Chapter 80
Chapter 80
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 80
Chapter Title: Black-Haired Knight King
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“Raise your shields!”
“Kwaaak!”
From the sky thick with dark clouds, arrows poured down in place of cold rain.
The shields covering their bodies were already bristling with arrows like porcupines, and the muddy ground soaked in blood and dirt was littered with corpses.
Yet the Northern Army, gritting their teeth, clambered over their fallen comrades' bodies again and again, finally propping up the siege ladders they'd painstakingly brought right up to the walls.
They had to climb. That was the only thought.
Even as they watched countless comrades fall from the pass and ladders, these foolish bodies instinctively reached upward.
Lives falling like autumn leaves stripped from their iron stems—amid it all, the battlefield's heat blazed fiercer.
The Northern Army, trained solely for this day, scaled the walls like fearless warriors who had forgotten fear.
What made them so brave?
In this arrow-riddled hell, the Knight King himself staked his life alongside them.
Waaaaah—!!
Not content to merely lead the soldiers, he swung his sword from the front lines, where death could come at any moment.
Even the valiant orcs could scarcely believe their eyes.
But the fluttering banner was unmistakably the king's, and the whipping black hair matched the well-known description perfectly.
“Fire, fire! Shoot him dead!”
“Kill the Northern King!”
The sergeant, eyes bloodshot with ambition, mobilized every archer blocking other sectors, concentrating all ranged fire on the king.
Kill the king here, and he'd gain riches and glory for generations.
Arrows laden with greed rained down on the black-haired Knight King.
Tszzzzt!
Shwaaak!
But Snow-Covered unleashed aura laced with pure white in all directions, shattering every incoming arrow into splinters.
“Your Majesty! You must fall back!”
“I'm fine—everyone, shield yourselves!”
With the guardsmen adding their thick shields, the arrows from ordinary archers lost all meaning.
You'd need arrows infused with aura just to scratch the armor.
Before the Knight King's personal display of prowess, the Northern Army's morale soared endlessly.
Damn it—they were only doing what the enemy wanted.
Feeling the setback, the sergeant finally dispersed the concentrated ranged fire.
“Hoo...”
The arrows finally thinned out.
Snow-Covered ducked behind the guardsmen who'd formed a shield wall, catching her breath for a moment.
As planned with her master, she'd given the attack order the instant the smoke appeared.
But after that, no further developments—or signals of safety—had come.
Is Master alright? Are the others safe?
Snow-Covered bit her anxious lip, glaring at the impenetrable pass.
“Knight King!”
Then, from the front lines where he'd been commanding soldiers, the Gray Wolf rushed toward her, panic clear on his face in a way most uncharacteristic.
“That was reckless!”
“B-but I'm unharmed!”
With soldiers risking suicidal assaults, how could she, their king, show fear?
Snow-Covered clenched her fist demonstratively, proclaiming her vitality to all around.
“Now's not the time to say that...!”
For a moment, he was too flabbergasted for words.
But knowing this wasn't the place, the Gray Wolf hoisted the king onto his saddle and retreated to safety in the rear.
Clop! Clop!
“The situation's worse than expected. We outnumber them, but the pass is too sturdy.”
“What should we do?”
Thanks to the First Prince's incessant wars, the reinforcements the Second Prince sent to the pass amounted to only one handpicked commander and legion.
Yet the enemy's unidentified commander was exceptionally capable, wielding the impregnable fortress of White Pass to perfection.
The Northern Army's rations and supplies, hampered by dire circumstances, barely lasted a week.
If the pass didn't open today, retreat might truly be necessary.
But the Gray Wolf had no doubt.
“It'll open.”
What kind of man was he?
A survivor of battlefields where great heroes fell like flies, who later became the Sword Saint.
This time too, he'd surely complete the mission spectacularly and return alive to the North.
Snow-Covered smiled brightly at his words.
Snap!
Snort!
The Gray Wolf drew a deep breath.
Then, handing over the reins, he leaped from the saddle with his heavy sword.
He was heading back to the battlefield now.
His once-familiar speech had shifted to deferential address for the king.
“Your Majesty! Lead the cavalry when the pass opens! I'll follow!”
“Understood, sir! Stay safe!”
To minimize casualties, aura users had to give their all.
The Gray Wolf charged toward the pass with the waiting Huskarl unit.
“...And this is all?”
Atop the command tower overlooking the entire battlefield stood the armed Golden Dawn.
His eyes scanned the Northern Army below the walls, his face etched with deep disbelief.
Waaaaah—!!
Ching! Clang!
The Northern Army's momentum was fierce indeed.
Without the pass, it might have forced a full retreat—not an empty boast.
But separate from that ferocity, their numbers and siege weapons were pitifully few.
They wouldn't breach the pass like this; they'd annihilate themselves first.
What scheme were they plotting?
