Chapter 63
Chapter 63
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: 21. Orc Beyond Orcs vs. Knight Beyond Knights (3)
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Anyone could tell at a glance.
Who commanded this army of twenty thousand, and who was their king.
A noble being born to rule. An orc that transcended its kind. The tyrant born in the Blade Mountains.
That was the Warlord.
The soldiers of Winter Castle felt fear in the face of his overwhelming presence. The knights' fighting spirit wavered, and among the terrified mercenaries, more and more began wetting themselves and collapsing in place.
Some even threw themselves to the ground, clutching their heads and trembling uncontrollably.
The battle hadn't even begun, yet the atmosphere on the walls felt like the castle had already fallen.
Then the monster seized the flagpole. He gripped the banner—several times larger than a standard legion flag—like a spear and pulled his shoulder back.
His red gaze swept over Winter Castle. Then it stopped somewhere.
It was the tallest spire of Winter Castle, where the Ballerhard banner fluttered.
The Warlord drew his shoulder back further and hurled the legion flag with all his might.
The red banner flew through the swirling blizzard.
Kadrrrrrk.
The sound of it tearing through the wind and the banner flapping wildly echoed out.
Boom.
A crimson legion flag bloomed atop the spire. As if it had always belonged there, the red banner fluttered naturally in the wind.
The people of Winter Castle realized in that moment.
What the Warlord was declaring.
The orc king was claiming this land—with Winter Castle on it—as his own. The red flag waving from the highest spire was his proclamation.
"That bastard sure knows how to make a grand declaration of war."
The lord of Winter Castle furrowed his brow.
He glanced at his soldiers.
His valiant rangers and knights stared at the orc army with crushed expressions. He wondered if they could even fight properly in this state—their morale was utterly broken.
It was only natural, of course.
Even Quad Chain knights felt this pressure; how much worse for the rest?
"He sent a gift, so we should return the courtesy."
As he forced a bold tone and searched for a way to turn the tide, one of the knights staring entranced at the spire shouted.
"Someone's climbing the spire!"
At the sudden cry, people looked up at the spire again. Someone had stuck their head out through a window and was scaling the wall toward the roof.
"It's His Highness the First Prince!"
A sharp-eyed knight called out.
"When did he...?"
The commander frowned. His nephew had been on the walls just moments ago—how had he climbed the spire's stairs without anyone noticing, and what was he doing up there?
In the midst of the raging gale, the First Prince barely reached the roof and sliced through the base of the flag the Warlord had planted.
Gripping the flag tightly, the First Prince straightened his shoulders. He looked just like a triumphant general returning with the enemy's banner as a trophy.
The lord of Winter Castle was impressed.
Now he understood why his nephew had done such a thing.
The severed Ballerhard banner, replaced by the Warlord's legion flag—it had painted an ominous picture of the future. But the moment the First Prince raised that legion flag in his own hand, it became an entirely different scene.
"We captured the enemy's command flag before the fight even started—what a great beginning!"
The lord of Winter Castle burst into hearty laughter.
"I never can figure out Father's obsession with flags."
His son chimed in.
"A king's banner has to be worth at least fifty, right?"
"Now the commander's got nothing on him!"
The rangers erupted in cheers and laughter.
But their faces remained stiff as boards. They were forcing high spirits in response to the First Prince's wit, but they couldn't shake the Warlord's presence.
Bwooooooo!
Then someone blew a horn.
It was the First Prince again.
Bwooooooo!
The First Prince blew the horn once more.
"Hm?"
The short and long blasts in sequence felt strangely familiar.
"Snow-covered mountains, frozen valleys, blood-soaked walls stand silent...?"
One of the knights hummed the war poem. Its rhythm matched the horn blasts perfectly.
Finally grasping the First Prince's intent, the knights spun their rings and chanted the war poem.
Bwooooooo!
That was when mana-infused solemnity rode the horn's sound.
The Iron Lion knights awkwardly joined in the chant, and the Black Spear Cavalry knights—who had just arrived—resonated their rings and recited the poem as well. The song spread across all of Winter Castle as hundreds of knights sang it.
The Warlord's soul-crushing presence began to fade. The tension that had stiffened their necks softened once more.
"Ian's really on fire today."
Admiration filled the lord of Winter Castle's voice.
No speech from the commander, no matter how imposing, could have rallied morale this dramatically. No amount of aura blades blooming before the enemy could have diluted the Warlord's presence like this.
"If we let Ian handle everything, the commander's pride takes a hit."
The lord of Winter Castle took a spear handed to him. He intended to deliver his long-delayed reply.
His four rings spun in unison, gathering at the spear. Inhaling sharply, the lord hurled it.
Whiiiiiish!
The spear hurtled toward the orcs' center with force rivaling the Warlord's flag toss.
Boom!
Dozens of orcs exploded into bloody pulp amid the crash.
On cue, Vincent signaled toward the base of the walls.
Quellan Lichtheim, captain of the Black Spear Cavalry, nodded and raised his hand.
The Black Spear Cavalry, waiting mounted below the walls, seized their short spears in unison.
