Chapter 62
Chapter 62
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: Ogmar's Last Stand
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“Oh, Lord Ogmar!”
“Shut up!”
The adjutant, who had been examining his wound, cried out urgently, but Ogmar paid him no mind and rose to his feet.
He pushed open the flap of the makeshift tent and glared at the war still raging outside.
Clang! Chaeang!
The day had turned, and the assault resumed.
Ogmar feigned vigor to rally the warriors, and the Orc army, its morale boosted, charged once more at the Northern Army.
But the result was a crushing defeat.
If the Northern Army's momentum from before had been fierce valor, today it was a blood-soaked hatred and will that dominated the battlefield.
Commanders who spared no thought for their lives, and Northern soldiers who truly raged at their deaths.
The essence of honor that Ogmar had pursued belonged not to the Orcs, but to them.
The tribe chiefs swarmed him, venting their fury.
“The casualties are too great, Governor!”
“What’s your plan? Take responsibility!”
Just yesterday, these chiefs who wouldn't dare utter a peep were now rushing in at the news of the governor's injury, shouting loudly.
The alliance army's flaw—which had been offset by overwhelming force and charisma until now—was beginning to surface at the most critical moment.
How many more warriors would have to die or be maimed to kill those tenacious bastards?
Unlike the Northern Army, which only grew fiercer with every loss, the chiefs were already watching for an opening.
Grind.
Look at those dissatisfied glares.
Ogmar, who knew the nature of power all too well, sensed an undercurrent flowing among the chiefs as they lodged their complaints.
It was like the vile hyenas eyeing a wounded, aging lion.
Ogmar finally opened his heavy mouth.
“I'll lead the charge. Will that do?”
“Ahem! If the governor insists...”
“In return, you chiefs follow right behind. Or die here with me.”
They were chiefs who had hidden in the rear all this time.
Ogmar intended to drag them along, even if it meant dying on this battlefield.
Follow without hesitation.
Or he'd pull out his axe right here.
Gulp.
These were the chiefs who had been creeping forward, bit by bit, trying to seize control from the governor as time passed.
But reading the sincerity in his declaration of mutual destruction, they nodded without a word.
Yes, at least they wouldn't be at the forefront.
Having reached their own compromise, the chiefs called for their sergeants with sullen faces.
They would whittle down the shield wall as before and pierce the enemy's heart with medium cavalry.
Ogmar, exhaling labored breaths, mounted his horse and asked his adjutant.
“No other movements?”
“None, sir!”
Even if the king's heir was guarding the rear, where the hell was the Sword Saint, and what was he doing?
With over a day gone by, the only explanation for his continued absence was that he was old or injured, just like Ogmar himself.
Ogmar furrowed his brow and moved to lead the assembling medium cavalry.
The throbbing pain from his wound, the more he thought about it, fueled his growing unease.
Clop! Clop! Clop! Clop!
But in that moment, an Orc rider came galloping urgently from the rear of the camp, where it should have been quiet.
“Governor!”
The Orc messenger was covered in blood and sweat, as if he had just broken out from somewhere.
This was the supply unit herald who shouldn't have arrived for half a day yet—he had come straight to the main force.
An ominous thought flashed through his mind.
“It's been taken by the enemy!”
“...What?”
“Snow Garden has fallen!”
Stagger.
Ogmar's eyes widened in shock.
Fresh blood seeped through the bandage he had just stanched, and the body he had steadied went limp.
Cavalry had seized the fortress.
What commander would believe such news?
But reality had already struck, and the idiot chiefs began clamoring.
“The, the capital has fallen?”
“Governor! What do we do? Governor Ogmar!”
Think.
Ogmar, on the verge of losing his reason for a moment, gritted his teeth amid the shouting chiefs.
He spurred his horse forward and issued the best orders to put out the immediate fire.
“...The enemy cavalry will surely head north! I'll intercept them, so you chiefs hold the Northern Army main force and retreat slowly!”
Cut supply lines were fatal.
But even more urgent was the Sword Saint and his cavalry seizing the rear and marching north.
Look now—even the Northern Army main force had noticed something amiss in our camp and was shifting from defense to advancing.
If they stayed put, they'd be swept into the Sword Saint's grand design.
“Hyah!”
Ogmar gripped his axe tightly.
And with the medium cavalry, he spurred his horse, igniting his final blaze. ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ We had recaptured the capital.
But before the thrill could even fade, we slaughtered the Orcs we found there, burned all the supplies, and prepared to march north again.
Cavalry existed to move.
If we planned to hunker down behind walls, we wouldn't have even attempted the bypass.
The cavalry departed the capital without lingering and pressed north, skimping on sleep to torch one supply base and relay station after another.
In response, Ogmar's Orc army halted its offensive like a beast with a tightening noose and began retreating to the rear.
The moment they realized their rear had been stabbed, they moved to contain the damage.
The Northern Army main force pursued southward.
Like a sandwich squeezed from above and below, the Orcs and we were gradually converging on the confrontation line for the final battle.
‘Orc army spotted.’
And another day passed. The Northern Cavalry and Orc mounted troops discovered each other's scout positions, less than half a day's ride apart.
The finale that would decide the North's war was nearly upon them.
The deer cavalry, which had marched north relentlessly, halted its advance and quickly set up a temporary camp in the forest.
