Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: The Warlord Appears
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Sparks fly.
Amid the grating noise of flesh and bone being carved away, screams echo across the battlefield.
The orcs lash at the magical beasts and swing their axes, staining the snow red with blood.
Their tactic is the human wave attack.
Jaybarshu groans under the simple onslaught that relies solely on overwhelming numbers.
The honor-bound orcs know only charges upon charges. The north, which had stubbornly held against their death-defying assaults, begins to crumble bit by bit.
"Block them! Block them, damn it!!"
"Ugh! S-save me!!"
Thud! A skull shatters, and brains spray in every direction.
The nearby soldiers immediately thrust their swords, and a knight ambushes the orc from behind. Another orc falls, but yet another swings its axe.
An orc squeezes through the broken gate and brings its axe down. A knight rams a notched sword into the orc's throat.
It's a repetition of nightmare-like combat.
Green and red blood mixes together.
A desperate battle.
Emily watched it all, gripping the famed sword Lusen that he had given her. To Emily, who still bore the traits of a child, the blade felt a bit too large.
But the girl's eyes, clutching the sword handed over with full trust and affection, burned no differently from any knight's.
"Brans. What do you think?"
"Well... the battle seems pretty evenly matched, don't it?"
No. It might look that way at a glance, but the tide of battle was steadily tilting toward the orc forces.
"To me, it feels like the orcs are staking everything on this war."
"Indeed..."
Likely because their supplies, including rations, weren't coming in smoothly.
‘Kallias took half of the supplies meant for the earth dragons and orcs with him.’
In the end, only about half the provisions reached the orc army, but they must have judged it insufficient.
Unlike before, the orc forces had thrown everything into breaching Jaybarshu's gates.
They unleashed all the magical beasts and scrambled up the walls, embedding axes everywhere. Piling up like mountains, the orc corpses naturally formed ladders to the gates, and the orcs didn't hesitate to trample their brothers' bodies to climb.
It was a mad sight, yet pathetic in its desperation.
Breaching the gates was only a matter of time.
"What should we do, Young Lady?"
With Kallias gone, his detachment was effectively disbanded.
The knights had thoroughly split, centering around Emily and Riban.
Both were young and inexperienced, but calculating ahead, wasn't Riban's future brighter than that of a girl like Emily?
"Brans. Allen, Aaron."
"Yes, Young Lady."
"We understand! This Aaron will clear the path right now! Young Lady, just safely move the supplies..."
"No, we won't move the supplies."
"Pardon?"
"It's pointless. This battle will decide if the castle falls or we win. In that case, the supplies mean nothing."
Live or die.
That was the question.
If the castle falls, what use are all these provisions?
"Then..."
"I'm a Jervan. Jervan doesn't abandon the north."
Emily raised her sword.
The beautiful blade glimmered in the sunlight.
"If we lose the north, Jervan is no longer Jervan. Even in death, Jervan dies on the battlefield."
"Young Lady..."
Allen and Aaron gazed at Emily, deeply moved.
Brans was no different.
Tears welled up in Brans's eyes like chicken droppings.
"Sob! If only the young master could see this...!"
Just as he was about to break into sobs.
"Emily."
Riban appeared before her, knights in tow.
"Riban, Rini."
Emily's eyes narrowed.
"The north, Jervan—they won't crumble as easily as you think. Jumping in now would be foolish. It's wiser to bide our time a bit longer and then take the supplies. Rushing into battle won't change much, whether it's you or me."
"Idiot."
"W-what!? You insolent brat!"
Riban flushed red and drew the sword at his waist.
"Listen to me! Going now is just pointless death!"
"Then what about those dying in battle right now?"
"Th-that's... a noble sacrifice."
"No, you're wrong. They're not sacrificing themselves. They carry hope."
Hope that they can win.
Hope that even if they die, their families will live if the war is won.
They're staking their lives on that sliver of hope: protect the north to protect the nation, protect the nation to protect their families.
"Whether my death is pointless isn't for you to decide. Only I determine the value of my death."
"Nonsense!! Even if I cut your throat right now, would your death have value!?"
"I won't die to you, so don't worry."
"You insolent—!"
Riban's sword reached Emily.
It was just to scare her, but enough to wound.
"Young Lady!"
Clang!
But Emily's sword whipped out like lightning first.
Swish, thunk.
Riban, who had dropped his sword, stared with eyes wide in shock.
"You..."
"While you did nothing, I fought alongside them on the battlefield."
"Nonsense! Utter nonsense! If you die! If you die, it's all over!"
"The castle is about to fall right now, and you're still spouting that crap?"
"J-Jaybarshu has my father and the family head! Even without our main forces, with the family head—who's one step from master—there, the castle won't fall!"
