Chapter 79
Chapter 79
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 79
Chapter Title: Inferno Sacrifice
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The atmosphere in the base shifted drastically.
It was like a torrent bursting through a breached dam, cornering the first squad that had infiltrated the rear.
Gasp... huff!
Richard's vision blurred.
His overheated lungs and head desperately craved a single thread of oxygen.
A dark world soaked in red blood.
The only sounds were the shouts of his squadmates and the ragged breathing right beside him.
Slash!
Kaaaagh!
Chase, retreat, chase, retreat.
The orcs, like ants, refused to tolerate the intruders who had burrowed into their nest.
The squad members had to shove back the enemies cramming into the narrow alleys while carving a path to the warehouse.
Where was north? Where was the target?
The knights, squeezing out every last drop of aura, fought on desperately beneath the blood-soaked sky.
But mercilessly, the disadvantageous situation loosened their cohesion as time passed, and stragglers began falling behind in the rear ranks.
Thwip!
Grraaah!
One apprentice knight locked in bloody combat with an orc failed to dodge an incoming arrow and tumbled down.
The arrow struck his right thigh, of all places.
Startled, Richard hurriedly reached out to save the fallen knight.
"No... don't...!"
But the knight, limping back to his feet, ignored Richard's hand.
Instead, he turned and charged at the orcs furiously pursuing from behind.
"For Mother North—!!!"
Murderous intent gleamed in his eyes.
Having already resolved to die, he didn't want to burden the others.
A flame that would burn both himself and the enemy.
The knight swung his sword furiously, oxidizing alongside the foes until the moment his head was severed.
Richard was stunned.
It was a moment that etched into his bones what great victories demanded as payment.
Could I endure it?
Did he deserve to survive while so many threw away their lives?
His breath caught in his throat, and for an instant, Richard wanted to drop everything.
"Snap out of it!"
"Ah... uh...!"
"Move, now!"
But Ronald grabbed him by the collar.
And with curses Richard had never heard before, he slapped his cold cheek.
The mission wasn't over.
His tenacious life still clung to his heart, and at this very moment, the Sword Saint and Knight King awaited the flames rising in the rear.
Don't waste their efforts.
Richard's mind cleared in a flash. He gritted his teeth and picked up the sword from the ground.
The hilt was slick with blood and dirt.
The blade, saturated with gore, was hard to distinguish from a club.
Still, he swung it with all his might.
Slash and stab, kill and die—on the battlefield where life and death hung in the balance, the squad pressed forward.
Whoosh!
"Fire! Fire!"
"Put it out!"
And as dawn thickened on the horizon, blazes erupted across the base.
Eight warehouses, prepped with oil and igniters, ignited simultaneously.
Fwoosh!
The inferno swelled, riding the fierce dawn winds.
The orcs, mid-chase, plunged into chaos, at a loss for what to do.
This was Mother North's final gift—a chance.
The target warehouse was just within reach, and the oil in their bags was still plentiful.
His body drenched in blood, Rough Barley gazed at the squadmate who had resolved to die with them.
He discarded everything but the oil bag and sword, squeezing out his last aura.
Rough Barley spoke.
"I'll carve the path."
Tssszzz!
The knights unleashed their aura in unison.
The green flames illuminated the surroundings like the dawn brightening the sky.
"Knights! Charge!"
"For Mother North!"
Led by Rough Barley, the squad roared and launched their assault.
The orcs' flesh and blood separated in sprays, their tight encirclement torn apart.
Slash!
Crunch, crack!
What was there to fear with death embraced?
Aura sliced through shields and orcs alike.
Comrades filled the gaps, biting through to clear paths for their brothers.
"Human knights!"
"Just a small unit! What disgrace is this?!"
When swords broke, they seized the enemy's.
When those shattered too, they gouged out eyes.
The elite warriors recoiled, but the knights' desperate stand finally pried open the warehouse door.
Creak!
No more orders were needed.
Richard wiped the blood from his face and pulled the last oil flask from his bag.
He soaked a rag in it, lit it, and hurled it unhesitatingly inside.
Crash! Crash!
Fwoosh!
Grain dried meticulously through spring, infused with the east's blood and tears, met the flames and blazed joyfully.
Roar!
The fire spread in seconds.
The massive warehouse choked with black smoke as the inferno reared up.
Bodies and blazing fire—a scene of carnage and hell.
The orcs, their entire supply base ablaze, gaped in futility.
But that emptiness swiftly turned to rage toward the humans who had unleashed it.
The heavy hoofbeats echoing from afar heralded their doom.
"The Sergeant's here!"
"Raaagh—!!"
Medium cavalry with massive spears and an orc sergeant billowing aura approached.
Buoyed by momentum, the orcs tightened their net with fierce cries.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
The knights, backs to the flames, eyed each other.
The battle that began with twenty had dwindled to ten blood-soaked survivors.
Despite the sudden twist, they had perfectly fulfilled their mission.
As death's shadow loomed, Rough Barley smiled faintly and spoke.
"Sorry."
