Chapter 178
Chapter 178
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 178
Chapter Title: Orc Warriors
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Orc warriors are strong.
Not only their brute strength but also their stamina and reflexes surpass those of humans—that’s the orc race.
They could achieve realms that human knights reached only through bone-grinding effort and training with spear and sword, all without any real exertion.
But because of that innate talent and physical prowess, they were incredibly arrogant.
Moreover, they had hardly ever clashed with proper knights for a long time.
During the Scripture War, the knights from the continent who crossed the sea couldn’t even cross the snow mountains and were routed.
And now, the orc warriors of the Tollo tribe faced a “real knight” for the first time in their lives.
A vampire knight equipped with gear incorporating the continent’s superior craftsmanship, far beyond anything in Brantia.
Boom!
“Kra ha ha ha ha!”
Galpredic burst into mad laughter as he smashed the skull of one orc warrior with his mace.
The mercenaries shivered at the sight of his bloodshot eyes gleaming red with bloodlust and fury.
But they had no time to hesitate.
Because standing before them wasn’t just that hulking knight who had sent three warriors to their graves in less than ten seconds.
“Grraaah! Kyao!”
Roaring like beasts, the Beowulf warriors slashed and tore at everything in reach with their elongated claws—they were a true calamity.
Even in Brantia, where civilization lagged behind the continental kingdoms, the northern regions ruled by orcs were even more primitive.
Thus, while the mercenaries wielded crude metal spears, swords, and axes, their armor was mostly cloth or leather.
Orc smelting and metalworking couldn’t produce the precision metal armor required.
Such shabby defenses stood no chance against the claws and fangs of Beowulf warriors that pierced even chain mail.
In contrast, the Beowulf warriors wore the custom plate coats Eugene had procured for them.
The mercenaries’ primitive weapons and skills couldn’t penetrate plate coats that blocked even fierce knightly sword strikes, turning the battle into a one-sided slaughter.
Yet the most terrifying presence was Eugene, transformed into the champion monster “Lycanthrope King,” radiating overwhelming menace.
“GRRAAAAH!!!”
His thunderous roar sent the orc warriors in front of him crumpling to their knees.
No matter how fearless orcs were, standing against the Origin’s dread aura was absurd.
The orc warriors, their spirits crushed by Eugene’s roar, didn’t even think to dodge the massive Lycanthrope King palm crashing down from above. They trembled violently as their upper bodies were pulverized and torn apart.
“Retreat! Flee! Kweeeek!”
Kunderima fled, so shocked and despairing that he let out the distinctive orc screech he never uttered otherwise.
His ambition to lead the vanguard, rack up achievements, rise as the tribe’s representative royal talent, and become king of the Bayman orcs vanished from his mind.
In truth, Kunderima was a fierce, brutal warrior of great skill.
He had felled many monsters from the Demonic Realm, and countless renowned warriors from other tribes had lost teeth under his axe blade.
But the pride of the orc royal house, the lofty honor and blazing courage as a pureblood Tollo warrior...
All vanished without a trace before the presence emanating from the Origin in Lycanthrope King form.
“W-wait... I’ll come too! Kweek!?”
The orc shaman—no, charlatan—stumbled in panic while chasing Kunderima and face-planted.
“Kweek!? Kweee...”
The charlatan, who had soiled himself, backed away unsteadily with his rear on the ground, leaving a yellow trail on the pristine white snowfield.
His terror-filled eyes took in the massacre.
The snowfield strewn with chunks of warriors and mercenaries looked like red flowers in full bloom.
At that sight, the charlatan recalled the divination he had drawn himself not long ago.
- Red flowers will bloom at the foot of the White Tusk Mountains.
“All my divinations were wrong until now... and the last one hits!?”
Kwararak! Thwack!
With a final indignant shriek, the upper half of the charlatan—whose divination came true for the first and last time—was sliced clean off.
“Kweek! Kweeek!”
Regardless of whether the charlatan and warriors died, Kunderima panted raggedly and ran for his life.
But no matter how superior an orc’s physique, he couldn’t sprint quickly through snow piled up to his shins.
In contrast, Eugene in Lycanthrope form bounded across the snowfield like a wolf on all fours and swiftly overtook Kunderima.
Whoosh! Thud!
“Kweeik!?”
Kunderima’s eyes bulged at the sight of Eugene plummeting from the sky, kicking up a blizzard as he landed.
The skilled warrior instinctively gripped his axe haft.
The battle axe that had split countless warrior skulls had a blade over two handspans long, and Kunderima treasured and favored it greatly.
But the moment he saw the Lycanthrope King’s claws, each the size of an axe blade, Kunderima first thought his own battle axe looked pathetic.
“Y-you! Who the hell are you!? You think you can trap Tollo bloodkin in the north and live? The tribe’s warriors will hunt you down and kill you!”
His limbs trembled, but Kunderima raised his voice, banking on his clan’s prestige.
“Hunt me down? How? You’re all dying here anyway.”
“Kuh!”
In his flustered mind, Kunderima recalled someone calling this monster “sir” during its transformation.
“Y-you’re a knight, aren’t you! Right! Knight! Honor! Don’t you have any!? If you’re a knight, fight like one! Grab a sword! If you’re a true warrior, let’s talk with steel!”
Kunderima’s shout had some unexpected bite.
He had never crossed the snow mountains himself, but he had heard enough stories since childhood to know what knights were like.
Hypocritical folk obsessed with bizarre vanities like honor and chivalry, things they wouldn’t want even if offered.
Murder was murder—Kunderima couldn’t grasp finding meaning in it.
