Chapter 152
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 152
“……”
“I wanted to fight you.”
Was he really just waiting his turn because he wanted a fight?
“You son of a bitch. If you die here, this war is over, isn’t it?”
“Do you think I, Kurak, would fall so easily?”
Kurak took a step forward. Barisik took a step back. He wanted to bluff a little longer, but a single certainty gripped him: Kurak was no weakling.
He had watched the previous battle, yet Kurak wasn't intimidated in the slightest. No one could fake that kind of confidence.
The main army is…
As Barisik warily glanced around, Kurak seemed to read his thoughts.
“Rest assured. As long as you don’t run, there will be no ambush.”
“Ha! Look at you, so relaxed.”
Barisik judged that Kurak wasn't lying. With a short laugh, he scanned his surroundings once more.
The battle between the phantom beasts and the defense unit… was over. The defense unit had won, and about half of the phantom beasts had retreated. The orcs were probably saving them for later.
He turned to look back in the direction of the Prince.
A massive retreat was underway. It seemed today’s skirmish was drawing to a close.
“Ha, so no one’s coming to help me.”
Deciding there was no point in hiding it, Barisik sighed.
Should I run?
No.
Would an opportunity like this—a Legion Commander appearing alone—ever come again?
More importantly, his hand began to tingle again. Blood Mary was growing greedy. It was screaming for a fight.
“Fine. I can’t just turn away an honored guest who waited all this time to see me.”
Barisik placed a hand on his shoulder. He channeled mana and cast <Cure>, staunching the persistent bleeding from his left shoulder.
“You can use magic as well?”
“I’ve always been a bit of an all-rounder.”
“I am grateful for this meeting.”
The preamble was brief.
The moment they finished their preparations, Kurak and Barisik lunged at each other simultaneously.
Clang!
In the opening clash, Kurak’s red axe met Barisik’s Blood Mary.
Sparks flew from the point of impact. It was Barisik who was pushed back.
What monstrous strength…!
His entire body ached from a single exchange. He wasn’t on Uin’s level, but Kurak’s physical strength surpassed even Sturman’s, one of the strongest knights in the order. With Kart dead, there was no human left who could stop him— Clang!
While Barisik was momentarily stunned, Kurak raised his axe and swung down again. Overpowered, Barisik hurriedly backpedaled.
Kurak's style was brutally simple. Perhaps it only seemed that way because Barisik was unfamiliar with axe techniques, but to him, the Orc's attacks looked almost crude.
I can’t take him head-on.
His hand stung. A different kind of vibration than before pulsed up his arm—the magic sword wasn’t absorbing the full impact.
Leaning back, Barisik swung his magic sword. The elongated blade lashed out like a whip toward Kurak’s axe. Kurak swung his own weapon wildly, as if intending to cleave the magic sword in two.
It was a simple style, but backed by honest, overwhelming physical strength. That brute force compensated for any shortcomings… in that regard, he resembled Uin.
In a situation that called for a relentless rain of strikes, his blade lost all momentum and was flung aside every time it clashed with the axe.
And it’s not just simple, either.
It was more accurate to say there was no wasted movement. He hadn’t let the blade of the magic sword touch him once.
First, I need to create some distance.
There was still plenty of blood inside Blood Mary; he still had a chance.
After exchanging a few more blows, Barisik spotted an opening and immediately leaped backward. Kurak pursued him.
Barisik slammed his blade into the ground, using the recoil to launch himself away.
Retracting the whip-like blade, he spun around instantly.
Clash!
He swung his blade at Kurak, but the attack was blocked by the axe once again. Even an attack powered by the momentum of his spin had little effect.
As expected, running is…
—He couldn’t run.
Kurak’s pursuit was faster than his retreat. On top of that, the acceleration magic Barisik had used earlier was about to wear off. His remaining stamina was also far inferior to Kurak’s.
I have to settle this… In that case.
This time, Barisik stopped running. Kurak didn't halt his charge, continuing to rush toward him.
By the time Barisik landed, Kurak had already closed the distance to within a few meters. Barisik immediately braced himself.
Carrying the full momentum of his charge, Kurak swung his axe.
Evading it completely was impossible.
Slash!
“Ugh!”
