Chapter 139
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 139
Prologue
Kurak led the main force with two gatekeepers. The remaining four Orc gatekeepers each commanded their own units, launching a five-pronged invasion.
Watching the bloody battle unfold through a full-body mirror prepared by Bathory, Swallow scooped up a handful of popcorn and muttered, "They really fight like absolute trash."
Half a day wasn't long, but it was more than enough time for hundreds, even thousands, of lives to be extinguished.
Before the sun had even set, two castles had fallen.
Felstein's fall was expected, given the arrangement between Kurak and the paladin. If anything, watching the Orcs’ movements there was rather entertaining. He had been skeptical when they'd claimed the Empire would fall within a month, but this battle made him a believer. It certainly wasn't an empty boast. With a human traitor on the inside and a strategy of annihilation over occupation, they could definitely push straight to the Imperial capital and end the war in a month.
The ones Swallow had called "trash" were, of course, the humans.
To hear them talk, you'd think they could take on Swallow himself, but the moment their defensive line shattered, they devolved into a disorganized mob. He had expected a fierce melee, but it turned into a one-sided massacre.
"Morale is always the most important factor," Patrick commented. "With their lord and defense captain dead before the battle even truly began, it was like they were fighting with their heads already chopped off."
"Is that so?"
Hearing Patrick's reply, Swallow let out a long yawn. He looked utterly baffled. As someone who handled everything from start to finish on his own, the concept was difficult for him to grasp.
"Anyway, forget the castle Kurak is at. What about those idiots who lost to the other gatekeepers? Are they completely hopeless?"
"Even I can't make excuses for them."
Swallow pointed to the mirror on the left. Through a thick cloud of dust and smoke, a collapsed castle wall was visible. The forces there had defended well at first, but the moment rumors of Felstein's fall reached them, their will to fight seemed to evaporate, and their lines crumbled. They lost the siege, and the castle was ruthlessly taken.
"Bad news always travels faster than good news."
"Ugh, how boring. I don't like this."
Patrick smiled awkwardly. Swallow seemed to be getting annoyed, having expected a fierce battle only to witness a disappointing slaughter.
"Should I go down there and make things a little more interesting?"
"No, please don't."
It would be one thing if it just became 'interesting,' but you don't know the meaning of moderation, Boss.
When Patrick flatly rejected the idea, Swallow slumped over in disappointment. Watching him with a complicated gaze, Patrick felt a strange sense of anxiety.
In this regard, he's starting to act just like Melju. Seeing them only resemble each other's childish sides makes me feel like the dungeon's overall standards are gradually deteriorating…
It had to be his imagination. Please, let it be his imagination.
"More importantly, this is quite impressive."
Patrick gestured toward the central mirror, which now showed Kurak again, hoping to change the subject.
"Kurak seems stronger than I thought. He certainly has the skill to back up his bravado."
A blue glow flickered within the Orc’s eye sockets. Glancing at it, Swallow asked casually, "You want to fight him?"
"To be honest, I do. Did you see him fighting earlier? I don't know what you think, Boss, but he's easily the strongest Orc I've ever seen. His skill with that axe is extraordinary… I'm curious. What would happen if we clashed with everything we had?"
"Why are you always trying to fight? The world is in chaos because there are too many people like you. I wish all the races could just get along."
You're really not one to talk, Boss.
Patrick was about to remind him of the sheer number of races he had personally destroyed, but he clamped his jaw shut. He’d made a similar joke once, and Swallow had actually sat down and started counting every species he’d driven to extinction. He vaguely recalled one of them being called the Logtaniapresa or something similar—creatures from about 1,400 years ago, Swallow had said.
"It's just that we haven't faced any real crises lately. I suppose you could say I'm lacking stimulation."
"You're the only one who hasn't faced a crisis," Swallow grumbled.
As Swallow replied irritably, Patrick simply rolled onto his back without another word. The large-scale battle was mostly over, leaving plenty of time before the next clash. Just as Swallow was about to drift off for a nap—
"Lord Swallow! Rene has prepared a meal for you!"
—a real crisis arrived.
"Rene… you're here."
Swallow's expression froze. Though it was just a gatekeeper coming to see her boss, he looked as if a primordial horror was approaching. His gaze was fixed not on Rene, but on the pot she was carrying.
"Yes, Lord Swallow! You've been doing nothing but sitting in front of the mirror all day, eating and sleeping. And you only ever eat that white stuff, so Rene was worried about you!"
No, you really don't need to worry about me.
Swallow knew, however, that saying so wouldn't change a thing.
"So, Rene prepared this nutritious meal for you!"
"R-Right…"
This is bad.
"And I brought two bowls!"
Twice as bad.
"I poured my whole heart into it!"
The danger just went critical.
Rene smiled brightly. It seemed that ever since Melju started making popcorn, Rene felt she was losing her dominance in the culinary arts to the little Demon King. As a result, the frequency of her "dishes" had been steadily increasing. And they were becoming more and more heartfelt. With Rene's cooking, sincerity was directly proportional to lethality.
Patrick, who had been watching the war, turned his head. He, too, had judged that Rene's food was a far greater threat than Kurak. Staring at the steam rising from the pot, he offered his honest assessment.
"I'm so glad I'm a skeleton who doesn't need to eat. Long live the undead. By the way, I think I know what this dish is. No matter how you look at it, it's clearly modeled after Mr. 116 Black Tentacles—"
Splat!
Rene slammed one of the bowls right into Patrick's face. Hot smoke immediately began billowing from his eye sockets, and he collapsed on the spot. And just like that, Patrick—a being who had once held his own against Swallow for several minutes—was taken down in a single blow.
