Chapter 47
Chapter 47
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Mad Dog (3)
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Clouds rolled in, blotting out the sun.
Shadows fell over the battlefield.
“Kuhk...”
Yuri gritted his teeth.
The mysterious orc shaman exuded a bizarre power. He couldn't shake off the black grip.
The tide had turned against them.
Kurui had taken down Hose, and the orc warriors were pushing back the knights.
“Ah...”
Strength drained from Yuri's body.
Beyond his blurring vision, a knight's head soared through the air.
Their eyes seemed to meet.
It was still glaring at the enemy.
Though the body was dead, his soul lingered on the battlefield.
Yuri gripped Guilty tightly.
[Do not resist.]
The orc shaman's voice was like a chilling wind.
[There is nothing you can do. Simply accept your fate.]
His will was being whittled away.
Ringing filled his ears.
Yuri could no longer feel his body. Only a faint thread of consciousness remained in the darkness.
He tried to move, but there was no response.
No, one thing twitched.
Guilty.
It felt like an extension of his limbs.
Rather, Guilty was urging him on.
Yuri opened his eyes.
More precisely, he willed his eyes to open.
Then, the energy of Heart-Soul Severing within him became another pair of eyes, revealing the vision swallowed by black smoke.
Colors faded away like evaporating paint.
In a black-and-white world defined only by shades of density, Yuri saw an overwhelmingly dark silhouette.
The silhouette of the orc shaman, its eyes covered with cloth.
It held something from which black energy rose like tentacles.
The darkness engulfing the battlefield emanated from that orc shaman.
Was it tricks like this that doomed the allied forces in his previous life?
He had come to change fate.
He wouldn't let it follow the same path as before.
Yuri raised Guilty.
The voice he'd heard in the ancestral dungeon echoed in his ears.
The hollow eye sockets of the knight who died nameless filled his mind.
Heart-Soul Severing.
He finally understood why it had come into his hands.
Yuri swung Guilty.
His body was dying, and he'd already expended much stamina, so the strike lacked power.
But it was enough.
Yuri severed the enemy's heart-soul.
Like cloth caught on a blade, the black silhouette fluttered in the wake of Yuri's sword.
The orc shaman flailed its arms in panic. Only then could Yuri plant his feet on the ground.
Sensation returned.
The clamor of the battlefield rushed back in.
He couldn't miss this chance.
Yuri gathered his remaining strength and thrust Guilty out again.
The shaman's faint silhouette split in two.
[How...!]
The black form divided and writhed in the air before dissipating like smoke.
The world's rules restored themselves.
The madness faded from the orc warriors' eyes, and the black smoke that had crippled the allied forces vanished.
For a moment, humans and orcs alike paused in confusion.
A fleeting silence descended.
Yuri seized the opening.
He stabbed the back of a nearby orc warrior.
The orc warrior arched backward in agony. That scream reignited the battle.
“Pull yourself together!”
Yuri glanced at Hose.
Hose was fighting again, but his movements were slower from the earlier blow. If it continued, Kurui would win.
“Damn it...”
He wanted to help, but the clash was too intense. Interfering recklessly would only get him killed by Kurui.
In the meantime, Kurui pressed Hose fiercely.
Their weapons clashed. As Hose's guard dropped, Kurui kicked him in the solar plexus with his toes.
Hose crumpled.
The axe rose high into the sky.
Then, Kurui turned his eyes to Yuri and grinned.
It was bait.
Come save Hose if you dare, he was beckoning.
Yuri knew it was a trap, but he couldn't stop.
This much was the same as his previous life.
Even knowing it would end badly, he charged forward.
That was who he was.
“Kurui!”
Yuri leaped.
The distance closed in an instant. Then, the axe's angle shifted.
Yuri had approached in a straight line to save Hose, and Kurui intercepted him as if waiting.
He raised Guilty to block the axe blade, but the massive impact shook his insides. Yuri spat blood.
“Your Highness...”
Hose looked at him with a twisted face, full of self-reproach.
Yuri gave Hose a clumsy smile.
Kurui's axe cast a shadow over Yuri's head.
It was a moment he'd experienced before.
When Rolang killed him in his previous life, time had slowed like this.
Not wanting to die pathetically, Yuri forced his lips upward.
That was the instant.
Instead of the axe, something else poured down on his head.
Crimson blood.
Yuri looked up.
And doubted his eyes.
Kurui's arm had been severed.
The arm holding the axe spun through the air above.
Instead of Kurui's hideous face, a stranger looked down at him.
A face he'd never seen before.
Dark brown hair, clad in tattered rags.
The man grabbed Kurui's head with one hand, as if handling a child.
“You.”
He spoke.
“Filthy orc bastard.”
Yuri realized who he was.
Kurui's camp had hidden an absolute powerhouse. And his command of the continental tongue was poor.
One of the Ten Supremes, a swordsman from the East.
Commonly called the Foreigner.
“This filthy orc bastard didn't even feed me properly.”
He battered Kurui while mangling the continental language.
Kurui resisted, but with his arm gone, he couldn't hold out.
In the end, Kurui's head was ripped off, killing him.
Yuri winced at the sight of the spine and nerve clusters torn out.
With Kurui dead, the orc warriors lost their will to fight. The knights seized the advantage and annihilated them.
But the battlefield remained tense.
The Foreigner who slew Kurui in an instant now faced Yuri.
The knights moved to protect Yuri, but he waved them back.
“You.”
The Foreigner pointed at Yuri. Even Yuri swallowed nervously.
“Filthy bastard, but you saved my fun.”
He approached with heavy steps.
Yuri held out his palm, signaling the knights to stay put.
