Chapter 60
Chapter 60
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 60
Chapter Title: Black-Haired Knight King
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Dong... Dong... Dong.
A faint drumbeat echoed from the distance.
A subtle vibration trembled beneath their feet, and hearts began pounding heedlessly.
I wonder what everyone's thinking.
The soldiers gazed at their comrades in identical helmets and armor, exhaling white breaths into the frigid air.
But such vague sentiments lasted only a moment before the orc army appeared on the horizon.
Across the snow-blanketed plain stretched an endless black horde, grotesque banners whipping in the wind.
"Come on, loosen up before you stiffen up!"
"Drop that shield and you're done for! If you wanna make it to tomorrow, hold the line!"
Veteran soldiers turned squad leaders bustled about under the commanders' orders.
They tightened the disrupted ranks, forging an even denser Shield Wall.
This orc army was on another level entirely.
If even one section of the Shield Wall crumbled, the circular defensive line would collapse in no time.
To prevent that, maintaining perfect balance without any weak points was paramount.
The commanders and squad leaders hammered the point home again, rousing the Northern forces burning with resolve.
Thud! Thud!
The soldiers raised their shields to chest height on command, while archers nocked arrows onto warm, thawed bowstrings one by one.
Click, click, click, click, click.
With no intention of dragging out the war, the orc horde swiftly changed direction.
Heavy cavalry peeled off to block the sole escape route, while the main force advanced at double time, encircling the Northern army's circular formation.
A masterful display of command.
Ogmar wielded the chieftains like his own limbs, effortlessly offsetting the alliance's weaknesses with overwhelming charisma.
Clop! Clop! Clop! Clop!
Yet the Gray Wolf watched it all without flinching, urging his deer onward.
Every Northern soldier in the circle turned fervent eyes toward him, ears attuned.
With North and humanity at a crossroads of fate, the Gray Wolf was surely smiling.
"The enemy's numbers are insane! Damn it, they should've told us it was this many! We wouldn't be screwed if they hadn't played it cool!"
A ripple of laughter spread through the ranks.
The Gray Wolf's crude joke, devoid of any dignity, had cracked them up on the spot.
Was it okay to laugh at a time like this?
As the soldiers pondered, a squad leader notorious for his pranks bellowed.
"Don't run away now, even if you want to!"
"I remember that face, you bastard!"
Hahaha!
No one held back anymore.
The soldiers burst into hearty guffaws at their banter, soon chattering boisterously in what might be their final conversation.
Some among them would die.
The dead would never be seen again.
But in this potentially final moment, the soldiers chose laughter over tears.
"- - - - - - -."
The brief commotion faded.
The soldiers who had roared with laughter now stood resolute, faces grim as ever.
A refreshing breeze swept in,
and the Gray Wolf spoke.
"Laughter feels good, doesn't it."
Laughter feels good. They'd forgotten something so simple.
Blaming their powerlessness, cursing their cruel fate, they hadn't laughed.
"The king kept his promise."
But fate had changed.
Their king, who vowed to defy the heavens, had fulfilled his word.
Shing!
The Gray Wolf drew his sword and reined in his mount.
The White-Horned Deer reared on its forelegs, a torch-like aura igniting along the blade's edge.
"Now it's our turn to hold the line."
May our king live long and prosper!
The Northern army unleashed a mighty roar for their absent Knight King.
Clop! Clop! Clop! Clop!
Neigh! Whinny!
Snow fell hard, winds howled fierce.
Yet the cavalry line pierced the harsh conditions, charging ahead.
White-Horned Deer traversed rugged terrain impassable to warhorses as if it were open plain.
A journey that should have taken over three days, they covered in a day and a half.
Familiar landmarks came into view.
Riding at the front with Snow-Covered, I raised my hand quietly, signaling halt.
"Whoa, whoa!"
"Halt! Hold position!"
The cavalry slowed to a stop.
Following the turning vanguard, they reined in toward the descending plain.
Exhausted deer and soldiers with frost on brows and hair.
But their eyes toward the front gleamed with unyielding duty.
The retired knights approached swiftly.
"Sir!"
"Yes, down there."
The hub where all roads converged, a trade nexus hugging sheer cliffs—a natural fortress.
Its picturesque form suited the name Snowgarden perfectly.
"......They really came."
The capital, etched with every struggle and memory.
Sentiments stirred deeply; I gazed wistfully at Snowgarden for a time.
But nostalgia ended here.
Even now, as we caught our breath, the Gray Wolf's Northern army fought tooth and nail against the orcs.
