Chapter 46
Chapter 46
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 46
Chapter Title: The Sinking Forest
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A white snowy field whipped by biting winds and swirling blizzards.
In one of the Orc encampments dyeing that expanse green, an Orc Warlord bellowed gravely from a tent made of beast bones and hides.
"Food shortage!"
The man with fluttering golden hair furrowed his brow at the cry from the Orc whose curly locks were tied tightly atop his head.
"What the hell are these bastards saying?"
"They say their food supplies have run out."
"All of that massive stockpile?"
The man tossed back his hood, letting his golden hair billow.
Luteon frowned.
When they had led the army here, they had brought wagonloads of supplies strapped to the backs of massive beasts.
Most of those loads had been food, yet they were already depleted?
Lamatou, gripping his staff, conversed with the Orcs.
"The supply trains carrying their rations have gone silent."
"Gone silent...?"
Luteon looked puzzled, and Lamatou stroked his chin beard knowingly as he replied.
"Kallias vanished mysteriously not long ago... It seems he emerged to siphon off their rations."
A reckless gamble that could end in a dog's death.
But if backed by skill, it would prove immensely helpful.
It had left the Orc army fretting over food shortages.
"Kallias..."
"Orcs don't eat human fare. They need rations to fuel their robust bodies and stamina."
Be it beast or man, fighting on an empty stomach is no easy task.
Deprived of sustenance, any creature perishes.
Beast or human alike.
"But those vital supplies are cut off now. Waiting for the next shipment..."
Time was short.
These gluttonous brutes had already devoured every beast and monster in the forests near Jaybarshu.
They even had to feed their tamed beasts, so the initial provisions had run dry long ago.
It was now a race against starvation.
"The next ones might get cut off too."
"No, that won't happen. Please refrain from such talk."
"Do you truly believe that?"
A loaded statement.
Luteon knew its implication but sought confirmation once more.
Lamatou of Crashion.
He was the longest-lived being in Crashion.
"What do you mean?"
"Among the Orcs escorting this shipment were Great Warriors. Losing them—what does that signify?"
The death of a Great Warrior.
The seizure of supplies.
The meaning was clear.
"You're saying Kallias killed a Great Warrior and stole the supplies."
"Indeed."
Yet it was hard to accept.
"But he's the one who nearly died at a Great Warrior's hands just recently. Even if he managed it... he'd have had that lightning-wielding Paladin with him. A rare elemental Spirit Sword user, after all."
He had a skilled Paladin at his side. A master with a rare Spirit Sword.
With such a force, a Great Warrior's death made sense. Elemental types were renowned for their power, especially one infused with lightning.
"Who knows. The most terrifying thing is a boy's growth, after all."
"He's no boy."
"To me, he's still in that prime age."
"Let's drop it. I still question how Kallias is even alive, let alone skilled enough to fell a Great Warrior. It's absurd."
"I spoke of possibilities."
Luteon deemed it too speculative. Lamatou could say such things only because he didn't know Kallias.
Back when he was a monk in the Church.
Kallias's swordsmanship had been hopelessly mediocre, at best.
Utterly talentless with the blade.
For such a wretch to survive the pilgrimage thus far was miracle enough...
'A Great Warrior? Impossible.'
Of course, his feats and Silver Flower Sword Wave had been exceptional.
Some profound encounter must have granted him such prowess.
However.
"A wastrel is a wastrel."
No matter how much one changes.
Essence doesn't shift easily.
Even with elite training, mediocre talent has its limits.
Absurd.
Luteon concluded his thoughts.
"At any rate, this complicates matters."
"Rations matter, but losing other supplies stings too. All the items needed to tame those beasts are gone."
They were docile now, but once the effects wore off, instinct would awaken.
Chaos would ensue.
"What should we do, Lamatou?"
"Kallias isn't fool enough to haul off stolen supplies straight back to the castle."
"Then..."
Breaching the castle with that vast Orc horde was impossible.
Especially laden with cargo—the odds neared zero.
So what could he do outside the walls? One thing.
"He plans to seize all subsequent shipments."
"Precisely."
An inevitable conclusion.
Supplies aren't moved all at once.
They come in waves: first, second, third.
This loss was the first wave.
"So second and third remain."
"Without countermeasures, he'll take them all."
The outcome would be singular.
"Orc army annihilated, your mission a failure."
Mission failure.
Luteon's shoulders grew heavy.
"...I cannot fail. I must succeed. For His sake, no matter what!!"
Lamatou clicked his tongue at the fanatic gleam in Luteon's eyes.
Faith or mad infatuation—he cared not. Left unchecked, the mission would fail.
Representing Crashion, Lamatou had his own pride.
Regrettable, but it couldn't stand.
Then.
"Hurry!"
An Orc came sprinting in, breathless. Bearing urgent news.
"What is it?"
Lamatou's lips curved down as he heard the Orc out.
"The second supply wave's been raided."
"...By whom?"