Abandoning the final warehouse and fleeing might have saved half.
But for the greater cause, he had no choice but to order his men to die.
Was there regret among them?
Smiling with Rough Barley, the knights infused their broken swords with unbreakable conviction.
Clop! Clop! Clop! Clop!
"Kill them all!"
"Charge! Charge!"
No mercy—they wouldn't let any escape alive.
The orc shield wall parted, and the medium cavalry charged with their huge spears at the fore.
Thundering hooves—!!
Far too many for ten to hold.
The knight squad braced for frontal collision with the black tide crashing like a tsunami.
"—!!"
In that instant, Rough Barley erupted with aura far beyond his limits.
He slashed the burning warehouse pillar, collapsing the building entirely.
Tssszzz!
Fwoosh! Boom!
Crashing—!
The warehouse teetered on collapse already.
With the pillar severed, it tilted and crumbled in moments.
Warhorses reared in panic amid falling embers and flaming debris.
The knights, as if awaiting this, surged forward and unhorsed the orc riders.
Thud.
Neigh!
They wouldn't go quietly.
Roaring like the rest, Richard prepared for the final charge with his squadmates.
"—?"
But his steps halted unbeknownst.
As full dawn rose, banishing shadows, the squad looked at him as if bidding farewell.
Brothers, why do you look at me like that?
Richard couldn't comprehend.
Thwack!
A sharp blow struck his nape.
Richard's vision whitened as he released the sword gripped tightly till the end.
Thud!
"Sir Ronald!"
Rough Barley whipped the flank of a warhorse seized from the enemy, sending it rearward.
Simultaneously, Ronald snatched the reins of the galloping mount and hoisted the unconscious Richard aboard.
"Go!"
Chaos of flames and smoke everywhere.
Rough Barley and the squad charged the enemy to buy time for the horse's escape.
Clop! Clop! Clop!
Ronald gritted his teeth.
Swallowing tears mingling with blood, he glanced back one last time.
There, against the risen dawn, stood Northern knights with swords held high.
Rough Barley's final cry echoed amid the burning glory.
"Remember us, knight of the east! Remember what we die for today!"
Drip.
Trickle.
A sensation like something snapping inside, and nosebleed trickled from my nostrils down between them.
Of course, too busy running to care, I casually wiped it and scanned around.
Squad 1 had completed their mission unscathed.
Thanks to them, part of the garrison defending the pass rushed to the rear, and black smoke rose alongside crimson flames into the sky.
Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong!
Step! Step! Step! Step!
War drums echoed beyond the pass.
The Northern Army main force, dispatched from the capital, had spotted our signal and begun their advance for the siege.
But the siege was mere feint.
Snow-Covered, as I'd instructed, would conserve strength and wait for the gates to open.
Today's arson success was the crux—before the rear chaos settled and night fell, we had to breach the firmly shut white pass.
Dong! Dong! Dong!
Roooar—!!
Fierce cheers drew nearer.
The Northern Army's advance vibrated through the ground.
Uneasy thunderheads loomed overhead.
The sergeant atop the pass ordered the bolt-armed orc archers to fire.
"Loose!"
Thwip!
Now—as the arrows flew.
With all eyes on the Northern Army, I shed my cumbersome robe.
My squadmates followed, discarding theirs and sprinting behind me.
The heavy pressure on my shoulders lifted with the robes.
Shing!
We had to reach the gate fast.
Drawing my sword, I launched at the orcs hustling crates.
Slash!
How had humans slipped in?
The orc soldier startled, mouth agape to shout—but before a sound escaped, aura-wreathed knights severed his throat.
Gurk!
Whoosh, crunch!
Unstoppable, we preemptively silenced sentries who might alert others.
Thus, we stealthily advanced in the shadows of the busy battlements, preoccupied with supplies.
"—!"
Five minutes hugging the walls, and finally, my squad and I reached the final path to the gate tower and main gate.
"Humans?"
Grrr!
But we weren't alone on the sole route to the gate tower.
Heavy-armed orc warriors already marched down the center toward the gate.
So many their ranks left no gap to bypass.
Without hesitation, I shook blood from my blade and charged.
How long I'd waited for this moment.
Disadvantage? Defense? Meaningless beneath this mad heartbeat.
I drew a deep breath.
And drew a second light Eastern sword, spinning both in my grip.
Whoosh.
Most novices learning Northern Swordsmanship make one mistake.
They think each form's name holds profound meaning, embodying all harmonies and philosophies of the North.
Wrong.
Swordsmanship isn't dance. My lifelong training served one purpose.
The enemy's certain death.
Like fangs ripping prey, horns goring beasts—a tool forged solely for human survival and prosperity.
Whoosh!
I thrust my foot, grounding it.
Defying gravity, my body cleaved space toward the spear-wielding foes.
But their spear tips couldn't pierce me.
Slash!
Slice!
Right sword severs hafts—dozens float free.
Left sword claims orc throats—heads rise with twin spurts.
Knights trailing me thrust aura strands through the breached shield wall.