Territory Dispute
"Ugh, looks just like a swarm of ants moving their nest."
2,500 troops—not an overwhelming force in war by any means, but hardly insignificant—were assembling at the base of an unnamed peak in the Black Rock Mountains.
Those poor bastards swarming together to take us out. Numerically speaking, it looked like my crew and I didn't stand a chance, but that only held true if we were fighting them on even ground. If it dragged into a prolonged battle, sure, our position here was a disadvantage. But if they were gracious enough to come to us? That changed everything.
Plus, we'd been lounging around for days, resting up, indulging in every whim, and I was starting to worry we'd die of boredom. Then these idiots march right to us begging to be slaughtered. How could we possibly lose? And the fool commanding those soldiers? What an absolute moron. Yesterday, my boys had given them a taste of stinging rocks, and here they were, charging up at dawn the very next day?
The old war manuals say: know your enemy and know yourself, and you'll win a hundred battles. Know yourself but not the enemy, and it's fifty-fifty. Know neither, and you're doomed. Sure, that was from my human days, but look at them down there. Did they even know about us up on the mountain? They probably had a vague idea we were outnumbered. But with any smarts, they'd notice their own troops were clueless about what hit them—and yet here they came, marching blindly.
Who the hell was leading them like this? That silver-haired knight who'd ridden up on horseback yesterday? Honestly, even she struck me as reckless. Not sure if her lower half was as wild and bumpy—we'd have to check—but anyway! Reckless, yes, but I thought she was clever in her own way. What, charging into enemy lines alone without a single soldier behind her? Clever how?
If she'd just pulled back her troops and retreated that day, the alliance's morale would've tanked even harder. They'd been getting pummeled one-sidedly by rocks raining from the sky, smashed left and right without landing a single hit, then fleeing like cowards. At that moment, she chose her own way to boost her side's spirits during the retreat: showing off her 'hero' prowess.
You know in games how one hero character dives into the chaos, mowing down enemies, and it feels so damn good? Yeah. If she hadn't run into me yesterday, she'd have become the "brave hero who charged into the rock-storming enemy lines on horseback and returned triumphant" to those troops at her feet. A spiritual pillar.
But unlucky her—she met me. In the end, it was reckless, nearly shattering her army's morale completely. Hmm, but maybe she got something out of it. Had my act of playing starving worked? Why else was she missing from that mob down there? The injuries I gave her too severe? Nah. Word was, superficial wounds got healed instantly with magic or potions. A so-called hero hiding from battle over a few scrapes from the enemy? No way.
So why wasn't she showing her face...?
"Infighting with her own ranks, maybe?"
'Put five humans together, and one of 'em's trash.' Timeless wisdom from some ancient sage, transcending eras. I wondered if I was barking up the wrong tree, but seeing them scramble up here so hastily lent weight to the infighting theory.
I'd figured if the alliance brought troops, it'd be at least three days out. But seeing them charge in today like this? A sigh escaped me. What kind of idiot was in command? Not even knowing when to move their forces? For a human alliance supposedly prepped for war against us, their grand march—meant to show off and give us a bitter taste—didn't match the anxiety etched on the soldiers' faces. Revenge? Nah, it was pure dread.
It was just yesterday. Not three days ago, not two—just one day. They'd watched their comrades' heads explode and limbs pulverized by rocks right before their eyes. Hell, they probably hadn't even recovered all the bodies from those killed by boulders. And now they were deploying? What did these poor sods do wrong? Just following orders from above. But deep down, the fear that today they'd join yesterday's rock-crushed dead must be spreading like a plague through the ranks at the peak's base.
Bad rumors spread faster than facts, especially without their somewhat reliable silver-hair in sight and some mangy cur leading them instead. Honestly, these guys were probably more worried about keeping their limbs attached than winning the battle.
Even I, just watching from up here, could see it plain as day. Their commander must be something else. Did they really think overwhelming numbers meant they could just bulldoze through? That sheer cliff, steep incline, rocky terrain with no flat spots—even their cavalry climbing on horseback risked horses slipping and cracking skulls backward. Knowing that, the knights up front were dismounting, leading their mounts by the reins.
How much worse for the regular grunts?
"Flat ground marches suck dick enough, but mountain terrain? Must be hell."