Gifted with innate command talent, Golden Dawn suspected a reckless feint.
“My lord, everything's going smoothly.”
“Stop worrying. Didn't we send reinforcements to the rear just in case?”
Of course, the new-generation orc generals, ignorant of the Sword Saint's cunning tactics, couldn't fathom Golden Dawn's needless fretting.
Burned supplies? Just requisition more from the east.
The Northern Army was too meager to begin with.
This war would end today, no supply worries needed.
The orc generals inwardly mocked Golden Dawn while feigning calm.
Coward.
Humans' innate cowardice couldn't be changed. If only the Second Prince saw this timidity.
Thud!
But then the command room door burst open, admitting a blood-soaked sergeant.
Fresh from battle, his eyes burned with excitement and zeal.
“My lord!”
“The rear?”
“The sneaky bastards are all dead! The fires are under control—rest easy!”
Thanks to Golden Dawn's reinforcements, they'd massacred the intruding knights.
Not that the losses wouldn't sting, but the orcs cheered simply at crushing cowardly foes.
“We must crucify them.”
“Rat bastards.”
Turn mistakes into merits to save face.
The orc generals celebrated with exaggerated gestures, eyeing Golden Dawn.
But his expression remained grim.
As if he'd braced for Pandora's box, only to find hollow emptiness.
Grind.
Golden Dawn fiddled with his nagging prosthetic arm and facial scar, glaring murderously at the Northern Army led by the Knight King.
For years, he'd ground his teeth through hellish agony, all for vengeance here.
And this was it? From the man who'd ruined him over a mere mistake?
Absolutely unforgivable.
All the pent-up rage denied, Golden Dawn slammed his scabbard down, his eyes trembling with fury.
Wait, Broken Sword.
If you won't come, I'll go.
“Tonight's the turning point. Prepare the entire army for sortie.”
“The entire army, Marshal?”
“Yes. Strike their retreat.”
The orc generals were stunned.
Ambushing retreating foes was standard across races.
But using the full army for a counterattack? Only when overwhelmingly advantageous.
The pass's massive wall made it seem laughable, but the fully mobilized Northern Army was no pushover.
Arrogant but not incompetent, the orc generals desperately dissuaded him.
“My lord! Have you forgotten His Highness's orders? No reason for counterattack.”
“Think of the future. After the civil war, we'll put you at the vanguard.”
Even lowly Northern humans respected Golden Dawn's vast authority.
The orcs tried soothing him without offense.
But every thornbush has its prick—the most loyal general spoke bluntly.
“Put aside personal grudges with the Sword Saint. You're responsible for countless warriors and the pass, are you not?”
The air chilled.
The generals, mid-persuasion, bowed in despair.
Golden Dawn retorted.
“Personal grudges?”
Good medicine tastes bitter.
But reason shattered, he craved the world's sweetest poison: revenge.
Slash!
Face twisted demonic, Golden Dawn drew and severed the orc general's head.
So swift, even the aura-trained orc couldn't react.
The command room soaked in blood instantly.
Faces ashen, the generals prostrated, denying shared sentiment.
They'd forgotten momentarily.
How this one-handed man had risen via left-handed swordsmanship.
Golden Dawn wiped blood from his face.
His mad, pupil-less eyes scanned the bowed generals.
“Anyone else?”
“...We'll follow your will, my lord.”
Overwhelming force begets legitimacy.
They sensed the army would move for personal vendetta.
Amid the raging siege below.
Golden Dawn strode to the railing, sheathing his sword as he commanded.
“Drain their strength completely. I'll lead the cavalry personally.”
They'd withdraw at sunset.
With that, Golden Dawn turned to leave the blood-drenched command room.
Kwaaaang—!!
But then, not from outside the pass—but within—came a massive explosion, flames erupting skyward.
The black oil boiling for defense had pooled and detonated.
“Wh-what...!”
If the shockwave reached the distant tower, how enormous was the blast?
Startled orcs rushed to the railing, seeking the epicenter.
Kwaaaak!
Save me! Save meee!
The right wall's interior was engulfed in flames.
Archers safe on the walls burned alive; boiling oil turned the area to ash.
Clearly deliberate.
Generals whipped their gazes to the walls, where sudden combat erupted.
There, dozens of human knights—thought eradicated—massacred orc defenders, charging the watchtower.
A feint for this?
Dazed generals instinctively turned to Golden Dawn.
“Haha.”
Elation? No, rage.
Lips twitching, his face twisted in mingled joy and fury.
So grotesque even allies shuddered.
Forcing calm on his quivering lips, Golden Dawn ordered the generals.
“Stop them yourselves. Take every skilled sergeant—hold at all costs.”
“Y-yes, my lord!”
Fearless rats, sneaking into a dead end oblivious.
Golden Dawn caressed his miraculously painless scar and stepped out.