Chapter 41
Chapter 41
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: A Song for the Large and Beautiful Green Mass (3)
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An arm thicker than the thigh of any average man shielded his face.
Thwuk. Thwuk.
Arrows thudded into it.
The orcs yanked the arrows from their forearms. Not a trace of pain showed on their savage faces as they bellowed monstrous roars.
All that gleamed in their eyes was murderous intent and battle lust. The orcs let out furious war cries.
Spotting me descending the slope, an orc warrior snatched up an axe rolling across the ground.
"Grrr."
With a low growl rumbling from its throat, the orc warrior kicked off the dirt.
Thundering footsteps, roars thick with killing intent, the sticky stench of blood.
I couldn't help but laugh.
There was no greater thrill than this. I couldn't hold it back if I tried.
"Kraaaah!"
The orc warrior was upon me in an instant, hoisting its axe high.
Whoosh.
A heavy whoosh cut the air as the rusted blade hurtled down to cleave my skull.
I rolled across the ground, keeping my momentum from the downhill sprint.
A horrific gust whistled just above my head. The skin on the bridge of my nose stung as if it might tear away.
I gritted my teeth and swung Dusk.
Crunch.
The sensation of rending flesh reached my fingertips.
Ah...
There was no greater ecstasy. A moan escaped my lips unbidden.
Thud.
Lost in that bliss for a moment, the orc warrior lunged with brute force. I rolled forward with my momentum and kicked off the ground.
"Kreeee!"
The orc warrior's roar echoed behind my back. But I didn't look.
Another orc loomed right in front of me.
Smaller and less ferocious than the warrior, but its muscled bulk could rip a human apart barehanded. The orc charged at me, gripping a blade absurdly thin for its frame.
Its sword flew at me. I gripped Dusk with both hands and raised it horizontally. Then I leaped straight into its guard.
Dusk slid along its blade.
Up the edge, along the hilt—where its fingers clutched.
I twisted Dusk slightly.
Snap.
Its fingers sheared off like rotten fruit. I thrust forward without pause.
The sword that had glided along the blade now traced up the green forearm.
Shlick. Shlick.
Green skin peeled away. Crimson muscle lay bare in Dusk's wake.
Up the arm, past the shoulder—Dusk slashed across the orc's throat.
"Gurgle."
The orc made a deflating wheeze, eyes rolling back.
I twisted the blade free. Blood gushed as the edge pulled away.
Splatter.
A fishy reek of blood flooded the air.
Sniff. Sniff.
My nostrils flared on instinct. That sweet aroma drew a grin from me before I knew it.
How long had it been since I'd last savored this scent?
Vitality surged through me. I hadn't even tapped my mana yet, but energy coursed through every limb.
Whoosh.
Something heavy hurtled toward my back.
I reached out and yanked the waist of the orc with rolled-back eyes.
Its collapsing body flew toward me—and I went the other way.
Our positions swapped.
Crunch.
And for one of us, it was a death spot.
The orc clutching its throat convulsed as if struck by lightning. Its rigid, muscled frame toppled backward.
A massive axe was buried in its chest. Beyond it, the orc warrior charged, its deeply gashed waist streaming blood, face twisted in demonic rage.
"Kraaaak!"
It unleashed a guttural scream.
Then arrows rained down from above once more.
Thwuk. Thwuk.
Long shafts sprouted from the orcs' backs and shoulders.
"Charge!"
Vmmm. Vmmm. Arwen descended the slope like a comet, swords humming in her grip. The royal infantry followed, swords and shields at the ready.
"You're late."
"Your Highness is too fast!"
Arwen bellowed back, somehow picking my voice out amid the chaos.
A voice I'd never heard from her before—raw with passion.
"Kraaaak!"
The orcs' roars brimmed with killing intent.
The sky was clear, the air thick with the tang of blood.
My body felt light, the masterwork sword in my hand razor-sharp.
"Perfect."
I felt like I could soar.
"Your Highness!"
Arwen screamed my name like a plea.
Grumble.
The orcs maneuvered to encircle me. I saw Arwen crouch amid the infantry, ready to burst forward.
"Stay back!"
She'd get caught in it.
I readjusted my grip on Dusk. And dredged up a memory.
Over four hundred years ago—far longer, in truth.
Back when orcs weren't monsters, but one of the continent's proud masters.
In that era of endless war.
When I was called the Demon Sword.
"Piling green corpses into mountains."
This was the verse of some nameless, exceptional hunter.
A wretched man's song of hatred for orcs.
Not a myth, nor a hero's tale.
"And beneath them, a crimson pond formed."
Just a lament, a dirge for a father who fought until his strength failed and he was slain. The fleeting song of an extraordinary avenger.
[Poem of Vengeance]
Singing the verse aloud
"Piling green corpses into mountains." "And beneath them, a crimson pond formed."
⟨ Poem of Vengeance ⟩
Aaaaaah.
Dusk wailed mournfully.
It was the requiem from a sword forged with a master's soul—for those about to lose theirs.
Thud.
I kicked off the ground.
The first lament belonged to the orc warrior.
**
His parched mouth was dry as dust, his stomach churning. He felt like he might vomit any second.
Joseph couldn't tell if it was battle nerves or the orcs' stench.
They'd said there'd be no fighting—just holing up in the castle to steal his uncle's glory. Just watch from the sidelines.
He'd done nothing but curse the courtier who'd sent him here.
