Orcs and 400 Lunatics: Selling the Demon King's Name
While those brain-dead idiots—whose best thought was what they'd have for dinner that night—cheered each other on in their moronic frenzy after I peddled the Demon King's name like cheap wares, my adjutant sidled up to me all nervous-like and asked, "Boss! So we're gonna hold this place and repel the enemy, right?"
As if. I hadn't come here to win. No, we were here for a glorious ass-kicking. This spot was a genuine strategic chokepoint, and we'd marched straight into it to get our asses handed to us.
"We're setting up our base on top of that mountain."
It was a sheer cliff face so steep you had to crane your neck just to glimpse the peak, like it was mocking your very existence. And the terrain? A total shitshow. From the summit, you could survey the entire valley below like you were peering down from a goddamn Tower of Babel, spotting every twitch and movement crystal clear.
Yeah, just like the Demon King's horse would say: Look down on the enemy from on high! Heh heh.
But if I just barked the order, these dimwits wouldn't budge. Sure enough, my adjutant—who had the tactical sense of a rock—hesitantly piped up. "So... how're we gonna get water up there, boss? If we hole up on top, we'll be bone-dry."
"Then our boys'll fight tooth and nail for it, won't they?"
If this guy were human, he'd have called bullshit and argued for camping down here. But nope, monster through and through. While the others obsessed over tonight's grub, this one at least pondered tomorrow's breakfast. That was the ceiling of his brainpower.
He tilted his head like a confused pup for a moment, muttered "Oh, right?" and tilted it again. Then, mustering some courage, he raised his hand timidly. "B-but boss, our numbers are low. Wouldn't it be better to fight in a narrow alleyway?"
Should I just kill him? A genuine urge to murder bubbled up—this fool was cockblocking my master plan. But I had a comeback ready for this crap.
"That's exactly why we fight from above."
"Why?"
"This place is a key strategic hub for us, right? Same for the humans—it's their vital supply lifeline. They'll come at us with a massive army for sure. Sure, the narrow path favors us defenders, but once they scout our numbers and commit hard, what do you think happens?"
"Uh... we get worn down and drop?"
"Bingo. That's why."
Pure bullshit, of course. The narrow pass was a natural fortress—even with our small force, we could hold it indefinitely, call for reinforcements easily, and nullify their numbers advantage. Heaven-sent, really.
But how would this moron know? He nodded like he'd cracked the code and started to back off, only to grow a pair and ask, "W-wait... what if they surround us up there? We'd be trapped."
"I've got it all figured out. Just trust me."
With that, the adjutant finally shut up and no more question barrages. He just relayed my order—"Move to the mountaintop!"—to the troops, nearly getting mauled by the pissed-off horde in the process. Not my problem, though. They weren't gunning for me.
And so, this band of certified lunatics—a ragtag force barely battalion-sized at best—hoisted their gear and began the climb. My campaign of epic failure had taken its first step.
The very next day after we'd claimed the peak of the Black Rock Mountains, the drums echoed from below: Thoom-thoom! Thoom-thoom!
What the hell? Already? I wanted them to dawdle until our short-fused crew lost their shit and started a riot.
The giraffe-like Killrin—with its absurdly long neck and razor-sharp collar that it swung like a halberd to decapitate predators—craned its neck to scan the horizon. Spotting something, it bellowed, "Boss! Boss!"
Figured the human alliance had finally shown. I sauntered over lazily, but Killrin was losing its mind even more. "Look over there!"
"Humans."
"Not that! The flag!"
"I keep telling you, our views are different up here. Ah, there it is. But what's that?"
A blue banner emblazoned with a silver lily crossed by a winged sword. Why the freakout? I glanced at my adjutant.
"I-it's the Hero! The Hero's here!"
Eh? And thus began the prelude to my monumental first clash with the Hero.
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Silvia Isis—the captain of the Silver Lily Knights, chosen to lead this operation for the Human Alliance of humans, elves, beastkin, and other subraces. She'd earned titles like "Indomitable" and "Unyielding Lily," but now she bore the ultimate honor: Hero, the most valiant warrior in the eyes of the entire alliance.
