Chapter 62
Chapter 62
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: 29. The Ring (2)
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The omen began abruptly.
The orc flags lurking beyond the hills started to wave.
Then the entire horizon rose.
"My God..."
A scout on the watchtower, who had been monitoring the orcs, raised his telescope.
What was swelling upward wasn't the earth—it was the orc forces.
"It's not just one. Look over there."
As his comrade said, the horizons in all directions were shaking in unison.
They had been encircled before they even realized it.
"That many?"
The orcs had steadily depleted their ranks so far.
The Allied Forces had responded with calm precision, minimizing their own losses while slaughtering countless orcs.
Yet that many troops still remained.
"Report it quick!"
A fleet-footed soldier descended from the watchtower.
The remaining scout kept watch over the surroundings from atop the tower.
"How do the orcs look?"
A sentry waiting at the base of the watchtower called up.
"Well..."
"Well?"
"It's bad. Real bad."
His hand trembled on the telescope.
Interspersed among the orc soldiers gradually coming into view were Orc Warriors bearing flags—far too many to count individually.
And that wasn't all.
Orc cavalry mounted on Komodo Drakes broke from the front lines and charged ahead.
Thick clouds of dust billowed up.
One of the orc riders raised his weapon and bellowed something. The entire cavalry followed suit, raising weapons and unleashing a deafening roar.
"Trouble... big trouble..."
Distracted, he failed to notice the shadow flickering overhead.
Suddenly, his vision blurred.
He never even registered his death.
The moment the scout crumpled, alarms blared.
"Up top! Look up!"
"Ring the bell—now!"
"War!"
The bells tolled across the camp.
As the orc main force closed in on the Allied Forces' position from every direction, arrows rained down from the sky.
"Wyverns!"
They'd tamed Ancient Worms before—now orcs rode wyverns into battle.
All eyes in the Allied Forces turned skyward.
Winged wyverns blotted out the sun as they wheeled overhead, unleashing volleys of arrows from their backs.
"Target the wings!"
The sentries fired back.
Soon the entire Allied Forces mobilized for combat. Scarred by countless ambushes, they shifted to battle mode without hesitation.
"Counterfire!"
A storm of arrows arced upward from the Allied Forces.
The wyverns climbed higher.
Missiles traced steep parabolas and plummeted harmlessly.
"Doesn't have to hit!"
A veteran barked the order.
"Drive 'em up! They can't aim from altitude!"
There weren't many wyverns.
"Keep the pressure on those wyverns!"
The sentries' efforts kept casualties low.
Ragnar soon appeared.
"Just the opening act."
He gathered his messengers and assigned defensive sectors to each nation's forces.
Orders issued, Ragnar glanced skyward.
"A pain. How'd they break those beasts?"
They'd marched to fight orcs, but now it was Ancient Worms, wyverns—every monster under the sun.
"Wayne."
At the call, a knight clad in black armor stepped forward.
"Yes, sir."
Wayne was captain of the 3rd Knight Order.
"Clear the skies."
"Understood."
Wayne snatched a bow from a nearby soldier.
He nocked an arrow and loosed it skyward without pause.
Mana-charged, the shot flew true and unwavering.
A wyvern took it straight to the skull and plummeted into the Allied lines. The orc rider atop it twitched on impact.
Soldiers swarmed, thrusting spears and swords.
The orc foamed blood and went still.
Wayne downed wyvern after wyvern.
Eventually, the flock veered off, abandoning the camp to circle at a distance.
They'd return when the ground battle ignited.
"Now it gets real."
Ragnar's lips curled into a grin.
The most fired-up he'd looked since joining the Allies.
"Any other reports?"
"None, sir. Everyone's locked and loaded. We hold and wait for their move."
"Sound the drums. Get the blood pumping."
He hadn't expected Okua to strike first, but Ragnar felt no unease.
They'd thwarted raid after raid. Defensive warfare was second nature now.
"Dispels holding?"
"Dead even. No magic from either side till one breaks."
"Okua?"
"No sighting."
"Eyes peeled."
Okua remained unseen, yet Ragnar and the Empire's command stared the same way.
Beyond the horizon loomed an immense presence.
Overwhelming.
Dust from the orc horde shrouded what felt like an earth-shaking titan on the verge of bursting forth.
What sort of monster was Okua?
"Haven't felt this in ages. Electric."
Ragnar chuckled low.
Battlefield tension revived him like nothing else.
An imperial palace couldn't touch this rush.
"Graheim?"
"Forming up with the troops."
"Reinstate him."
"Fold him into the 3rd for now?"
"Nah, not his style. Let him loose. Doesn't need a leash."
"Got it."
"Tell Eisen to ready that thing."
"Still untested."
"Test it today. Perfect stage."
"Yes, sir."
The orcs drew nearer.
Everyone present knew the carnage ahead.
As Ragnar pictured it, he scowled suddenly.
"That kid..."
"Sir?"
"Yuri Brioll. Get this to him."