From memories of his past life, the Foreigner wasn't malicious. If anything, he leaned toward justice.
“No way...”
Yuri widened his eyes in feigned surprise.
“Such a manly bearing!”
“Huh?”
“Handsome face. Broad shoulders. Exceptional skill. I think I know who you are, sir.”
“What do they call me?”
“May I dare utter your moniker here?”
“You know me?”
“One of the famed Ten Supremes whose name echoes across the continent—the Foreigner, aren't you?”
Murmurs rippled through the surroundings at Yuri's words.
The Foreigner scowled.
“That's what these guys slapped on me.”
“That's right. Far too crude. They say the four seas are vast, but 'Foreigner' is such an impersonal title. Would you grace us with your esteemed name?”
The Foreigner's real name was unknown.
He tilted his head slightly and stared at Yuri silently, as if pondering. Then he spoke.
“Jota. I'll tell you.”
“An honor.”
“They call me Moyongchan.”
“Yes. Sir Moyongchan.”
“Moyongchan!”
“Yes, yes. Sir Moyongchan.”
The flow was good.
Yuri rubbed his hands and bowed low.
“Sir Moyongchan, we're in the midst of war with the orcs right now.”
“I can see that.”
“Ah, you're here too.”
His speech was rude, but what use was a prince's status to a man from the distant East? This was one of the Ten Supremes, who even bowed to no imperial blood.
Yuri held his tongue and groveled.
“Sir Moyongchan, I'd love to serve you, but once this war ends, properly...”
“You.”
But Moyongchan wasn't the patient type.
“How'd you do it?”
“Pardon?”
“How'd you cut the shaman?”
He placed a hand on Yuri's throat.
Pressure built.
Yuri inhaled sharply.
“That was...”
“That was...?”
Yuri grinned without flinching.
“Let's talk after we finish off the orcs.”
With Kurui dead, victory was sealed.
The allied forces easily wiped out the orcs. Ragnar impaled Kurui's head on a spear shaft in celebration.
Yuri stood beside Ragnar, watching the cleanup.
“A foreigner, huh...”
“I'll persuade him to aid the allied forces.”
“Do that. I trust you.”
Moyongchan ignored everyone but Yuri. Ragnar left the matter to him.
It meant he was trusted.
“Still, really...”
The allied forces were searching the camp.
As the truth emerged, Ragnar spoke.
“Orcs truly are revolting creatures.”
Yuri nodded at Ragnar's words.
Gruesome scenes too horrific to witness unfolded one after another.
Human corpses, butchered like livestock, emerged from one tent. Chunks of other animals hung beside them on meat hooks, skinned whole. The minced and ground flesh was no different from a butcher's shop.
Several soldiers vomited.
“Burn it all.”
“Yes, sir.”
The dead humans might have been the lucky ones.
Another tent revealed a cage made of iron bars, similar to the orc pens Yuri had seen in Count Sidoor's territory.
It held only women.
Some were pregnant. Most were mentally broken. They couldn't distinguish approaching soldiers from orcs.
“Filthy scum...”
In other parts of the camp, half-orc slaves and groups of men were found.
More imprisoned humans kept appearing.
Ragnar's adjutant asked.
“What should we do with them?”
Ragnar closed his eyes.
Yuri watched his decision closely.
True to his nature, Ragnar might kill them all to preserve their dignity.
But unexpected words came from his mouth.
“Gragam.”
“Pardon?”
“Tell that man to handle it.”
“He's currently...”
The adjutant trailed off, then composed himself and replied.
Ragnar disliked objections. When orders came, they were followed.
“Understood.”
As the adjutant left, Ragnar placed a hand on Yuri's shoulder.
“You seem close with Gragam.”
“I've heard of his reputation. A true knight.”
“Well, perhaps he fits Brioll better than the Empire.”
Ragnar chuckled and walked on.
“Follow me.”
Ragnar led Yuri to where the captured orcs were gathered.
In one corner of the camp, dozens of surviving orcs knelt with faces to the ground.
The troops' gazes followed Ragnar and Yuri.
Intense hatred for orcs permeated the ranks. The entire allied force watched how they'd handle the orc prisoners.
“Yuri.”
Ragnar asked him.
“What should we do with these?”
As Yuri scanned the orcs at the sound of Ragnar's voice, one prisoner shuddered, prostrating toward him. They instinctively begged for mercy.
“I'm leaving it to you.”
“Yes.”
“Is it a burden?”
“No.”
What did Ragnar expect from him?
Perhaps it was a test.
Whatever his intent, this situation was a gift to Yuri.
“Truly...”
Yuri echoed Ragnar.
“Revolting creatures.”
Ragnar burst into laughter.
Yuri drew Guilty.
The allied forces would like him for this—and fear him too.
Opportunities to gain trust and terror at once were rare.
Yuri stepped forward.
One prostrated orc slyly lifted its head.
Mimicking human submission, it bowed low and pressed its forehead to the ground.
Begging for pity?
Yuri brought Guilty down indifferently.
Blood sprayed.
He slashed again and again.
The orc couldn't even resist, butchered dozens, hundreds of times while prone.
Flesh split, innards scattered.
Yuri dismantled it alive, ensuring it writhed in agony until the end.
The other orcs groaned in terror.
Being a figure of fear to enemies wasn't bad. It felt good.
Even the Empire's black-armored knights watched Yuri with revulsion.
Yuri smirked.
Would it stop at just orcs? If they met as foes later, they wouldn't be exceptions.
Yuri turned back.
The eyes of the entire allied force were on him.
Absorbing the swirling emotions, he asked instead.
“Any volunteers?”
In his previous life, the allied forces had never achieved such a decisive victory.
History had changed.