Chapter 47
Chapter 47
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Shadow Lurker
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Elizabeth, a noble lady of the imperial capital, was an exceptionally fortunate woman.
To think that he, of all people, the Lord Crimson… Marquis Yuriseu, had secretly invited her!
One of the five heroes of the empire, alongside the Hero from Another World and the Holy Sword Master, and renowned as the most handsome man in the realm. Few women would refuse the advances of such a man.
Marquis Yuriseu was the very ideal of a prince that the many ladies of the capital yearned for.
In a state of bliss, as if a prince had come for her on a white steed, Elizabeth accepted the secret rendezvous with Marquis Yuriseu without hesitation.
In the deep of the night, without a single star in sight. All alone.
***
The wind blew.
Dale walked through the biting wind, a chill that seeped into his bones.
He held the Black Sword of Sachsen, leaving the silent death knights behind him.
This was a one-on-one duel between the two of them. In essence, it was the confrontation that would mark the end of this battle.
“Graaaaaah!”
The Orc Warboss roared and kicked off the ground.
The double-bladed axe in his hand swung, splattering blood and brain matter in all directions.
*‘It combines both weight and speed.’*
Absurdly powerful, and absurdly fast. A strength built not on magic or aura, but solely on the warrior's body he was born with.
Dale effortlessly manipulated the cold air to form a shield of ice.
The moment the axe shattered his ice wall, he triggered an explosion of shrapnel.
Shard Magnum. Yet, faced with the swirling shards of ice that became like blades, the Orc Warboss showed not a hint of hesitation.
*‘…!’*
The ice magic failed to slow him in the slightest as he closed the distance.
A recklessness so absurd that even Dale hadn't anticipated it.
He quickly lowered his stance and rushed toward the Orc Warboss, crossing paths with him. He was diving into the axe's range to deflect the attack and exploit the opening for a strike.
The razor-sharp axe blade and Dale's body narrowly missed each other. A thin line of blood was drawn across his cheek.
The shadow blades orbiting Dale surged toward the Orc Warboss all at once. A dozen swords made of darkness, moved without the lift of a finger.
The swords of darkness swung within the Orc Warboss's reach. After they swung, the shadow blades shattered like glass, scattering in all directions.
They had become finely crafted ‘shadow bullets.’ The scattered bullets were fired all at once.
One could call it sword and magic, or perhaps sword and gun.
The two forms of attack blended and flowed seamlessly, as a living malice of darkness rained down upon the Orc Warboss.
The swords of darkness tore his body to shreds, and the shadow bullets embedded themselves deep in the wounds.
*‘It worked.’*
Ignoring the blood streaming from his wounds, the Orc Warboss roared once more.
It was no ordinary roar. It was a cry filled with a fighting spirit that would not kneel until the very end, and the pride of a warrior.
“Kieeeeeek!”
At the heaven-rending roar, the ‘shadows’ writhing inside the Orc Warboss’s body took fright. Terrified, they fled back toward Dale's ‘Shadow Cloak.’
Leaving the pack of shadows cowering in the shade at his feet, Dale clicked his tongue.
The Orc Warboss no longer had any reason left.
Berserk.
*‘Here it comes.’*
Burning away its life force, the Orc Warboss charged. In every swing of its axe, Dale could feel the dissipation of a life burning out.
*‘Fast.’*
Swinging, swinging, and swinging again. As he narrowly evaded the endless attacks, Dale focused his consciousness.
He ignored the pack of shadows cowering silently at his feet, terrified by the Orc Warboss’s fighting spirit.
His three circles began to accelerate endlessly.
300 rpm, 1,000 rpm, 2,000 rpm… as if the revolutions of a motorcycle were rapidly increasing.
Furthermore, that wasn't the only ‘source of mana’ Dale possessed.
The tentacle, wedged between his heart and his circles, deeply rooted. Dale's other source of darkness.
*The Book of the Black Goat*.
The dark mana processed and refined from his two ‘black sources.’
The absurdly high concentration of black mana, processed with all of Dale’s might, seeped into the terrified Shadow Cloak.
He recalled the power of the Shadow Cloak demonstrated by the high-ranking demon he had once defeated, the artifact's previous owner. The shadows writhing at that demon's feet were no mere minions like these.
*‘Still not enough.’*
Looking at the weak pack of shadows writhing at his feet, Dale strengthened his resolve, whipping his dark mana like a lash.
*‘They must become more cruel, more wicked, more terrifying.’*
To show the true reason why, on that day, he had donned the dark artifact ‘Shadow Cloak’ without a hint of hesitation.
It was then.
—Shall I help you?
A voice was heard. From Dale's heart, whispering to him.
It was the voice of a young girl.
*‘It’s not your time yet.’*
Dale shook his head, recalling the tentacles squirming beneath the hem of her dress.
Borrowing her power in front of Lord Black, Lord Helmut, and everyone in the North was too great a risk.
