Chapter 64
Chapter 64
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: 21. Orc Beyond Orcs vs Knight Beyond Knights (4)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
『If you hang around with a bad guy, lightning will strike you.』
Bernard Ilai thought this saying described his situation perfectly.
He had stood beside the eldest son of the treasonous Count Giern family, making remarks based on facts, and now he was standing in the courtroom. It was exactly like getting splashed with shit while standing next to a wastrel.
That's what he thought right up until he gave his testimony from the witness stand. Just a bit of filth splashed on him, nothing more.
But it didn't take long to realize that what had splattered onto his body wasn't mere filth—it was blood.
By exposing his son's crimes before the entire court, Bernard had earned the nobles' enmity. As a result, starting from the second trial, he found himself standing in the defendant's seat alongside the others, no longer as a witness.
He resented the fallen house for dragging him down and the royal family for offering him up as a sacrificial lamb to appease the nobles.
But what could he do? Having no power was his sin.
He figured he'd serve as a white-clad attendant, get a light sentence, and then live quietly on his estate like a dead rat.
That turned out to be a delusion as well.
The North was far more brutal than he'd imagined. Orcs invaded every four days, and it was a horrific place where anyone could die at any moment without it seeming strange.
In fact, before even two weeks had passed since arriving in the North, half of the wastrels were dead. One had an axe buried in his forehead; another slipped and fell from the ramparts, turning into a bloody pulp.
No one cared about their deaths. The young heirs of once-noble houses were tossed onto piles of burning monster corpses and reduced to ash.
The convicts fought desperately to survive. But this was a place too savage to stay alive on willpower alone, and in less than a month after arriving in the North, they were all dead.
Bernard was the sole survivor.
The mana forging technique and swordsmanship passed down through his family kept him alive. The family reject he'd stubbornly clung to even as his house fell was now his only lifeline.
For the first time, hope flickered that he might complete his exile unscathed.
But this godforsaken frozen wasteland was born to crush human hope.
The monster calling itself the Orc King—what they'd dubbed the Warlord—led 20,000 troops to assault the fortress.
Facing that overwhelming presence, he felt a soul-shattering terror. When the Orcs' war banner was planted atop the watchtower, it was like glimpsing a grim future, filling him with despair.
Then a familiar boy climbed the watchtower. Precariously scaling the frozen rooftop, the boy slashed the red banner at its base and raised it high.
The moment he witnessed that seemingly insignificant sight, hope bloomed amid the despair.
Horns blared. Knights sang a strange battle hymn. In that instant, the mana in his heart surged.
The fear that had crushed his very being began to fade.
Only then did Bernard realize the boy standing tall atop the watchtower was the culprit who had brought him to this brutal place.
He resented him.
While he had lost everything and received no one's care as he fought for his life on the ramparts, that wastrel prince was basking in the soldiers' cheers. It irked him.
A filthy world. A damned life.
But he couldn't just keep resenting forever.
The Orcs were advancing. Winterfort's rangers loosed arrows, but they couldn't stem the dark green wave staining the snowfields.
Orcs on wolves scaled the walls. Ladders hooked onto the battlements.
Countless Orcs clambered up.
"Arrows!"
The ranger in front of him reached out. Bernard, waiting, tried to hand over arrows, but for some reason, the ranger froze in place.
"Ah..."
Bernard belatedly noticed the spear jutting from the ranger's nape.
Thud.
The ranger tumbled powerlessly beyond the wall. In his place, a massive Orc thrust its head over.
"Eek!"
He drew his sword. Infusing it with mana, he swung at the Orc.
It was an attack that would split any ordinary monster's head in two, but this Orc was far from ordinary.
Bam!
The Orc blocked with a blade shimmering in red aura and kicked out. Getting hit would send him flying off the wall into a bloody mess. He twisted to dodge, but unfortunately, the ramparts were too chaotic.
His foot caught on the ranger's corpse, and Bernard rolled messily across the stone.
"Someone, help..."
He scanned for anyone who could help.
A soldier with a severed arm body-slammed an Orc. A blinded ranger hugged an Orc, stabbing wildly with a dagger. A knight surrounded by three Orcs struggled with a handaxe embedded in his side.
No one looked his way.
"Ah..."
Bernard sensed death. Baring yellowed fangs, the Orc snarled as he thrust his sword. But it was no technique—just feeble flailing.
The Orc's red-enshrouded blade sent his sword flying far away.
He closed his eyes. Better if it ended without pain.
Slash.
A chilling sound pierced his ears.