"Javelin volley."
At the low command, they hurled their spears.
Whiiiiiish.
A hundred spears rose from behind the walls. Black trails crossed the sky and rained down on the orc vanguard.
Boom!
Orcs struck by mana-charged spears met instant death. Those caught in the shockwaves tumbled, rolled, and scattered in chaos.
"Javelin volley!"
The Black Spear Cavalry loosed spear after spear. Lightning-like strikes hammered the orc lines each time.
Yet the orcs showed no sign of faltering.
They merely panted with bloodshot eyes.
Dong.
The orcs began to move only after the drumbeat resounded.
Dong. Dong.
The orcs stepped forward in time with the drums.
The leisurely rhythm suddenly accelerated, pounding like a racing heartbeat.
And the orcs' pace quickened accordingly.
"Grraaaaaah!"
"Kraaaaaah!"
Rumble.
Footsteps thundering like thunder.
Even the sturdy walls shook, shedding snow in cascades.
"Rangers, nock and hold!"
Hundreds of rangers atop the walls fitted arrows to strings.
"Draw!"
Facing the dark green tidal wave crashing toward the castle, the rangers gritted their teeth.
"Loose!"
They released in unison.
Twang.
Taut bowstrings snapped one after another, sending hundreds of arrows arcing through the sky.
Thud thud thud.
Leading orcs rolled across the ground under the deadly hail. Those who fell were trampled into paste by the press behind them.
Whiiiiiish!
Rangers loosed arrows at a blur.
"Ballistae! Ready!"
Infantrymen waiting on the walls pulled off coverings. Winter Castle's massive anti-monster ballistae, shielded from snow, were revealed.
"Fire!"
Pillars-thick ballista bolts slammed into the orc ranks. Dozens of orcs were torn apart and flung into the air.
Thud thud thud thud.
Yet the orc advance didn't slow in the slightest.
Awooooo!
Wolf howls rang out, and wolf riders burst from the dark green wave.
"Prioritize the wolves!"
Commanders shouted at the sight. Bolt-throwers swiveled. Arrows shifted aim.
Swish swish swish.
Hundreds of arrows poured onto the wolf riders.
Yelp!
Wolves screamed and tumbled. But far more reached the walls.
Snarl!
The wolves kicked off the ground and raced up the walls like flat ground. But they couldn't fully climb the sheer ice—slipping two-thirds up.
Then the riders leaped from their backs, hooks in hand.
Whoosh.
They hurled hooks mid-air.
Waiting knights swatted them away. But there were too many to block entirely.
Clank.
Countless hooks latched onto the walls.
Wolf riders swarmed up the ropes in seconds.
"Repel them!"
Soldiers and knights thrust spears and swords.
Stab stab.
The wolf riders offered their broad backs instead of resisting. They were shredded in moments.
But they had completed their mission.
Hundreds of ladders woven from thick ropes dangled down the walls.
Knights realized too late and channeled mana into their blades. Before they could swing, hundreds of spears flew up from below.
"Argh!"
Rangers busy firing arrows were impaled and flung off. Several low-rank squires failed to block and died on the spot.
Only a handful of knights managed to parry spears and cut ladders.
"Down!"
Another spear volley flew up.
Rangers hugging the walls dropped low.
Meanwhile, orcs reached the base and began climbing the ladders.
Knights dashed about, severing ladders. Orcs hurled spears and axes to interfere.
Finally, orc warriors crested the walls.
"Knights, on the orc warriors!"
At Vincent's order, knights charged the orc warriors atop the walls.
"Rangers, keep shooting! Infantry, cut the ladders!"
Rangers perilously leaned out and drew. Climbing orcs were struck and plummeted.
"Agh!"
A ranger's skull split by an axe from below—he died instantly. Soldiers and rangers fell to spears and axes everywhere.
"Hm."
The lord of Winter Castle clicked his tongue.
The situation was dire.
The orcs' siege tactics were the same crude methods as always. The only difference was their sheer numbers.
The volume of incoming spears and axes, the sprawl of ladders—it was unprecedented.
That scale was forcing casualties on his forces.
"Splash!"
At the commanders' shouts, rangers poured oil. Orcs clustered tight against the walls were drenched in sticky fluid.
"Ignite!"
Rangers loosed flaming arrows in unison.
Flames erupted along the walls.
"Kieeeek!"
Engulfed orcs screamed.
In the interim, soldiers and knights cleared the walls. Fires spread to the dangling ladders.
"Too soon."
The First Prince, appearing out of nowhere, frowned at the flames.
"We should've saved it for when the men were exhausted and desperate for a breather."
He meant the oil prepped below the walls.
"With casualties mounting, we had no choice."
Vincent offered a defense that wasn't quite one.
"I know. But at this rate, we'll be fighting them hand-to-hand before the week's out."
Below, countless orcs waited for the flames to die.
"This is really bad."
The commanders' faces darkened at the First Prince's words.
Day 1 of battle. Forty-eight rangers, thirty-four infantry, and seven squires dead. Four thousand arrows expended, along with fifty oil jars prepped below the walls.
The orcs remained countless.