Chapter 38
Chapter 38
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: Night Assault from the Rear
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Tigr thought so.
No matter how the humans fortified their territory with palisades, his warriors could surely triumph.
But that assumption shattered miserably on the first day of the siege, and it crumbled again the following day when they established their main camp.
'For Mother North!'
Ladders toppled as soon as they were raised.
A rain of arrows and javelins poured down, making it impossible to lower their shields.
The human soldiers, whom he'd dismissed as weak, now fought the seasoned orc warriors without yielding an inch.
A shocking defeat at the vanguard.
But the real problems came afterward.
'It's all empty, Lord Tigr!'
They had anticipated the orcs' arrival. The granaries in the farmlands stood barren, and the barren lands offered no local supplies—only poisonous plants and vicious beasts lurked there.
Even with spring's arrival, the thin ice that formed chilled their resolve, rapidly eroding the brave orc warriors' morale.
The northern hinterlands they'd marched into expecting a short campaign were nothing less than a white hell.
But if that had been the end of it, Tigr wouldn't have been racking his brains.
The testimony of a surviving veteran from the first failed siege still haunted him.
'It was the Gray Wolf, without a doubt.'
The Gray Wolf—the supreme Huskarl who had single-handedly crushed an orc guard unit.
No orc who had fought in wars of that era could possibly forget the human hero.
They said he'd vanished completely after the kingdom fell, so Tigr had never dreamed of encountering him in this remote frontier.
But the veteran's words didn't end there. There had been two knights, after all.
'The other one didn't match my memory. But his swordsmanship... it resembled his.'
'Speak quickly!'
'The Broken Sword.'
A heavy silence crushed the interior of the tent.
No one dared open their mouth in the face of the dread evoked by that modest name.
The Broken Sword—the shining sword saint of the North, the Knight King's eternal squire and the greatest contributor to the kingdom's founding. He was a legendary figure on another level from other human heroes.
Tigr thought next.
This war, which he'd assumed would be easy—perhaps he needed to make a different choice.
He couldn't act recklessly, not when he bore responsibility for so many tribesmen, pursuing not mere glory but their survival.
Yet he couldn't retreat without any gains after mobilizing the army.
'I must take responsibility for the defeat.'
Orcs, obsessed with deeds and battle as a race, enforced rewards and punishments with ironclad resolve.
They had even moved camp without main force approval. Returning without toppling a single territory would mean certain punishment.
His brothers, waiting for him to slip up, might very well see his head roll.
With a grim expression, Tigr finally mentioned what he saw as their last chance.
"Bring him here."
"Lord Tigr!"
"I know. But we have no choice."
At dawn today, while the war was in a lull, a single human had approached the human lines.
They'd nearly beheaded him as a spy, but the sweating old human made an utterly unexpected proposal.
'I-I'll open the rear gate for you. There's a shelter nearby with civilians—take them.'
'You expect me to trust you?'
'Th-the drainage gate will open. Judge for yourself then. If it's a lie, you can take my head there...'
Trust no man—trust the situation.
The sly rat had a silver tongue.
But the information he'd spat out was tempting enough to seem credible.
After long deliberation, Tigr summoned him.
The administrator, who'd been imprisoned and barely released alive, slammed his forehead to the ground.
"Are there no guards at the drainage channel?"
"I've arranged an inside man! Send the signal, and he'll open the gate for sure."
"...And what do you gain from this? You're human, same as them."
"I-I'm a dead man whether we win or lose this war. What hope is there fleeing this wasteland? This is my only way."
A repulsive, ugly traitor selling out his own kind.
Had he been an orc, Tigr would have flayed him alive as an example.
But he was human.
And his ugliness made him believable.
Hardening his resolve, Tigr sprang to his feet and made a promise he had no intention of keeping.
"Fine! If it goes as you say, you'll manage the new slave village."
"Thank you! Thank you!"
No matter how great the human heroes, they couldn't easily defend against attacks from front and rear.
No—even if they did repel it, that was fine.
He could fight just enough to claim some credit by slaughtering or capturing defenseless humans from the shelter, then retreat.
Tigr, who had risen from the weakest position through cunning, had already planned his insurance between ambition and restraint.
He then commanded his sergeants.
"Tomorrow night, mobilize all warriors to assault the palisade! I'll hit the rear drainage—front command is yours."
"...Won't it be dangerous alone?"
"It's important. I must lead it myself."
To tie down the Gray Wolf and Broken Sword would require at least three aura-wielding sergeants.
The main target: the rear shelter.
Imagining swinging his massive axe, Tigr exhaled excitedly through his nostrils.
The metallic stench of blood on the battlefield set his blood boiling.
Boom boom! Boom boom! Boom boom!
In the pitch-black night, countless torches lit the forest before the palisade as war drums thundered.
The massive orc main force advanced in unison, their momentum and speed on another level from before.
Thus began the second all-out battle, where orcs and humans staked their fates.
Gulp.
Unlike the fierce fighting at the palisade, the drainage entrance at the village rear was eerily quiet.
They'd left only the bare minimum to guard it, sending everyone else to the palisade.
Little Sprout, one of the lucky few left behind, cautiously asked her friend and comrade, Butterfly Wing.
"I-It looks like this attack is the last one. I can hear the advance even here."
"...We'll win for sure. I believe it."
Not having to go to the battlefield was a blessing, but waiting idly like this was torture.
