Chapter 75
Chapter 75
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 75
Chapter Title: Griegman's Resolve
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The greatest problem facing the current Orc Empire wasn't that a tiger had given birth to a dog, but that it had given birth to several tigers just like itself.
Unlike the first son, who lacked any imperial qualities, his other siblings each shone with exceptional talents.
In particular, Second Prince Griegman, who ruled the eastern territories of the empire, was one of the children more than qualified to become the next emperor.
He was especially renowned for recruiting any talent with extraordinary abilities, regardless of whether they were orcs, elves, or humans, and treating them all as subordinates or clansmen.
His discernment and character were so outstanding that his followers had cast aside racial distinctions to offer him true loyalty.
Look at them even now.
Despite clansmen of various races and origins gathered in one place, not a single one dared to speak out of turn.
Their eyes were fixed on just one spot.
On Griegman, seated upon a throne forged of steel, reading a letter.
"The signs are clear."
"Indeed, Your wise Highness."
Ever since hearing the news that the Northern Kingdom had been reestablished, Griegman had never once let his guard down.
After all, he had been taught from childhood that humans—the race that dared to kill his dignified emperor and revered father—were a constant threat.
And that vigilance had elevated his senses to detect movements in the Northern Kingdom faster than anyone else on the continent.
'Mobilizing for war.'
'Scale: total mobilization order.'
The Northern Kingdom was preparing for a massive war.
The objective was obviously the complete recapture of his White Pass.
"And reckless."
Yet the second prince showed no agitation, even as he faced civil war and external conflict simultaneously.
The White Pass was an impregnable fortress that even thousands or tens of thousands could not breach.
"Hm."
Griegman let out a subtle chuckle.
He gazed down at his subordinates, who stood bowed before the throne that perfectly blocked his view.
Loyal followers who would leap into the pits of hell if he commanded them to die.
After a moment of silence, Griegman called upon the one he trusted most.
"Golden Dawn."
"......Yes, Your Highness."
A man rose at the summons.
Griegman's most trusted subordinate was not an orc, but a human—and one who still bore a Northern name.
Golden Dawn. What an arrogant name.
But there was good reason for such a grandiose title.
"I hear the Sword Saint still lives. Surely welcome news for you?"
"A name I've long forgotten."
"Haha, he was still your master."
Golden Dawn, the first disciple of the Northern Sword Saint and once a candidate to succeed the Knight King.
A man of exceptional skill and innate aura talent, he had been hailed as the hope of Broken Sword, closest to the Knight King.
But his arrogant heart and cold nature revealed the seeds of a tyrant, leading him to betray humanity and cross blades with the pursuing Sword Saint.
Golden Dawn concealed a twisted smile as he caressed the horrific scar that bisected his face.
The image of his old master launching a killing blow still flickered before his eyes.
Watching this, Second Prince Griegman chuckled darkly and rose from his throne.
Golden Dawn lacked nothing in ability, motivation, or purpose—he was perfect for this task.
"I'll give you a chance."
"Command me, Your Highness!"
"I'll give you a legion. Defend the White Pass. The Sword Saint's head will be reward enough."
"We obey, Your Highness!"
Golden Dawn knelt before the throne, and the other subordinates echoed in unison, bowing toward the great Griegman.
Orc Empire, endure forever.
No matter how divided its glory, it paled before united light.
The Gray Wolf smirked as he read the letter dispatched from the capital that very morning.
Though filled with formalities and florid language, the king's intent was clear.
'Prioritize lives, got it?'
If defeat loomed, flee without hesitation.
What king would trade his territory to preserve his soldiers' safety?
Truly like Snow-Covered, thought the Gray Wolf with a pleased grin as he folded the letter.
His personal drawer held every letter from Snow-Covered, all treasured.
Clack.
Short if short, long if long—a span of time.
The small fief had become the Northern Kingdom, and the little girl had become the Knight King.
Yet Gray Wolf, now her enemy, still couldn't grasp the kingdom's rebirth as reality.
Only the cold sea wind blowing in confirmed it wasn't a dream.
Time for the morning patrol.
The Gray Wolf grabbed his weapons and stepped out of the office.
Creeeak.
Thud, thud, thud.
The fortress atmosphere was calmly serene for the first time in ages.
He had ordered full rest for the garrison since no elf ships had appeared lately.
Perhaps even they realized small scouting parties had reached their limit.
No ships had been sighted along the northern coast since yesterday afternoon.
Time for them to head back, it seemed.
Just then, his deputy, who had pulled an all-nighter, approached.
"Captain, good morning."
"Good work. Anything to report?"
"Third squad got caught drinking. Nothing else. Turns out it was Pockmark's birthday."
"Heh, make 'em clean the barracks."
How else could they endure the harsh outpost life without such small joys?
The Gray Wolf instructed light punishment, then walked the coastal fortress with his deputy.
"Guess it's time for me to head back."