"A knight in a red cloak, with ashen hair and eyes."
Few in the North matched that description.
"Kallias..."
His doing.
"Sir Luteon, you must stop that wastrel first. Once momentum builds, it doesn't halt."
"..."
"Sir Luteon, starved Orcs are useless as beasts."
Lamatou shook his head at the listless Orcs.
"With the second wave gone, we must intercept supplies from other routes early. Which way?"
"That place..."
* * *
"The Sinking Forest?"
"Yes. It's the most likely spot."
"I see. The Sinking Forest."
The Sinking Forest.
Second largest of the North's famed three forests.
Impossible to miss.
'I set it up myself, after all.'
As the name implied, its unstable ground sank gradually. In ancient times, sheer cliffs and bedrock dominated, but over eons, forests formed, roots intertwined, creating the substrate.
Yet accumulated sediment and soft roots made treacherous spots where one slowly sank—hence the name.
Hunters and guides avoided it.
Unpredictable collapses made casual entry fatal.
Even surviving a fall offered no escape.
Once down, death was certain.
The Sinking Forest.
"Orphin, are you sure? Crossing that forest with supply wagons defies reason."
It was that perilous.
Unstable ground ill-suited heavy loads. Barbarians or not, did they lack such sense?
It didn't add up.
"It's certain. Miss Rini saw them heading into the Sinking Forest with her own eyes."
"That's right! I saw them, Sir Kallias."
Eyes blessed by Valterus.
Rini's near-clairvoyant vision lent credibility.
But certainty eluded.
'Like the first raid, the second was no cakewalk.'
No Great Warrior, but numerous Orcs with superior average prowess made it fierce. Even the ambush turned brutal.
Much blood and sacrifice.
'Compared to them, our forces are meager.'
Even matching a Great Warrior, he was one man.
The other knights' average skill was lacking.
His explosive growth stemmed from fortunes and coincidences—they lacked such.
They improved daily, battle-hardened, yet paled against true House Jerban knights.
'Leaps ahead of before, but not yet enough.'
Supply escorts were Orc warrior elites.
Clashing head-on would decimate the knights.
In uncertain times, each loss crippled strength—utmost caution required.
Moreover, these knights followed him faithfully.
He couldn't bear losing his self-proclaimed Kallias Knight Order.
"How was their column?"
"Nothing unusual. Tamed beasts pulling large wagons that looked like supplies."
No peculiarities.
All the more suspicious.
Wagons couldn't traverse the Sinking Forest.
Yet they headed there.
"Suspicious."
Deeply so.
"Orcs must be too dumb to heed the Sinking Forest's fame."
Spoke Aaron, one knight.
Typical of his bold nature.
Orcs were brutish.
True to an extent.
Tribal savages.
"Aaron, they lack knowledge, not wisdom. Exiled from the North or not, they're no fools."
"Kh-hm..."
Aaron coughed awkwardly, and Allen beside him chimed in eagerly.
"It's one of the North's three great forests. Second only to the White Forest in renown—they can't be unaware. I smell a trap."
Allen's boyish face, sharpened by his lost eye, matured into suspicion.
"As Sir Allen says, perhaps. Or they have some Orc-specific way to cross we can't fathom. Either way, they entered, so they'll exit. Why not ambush their exit point?"
No need to brave the woods—predict and strike their emergence.
A regular knight under Zornik, prioritizing minimal losses.
"Orphin, your thoughts?"
Kallias eyed her after pondering.
Seasoned as any North knight, her experience unmatched.
Absurdly captured by Orcs once, yet she embodied knightly grace and intellect.
"I think we lack time."
"Time?"
"Yes. We've cut their supplies twice already. They're desperate now."
Not wrong.
In war, supplies—logistics—were paramount.
The North's winter was brutally cold, food eternally scarce.
For Orcs driving vast monster hordes and green waves, rations rivaled warrior honor.
"They'll stake everything on this shipment, desperate to seize and flee with it swiftly."
"Indeed."
We were pressed; they were too. Time was scant.
Act swiftly.
Decide and execute.
"How about this?"
"What is it, Brans?"
"You're worried they've laid a trap in the forest, right?"
"Exactly. Even if we seize supplies there, reinforcements could encircle us—survival slim."
They'd be desperate too.
Supply cuts meant their own desiccation.
Word of prior raids had reached them. They'd dispatch reinforcements for the last wave.
"Our goal is severing supplies, yes? Simple, then."
"If it were simple, why would I..."
Brans's gruff words struck like a hammer mid-retort.
"Just let the supplies sink with them alive?"
They entered the Sinking Forest.
Two successes fixated on mere seizure.
Sink them.
Brans cleared his mind.
Sinking Forest.
True to its name—let them sink.
"That'd be simple? We'd not struggle if..."
Aaron scolded, but Kallias raised a hand, drawing eyes.
"No. Wait..."
For others, perhaps not. But for him, simplicity itself.
Because.
I created the Sinking Forest.