In a modern army, you could fake a leg break for an ambulance ride. Not here. Bogged down by iron gear heavier than their packs, the infantry looked like routed remnants already. But humans were tenacious; keep pushing, and they'd reach mid-peak—right where I'd fought that silver-hair.
There. Exhausted, right? You know it's enemy territory, but you can't fight with beat troops. We're hiding like we're scared shitless, aren't we?
"Full army, rest here before resuming the advance!"
Thud—they dropped like sacks. Groans of utter empathy rose from below: "I'm dying... fuck, this sucks."
Behind me, my boys—each hefting rocks their size—were drooling. "Let's go, let's go!" Some even danced past me, grinning like neighborhood brats, barely holding back laughter as they awaited orders. Memories of my own military days—sprawled out in the dirt, dead to the world—flooded back as I gazed down.
"Yeah, ten-minute breaks are marching gospel."
But what if they couldn't even get that full rest before "move out"? Especially when you're just settling in and Death himself shows up saying "nap time"?
Tsking at the impending massacre, I muttered, "Go give 'em your reviews first. Doesn't seem like we'll meet that one today, at least."
And then, "Alright, grip tight! Time to rock their world!!"
At my signal, boulders my torso's size began tumbling down the slope.
Cheerfully rolling rocks—finally some Demon King army vibes. They'd scrounged 'em like pros. Kid arcade games like Donkey Kong? Just jump the barrels. But this? Bullet-hell danmaku with no cover.
Rumble-crash!
"Gaaahhh!! Ambush!!"
"Dodge!!"
The screams from below were a spectacle—total clusterfuck harmony they sure didn't know. Ears ringing from the cacophony. Why'd they think we'd fight fair? Look at that mess down there. Er... can I even describe it? Let's just say, no spicy beef intestines for snacks anytime soon.
About ten minutes of boulder-rolling later, as my boys awaited next orders, I eyed the pairs—big and small guys teamed up as I'd instructed.
"ROCK TOOOOOD!!"
"Aaaahhh!!"
"Save me!!"
Only screams echoed from the peak's base as Silveryia Isis rallied the remaining soldiers at camp, fortifying their position.
"..."
Something rolling down. Crushing sounds. Agonized wails. If hell descended on a sinner in life, would it feel like this? No escape. Can't climb up, can't flee down. Just pray: not me, please.
Occasional massive boulders from mid-slope caused no casualties—prepped shields from camp barricades blocked the small ones. Soldiers thanked their luck for not dying to rocks but fretted vaguely about ascending themselves.
Yet Silveryia's calm amid flying rocks and gore earned their quiet respect. They pitied those who'd followed the brainless superiors up top.
Finally, the endless roar ceased.
"Lady Silveryia."
"Not yet."
"ROCK TOOOOOD!!"
A familiar bellow shook the peak. Silveryia gritted her teeth, recognizing it instantly.
That bastard.
Already needed killing, but now her fated nemesis—the orc in red bear pelt—she'd stake her life on it.
"Lady Silveryia!!"
Had she unconsciously leaked killing intent? She started to apologize to Kandor, but his pointed direction stole her words.
"Meal timeee!!"
"Yahoooo!!"
"Kieeeek!!"
Monsters rode unidentified giant balls down like circus bears, bouncing and tumbling—some acrobatic, others just rolling their own bodies. Silveryia thought she'd seen every freakish thing lately, but this topped it.
"Sir Kandor, it's time to..."
She meant execute the plan to rescue retreating allies, but then—
"What the—?!"
The balls vanished; ogres, trolls, lizardmen rampaged instead.
"Sir Kandor, hurry!"
"Yes! Full charge! Save our men!"
Terrifying, but they couldn't abandon recent messmates. Soldiers bellowed courage, climbing; Silveryia led from the front.
Luckily, survivors fled screaming from hell—perfect timing to save some.
But then—
"!!"
He appeared.
"Orc...!"
The red bear-pelt orc grinned at frontline Silveryia, holding broken-necked soldiers in each hand.
"Uninvited guest at our feast—got an invite?"
Gyahahaha! Cackling evilly, he flung the bodies backward casually, then soccer-kicked a rolling severed head at her. Not aimed to hit—it just splattered on the ground.