I summoned Snow-Covered, tending her gear, and the retired knights, outlining the plan.
"I'll slip in and open the gates. Wait for my signal, then charge all at once."
Cavalry couldn't scale the walls.
To leverage mobility and shock, the gates had to open.
But Snow-Covered and the knights hardened their faces in objection.
"Alone?"
"......Reckless. Take knights with you."
Even if only two orc units guarded Snowgarden, they numbered in the hundreds.
Infiltrating solo was tantamount to suicide.
Snow-Covered clutched my collar fiercely; knights gripped swords, ready to storm in.
But I calmed their fervor.
"Stealth is key. One man's enough—stay sharp and prepare."
"......Understood."
I'd witnessed the capital's rise and fall.
Even now, closing my eyes conjured the exact window count; surely I could open one gate.
Not arrogance—confidence.
I stretched my lighter-than-ever body, gripping the cold scabbard tight.
Drip, drip.
Sewers were the city's lifeblood.
The astute Knight King and prime minister knew it well, forcing captured elves to build the same facilities as back home.
Normally, heavily armed guards and engineers patrolled 24/7.
But the idiot orcs who seized the capital ignored the kingdom's pride—and its sewers—leaving even basic maintenance undone.
Slash!
A stench assaulted the nose, rusted bars blocked the way.
I drew my sword, slicing through the thick security grates.
Clang!
Clean cut.
Slipping into the sewer, I advanced on vivid memories.
Splash, splash, splash.
Quiet, dim tunnels; a dank, chill draft from somewhere.
Feeling along the walls, I soon found a drain where water trickled steadily.
The rusted ladder looked risky.
Setting aside crumbling debris, I climbed the wall crevices instead.
Ahead lay the drain gap—source of the draft—and faint light.
I smashed the grimy drain mouth with my scabbard.
Clang!
Scrape.
Gripping the edge, I peeked out.
Thankfully quiet; I twisted through adeptly onto the surface.
Whoooosh...!
Midday sun still high.
Yet Snowgarden was a silent gray ruin, not an ant in sight.
An alien sight.
The kingdom's capital, once alive with laughing Northerners, now mere rubble.
Thousands buried alive, they said.
The distant wind wailed like the aggrieved dead.
Mother North, it's nearly over.
Witness our rebirth's glory, welcome the souls departed first.
Crossing that day's vivid tragedy, I prayed fervently for the fallen's peace at her side.
Thud!
Up onto a ruined rooftop.
There, the palace afar and central walls framing the capital gate entered view.
As Snow-Covered predicted, only two unit banners at the barracks; far fewer orcs at the gate.
Figured that was enough? Uncharacteristically careless of Ogmar.
I leaped roof to roof toward the gate.
Thud, thud, thud, thud!
Body and steps feather-light.
Skirting sloppy orc patrols, hopping rooftops like a gust, I flew toward the gate.
After a long sprint, no more roofs ahead; the gate loomed, moat visible.
Unlike the idle city interior, the gate buzzed noisily.
Orcs hauled goods, mountains of supplies piled up.
They'd moved the supply depot right to the gate.
True to form, orc laborers dawdled; even watch warriors slacked off.
That negligence would be their doom.
Coldly eyeing them, I dropped from the roof.
Then strode toward the gate's orcs and crates.
Conveniently, a Northern colony banner fluttered before supplies and tents.
Click, shing!
I approached and drew my sword.
Spotting the brazen human, one orc dropped his crate in disbelief, muttering.
"......Human?"
Snowgarden, heart of the Northern colony, stood unbreached since orc conquest—a symbol of dominion, and a grave.
Yet defying that history strode a scrawny old human.
Cognitive dissonance clouded orc minds, brows furrowed.
Instinctively gripping his axe, he called comrades; bored orcs grabbed weapons, converging.
"How'd you get in here?"
"Intruder! Call the sergeant!"
Numbers swelled, encircling me.
Drawing their gazes deliberately, I gazed up at the flapping banner.
Slash!
Without hesitation, I severed the pole.
The limp banner fell; my boot crushed snow and flag alike.
"- - - - - - - -!!"
The orcs raged.
I ignored them, leveling my blade at them and the sealed gate.
"Stand aside."
It had been an era of humiliation.
Born a Northern outsider, lived as mother's bastard, my convictions and blade honed through years—never acknowledged.
Knight without a king, failed even in last words. Neither life nor death bent to my will.
But here, I would prove it.
For the departed Knight King.
For the new Knight King.
Why I wield this sword.
"I will open the path for my king."