
Huge boulders hurtled toward the fortress.