Chapter 36: Become Our Neighbor (3)
Chapter 36: Become Our Neighbor (3)
“I know we’re backed into a corner, but there’s a limit. This is completely different from the original plan!”
“B-Brother?”
Tutan spoke cautiously to Patrick, who looked visibly and dangerously incensed.
Patrick turned to him and snapped, “Fall back. Right now.”
“But Brother, we are in the middle of a battle.”
“I know we’re in a battle! I said fall back!”
There was no time to explain. Patrick exerted a terrifying killing intent, overawing Tutan with his sheer presence.
Tutan flinched.
Refusing to retreat and fighting to the end was the core belief and combat instinct of the Orc race. Yet, the moment he faced the killing intent pouring from Patrick, he nearly recoiled instinctively. An overwhelming urge to turn tail and run surged within him.
Suppressing that urge with everything he had, Tutan managed to speak. “I cannot retreat and leave the Chief behind.”
It was an impressive feat just to overcome Patrick’s pressure and offer such a compromise. Patrick’s gaze shifted to Turanta, who was already locked in a bloody struggle, surrounded by a horde of Ogres.
“That old man, seriously… Fine. Fine, I get it.”
Patrick immediately launched himself toward Turanta.
‘I’ll end this in one go.’
It would put a massive strain on his still-developing skeletal structure, but he had no choice.
The two Dantians settled within Patrick’s core erupted with fierce energy, which surged through the meridians of his entire body. And then…
Twin Dragons Eight Sword Styles.
Fourth Form.
Twin Dragons’ Chaotic Dance.
In that instant, the twin swords in Patrick’s hands traced lines through the air.
The lines started as two, then became four, then eight, then sixteen, multiplying rapidly until the entire area within reach of Patrick’s Sword Qi was filled with a web of light.
—Graaaaah!
—Krrraaaagh!
The Ogres caught in those lines screamed in agony. Amidst the pain of limbs being severed and bodies being cleaved apart, five Ogres dropped dead on the spot.
Crack.
“Damn it… That was rough.”
Patrick forcibly popped his shoulder and elbow joints back into place. The technique hadn't even been executed to his satisfaction, yet his body was already screaming from the strain.
In his prime, a proper Twin Dragons’ Chaotic Dance would involve over 216 slashes in a single breath. Back when he was the Radiant Dragon Hero Jincheon, he could easily unleash over a thousand. Now, even though he had barely surpassed a hundred, his body was failing him.
Regardless, he had succeeded in saving Turanta from the encirclement.
“Chief, didn’t I explicitly tell you to pull back as soon as we started?”
“Ahem, it was a mistake. I lost myself in the heat of battle…”
“Ugh, seriously! Give the order right now. Tell them to retreat!”
“Is it truly necessary? We can still fight—”
“Do you want to die, or do you want to retreat?”
Patrick glared at him with an intensity that suggested he would take the Chief’s head himself if he heard one more word.
Faced with that pressure, Turanta finally shouted, “Retreat! Everyone, fall back!”
As the Chief’s command rang out, the Orcs of the Red Rock Tribe finally began to withdraw. Seeing them move, Patrick let out a sigh of relief.
At least they listen to their Chief. Thank god for that.
*
—Grrrr… Kroaaaar!
Seeing the Orcs of the Red Rock Tribe retreating, the King Ogre let out a thunderous roar.
Do not let them escape.
Catch them all and kill them.
Driven by the King’s absolute will, the Ogres simultaneously gave chase to the fleeing Orcs.
—Kroaaaar!
—Graaaaa-ooooh!
Wild beasts pursuing prey see nothing else. They run forward with a single-minded focus: to catch the prey, tear its flesh, rip out its entrails, drink its blood, and feast.
And the race that specialized in leading such beasts into traps was humanity.
“Aim!”
At Sanson’s command, the human soldiers drew their bows. However, these were no ordinary arrows. Every arrowhead was wrapped in oil-soaked cloth and set ablaze.
“Fire!”
With Sanson’s shout, a volley of fire arrows sliced through the air. They landed squarely on the tents and various piles of clutter left behind in the Orc village.
Fwoosh!
The flames from the arrows spread with startling speed across the tents.
“It worked! It’s a success!”
“All that work soaking the tents in oil paid off!”
“Burn! Burn it all down!”
The soldiers cheered loudly at the success of the plan. Because they had meticulously pre-soaked the tents and the wood prepared for fuel with oil, the fire spread with terrifying velocity.
The Ogres, suddenly surrounded by rising walls of flame, fell into a panicked frenzy. While an Ogre’s thick hide wouldn't burn easily from a small flame, the instinct of a living creature was to panic when fire erupted from all sides.
Seizing the opening, Patrick shouted, “Now! All forces, counterattack!”
“Brother!”
“What now?”
“What is a ‘counterattack’?”
At Tutan’s question, Patrick squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.
These ignorant bastards.
Right. What did I expect from you lot?
“Fight again!”
At Patrick’s simplified command, the Orcs charged back toward the Ogres as if they had been waiting for the word.
“Woooooah!”
“Let’s gooooo!”
So what if they were a bit dim-witted? As long as they fought well, it was enough.
—Grrrr… Kroar!
The Ogres, disoriented by the fire, could no longer utilize their superior numbers. Those caught inside the village were too busy trying to beat out the flames licking at their skin, and the few who managed to scramble out were met by the vengeful Orcs.
“Kill them all!”