But if this monster’s true nature was a knight, it would react to his words.
“Hmm.”
‘It worked!’
Kunderima inwardly cheered at the monster scratching its protruding lower jaw with long claws.
If they fought fair one-on-one in original forms, he could definitely...
“Why would I treat a dumb orc bastard like a knight?”
“...!?”
“You said once you crossed the snow mountains, you’d slaughter knights, nobles, everyone? Drown your tusks in blood and chew hearts?”
“N-no, that was...”
True to his dumb orc nature, Kunderima floundered without the term “figure of speech,” and Eugene grinned, baring fangs far larger and longer than an orc’s.
“Plus, you said you’d kill me in one hit?”
“Wha...?”
“These little tusks? I’m Duke Bartla.”
“...!!!”
A gale of shock whipped through Kunderima’s bulging eyes.
Thwack!
And just as he said, Eugene killed him in one hit.
Eugene killed Kunderima.
* * *
After slaughtering Kunderima and his entire force, Eugene’s group gathered the fifty-odd corpses and looted all their possessions.
They dumped them into a ravine nearly impossible to climb unless one was a monster or beast.
The remaining remnants would be handled by the mountain’s beasts and monsters, so Eugene’s group retraced their steps.
Back at the hunter’s cabin, Eugene slapped the still-unconscious hunter awake.
“Huak!?”
The hunter awoke with a weird yelp, looked around wildly, and locked eyes with Eugene.
“Pl-please, sp-spare...”
Clink!
Before he could beg, the hunter reflexively snatched the flying gold coin glinting golden and prostrated himself.
“In all my life, I’ve never met a lord as generous and magnanimous as you!”
“Yeah. First time I’ve met a hunter who switches to fancy talk so naturally.”
“Uh, w-well...”
“Anyway, that money wasn’t to shut you up.”
“Huh? Then...”
“You. Do a job for me.”
The hunter gulped dryly without realizing it as he met Eugene’s red eyes.
* * *
“What? Kunderima?”
“Yes. Five days ago, he took warriors and mercenaries toward Balmont.”
“That little bastard deserves his tusks yanked out raw!”
The enraged Tollo chieftain kicked off his throne draped in ogre hide and stood.
“No matter how blinded by glory he is, there are things to do and not do! He slinks off without my permission!?”
“Chieftain, calm down. Isn’t it because Sir Kunderima is so full of hot blood?”
“Indeed. With Liward’s half-tusk dead, Sir Kunderima is our Tollo’s representative royal talent, isn’t he? He must’ve been eager to rack up achievements and gain the edge in the competition.”
“Plus, I hear he has a shaman with him and even hired an experienced guide? Just think of it as scouting.”
“Hmph!”
The elders dissuaded him with plausible words, and the Tollo chieftain sat back down.
But he couldn’t relax knowing fifty troops, including the tribe’s elite warriors, had defected, so his expression remained stern.
“Sir Kunderima may be hasty, but he’s not the type to charge blindly. If he crosses the mountains safely, we gain a sure invasion route. No need to take ships like the other tribes.”
“Hmm.”
Stroking his tusks, the Tollo chieftain nodded.
Unlike other races, orcs couldn’t swim at all and greatly feared deep rivers, lakes, and seas.
Thus, orcs traveling by ship along the coast was gambling with their lives.
They lacked large vessels, forcing 20-30 to row small galleys themselves.
Inexperienced with sea travel, they panicked at even mild waves.
Yet some of the seven tribes had decided to go south by ship, eager to invade south of the snow mountains faster than the Tollo.
‘But if that stubborn tusk bastard actually pioneers a path?’
They could arrive far quicker than the other tribes, who would take over half a month even rushing.
“Very well! Once we muster the warriors, head straight to the village Kunderima ruled...”
“Chieftain! Chieftain!”
Warriors burst in panting.
“What is it?”
“A messenger arrived. From Sir Kunderima!”
“What?”
“Oh ho!”
The chieftain and elders brightened at the timely news.
“Here he is.”
An orc among the warriors stepped forward hurriedly and bowed low.
“Greetings to Tollo’s mighty tusks. I’m a mere hunter from near Balmont who was hired as a guide by Sir Kunderima a few days ago.”
“Oh? So you’re the experienced guide my eldest son hired?”
“Y-yes. I and a few comrades safely guided Sir Kunderima beyond the White Tusk Mountains. So...”
The hunter spun the tale exactly as Eugene instructed.
Sweat soaked his back under the gazes of the Tollo chieftain, elders, and burly warriors, but he suppressed his fear by focusing on one thing.
‘Gold coin! Just the gold coin!’
“...thus, by Sir Kunderima’s order, I came to bring this news to our mighty-tusked chieftain!”
“Krooo...!”
The Tollo orcs brightened.
But the chieftain eyed the hunter suspiciously.
“My son left only five days ago, and you’re already here? You’re really his messenger?”
Kwaaaa!
A fierce dread aura befitting Tollo’s leader poured from the chieftain’s glare.
‘G-gold coin! Gold coiiiin...’
Desperately envisioning the ecstatic golden glow, the hunter overcame his fear, prostrated himself, and shouted.
“I-it’s true! I’m a tusk who’s hunted around Balmont for ten years! I-I can prove it!”
“Oh?”
“Yes! There’s a half-blood lord named Sir Maxen here—he knows me. Ah, the one who proved his valor by slaying a gray wolf under my guidance to join the vanguard!”
“Maxen? Is there a tusk by that name!?”
“Eh? Th-that’s me.”
The half-orc standing at the edge, watching curiously, hesitantly raised his hand.