His flank was torn open. It was fortunate that Barisik’s sudden stop had forced Kurak to attack in a hurry; if the Orc had a moment more to prepare, he would have infused his axe with sword energy.
If he had, not just his flank, but his entire abdomen would have been sliced in half.
Regardless, he had seized his chance.
Sacrificing his flank, Barisik bent his knee and drove it into Kurak’s abdomen. A sharp pain shot through his knee, a testament to the sturdiness of Kurak’s armor, but he endured it and pushed forward.
As Kurak attempted to counter, Barisik slammed his forehead into the Orc’s. Caught off guard, Kurak’s head snapped back.
It devolved into a brawl.
Still, in terms of immediate damage, Barisik was clearly at a disadvantage.
Kurak immediately swung his axe. Barisik’s body faltered as his leg was severed.
Yet, he kept pressing forward.
He had never intended to deal damage with these kinds of attacks in the first place.
—What he aimed for was a single opportunity to strike at point-blank range.
Pushing Kurak back with his knee, Barisik gripped Blood Mary with both hands. The same red energy from before gathered at the tip of the blade.
He intended to discharge his full power directly into Kurak’s abdomen.
At this range, Barisik wouldn't escape unscathed either. Frankly, he was more likely to die. But Kurak, taking the brunt of it at an even closer range, wouldn’t survive.
If he could end the war with his own life, there was no better trade.
“Let’s go together.”
Blood spilled from his mouth. Just as Barisik let out a gruesome smile—
Crack.
His wrist was twisted.
Blood Mary slipped from his grasp and soared high into the air.
Freed from its master’s grasp, the red energy scattered into the void.
“You analyzed me, Kurak, and devised a countermeasure… yet this is all you have?”
“……Ah.”
As Barisik stumbled back, the distance between them widened once more, rendering his sacrifice meaningless.
Kurak gripped his red axe tightly.
“Impressive, but not a perfect score.”
Rip. The axe tore through the White Uniform, slicing him in half.
Barisik’s body fell to the ground in a spray of blood.
Silence fell.
“……”
Kurak stood there without a word.
Barisik had indeed lost his sword. Yet, that very sword was now impaled in the crook of Kurak’s shoulder.
In the instant Kurak had slashed him, Barisik had snatched the airborne sword and plunged it into the Orc’s shoulder.
“A splendid knight.”
Kurak pulled the sword out and threw it to the ground. Behind him, several Orcs riding phantom beasts flew down.
The late-arriving Orcs began to treat Kurak’s wound. When others tried to retrieve the corpse, Kurak spoke to his subordinates in a solemn voice.
“Do not desecrate the body. Deliver it to the human camp as it is.”
“Understood, Legion Commander… However, our forces have suffered significant casualties. Crushing the enemy’s morale…”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Magic glowed. The wound on his shoulder slowly healed, but because the weapon that inflicted it was a magic sword, a hideous scar remained.
Kurak replied to his subordinate.
“There is another way to break their morale. It should have already begun.”
*
On the Annun Plains, at the front lines of the Imperial Army’s camp.
The 2nd Imperial Prince.
Kazimir Joachim Logphellus.
“We are withdrawing. Send a scouting party to the flanks to monitor the enemy’s movements.”
All units retreated behind the wall. This was the end of it for today. Though casualties were heavy in the end, it wasn't a bad result.
Since they hadn’t gathered all their forces from Riaze yet, the longer they held out, the more reinforcements would arrive from the central army.
The warhorses all turned back. His adjutants urged him to withdraw first while they followed, but the Prince declined, riding at the rear of the column.
It was a plain, after all. There was no way an ambush could happen. In times like these, a small show of virtue was acceptable.
Sturman is…
From the looks of it, Sturman had delegated some of his military authority to his fellow knights. The Prince was displeased, but it wasn't something worth getting angry over. In fact, the defense unit’s arrival had successfully minimized their casualties.
He had to remember what was most important: victory in this war. Small losses could be tolerated.
As he was leading the soldiers back through the wall, an unfamiliar sound echoed.
His adjutants must have heard it too, as they looked around in confusion.
“……Where is that sound coming from?”
But the plains were silent. Only the unrecovered corpses piled here and there created a bitter atmosphere. Nothing could be seen approaching.
“Where on earth…”
There was no change on the ground…
Could it be?
—The sky.
Boom!