“Here you are, my lord.”
“Truly grateful.”
Shring—!
Rustle, rustle, rustle.
The dismounted cavalry and knights drew their spare swords, which they had carried all this time.
They planted them one by one in a clearing at the forest's heart, creating a graveyard of swords.
The riders and knights must have found it burdensome carrying two swords each.
I exchanged thanks with each of them and, as before, built a circular arena atop the clearing with a hundred blades.
White forest and sword graveyard.
In this nameless clearing and woods, I would end the tiresome bad blood with Ogmar.
With all preparations complete, I sought out Snow-Covered, who had remounted.
The child who once seemed so naive had become a proper knight.
“You won't listen if I tell you to be careful.”
“Hehe, you know me well.”
“...Yes, I taught you that way.”
If the capital symbolized the colony, Ogmar was the pillar upholding the Orc encampments.
For the Northern Army to claim total victory, that pillar had to crumble, its breath cut short.
Failure here would render everything meaningless.
Snow-Covered volunteered as clear bait, vowing to lure the archenemy Ogmar.
Clop, clop!
It was time to depart.
I made my final plea to the Northern knights at the head of the cavalry formation.
“I trust only in you.”
Crisp!
The Northern knights escorting Snow-Covered saluted in response.
They wheeled their mounts and drove their deer north with her.
“Hoo...”
I let out a sigh.
Calming my heated breath, I quietly knelt on the cold snow.
If there was a beginning, there must be an end.
I, who had awakened the genesis, closed my eyes once more to witness its conclusion. ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Rumble rumble rumble—!
“Enemy cavalry dead ahead!”
The lead Orc scout spotted the cavalry beyond the plain and shouted urgently.
Ogmar immediately wheeled toward the plain, ordering engagement and annihilation.
“Prepare to attack! We crush them here!”
They had finally met the northward cavalry.
Annihilate them here, and they could reclaim the lost capital.
This was the only way to turn the tide.
Ogmar shook off his injury and age without hesitation and bellowed.
Rumble rumble rumble—!!
Likewise, the spotted Northern Cavalry began circling the plain.
But it was no retreat—it was a charging formation to meet them head-on.
Yes, they knew this was the decisive battle too!
Ogmar, his eyes bloodshot, and the Orc mounted troops closed the distance steadily.
The enemy's forms grew clearer.
Both sides' cavalry fixed their gazes on foes less than 500 meters away, eyes bulging.
Snort!
The horses' breath steamed like froth, chaotic.
With the rough up-and-down sway, it felt for a moment like breath had stopped.
Screeeee—.
Now was not the time.
Wait, wait more.
As all noise turned to tinnitus, the blowing wind halted.
Now.
Bwooooo—!!!
The war horns signaling fierce combat!
Orcs and humans alike leveled sharp lances at the enemy without waiting.
They poured all the acceleration and force gathered in the charge upon their foes.
Orc riders and human cavalry collided.
Bang—!
Thud! Crunch!
Neigh! Snort!
Indescribable thunderous roars erupted as blood and flesh sprayed everywhere.
Orcs and humans struck by lances died instantly without screams, and the neat ranks dissolved into brutal melee in seconds.
Clang! Chaeang!
“Raaargh!!”
“Die, you bastard!!”
Being on horseback didn't change the fundamentals.
With no path forward, both sides swung weapons at the enemy.
Nearly equal numbers.
Forces balanced on a knife's edge.
In such melee, the edge would go to the extraordinary—Aura.
“Raaaaargh—!!”
Ogmar, lost in berserk fury, wildly swung his golden axe rippling with Aura.
Ordinary riders couldn't resist; heads and bodies tore apart, falling dead.
It was utter dominance.
Whoosh!
Clang! Chaeang!
But that was the end.
In the midst of the slaughter, Ogmar instinctively parried a sword with his axe.
Power and Aura on another level from the soldiers!
Turning his head, there stood a black-haired girl amid the knights.
Ogmar laughed hollowly.
“...Haha, Tigmar was right. The Black-Haired Knight King really has returned! His own daughter?”
“Governor Ogmar.”
“Yes, I am Ogmar. Archfoe ruling the Northern colonies, and your mortal enemy. Have you finally come to die?”
Mortal enemy and marshal.
The knights scowled and raised swords at the blatant wordplay mockery.
But Snow-Covered fixed Ogmar with eyes cold as hoarfrost.
“Your ugly mug looks tough. Perfect.”
“...What?”
“I'll skin it and make a drum for the North.”
Like master, like disciple.
Ogmar's face twisted viciously at the reckless taunt.
Daring to insult me in the heart of battle?
This mere human wench, shielded by knights, insulting me, Ogmar?
Roar!
Hot rage boiled over.
And that condensed fury became Aura, adorning his golden axe in an instant.
End the war here.
Ogmar spurred his horse, swinging the axe at the king's heir, Snow-Covered.
Bang—!
Sizzle!
Her head didn't fly.
The knights blocking her path in a flash met the axe with swords rippling Aura.
But what shocked Ogmar wasn't the knights charging as one—it was Snow-Covered flashing between their blades.
Tsss, tszzt.
The sword in the girl's hand clearly rippled with white Aura, true to her name.
“..........?”
Mother North had descended beside the King.