Chapter 13
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Dungeon Surge (3)
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*Crack.*
The orc's lower jaw tore away following the path of my fist. Its head had already been twisted to an angle it could never recover from long ago.
The creature staggered for a moment before collapsing. I couldn't tell if it was dead or not, but its green bulk twitched before it even hit the ground.
This wasn't a situation where I was surrounded by numbers. There was no need to finish it off completely. Making it unable to move right away was enough.
On the contrary, I had to keep moving without rest. That way, I wouldn't get encircled and could always face just one or two at a time.
I deflected the side of an axe falling from above with the back of my hand, then spun and leaped forward.
*Thwack!*
I passed by an orc whose temple had caved in from my knee strike, its limbs flailing busily.
Sometimes clashing head-on in contests of strength, sometimes striking vital points through gaps, sometimes parrying attacks and countering.
Bare-handed. Occasionally swinging stolen weapons as I rampaged in a frenzy of slaughter.
Orcs might differ in fine details, but their overall form was similar to humans, so fighting them like I always did wasn't difficult.
That said, every now and then, there were ones swinging weapons that looked high-quality even at a glance.
They were stronger than the average orcs, requiring two or three more exchanges to bring down.
Probably weapons taken from adventurers killed in the dungeon. From the orcs' perspective, they'd be treasures carried by their strongest fighters.
Well, they were a bit annoying, but not dangerously so. I never had to stop moving.
How long had I been wildly thrashing about like that? The orcs were starting to hesitate, clearly growing fearful and not charging at me as readily.
On top of that, knights who had rushed out beyond the gates and a few skilled individuals were sweeping through the orcs alongside them.
Judging by their mismatched attire, those unidentified experts were probably adventurers active in the dungeon.
Orcs were stronger than humans, and dungeon orcs far stronger than regular ones, but...
Knights were superhumans who surpassed human limits. Adventurers were professionals who specialized in fighting monsters to begin with.
They might be outnumbered, but individually, their skills were more than sufficient. They were pushing back the orcs with ease.
Good. We'd seized the momentum, and eyes were starting to gather. Time to slip away.
One slightly stronger orc wielding a proper weapon. While facing it, I deliberately thrust my arm into the path of its arming sword swing.
*Slash—*
A single drop of blood seeped from the lightly sliced skin. It was such a minor scratch that squeezing it wouldn't even yield a second drop... but I screamed first anyway.
"Arrrghhh!"
"Ogaak...?"
Maybe because I suddenly yelled. The orc froze, looking baffled. Before it could recover, I turned tail and bolted backward.
Perfect.
The stares pouring from around me stabbed into my back like needles, but I ignored them and sprinted at full speed.
Using the mound of orc corpses as footing, I scaled the wall in one bound.
Then I ran toward the mansion, my next goal. To sell the image of fleeing, I deliberately took a detour through the back alleys instead of the main street.
This time, aware of the residents' gazes—half anxious, half puzzled—I didn't forget to clutch my lightly cut arm with my other hand.
In truth, thanks to that mad alchemist, my regeneration was high enough that a wound like this had already healed the moment I screamed... but anyway, didn't I need to plant the image of me making a huge fuss over even a tiny scratch?
I was running at a moderate pace, deliberately making it visible, when it happened.
*Crack.*
A faint sound of something fracturing.
I instinctively turned my head, and there stood the sturdy city wall.
*Boom!*
The sturdy city wall that had been standing...
It wasn't just a hole punched through— an entire section of the wall had completely crumbled.
"What the hell?"
Sensing something ominous, I stopped. Dust billowed from the debris. As I glared through it, trying to pierce the haze, somehow I knew.
Something on the other side was glaring back at me.
"KuRaHaaa!!"
I had no idea what it meant, but it was that tiresome orc tongue. At the same time, a massive shadow rose and fell.
*Thud!*
The vibration was so heavy it reached all the way here.
At the ominous presence, I dropped the injured act and assumed a proper stance again.
The first thing visible was its absurdly massive build.
My frame was considerable, but orcs were generally a head taller than me. It was natural, given the difference in species.
But the opponent before me was two or three heads taller than regular orcs... exaggerating a bit, it was about twice the height and bulk of an ordinary human.
No armor fitting that frame, or for some other reason—it wore nothing but leather pants, unlike the crude protective gear on the other orcs.
Its exposed upper body was packed with bulging muscles, crisscrossed by scars that crawled over them like veins.
Even limited to the pants, they had fairly ornate decorations for an orc...
More eye-catching, though, was the weapon on its back.
Even skilled orcs carried at most one or two adventurer's gear.
But this one had eight slung across its back, all gleaming pristine—not ordinary weapons by any means.
Probably enchanted, not just sturdy and sharp.
At a glance, it was the leader commanding this orc horde. It must have exploited the concentration of forces at the main gate to bypass and infiltrate from the side like this.
Our eyes met, and it grinned, pulling a halberd from its back with one hand.
Despite being a polearm, its enormous size made it look light as it lifted it effortlessly and slammed it into the ground.
*Thud!*
Handling it lightly didn't mean its power was any less devastating.
For a moment, I grimaced at how deeply the halberd had gouged the ground in a spiderweb of cracks.
"Zug, Okta Kaga Tata."
"What're you saying?"
It pointed back and forth between me and itself with a smirking face, muttering something.
But realizing I didn't understand, it scratched its head sheepishly before extending its hand sideways.
For a second, I wondered if this one could communicate. Maintaining my guard, I followed its gaze.
At the tip of the orc leader's finger were the terrified residents of Zahav Castle.
They weren't fighters. Not people who staked their lives for promised honor and coin.
Too frail to be soldiers. But with families to protect, they trembled while clutching sickles or kitchen knives.
Even with foul tempers, they evoked memories of brothers who stepped up to shield family from danger, and mothers who drew daggers they'd never touched before to defend their homes after those brothers fell.
The orc leader dragged its pointing finger across its own throat in a slicing motion.
Its intent was transparently clear, even without language.
"You bastard...?"
"Grahaha!!"
As I clenched my fist, it finally burst into laughter and hoisted the halberd.
"Ha! Fine. You want a one-on-one, or you'll kill them all, right?"
If it were just me, I could flee right now.
This leader looked like a tough opponent, unlike the others. And I'd just been fighting nonstop, so I was fatigued.
It might earn me the label of coward, bringing expulsion one step closer.
Hell, if I wanted, I could abandon Zahav Castle entirely and head to another territory.
But I didn't want to.
I could leave Calypso Territory anytime if I chose. Yet I'd waited for the right moment and sought other paths—what for?
Not just to avoid warrants and a lifetime as a fugitive...
Precisely because I wanted to live honorably, with a clear conscience.
Back on Earth, I couldn't grasp why living true to oneself mattered so much.
Just eat well and live well—that should be enough, right?
But now, after being forced to the bottom rungs in Calypso, crawling through that damp darkness to survive, I was different.
There is something necessary for a person to remain human.
I might not strut with pride, but shouldn't I at least preserve basic dignity?
Abandoning these people to die would be easy, but it would make me no different from those who'd tortured and tried to kill me for their own goals.
It would shame me before my own eyes. So I wouldn't retreat.
That's how I'd lived until now, and how I would continue.
I gritted my teeth and stepped forward. Then clenched my fist tighter, drawing power from deep within.
"I've always hated bastards who force shitty choices on me and tell me what to do."
"Mogh?"
"Yeah, you, you pig bastard."
I channeled the heat spreading from around my heart straight into my fist.
And thrust it forward.
*Boom!*
My fist, etched with complex patterns, smashed down on the halberd.