"You bastard..."
Ignoring her glare, the orc danced with a corpse like a hula hoop, mocking her.
"What? Gotta treat the dead nice too? Say the word. Hate touching live cock-teasers, but I could pop their balls like dead-man pearls for your necklace."
"Shut your fucking mouth!!"
Tolerating his insults was one thing—hers? No. Kandor spurred his horse toward the orc. Silveryia chased, too late to stop him.
"I'll rip your mouth off."
"Oh nooo, scary~"
Monsters pursued fleeing sheep-like soldiers for the kill. But—
"Hey! Show some tact! Tact!"
The orc yelled at his corpse-holding, stunned monsters.
"See that knight coming our way? Not the hero behind. She wants to tear my mouth off. Thoughts?"
In the inferno, his joke sparked roars of laughter from his blood-smeared crew.
"Brave knight incoming!"
"Silver cunt couldn't handle Boss— you?"
Demon army laughter echoed across the Black Rock Mountains. Fleeing soldiers collapsed, noses breaking; rescuers froze in terror.
"Enough dragging—let's speed this up!!"
The orc leaped from the clearing's edge, smashing fleeing backsides while charging Kandor.
"You dare!!"
Insulting the dead wasn't enough—now mocking a knight. Kandor vowed to kill him, spurring forward.
But—
Hiiing?!
The orc bounded on all fours. Not just running—terrifying. Bear pelt and bulk made him a grizzly; Kandor's horse panicked, thinking a bear charged.
Seconds calming the bucking mount—orc closed in, laughing maniacally. Kandor glanced away briefly, then sought him—too late. The beast pounced.
"Rawr!!"
"Sir Kandor!!"
Despite Silveryia's cry, Kandor was helpless fawn to the untouchable predator.
"Ahaha, hahaha!! A knight? Distracted that easy?!"
"Let—let go!"
"Nah. You're hostage now."
"What?"
Before retort, orc choked him out. Groaning, he eyed glaring Silveryia and his glowing hand, grinning chillingly.
Then—Huh?! Silveryia clutched her thumping belly, bewildered. Orc giggled like a kid with a toy.
"Wash up nice and wait. I'll be there soon. Gyahahaha!!"
"K-Kandor... ngh... relea—"
B-body...?!
Shuddering uncontrollably, past her seized subordinate and feverish flesh.
But then—
"Oh right! Forgot something. Don't know your name yet!!"
Orc reappeared from the clearing, gripping a terrified staff officer.
"In novels or movies, brave knights die for people, sneaky ones live, right?"
"Hiiik!!"
"One question, answer good—live."
"Y-yes—"
"...Casual speech?"
Crack—
"Aaaah!! Y-yes sirrr!!"
Staffer's arm bone shattered from one word. Rescued soldiers saw his gruesome fate.
"You—hero or whatever. Name?"
"Si-Silveryia Isis! Silveryia Isis...!"
"Casual."
Crunch—
"Sirrrr!!!"
"Right arm works, left doesn't know? Unfair. Broke both fair. Anyway, that bitch's name? Sil? Sil-what?"
"Silveryia Isis, sir..."
"Fuck, ugly crier."
Orc released him with "Answered, so scram." Tear-snot mess thanked profusely—but—
"Oh yeah. Said it, right? Sneaky ones survive stories."
"W-wait!"
Thud!
Axe from behind turned begging into headless ghost.
Head rolled to Silveryia's horse. Orc added, as if waiting:
"This ain't that story."
Kuh, always wanted to say that! Dancing grotesquely, he shooed her off.
"No need sticking around—I'll find you! Silveryia."
"..."
Nothing she could do. Just cling to her unruly body, watch.
"Boss! Boss! Boss!"
"Great Boss!"
"Demon army sage! Our Boss!"
Waaaaah!!
Blood flowed like rain in gutters down rocks. Silveryia squeezed eyes shut.
"Retreat to base."
"But Sir Kandor...?"
"Stay, and even these saved men die! Withdraw and regroup before they change minds!!"
She wanted him saved too. But she was commander. Couldn't risk troops for personal feelings.
What hero...? So incompetent...!
A tear trickled from clenched eyes.
"Ugh, a beauty's tears... mouth's watering."