"Charge!"
The lady knight suddenly barked the order.
Startled, Joseph fumbled for his sword and shield and stumbled down the slope with the rest.
"Uwaaaah!"
Hearing the soldiers' battle cries eased his mind a bit. Joseph joined in, shouting along.
But it was fleeting courage—reckless bravado at best.
Uh... uh...
The orcs from afar up the slope and up close were worlds apart.
Their savage features aside, their heads towered two full heads above any man. Those muscle-bound, dark-green hulks oozed menace.
His legs trembled. He wanted to run.
But in his hesitation, he'd ended up at the front of the formation—no escape now.
He glanced aside. A soldier clenched his jaw in tension.
Hansdeck, was it?
Even the infantry leader looked crushed.
Hansdeck met his eyes and nodded.
A nod Joseph couldn't fathom.
"We are!"
Hansdeck bellowed suddenly.
"The king's swords!"
Soldiers nearby roared back.
"We are!"
"The king's shields!"
The sudden shouts left Joseph dazed.
We're all gonna die because of that damn prince, and now this...
"We are proud soldiers of the Leonberger royal house!"
The soldiers bellowed at the top of their lungs.
It was futile against the orcs' roars, but they kept shouting, whipping themselves into a frenzy.
"Victory in Leonberger's name!"
"Protect His Highness the Prince!"
Soldiers who'd been terrified moments ago now screamed with renewed valor.
Thump. Thump.
Joseph's heart pounded. Not from their cheers stirring his courage.
It was because these damned fools looked ready to charge the monsters headlong without a shred of fear.
"Maintain formation—advance!"
Even without prodding, soldiers were itching to break ranks. But the lady knight at the front urged them on.
Thud! Thud!
Soldiers stomped forward, thrusting out shields plated with iron in places.
Eh? Eh?
The phalanx tightened up somehow. Pushed by the men, Joseph shuffled ahead.
"Kraaaah!"
The orcs charged with roars.
The moment their red eyes locked on, Joseph's pants grew wet.
Then someone yanked his collar from behind.
"Damn rookie!"
A soldier right behind him.
A broad back appeared before him, easing his panic a touch. But things worsened.
Now Joseph was trapped in the infantry's dense center, unable to move.
Thud! Thud!
Soldiers stomped ahead.
Thump-thump. The orcs' heavy footfalls echoed beyond the backs ahead.
"First row, shields up! Second row, swords ready!"
Clack!
At the lady knight's command, soldiers raised shields or leveled swords.
"Clash!"
As she shouted, the front line jolted with a boom.
"Kyaak!"
"Agh!"
Horrid screams rang out as the soldier ahead crumpled to his knees. A rusted axe was embedded in his shield, which he'd held to the end.
"Attack!"
A shout exploded nearby.
Soldiers thrust their raised swords forward.
Over shoulders of the standing or heads of the fallen.
Ten blades lunged as one.
Joseph thrust his out in a panic too.
Crunch.
A bizarre sensation hit the tip.
He'd stabbed people before—not unfamiliar. But this felt different entirely.
Like pressing a knife to a block of frozen meat.
"Grr."
The orc stabbed in the armpit glared at Joseph. A grotesquely huge hand gripped the blade.
Joseph's legs buckled. He wanted to drop the sword and flee, but his clenched fist wouldn't open. The sword was in that fist—and the orc gripped it.
He couldn't kneel or turn, just stared at the orc.
Flash!
Suddenly the orc's eyes bulged white, body shuddering.
"Kyaak!"
It shrieked, belly exposed. A shimmering glow rippled behind it.
The lady knight.
She dashed past the clashing orcs, sword angled high.
Orcs hamstrung screamed and thrashed. Kneeling first-row soldiers surged up with cries.
Off-balance orcs toppled backward.
"Stab!"
Someone yelled. Second-row soldiers mounted the fallen orcs, reversed grips, and hammered down.
Thwuk. Thwuk.
One stab wasn't enough—two, then ten. Alone insufficient, they piled on two or three deep, slashing until the beasts died.
[Slice their hamstrings. Strike when they lose balance—that's your chance.]
Vincent—the castellan’s son—his words echoed in Joseph's mind.
Unbelievable. They'd actually pulled it off.
Thump-thump.
His heart raced—a different beat, courage welling from nowhere.
"Uwaaaah!"
Joseph roared with the cheering soldiers.
"Uwaaa... ah... ah..."
But it was all too fleeting.
Fallen orcs, soldiers atop them—and beyond, more orcs.
Three times their number.
Only then did Joseph realize: Fewer than five orcs had hit the front. Thirty soldiers as one had barely felled five.
The fire in his chest snuffed out like a lie. A deeper chill crushed him than before.
Clatter.
Teeth chattering, body shaking. His sword lay dropped long ago.
Twice as many orcs as before turned toward them. Joseph squeezed his eyes shut.
Damn that courtier bastard.
He awaited death. But the thundering steps he'd braced for never came.
Instead, piercing screams drilled his ears.
"Squeeee!"
Like a hog's throat slit. Joseph cracked an eye.
"Kweeee!"
"Kraaaak!"
Orcs soared through the air.
Bodies sundered top-to-bottom, or side-to-side.
Blood fountained everywhere, misting the air like fog.
Beyond that red haze stood the prince.
His form inhuman, trailing streaks of brilliant blue radiance.