"Someone replacing you?"
"You three hold the fort. Time to shed this veteran tag, eh?"
His experience and skill overflowed.
He had drilled command and tactics into them, countering past criticisms of inadequacy—no one would call them incompetent officers.
The Gray Wolf slapped his stunned deputy's back heartily before striding ahead.
Might as well finish all handovers before official orders arrived.
"Captain!"
But then his deputy called out in alarm from behind.
Something was approaching the coast at high speed, backlit by dawn.
The Gray Wolf's face hardened.
He rushed to the ramparts and peered seaward—a massive elf ship entered view.
Just when he thought it was a lucky day, the pointy-ears had come in force.
Facing more ships than usual, the Gray Wolf vaulted the railing.
"Wake the standby squad!"
"Where are you going?!"
"You gonna let them die?!"
The sentries at the linked coastal outpost were already in defensive positions.
But the elf ships outnumbered expectations, and their speed was blistering.
Reinforcements from the fortress would be too late.
The Gray Wolf erupted his full aura and sprinted toward the outpost.
Screeech!
"Shields up!"
These foes trained bows for centuries.
Elf archers on deck nocked arrows, aiming sharp tips at the sentries.
The oak shields would hold.
The sentries hastily formed a shield wall to protect themselves and comrades.
Thwuck!
Screeeam!
Crack!
But the sturdy oak shields shattered under a single arrow slicing the air.
The shaft pierced armor beyond the shield; a horrified sentry screamed.
"It's an Elven Guard!"
Like human knights or orc sergeants, but aura realms decades apart—the Elven Kingdom's Elven Guard.
Wielding world tree bows taller than themselves as extensions of their bodies, they were nightmares on the battlefield.
A single arrow collapsed one flank of the shield wall.
But it wasn't over—the Elven Guard's aura arrow streaked straight for the formation.
Crack! Boom!
Gahk!
Five Elven Guards alone.
Even veteran shield infantry melted before such overwhelming firepower.
Confirming half his sentries dead after two volleys, the Gray Wolf roared in fury and launched himself forward.
Boom!
He blocked the dying sentries.
Swinging his aura-infused greatsword with full might, countless arrows—and aura arrows—lost power and vanished midair.
Overwhelming aura and presence.
His mere arrival halted the assault. He shouted to the bleeding sentries.
"Fall back!"
Clashes between aura users often hinged on who inflicted more casualties.
Knowing this well, the Gray Wolf bought time for his men's retreat.
Clang!
Sizzle!
Boom!
Sizzlesizzle!
Arrows targeted the sentries.
But the Gray Wolf, rampaging like a beast hunting prey, scattered aura everywhere, letting not a single shaft through.
The air shuddered.
Sand grains whipped into a storm along his aura.
"Come at me—!!!"
Who would dare draw steel before me?
The kingdom's finest Huskarl leveled his greatsword at the large ships and elves.
Gulp.
One man could turn the battle.
The elves, diligently drawing bows, momentarily froze and lowered them.
Why did being inside the ships suddenly feel safer, when they were the attackers?
The lead Elven Guard frowned at the approaching Northern troops and clicked his tongue.
The firepower ambush had failed.
Landing now would mean throats slit by that monster or isolation.
"Turn the ships around."
The operation's mastermind Elven Guard ordered retreat across all vessels.
Regrettable, but satisfied with wiping out the annoying sentries.
"Damn it!"
"Come back, you bastards!"
Late-arriving Northern troops found comrades slain pathetically on the beach.
They screamed desperately at the fleeing elf ships.
No means to intercept the enemy, unable to avenge fallen brothers.
Even the Gray Wolf couldn't contain his rage and hurled his greatsword aside.
"Hmph."
Didn't he look just like a screeching monkey?
The watching lead Elven Guard said it loud enough to be heard.
"Like an underdeveloped monkey."
Snicker.
Ever-enduring racial loathing.
Elf soldiers briefly forgot discipline, mocking them with neighbors.
"Anchor at the nearby uninhabited island. Resupply and return to the coast..."
Screeeeeeeeeam—!
Crack!
"Wha...?"
But laughter ended there.
Raising the head with brains splattered, the Elven Guard's skull—who had smirked elegantly moments ago—was gone.
Flutterflutter...
A lingering aura trail and a black arrow quivering embedded in the mast.
Elf soldiers instinctively turned toward the arrow's origin.
Splash!
A swift ship, subtly elf-styled, approached at high speed.
At its prow, a half-elf nocked something long on the bowstring.
Ballista?
No—a massive arrow.
Screeeeeam!
Boooom—!
Black aura streaked with afterimages.
The straight-flying arrow pierced two elf soldiers before destroying the swaying mast.
What were these people?
Elf soldiers gaped at the barrage of grappling hooks flying toward their ships.
"Kill them all."
The black arrow said in a cold voice.
The exiles echoed silently, flashing single-edged swords as they leaped aboard.