"Serves you right," Swallow muttered, but his expression stiffened when he realized there was still one bowl left.
"Lord Swallow, it must be hot, so Rene will blow on it and feed you!"
"No, you must be busy. Why don't you just leave it here?"
"Say ahhh~"
Rene's sun-bright smile completely steamrolled Swallow's feeble resistance. Her smile was so dazzling he couldn't look at it directly. But the food scooped onto the spoon was, in a different sense, too hideous to behold.
"Ahhh~"
As Rene held the spoon out, Swallow, torn between life and death, opened his mouth. It was an irresistible force.
"Ah… Ah…"
Facing the greatest trial since the dungeon's creation, Swallow opened his mouth, stammering, before finally uttering his last words.
"I… I… I choose starvation!"
By the time Bathory arrived in Swallow's room, he and Patrick were already lying collapsed side by side.
Phase. 1
The Orcs' path of advance after Felstein's fall was obvious.
The shortest route to Riaze led through the plains of the East Gate, but the path was a muddy bog unsuitable for a large army. To make matters worse, a vast swampland stretched out at the end, a route even humans avoided for trade. Their only viable option was to bypass the swamp by taking the road straight from the Northeast Gate.
The small castle of Rubhem lay directly on that path.
Due to its favorable geography, Rubhem was a major transit point for goods. The Orcs, who had already secured all other key locations, were well aware of this fact.
"Why, why… Damn it… Curse it…!"
Magino, the Lord of Rubhem, was a spineless coward. Unlike Carlyle, who had seized his lordship with a sword, Magino was a hothouse flower, a noble by birth. The only blood he had ever seen was that of disobedient servants or gladiators in the arena.
A man like that could never be skilled in warfare. The moment he grasped the situation, Magino sent out two squads of scouts. The results were grim. Their reports only confirmed that the Orcs were marching directly for Rubhem.
One of the squads never returned.
"We're going to die… We're all going to die…"
Ever since Felstein fell, Magino had done nothing but hide in his bedchamber, shivering under his blankets. In a war between nations, surrender might mean being taken hostage under the customs of knighthood. But against monsters, such courtesies didn't apply. The moment you surrendered, you died. Yet he couldn't flee, either. If he sought asylum in another city, the Empire would surely have his head.
The Orcs were already at the castle gates. Judging that a reckless assault against the fully manned walls would be costly, they set up camp nearby.
"The Orcs have no intention of wasting time… They'll attack tomorrow."
Magino was a coward, but not a complete fool.
Even in the dead of night, the Orcs' battle cries reached the soldiers on the walls. They were clearly biding their time, planning to end this swiftly. By tomorrow, his territory and his life would be forfeit…
As he waited for death in the depths of despair, reinforcements from Riaze arrived.
"I am Kart, Captain of the Nixir Red Dragon Subjugation Squad from Riaze."
A middle-aged knight, his red armor fitting him perfectly, bowed his head. He trailed off, taking in Magino's pathetic state. How could he offer a proper greeting when the lord himself had no will to fight? After finishing his salute on one knee, Kart rose and glanced back. Behind him, over a hundred members of his subjugation squad awaited his command.
Well, I suppose it's impressive enough that he didn't run away.
He couldn't entirely blame Magino. It was a relief the lord was even still here. Besides, punishing him wouldn't improve the atmosphere. Holding him accountable would do no good. But if they were to avoid a pointless death, they needed to make a choice, and quickly.
"I'll skip the pleasantries and speak plainly."
At Kart's words, Magino trembled.
"My Lord, you clearly have no intention of stopping the Orcs. Therefore, I ask that you relinquish full command of this castle's defense to me."
There was no rebuke for his insolence. The Nixir Red Dragon Subjugation Squad was one of the few S-rank Subjugation Squads in the Empire.
After a moment of blank staring, Magino nodded frantically, as if having a seizure.
* * *
"All soldiers, listen up!"
Kart climbed onto the castle wall and shouted.
"Do not fear the enemy's numbers! We are not fighting a pitched battle or a war of annihilation! This is a siege! It doesn't matter how many of their ugly heads appear! Our goal isn't to chop off every last one! We just need to keep those heads from getting inside this castle until the main force from Riaze arrives!"
The soldiers cheered.
Kart scanned the faces of the men stationed on the wall. There was hope in their eyes, but it didn't translate into a will to fight.
They have no determination to win.
The hope in their eyes was nothing more than a desire to let someone else do the fighting. Since they were powerless compared to the Nixir Red Dragon Subjugation Squad, they simply expected the squad to handle everything.
Kart gritted his teeth. He hated allies with no will to fight far more than he hated a merciless enemy.
Stopping his speech, he approached a nearby archer who was muttering in despair. The archer looked up, his face clouded with despair. Without a word, Kart drove his fist into the man's gut.
"Ugh!"
He hauled the doubled-over soldier up with one hand. Stepping onto the battlement, Kart grabbed the man's collar and held him out over the wall. The faces of the other soldiers filled with horror.
"A-Ahhh! Commander! I'm sorry! Please calm down! Commander!"
Winged phantom beasts spotted the commotion and began to circle overhead, like vultures waiting for a fresh corpse.
If he let go, or if the man's clothes tore… The slightest slip would mean a fatal plummet from the castle wall.
"I will say this one more time," Kart bellowed, his voice commanding everyone's attention.
"Our only job is to make sure not a single one of those Orc heads gets over this wall, you incompetent bastards."
"…"