Emily looked at the shouting Riban with pity.
"You don't know, do you?"
"Know what?"
"Among the orcs, there's one who can match the family head blow for blow."
"Such a thing exists? Nonsense! Don't talk rubbish!"
"It's true. The family head hasn't taken the field this whole war. Why do you think that is?"
"That's..."
Conqueror of the north.
Count of Karpe.
Lord of Jervan.
Elverton von Jervan had been wary of it.
If he went out, that thing from the orc army would appear.
* * *
Bwooooom!
The horn blares once more, drowning out the battlefield screams.
Thud, thud.
An orc wearing a helmet made of mountain goat horns and clutching a massive axe steps forward.
It surveys the battlefield with eyes heavy with its enormous frame.
Gazing at the gate half-pierced by siege weapons, it slams its axe into the ground at its feet reverse-grip.
Boom!!
As the soldiers flinch from the earth-shaking tremor.
From within the pierced gate, the calm gaze of Jervan's lord meets it.
"The time has come."
"C-Count..."
"Family head..."
Jaybarshu's lord and the north's conqueror strides out.
Elverton von Jervan walks slowly, black cloak billowing.
"C-Count! It's dangerous!"
Ignoring the knight's plea, he draws the sword at his waist.
Click.
Cracks spiderweb across the massive gate before him.
Rumble!
It collapses.
"Gasp!"
"Family head!!"
As the gate crumbles, orcs swarm in. The soldiers panic, but Elverton's sword is faster.
Shing.
A chill wind whispers, and the orcs charging at him shatter into pieces.
Not a drop of blood stains his blade. The aura Elverton exudes blankets the surroundings like heavy mist.
As the momentum shifts, the orc army's frenzied roars halt in their tracks.
"We'll fight with you."
Elverton's elite guards follow slowly behind.
As the north's lord advances, the orcs falter and step back like Moses' miracle. At their rear stands the orc horde's king, reverse-gripping its double-bladed axe with hands overlapped, as if waiting.
Orc King.
Great Orc Chieftain.
Or simply, Orc Warlord.
Its domineering presence, one step shy of master, crushes the battlefield.
Behind the Orc Warlord stand its escorting great warriors.
Whoosh.
A gust swirls.
As fresh snowflakes settle, the great warriors and elite guards vanish.
Clang! Boom!
The clash of their strikes is unearthly.
But ignoring the fierce melee, the Warlord and Elverton simply stare at each other.
Amid the barrage from great warriors and elites.
At the eye of the battlefield storm, Elverton and the Warlord slowly step toward one another.
Neither slow nor fast steps.
Yet each one infused with霸道 aura, crushing the ground.
Tap, tap, tap.
Their pace toward each other quickens, and soon their forms blur and reappear.
KABOOM!!
A deafening roar echoes—impossible for axe and sword alone.
Each strike is lethal.
The Warlord's double-bladed axe swings like a landslide.
Elverton's stormblade Kallis strikes like typhoons, one by one.
The true war has just begun.
* * *
"Urk!"
Aaron and Allen stand back-to-back, swinging their swords.
They dodge the oncoming orcs and descending axes, thrusting blades once more.
Only after smashing skulls and severing arms do they gasp for breath.
They're not alone.
Orphin and Emily.
Riban, Rini—all fight relentlessly on the battlefield.
Boys and girls they may be, but on the field, there's only foe and ally.
The battlefield's cruelty acknowledges them as knights, and the orc axes show no mercy for youth or age.
Three days pass.
For three days without rest, the war rages.
After the Orc Warlord and count's duel, they threw themselves into the fray, swinging swords ceaselessly.
Then.
An orc's blind axe flies toward Emily.
‘Oh no.’
Her reaction lagged while catching her breath.
By the time she raised her arm, the axe was upon her.
She grits her teeth and closes her eyes.
Clang!
"Are you alright?"
"Grandfather!!"
Bernard appears.
Thunderclap Sword Bernard.
He clears the surroundings in an instant, then slams down with blue lightning cloaking his blade.
BOOM!!
Dirt erupts, orcs flung back by the shock.
"I'm fine, Grandfather?"
"I'm fine. Don't worry. But where is Kallias?"
"Kallias..."
Bernard's face darkens at Emily's suddenly grim expression.
But before he can dwell, the battle turns dire.
-Rooooaaar!!
Suddenly, orc cheers crash like waves.
Dreading the worst, he looks toward Elverton—Bernard's eyes bulge like saucers.
"Count...!!"
Spurt!
The north's conqueror, who clashed evenly with the Orc Warlord for three days.
Blood gushes from Elverton's chest.