“Graaaaaah!”
Unlike before, the Orcs maintained a steady semi-circular encirclement, picking off the Ogres. Since the Ogres were emerging in small, disorganized groups due to the fire, the Orcs were able to handle them in a way they were accustomed to.
Watching this, Turanta couldn't help but nod.
“Incredible. Is this the result of what humans call a ‘strategy’?”
Turanta was genuinely impressed. In truth, it was a strategy so simple it barely deserved the name.
Before the Ogres attacked, they prepared fuel and flammable materials in the village, soaking them in oil to prepare for a fire attack. Once the battle began, they would fight briefly, feign a retreat, and then launch fire arrows at the pursuing Ogres. It was a simple plan devised because the enemy was nothing more than simple-minded monsters.
The problem was that even such a simple strategy went against the very nature of the Orcs.
[We are a race of warriors. We have no need for such petty tricks in battle.]
[That’s fine for you guys. But I’m human, so I can use them, right?]
[Uh…]
Thinking, ‘I guess that makes sense,’ Turanta had eventually allowed Patrick’s plan. He hadn't liked the idea of burning down the village, but he had to concede when Patrick pointed out that a village was useless if they were all dead.
Of course, even after agreeing to the plan, the Orcs had been so swept up in their fighting spirit at the start of the battle that they had forgotten everything and just charged in.
But looking at the results now, the effectiveness of the human strategy was overwhelming. It had completely overturned a losing battle in an instant.
“Warriors! Drive back the enemy!”
“Woooooooah!”
Turanta once again took the lead, inspiring his kin as he dove back into the fray. Between the fire and the fierce performance of the Orc warriors, the number of Ogres dwindled one by one.
Then…
—Krooooooooooooooar!
A roar so resonant it shook the very air made everyone freeze. Orcs, Ogres, and even the humans aiming their bows from a distance—everyone went still. Some were so overcome by the sheer pressure of the roar that their legs gave out, and they slumped to the ground.
“That… That thing…”
“The King Ogre.”
Even from a distance, it was unmistakable. It possessed a massive frame far larger than a normal Ogre and skin the color of deep crimson. The giant club in its hand looked thicker than the pillars of a temple.
Enraged by the death of its subordinates, the King Ogre had finally stepped onto the front lines.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The King Ogre marched toward the Orcs, trampling over the burning tents as if they were nothing. While fearing fire was a biological instinct, it seemed the flames weren't even a threat to the King Ogre.
“It’s coming! Everyone, get ready!” Turanta commanded, watching the approaching monster.
Yes. This was the problem from the very beginning. If it were just dozens of Ogres, they might have stood a chance even if it meant annihilation. But the reason he had deemed this battle hopeless was because of that monster.
Even as the strongest warrior in the tribe, he was nothing more than a snack to that King Ogre.
But what of it?
I will fight.
When battle broke out, he had to be at the very front. That was his duty as Chief.
“Everyone, follow m—”
“Forget it. Just stay back.”
Just as Turanta was about to charge, Patrick—who wasn't even half his size—stepped in front of him.
“Patrick, you cannot face it alone,” Turanta said.
“I said forget it. Move. You’re in the way.”
Patrick brushed past Turanta and walked forward. His steps, with his swords hanging loosely in his hands, were slow and light compared to the King Ogre’s, yet strangely, no one could take their eyes off him.
“Young Master…”
“Is he really going to do it? Against that monster?”
“No matter how strong the Young Master is…”
The soldiers watching from afar squeezed their eyes shut in anxiety. They knew Patrick was monstrously strong. They knew, but even for him, wasn't that monster something whose defeat couldn't be guaranteed?
Amidst the anxious soldiers, Sanson spoke.
“Have faith.”
“……”
“And watch. Watch the Young Master claim victory.”
He didn't offer a detailed explanation of how he would win. But the moment Sanson spoke, the soldiers thought: Yes. If it’s the Young Master, he can win. He will surely prevail.
They had already faithfully executed the strategy Patrick had ordered for this battle. Now, all that remained was to wait and believe that their lord would be victorious.
—Grrrr…
The King Ogre also spotted Patrick. A tiny, young human—so small that the Ogre could crush him into nothingness with one hand. Such a human was approaching him, holding two small metal sticks that looked like toothpicks.
Small. Small meant weak. And such a weak being dared to show hostility in his presence.
His pride as a king wounded, the Ogre let out a massive roar to express his displeasure.
—Kroaaaaaaaar!
Patrick didn't even blink at the King Ogre’s roar. While he showed no signs of being intimidated, his usual sarcasm and flippant attitude were gone. He was simply focused, staring at the massive Demonic Beast before him.
“You really are a monster,” Patrick admitted.
Since coming to this world, he hadn't found anyone who satisfied him. Brian was a mere weakling, and even the mercenaries famous in the Thieves’ Guild disputes weren't much to look at. To the Radiant Dragon Hero Jincheon of his past life, they were weaklings he could kill with a finger; even to his current young self, they weren't much of a threat.
But this King Ogre. This was different.
He had expected it to be strong, but seeing it in person, the King Ogre’s power far exceeded his expectations.
“It’s been a while.”
Patrick licked his lips and took a stance with his twin swords.
“Since I’ve had to fight with my life on the line.”
—Grrrrrr…
With a smirk on his face, Patrick beckoned with his hand.
“What are you waiting for?”
—Grrr…
“Come at me, you bastard.”