Intel had come in: monsters had dispatched troops to a newly discovered side path in the Black Rock Mountains. Secure it before they did. If they'd already taken it, reclaim it at any cost. That was the alliance's direct order to her, the Hero.
These mountains served as a natural border between the southern Human Alliance lands and the northern Monster Domain under the Demon King. Unlike the rugged north where monsters roamed—terrain her kind found brutal—the south was mostly flat, fertile plains teeming with bountiful farmlands.
But abundance in food came at a cost: with mountains concentrated up north, southern mineral supplies like iron ore were scarce and hard to procure.
This war aimed to seize the north's rich resources and, if possible, eradicate the monsters—even their unifying force, the Demon King.
So why was Silvia—vanguard of countless battles, at the forefront of the grand quest to topple the Demon King—here? She'd been dominating the northwest front. That jagged hellscape had stalemated for centuries against monsters native to it, but with elite mages bred over decades and Silvia's fearless charges, the balance shattered.
The Demon King's forces there retreated in panic, securing the alliance a foothold for the northern invasion.
But that was just the northwest—the tail end of the Black Rock Mountains. Large armies could advance easily there. The northeast front, however, required skirting the entire range from head to tail, stretching supply lines to breaking point.
Those extended routes were monster bait. No matter the precautions, they'd ghost in during lapses and loot everything, driving commanders mad. Then, sheer luck: intel on a side path smack in the mountains' middle.
Secure it, and northeast supply woes vanished. Push from the northwest, and this path would link seamless logistics—no need to pour resources into the northeast.
But if the Demon King claimed it? The alliance held the edge now, but a reversal could turn it into their easy supply vein.
This path's strategic value was infinite for both sides. Then fresh intel: monsters were already sending forces. Urgency spiked.
Rumors called it a natural fortress—one soldier could hold off a hundred. And they'd moved troops there already!
To safeguard the future, the alliance dispatched Silvia—the northwest's undefeated conqueror—to claim this path in the Black Rock Mountains. Ever the dutiful knight despite her Hero title, she led her swift troops to the area.
But "Too late?" Scouts reported monsters had already entrenched near the path.
Even human-vs-human, breaching it seemed dicey. Against monsters with several times the strength? A head-on assault was suicide.
Should she avoid needless losses and retreat? But command demanded seizure or reclamation.
As the dilemma gnawed at her, a young scout timidly spoke up. "Um... there's something weird, though."
"Weird?"
"Yes. We definitely saw the monsters, but... not in the side path."
"They didn't take the path? Explain. What does that mean?"
She gestured for details. The scout approached the map on the table, pointing to the tallest peak nearby. "My squad spotted what looked like their scouts while reconning."
"They sent scouts?"
Monsters who charged mindlessly on numbers and brute force—scouts? Unheard of on the northwest front. Silvia tilted her head, but the scout pressed on, oblivious. "Lucky for us, we saw them first and hid well. They glanced our way a few times, then headed straight back up the mountain."
Up the mountain? Not the path?
Silvia glared. "Up the mountain? No lies in that report?"
"N-no, ma'am! Why would I lie on my honor..."
The scout shrank. Silvia cleared her throat awkwardly, ordered a small reward, and dismissed him.
Instantly, her staff erupted. "Those monsters—brains the size of peas!"
"They could've won holding the bottom, but the top?"
"Victory's ours! They're rats in a jar—charge the mountain and squash 'em!"
The camp buzzed with premature celebration over the scout's intel.
Until Silvia snapped. "Quiet! Don't count your chickens."
Stupid or not, monsters learned. They might have a ploy. She dispatched more scouts for a thorough sweep, then stepped out to silently eye the Black Rock peak.
Whatever scheme they hatch, I'll cut it down.
Hostility toward the enigmatic enemy commander flickered in her eyes. She returned to her tent, and several days slipped by.