Before he could even finish the thought, an entity plummeted from the sky. Judging by the sound, it seemed to have fallen from an incredible altitude.
And despite falling from such a height, the figure was still alive and moving.
“W-what is that?!”
An Orc emerged from the dust.
An Orc falling from that high up? Was that even possible? How many layers of protective magic would it take to survive that? Dozens? Did they actually cast that many?
“W-what are you doing! Kill that thing!”
Only a single Orc had fallen. Its build was several times larger than a normal Orc—perhaps even five times the size of Kurak—but it was still just one creature.
His adjutants were all powerful warriors in their own right.
At his command, the adjutants coated their swords in aura and charged.
“Grrrrr.”
The Orc, Nargu, chief of the Kokan Tribe—one of the six great tribes—raised his massive club.
*
Annun Plains.
Behind the castle walls, the Imperial Army’s camp.
“……”
Barisik’s corpse had been returned.
And…
“O-over… over… over there…”
Outside the walls, a flag bearing the severed head of the Prince fluttered in the wind.
*
“The humans are in a crisis from the very first day.”
“The Prince is dead. Even in My eyes, that seems like a devastating blow.”
“There are tens of thousands of humans. Is losing one leader really such a big deal?”
“Of course!”
“Obviously, you idiot!”
“Come on… Miss Melju, Miss Bathory. No need to gang up on him. Does the Boss even need to know about strategy or tactics? It’s fine if he doesn’t.”
“That’s right. Rene can cherish this side of Lord Swallow, too.”
“And Boss, don’t get discouraged over something like this. You’re not a child, so stop hanging your head. …Sigh, you’re driving me crazy.”
“Looks like he’s already sulking.”
“Rene can understand this side of Lord Swallow, too.”
“All of you, get out.”
“……Anyway, let’s disperse for now. Both armies have retreated to their camps, so there won’t be any more fighting today. Everyone get some rest. We’ll gather here again tomorrow…”
“Can we just not gather again?”
“See you tomorrow, Boss.”
“Sigh.”
“We shall return tomorrow as well!”
“I’ll leave the screen on then, Swallow… Rene, aren’t you getting up?”
“……”
“Rene?”
“Lord Swallow, Miss Bathory, look at this.”
“……”
“……”
“……”
“Oh, my. You’re right.”
“I’ve had my suspicions for a while, and Rene agrees.”
“They must be in quite a hurry.”
“Indeed.”
“More importantly, if this goes well…”
“It might be over before the sun rises.”
*
Annun Plains, the Imperial Army’s camp.
Sturman von Hattendorf.
The night deepened.
The lone flag rising high over the battlefield still fluttered in the wind. The eyes of the sentries guarding the perimeter occasionally lingered on it.
The Prince’s head, hanging from the flag.
Even in the darkness, the silhouette of the head was unmistakable, making the soldiers shudder with fear whenever they glanced at it.
They wanted nothing more than to break that flagpole and retrieve the head immediately, but…
Damn it all, Orc soldiers stood guard right where the flag was planted, as if taunting them, daring them to try and take it.
The phantom beasts flying in the sky patrolled the airspace tirelessly, making it impossible to retrieve the head without being spotted.
Though fury boiled within him, there was nothing he could do. Offering quiet words of consolation to the soldiers was the most he could manage.
After checking on the sentries, Sturman looked up at the night sky. The wind was unpleasantly lukewarm. Frowning slightly, he walked away.
Entering the camp’s main tent, he found all the remaining commanders already gathered.
It was an emergency meeting held in the dead of night.
“His Highness the Prince and Sir Barisik have fallen in battle.”
“The soldiers’ morale is at rock bottom.”
“We must resolve this before sunrise.”
The Orcs’ phantom beasts had pushed back the Imperial lines, and the Prince had been killed in a surprise aerial attack. The tide of battle was clearly turning against them.
Under these circumstances, the Orcs’ decision to withdraw could only mean they also needed time to reorganize. In short, they were exhausted. Having marched relentlessly all the way to the Annun Plains, it was only natural that fatigue had caught up with them.
And this meant…
“The Orcs will attack again before noon tomorrow.”
It meant that the moment they recovered their strength, they would sweep in like a tidal wave.
“The next battle will be the turning point.”
They had to stop them.
“If anyone has any suggestions, speak up.”