Had his throat been slit? His chest gashed? His gut pierced? Countless thoughts flashed through his mind.
But he felt nothing.
Maybe he'd died instantly. Bernard felt relief, at least.
Glad to go cleanly.
"Well, well? Eyes closed? You bastard, what knight order are you from?!"
Suddenly, someone smacked the back of his head. The skull-rattling impact made Bernard open his eyes.
"Iron Lion? You're not even basics-level, you punk!"
A blood-soaked boy yelled furiously. The reaper-like Orc was now a headless corpse.
"Y-Your Highness..."
"Get up! Grab your sword! If you can't fight, get down! You're in the way!"
The prince rattled off commands and dashed along the wall. In his wake, Orcs fell spurting blood.
"Pour it!"
Rangers doused oil. Flaming arrows rained down on the Orcs.
Whoosh—explosions erupted, flames surging below the walls.
Why not use this earlier?
Bernard slumped as the last Orc scaling the wall was beheaded.
He gasped for breath. Then he spotted the prince conversing with the commander far off.
Damn it all—the prince didn't even remember him.
That irked him more than the relief of survival.
From that day, Bernard lingered around the 1st Prince, hoping he'd be recognized.
But it was a foolish choice.
Wherever the prince went, the fiercest battles raged. No place for childish sentiment.
That's what he thought. Yet pride surged.
He gritted his teeth and fought. Even when death loomed repeatedly, he stuck by the prince's side.
The east wall fell to the Orcs. Countless died. And more were still dying. The east wall became a land of death.
The prince ascended that hellish place.
"Move! Healthy ones, carry the wounded!"
The 1st Prince shouted while cutting down Orcs. Rangers who hadn't escaped hesitated back.
The prince pressed on. Orc numbers swelled. Wounds accumulated on the prince. Proportionally, the number of saved soldiers grew.
"You idiots! I said run, not fight!"
The prince bellowed. But the rangers were idiots as he said—they fought bloodied Orcs instead of fleeing.
Countless rangers grabbed one or two Orcs and hurled themselves off the wall.
Bernard wondered for a moment.
Why fight so desperately? Too many threw away their lives like twigs for mere survival.
"Gah!"
Suddenly, his throat constricted. His vision flashed, and he found himself on the cold stone, ass planted.
"You stupid bastard!"
The prince snapped. He'd nearly been got by an Orc while lost in thought.
"If you're gonna half-ass it, I told you to stay below!"
No gratitude stirred. He was angrier at the prince still not recognizing him.
I'm in this hell because of you.
He gritted his teeth and gripped his sword.
"If you're fighting, do it right. Ilai."
The prince said.
"Huh?"
Bernard looked at the prince. But he was already far ahead.
"You knew?"
"I've known for a few days now. I just didn't show it."
A clear voice unfit for the battlefield rang out. Turning, he saw a bloodied knightess.
"If you're fighting, go forward. Otherwise, withdraw."
With that, the knightess unleashed sword beams and dashed toward the prince. Swarming Orcs soon surrounded the pair.
"Damn it. Why does everyone keep telling me to go down!"
Bernard gritted his teeth and gripped his sword.
"I'll follow to the end! Even if I die!"
In that instant, his heart thundered.
A tale began.
An unwitting aspiration etched itself into verse.
Bernard Ilai, his sword gleaming with unusually bright light, leaped into the Orcs.
"Hah, hah."
Bernard was utterly exhausted. He couldn't lift a finger. If an Orc charged to sever his head, he'd offer it willingly.
Fortunately, no Orcs remained atop the wall. At least, none alive.
As he panted, a foot appeared before him.
Looking up, the blood-covered prince gazed down.
"Follow even in death?"
He'd apparently heard the mutter amid the chaos.
"Suit yourself."
The prince said indifferently and turned.
"This way, if you please."
Bernard stared blankly when that clear voice pierced his ears again.
"Hah!"
Even sweat-matted hair seemed beautiful on the woman.
"From today, His Highness decrees your affiliation shifts from the central army to his direct command. If it's unwelcome, speak now. He won't force anyone who refuses."
"N-No, it's fine!"
Where did this strength come from? Bernard shouted.
"Very well."
The woman replied flatly.
That woman... the knightess toyed with as drinking fodder that night...
Bernard thought the eldest son of Baron Balson, beaten to a pulp by the prince and dying slowly, deserved it. If he'd lived, Bernard would've killed him himself.
Bernard, heir of the Ilai house that clung to the Mana Heart to the end.
In Winterfort, amid battle with the Warlord, he found the lord to entrust his future to. And met the object of an impossible crush.