He drew paper from his tunic, scrawled a note, folded it sloppily, and handed it off.
Short message.
His adjutant cocked his head.
"Mind if I ask what it says?"
"Nosy? Peek."
"Yes, sir."
The adjutant's head tilted further after reading.
He shot Ragnar a sidelong glance, then passed it to a runner.
"To Brioll's Third Prince."
"On it."
The messenger bolted. Routine run for him.
Chaos gripped the camp. He dodged soldiers loosing arrows upward, backpedaled past helmeted knights marching in formation, ignored a soldier's prayer to the gods.
Soon, Brioll's lines.
And a peculiar scene.
Brioll's Third Prince—Yuri, familiar even to couriers—perched on a crate, holding court with his troops.
"So, like I was saying..."
"Why the sudden gravitas, Your Highness!"
"Serious times call for it."
"You scared or something?"
"Suicidal?"
Oddly buoyant mood.
"Saw you, punk. After this Allied gig, you're toast on the way home."
"Can't wait."
"We'll see."
The prince spotted the messenger and waved him to hold.
"Anyway, big scrap's inbound."
"Yes, sir!"
"Scared?"
"N-no, sir..."
"For real?"
"A-a bit."
"Same."
Yuri hopped down.
"Normal."
He flashed a grin.
"So remember Kruui. All their atrocities. Heads full of that shit. Still scared? Then sit it out. Hole up in your tent."
The messenger recalled prior clashes.
Insanity past savagery.
Orcs: cursed to the core.
Yuri slung his sword over his shoulder.
"We're where we belong—facing foes worth the steel. Honor like this? Might be once-in-a-lifetime. And we're Brioll. Not those limp-dick foreign fops. Real Brioll steel."
Then to the messenger.
"See? Even His Highness wrote, asking you to look after us."
Soldiers barked laughs.
Borderline insolent—but with battle breathing down their necks, survival trumped decorum.
Yuri took the missive, read it, snorted.
"Guess what the man said?"
"Meet the princess...?"
"Zip it."
"Yes, sir."
"Told me stay off the front."
He crumpled the note onto the crate and grinned.
"You know my answer."
Soldiers rumbled low chuckles.
"I'd rather die up front than cower in your shadows. That's Yuri Brioll!"
Mission complete, but the messenger lingered, transfixed. The prince commanded attention.
Yuri bellowed on.
"Orders! Don't die—kill! Back to Brioll, make this your house honor: fought alongside Yuri Brioll!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Ditto for me! Battling studs like you? My honor!"
Cheers erupted.
Yuri raised his sword.
"For Brioll!"
"For Brioll!"
Sword reslung, he strode toward his men.
A path parted.
Yuri pushed frontward through the ranks. Soldiers fell in behind.
That loose swagger evoked a wolf pack alpha, not a prince.
Brioll's banner soared proud, snapping in the breeze.
The messenger stared, briefly entranced.
For once, he yearned to ditch dispatches and draw steel.
Brioll held a position slightly offset from the orc front.
Yuri stood by a barricade of sharpened logs.
Orcs close enough now to make out frontline faces.
"Jared."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"How's it feel?"
Prairie gusts tousled Yuri's black hair.
He turned to Jared with a grin.
"Glad you tailed me?"
"We'll see."
Jared felt old memories stir.
One day Yuri stormed the Royal Guard barracks, singled him out for a spar.
He'd stepped up thoughtlessly.
Genesis moment.
Were Yuri no prince, where would Jared stand?
Even join the Allies?
Likely palace statue, Royal Guard drone. Cushy, dull—drab next to this vivid chaos.
"Why the long face?"
"No idea what yours looks like."
"My face?"
Only then did Jared notice his own smile.
"Buckle up. Allies are just the appetizer."
"For real?"
"Doubt it?"
"Suppose not..."
This prince? Capable of eclipsing the entire Allied Forces.
"What's next on the docket?"
Somewhere along the line, the hunch hit.
Yuri played the rogue, but schemed deeper. Prepping something big.
Yuri smirked and beckoned.
"Mood's right. Sneak preview. C'mere."
"Er..."
"Pass then."
Felt like a prank, but Jared steeled up, leaned in.
Yuri whispered.
"......"
Jared's head cocked.
Got the gist, but the weight crashed too hard—brain stalled.
Only after chewing it over did he jolt back.
"No way, that's..."
"Accomplice now."
"Huh?"
"You alone know. I screw up? On you."
"Lips sealed."
"Knew it. Prime pick."
"That's not—"
"Later."
Yuri shook his head.
"Orcs first."
"Right."
In their exchange, orcs closed to spitting distance.
Yuri gripped Guilty, braced for the charge.
"Huh..."
Then it hit.
Yuri's gaze snapped aside.
Every knight on the plain mirrored him in an instant.
The hazy colossus now flexed undeniable.
From the orc rear, a titanic shadow stirred.
Mountains in motion.
Yuri breathed the name.
"Okua."
The beast showed at last.