Chapter 46
Chapter 46
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 46
Chapter Title: 15. Before We Knew It, the Harsh Winter Was Approaching (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
『Are you my opponent?』
The orc chieftain asked.
『Why? Not to your liking?』
The orc chieftain split his lips in a wide grin.
『Your aura stands above them all. You're more than worthy as my foe.』
The aura the orc spoke of was no different from the "realm" the old knights had described. The orc chieftain seemed genuinely pleased, claiming that even among his own kind, there weren't many like me.
It was laughable. My first opponent to recognize me without any prejudice was an orc.
『Your flesh and blood must be a rare delicacy. Looks like I'll be having the finest meal here today.』
Even if that recognition stemmed from some barbaric belief that devouring the flesh and blood of exceptional beings would elevate one's own realm.
Thud.
The orc chieftain slammed his standard into the ground. Then he hefted the axe-spear leaning beside him.
The spear, over two meters long, looked almost like a switch in his grasp. His massive frame was that overwhelming.
"Your Highness! That one's too much for—"
Vincent started blustering loudly, only to gasp and stagger back.
Crunch.
A massive battle axe was now embedded where he'd stood moments before.
"Orcs hate being underestimated."
I informed the stiffly frozen Vincent.
"And one more thing."
This time, I addressed Arwen and the other knights.
"Orcs don't duel in turns like knights do. So."
I readjusted my grip on Dusk. I stared ahead. Amid them all stood the largest orc here, nostrils flaring as he heaved ragged breaths.
"Everyone, fend for yourselves."
No sooner had my words ended than roars erupted from all around.
Grrrrraaaah!
The orc chieftain bellowed fiercely.
After howling for a long while, the orc fixed his glare on me. His yellow eyes were bloodshot red.
The orc chieftain licked his lips with his tongue.
His face, frantic like a glutton before a feast. Seeing those red eyes gleaming with primal hunger, I smiled.
If orcs sought higher auras by consuming the flesh and blood of the exceptional,
Then I was one who elevated my realm through theirs.
"Let's see who tastes better."
I was just as ravenous before this delicacy.
I parted my lips slightly. A mournful melody trickled from between my teeth.
A dirge for the orc.
The power of the Requiem Poem descended upon me.
Monster roars had the power to stiffen bodies and shatter wills.
An average soldier would drop his sword or spear just from hearing it, and a commoner fainting on the spot wouldn't be strange at all.
Monster roars were that terrifying.
Yet among Ballerhard's soldiers and rangers, none froze or dropped their weapons at the sound.
They were long accustomed to the malice and killing intent woven into those roars—men whose calling was turning those roars into screams.
Such roars meant nothing to them. Or so they thought, until that colossal orc bellowed.
Grrrrraaaah!
It hit like a sudden gale blasting their faces. The rangers peering over the wall ducked back in shock.
"Wha? What?"
They exchanged bewildered glances.
Frozen expressions, pallid faces—these were brave men who'd fought orcs countless times.
"What in the..."
The rangers swallowed dryly and peered down again.
The moment they saw the orc throwing its head back in a howl, their throats locked rigid.
It wasn't a troll or an ogre—just a mere orc. One of the olive-green monsters they'd slain innumerable times.
Yet something was different.
This orc harbored something that made hearts shrink.
It churned their guts like facing a monster as green recruits.
They glared at the orc, forcing strength into their eyes. But the unease only grew.
To the rangers, it was incomprehensible, unacceptable.
How could they know?
This was the universal human response to confronting a being of far superior realm.
"It's starting!"
One of the knights shouted.
Riiiing.
In that instant, clear sword cries rang out in succession.
Hearing that resounding chorus banished the unease gripping the rangers' hearts. But an inexplicable foreboding lingered, keeping them on edge.
Then came a delayed sound.
Huuuummm.
Unlike the typical sword cries, this one was unusually low and dissonant. The moment they heard it, the lingering unease vanished like a lie.
And in its place surged a new emotion.
Seasoned hatred for orcs, forged over winters numbering from a few to dozens, blazed up like wildfire.
"Kill 'em!"
One ranger yelled.
"Wipe the bastards out!"
That sparked it.
"Damn orc scum! Hack 'em to bits!"
"Rip their throats! Gouge their eyes!"
"Kill 'em all!"
The soldiers atop the wall began cursing viciously.
The castle's sunken air heated up. A timely wind made Winter Castle's banners flutter. Riding that breeze, the soldiers' battle spirit soared to the heavens.
Hummmm.
And so their soaring grudge and hatred—their collective will—descended back to earth.
It was then that the prince, standing tall amid the chaotic melee, raised his sword high.
Seeing me draw on the poem's power, the orc chieftain sighed.
『Such a pitiful force for one with such a prominent aura.』
The orc truly pitied me as a boy not yet fully grown.
At least wipe that gluttonous gleam from your eyes before you speak.
『Funny talk from you.』
I sneered.
Looking at me, the orc said to curse my own misfortune in meeting him today of all days.
『Give it your all. Even if it ends in pathetic defeat, I'll grant you an honorable end.』
The orc rumbled from his throat.