*‘…!’*
At Dale's refusal, he felt a sensation as if the tentacle was squeezing his heart. Of all the times. Imagining the worst-case scenario—that she could go on a rampage at any moment—Dale steeled himself.
It was then.
—I like your world, brother.
*The Book of the Black Goat* replied.
—I’ll never do anything you hate.
As if to say not to worry.
—So, play with me as much as you want.
The voice of an innocent girl was heard—with a cruelty that was almost naive, yet utterly untainted.
“Kieeeeeek!”
At the same time, the shadows at his feet began to scream.
It was not a warrior's roar filled with fighting spirit, like that of the Orc Warboss.
It was simply the most terrifying scream in the world.
Simultaneously, the shadow at Dale's feet began to spread. And it was no ‘mere shadow.’
It was a wave of darkness that swallowed the area around his feet.
A lake of darkness spread out beneath Dale and the Orc Warboss, submerging the area like a flood.
Gasps could be heard from all around.
“Y-Young Lord…!”
“What in the world is that!”
Even Duke Sachsen and Lord Helmut were no exception. For the others, the shock of seeing Dale's display was beyond words.
This was true even for the elders of the Black Magic Tower.
On the rippling lake of darkness, the Orc Warboss kicked off the ground. But Dale watched his opponent’s charge without moving an inch, aware of the ‘domain of darkness’ he felt at his feet.
*‘This is my domain.’*
He waved his hand.
From beneath the lake of darkness, after a moment of silence, a ‘lurker’ began to raise its head.
Breaking through the gently swaying waves of shadow.
Something shot up.
It was not in the shape of a sword, magic, or a bullet. It was just a sharp, pointed tentacle, like a thorn.
《Shadow Lurker》.
A shadow lurker. A creature of darkness that lies in wait in the shadows, hunting its prey.
And the lake of darkness Dale had spread was none other than the ‘habitat of the Shadow Lurkers.’
The third form and ability of the Shadow Cloak. Shadow creatures.
Innumerable thorny tentacles shot out from the ‘Shadow Lurkers,’ plunging toward the Orc Warboss. They pierced the Orc Warboss’s flesh, which far surpassed steel armor, as effortlessly as a fork sinking into a tender steak.
“Graaaaaah—!”
There was nowhere for the Orc Warboss to run. It wasn't even allowed to move. No matter how much it struggled and thrashed, it could not escape the thorny tentacles of the Shadow Lurkers rising from all sides.
Not here, on this lake of darkness.
A sickening crunch. Another.
The shadow tentacles plunged down relentlessly. In a final, desperate struggle, the double-bladed axe swung toward Dale.
Faced with the axe blade swinging right before his eyes, Dale remained silent and motionless.
With the double-bladed axe just inches away, more dark tentacles shot up, immobilizing the Orc Warboss’s arms. They bound its arms, its legs, its torso and shoulders. After binding it, they thrust their sharply honed, thorny tips into it.
Like some bizarre objet d'art, countless tentacles tore into and gripped the Orc Warboss.
Green blood splattered everywhere.
Through the wounds torn open by the thorny tentacles of the Shadow Lurkers, its intestines spilled out.
Dale watched the Orc Warboss with an emotionless expression.
The roars no longer echoed. All that could be heard was a hollow sound, like air escaping.
The Orc Warboss looked weakly at Dale.
The Great Demonic Migration.
To survive, he had led his horde out of the ‘Demon King's Territory,’ crossed the White Mountains… and here, on the upper reaches of the Sachsen River, his struggle for survival had finally come to an end. Along with his kin.
The end of the journey.
The orc horde was defeated not because they were evil, but simply because they were weak.
It isn't that the survivor is strong. It's that the weak cannot survive in the first place.
Survival of the fittest. That is the law of this world.
Long ago, the Demon King, the Divine Sword, and even his past self had all died and faded away because they lacked strength. The Orc Warboss would be no exception.
Leaving behind an unknown bitterness, he turned his head.
Among the corpses of the orc horde strewn everywhere, he saw the countless warriors of the North staring at him.
The northern nobles and knights who had just witnessed the battle, and the people of House Sachsen.
Silence followed.
In the face of the overwhelming power Dale had displayed, no one dared to make a sound.
Just then, Dale's death knights, who had been slaughtering the elite orc soldiers moments before, all knelt at once, plunging the black swords they held vertically into the ground.
At the same time, the nobles and knights of the region began to kneel one after another, likewise plunging their swords into the ground.
“The Young Lord has defeated the Orc Warboss!”
“Victory to the Black Prince!”
“Young Lord Dale is victorious!”
“Waaaaaaaaah!”
As if the recent silence had been a lie, a deafening roar of victory erupted.
A new layer of awe was added to the infamy and fear associated with the name ‘Black Prince.’
As the protector of the North who defeated the leader of the orc horde in the face of the Great Demonic Migration, and furthermore, as the most rightful heir to the Duchy of Sachsen.
And so, the battle ended.