If only she were a bit taller, a bit stronger—she could fight too.
Little Sprout sighed deeply at her stubby arms and legs.
The drainage entrance remained quiet as ever today.
After vigilantly scanning the surroundings, Butterfly Wing asked Little Sprout.
"By the way, isn't Barley Ear acting strange lately? Look, he's alone again today."
"Yeah..."
Barley Ear usually monopolized the villagers' affection with his handsome looks and personality.
But since returning from training with his master, his demeanor had changed drastically.
Look at him now.
Instead of comforting the fearful soldiers, Barley Ear sat alone on the watchtower, silently scanning the area.
"Something must be troubling him."
With so few already, his mood soured the atmosphere further.
Sprout and Wing, still fond of Barley Ear, bowed their heads glumly.
Thud!
"Huh? He's up."
But in that moment, Barley Ear, who had been staring blankly outside, rose from his seat.
He ripped down the warning bell on the watchtower and approached them.
"Open the drainage gate."
"Pardon? The gate?"
"Yes. Master, who went out to intercept earlier, is returning via the drainage."
The lord went out to intercept?
Little Sprout, never hearing such a thing, looked puzzled at her friend Wing.
Butterfly Wing hadn't heard it either and asked again.
"...Right now?"
"Yes, right now."
They'd been told never to open this gate no matter what.
But Barley Ear, their superior, ordered it—what took precedence?
"Ignoring my order?"
"W-We’ll open it!"
Right—the lord's sole disciple, Barley Ear, wouldn't lie.
Frightened by his murderous glare, Sprout and Wing rushed to the lock.
Rumble!
"I-Is this okay...?"
"Just pull."
They undid the newly installed lock and yanked the connected rope.
The rusty pulley turned, raising the iron grate blocking the drainage.
If Barley Ear was right, their proud lord would emerge soon.
Dusting their hands and straightening their uniforms, Sprout and Wing snapped to salute.
"Huh?"
But something was off.
Barley Ear, who had been there moments ago, was nowhere in sight.
He'd clearly come down from the watchtower...
Whoosh!
Crack!
In that instant, a massive axe flew from the drainage, impaling Butterfly Wing.
And at the drainage entrance—where the lord was supposed to appear—dozens of eyes glowed red, not human.
"A-Ahh...!"
We have to close it.
Even as her friend died suddenly, duty-bound Little Sprout grabbed the rope.
Slash!
But Tigr, already inside the village, swung his weapon at Little Sprout.
Chieftain Tigr, smugly slinging his bloodied axe over his shoulder.
He turned to the administrator, dragged in like a dog.
"Your word was true, you human rat. Where's the shelter?"
"Th-That way, straight ahead..."
"Good. Thanks."
Slash!
Crack!
With all business done, Tigr beheaded the administrator with his thanks.
He crushed the head underfoot and commanded his orc warriors.
"Set it ablaze. To the shelter."
The administrator had lured the orcs in by deceiving Barley Ear from the start.
But his vile plan to save only himself not only failed—it doomed the village rear.
Roar!
The orc warriors slaughtered the drainage guards and lit their torches.
They advanced toward the shelter, igniting every building in sight.
"O-Orcs... Gah!"
Slash!
The dark village rear ignited in flames.
At the same time, orc warriors darted through alleys, spreading like cancer cells.
Rear soldiers noticed the rising embers and strange aura.
But the blaze had spread too far to confirm the truth.
Shaking blood from his axe, Tigr spotted a makeshift wooden keep in the distance.
That was the shelter the rat human had revealed.
"Raaargh—!!"
Tigr unleashed his war cry.
His orc warriors screamed in response and charged forward.
"Kyaaah—!!"
"O-Orcs! Orcs are here!!"
The shelter wasn't the only danger.
The area before the keep doubled as a temporary ward for wounded soldiers—and now faced attack from the rear occupiers.
"I-Inside the keep! Flee to the keep! Close the gate—Gurk!"
Exposed civilians were cut down defenselessly.
Villagers aiding the healers fled in panic; the few sane healers tried evacuating them.
But the hastily built keep palisade and gate were too flimsy against the orcs.
His eyes crimson, Tigr cleaved a fleeing villager in half amid mad laughter.
"Kill the immobile ones—take ears only! Capture all females and whelps!"
Screams, terror, fear, inferno.
Yes, this feeling.
Nothing delighted him more than slaughtering helpless livestock miserably.
With that brutal order, Tigr advanced on the keep with his warriors.
Mothers and daughters clutching each other in tears, grandmothers covering grandchildren's eyes, soldiers dying one by one horribly.
Only the red flames brushed the eyes of the last child to be hidden.
The tragedy's prelude, soon to be ashes, faded into bloody mire.
Shing, clang!
But then, amid galloping hooves, a clear voice struck the battlefield.
Clop clop clop clop!
"All troops! Maintain formation!"
A gleaming sword, flowing black hair.
Strong, unyielding aura from her entire body challenged the darkness that swallowed hope.
The king's heir, leaving her master's nest for the first time, flew to defend the village.
"No retreat! Hold your weapons to the end!"
Snow-Covered cut through the chaotic battlefield center on her urgently summoned horse.
Fleeing soldiers gazed at her back as if entranced.
No retreat—hold weapons to the end!
As all scattered, only Snow-Covered charged the flames.
"————!!"
The battlefield's tide turned.
The sharp awl to reenact legend etched itself into the orcs' eyes.