『Problem is, I wasn't planning to honor you.』
I'll skewer your corpse on a spear and hang it from the gates, I said. Let crows and maggots desecrate it, so the whole world knows the loser's fate.
The orc scowled at my words.
『Vulgar speech unfit for your aura. No point dragging this out.』
His muscular forearms bulged. Lowering his stance, a low growl escaped the orc.
『I'll claim your flesh and blood before my patience runs dry.』
Watching the orc twitch as if ready to charge, I feigned regret.
『Was I too harsh? Can't help it, though.』
Winter Castle's banners fluttered wildly behind me.
『I owe them a debt.』
I raised my sword high.
『Borrowed their strength, so I have to deliver what they want.』
The sword hummed sharply. Hundreds of emotions clung to the blade, flowing along it, through the hilt, into my hand, and into my body. Grudges, hatred.
The ancient sentiments kindled by hundreds of rangers.
『No matter how I think about it.』
So strikingly like those of a wanderer seeking vengeance on these plains.
『Coming here was the right call.』
I gathered every shred of the hatred and resentment from Winter Castle's soldiers.
My body trembled. The weight of karma swelled beyond bearing, tearing at my heart.
Yet I shouldered it all, and only then did the scales of karma and will balance level.
『Thanks for waiting.』
A crimson gleam exploded from the orc's eyes.
『Noble greenkin aristocrat.』
I aimed Dusk at the orc.
『Offering to the Requiem Lord.』
In that instant, blue flames bloomed along Dusk's edge.
Vincent frowned.
The snowfield was vast, yet the battlefield felt suffocatingly narrow. No matter how he tried to widen it, the orcs clung stubbornly to their chieftain's vicinity.
In that cramped space, their hulking bodies rampaged freely, tangling the knights' movements and preventing them from fighting at full strength.
The orcs, by contrast, fought without restraint. They'd fix on a foe but swing axe or blade at any opening without hesitation.
This was chaos incarnate.
Mind-numbing.
He'd endured melees aplenty, but none had ever made his vision spin like this.
The problem was the orcs' coordination.
Following their fluid movements exposed his back naturally. Dodging an axe from behind brought the front foe lunging with bared fangs.
Block, dodge, counter. Then a familiar back appeared before him.
An ally knight's.
How many crucial chances had he lost like this already?
It was maddening.
He'd never heard of orcs fighting this way. Despite countless battles, cooperation against foes had always been the allied side's tactic, not the orcs'.
"Damn bastards!"
Spitting curses, he thrust his sword—then felt a strange sensation.
"Hah!"
Infusing mana, he kicked the orc's gut. With a crash, the orc staggered back several steps.
Filthy tough body. Even a mana-charged kick only pushed it back a few paces.
Vincent clicked his tongue.
But the orc's toughness wasn't the issue now.
He turned.
Following the eerie sensation behind him, he rolled his eyes.
There stood the First Prince, clutching a sword flickering with blue flames.
Kraaaah!
The colossal orc roared. Blood-red light dripped from his axe-spear.
Boom!
Spear and sword clashed.
Blazing blue flames and overflowing crimson aura collided endlessly in the air.
Boom!
Each explosion scattered blue embers everywhere.
Boom!
Each sharp shockwave sent red energy spraying outward.
Blue embers were sheared off in chunks. Red energy evaporated in the heat.
Vincent and the knights gaped at the unprecedented sight.
Were orcs such powerhouses?
An orc leaking tangible crimson fighting spirit like that. Even berserk orc warriors juiced by shamans weren't this strong.
But more astonishing still
Was the First Prince driving back such an orc.
The axe-spear's blade wore down from the tip. Chipped and gouged, it finally shattered with a crack.
In that moment, the prince's sword crawled up the broken haft. When its edge reached the orc's sinewy arm, it exploded outward.
Slice.
Both orc arms severed.
Slash.
The prince's sword carved through the orc's thigh.
"Grraaaah!"
The orc, bereft of limbs, screamed.
Crunch.
The First Prince stomped the orc's chest.
"Farewell."
Gripping his sword in reverse, the First Prince plunged it down.
In that instant, the orc's body was engulfed in azure flames. The blue fire that consumed the orc then swallowed the First Prince as well.
"Y-Your Highness!"
A female knight who'd been staring blankly screamed and charged forward.
This time, even the fierce orcs didn't hinder her. Both sides watched their flaming chieftain in the same rapt horror.
"Don't come closer!"
Then the prince's voice rang from the flames.
It wasn't the agonized groan or desperate plea they expected.
Just an urgent warning.
In that moment, from beyond the snowfield—opposite Winter Castle, deep in the mountains—a savage roar echoed.
The soul-shattering bellow dizzied their minds.
Had it not been for the ear-splitting boom that followed, the knights would have taken much longer to snap out of it.
Kwaaaaaah!
Something erupted from the mountains, hurtling toward them.
The belatedly recovered knights widened their eyes. They saw soaring blue flames.
From within the azure blaze, the prince swung his sword down.
Boom!
An explosion sounded. The prince slammed into the ground. Whatever had flown at him veered off, ricocheting far away.
Thud.
It had burrowed into Winter Castle's sturdy wall—a massive spear.
Five meters long, thicker than a man's thigh. Whether it could truly be called a spear was questionable.