Chapter 110
Chapter 110
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 110
Chapter Title: Bargain with the High Orc
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A few days had passed since I finished my conversation with Rugal, the chieftain of the Lycanslopes.
A pitch-black night, utterly devoid of moonlight, had descended upon the continent.
The twenty Lycanslopes who had agreed to join us through negotiations with their chieftain were now guiding us toward the northeast—the orcs' fierce battlefield—relying on their acutely heightened scouting senses.
"Grrr, the stench of blood is already thick in the air."
Baukalrak, who was overseeing the overall scouting efforts as the representative, wrinkled his nose.
"Grrr. Looks like the orcs are locked in a fiercer battle than we expected."
It was exactly as he said.
The further north we traveled, the stronger the bloody tang emanating from the forest grew.
"Grrr. By the way."
Perhaps wanting to change the subject from the overwhelming reek of blood, Baukalrak shifted topics.
"Why on earth did the chieftain accept that proposal? And Jerome, you seemed to anticipate it already when you asked. Grrr."
Baukalrak's question referred to the conditions Rugal and I had discussed just a few days prior.
First, Banten Territory would begin trade with the Lycanslope tribe.
Second, upon subjugating the wyvern nest, the northwestern region bordering the Beast Forest would be recognized as Lycanslope territory.
Those were the two stipulations.
"Grrr. We don't need land at this point, nor do we crave human goods anymore. I just can't figure out why the chieftain agreed to those terms."
I promptly corrected Baukalrak's misunderstanding.
"You're wrong."
"Grrr?"
"How did I know? Simple. The answer was right there in Rugal's own words."
Rugal had said:
—The elves have begun adopting human civilization through their dealings with you, and the orcs are freely unleashing their fury in the northeast thanks to the non-aggression pact they've forged with you.
"Those very words mark the beginning and end of Rugal's worries."
"Grrr. What the hell does that mean? Explain it properly."
I broke it down more simply for Baukalrak, who was thumping his chest in frustration.
The elves were absorbing the mindset and culture of humans—the dominant force at the continent's heart—through trade and applying it to their sanctuary of Elunheim.
Discarding the bad, embracing the good.
"No matter how strong Lycanslopes are, why do they keep getting kidnapped by humans like fools? Simple reason: you don't understand humans."
Humans dominate most of Cardia Continent's territory.
Thus, you can't survive on the continent without knowing them—no matter how dirty or annoying that reality is.
"...Grrr. Makes my gut churn."
Baukalrak scowled deeply, clearly displeased.
"I get it."
What creature would rejoice at being told they must bow low?
"Grrr. So what's the second reason? Why do we need that northwestern land crawling with wyverns?"
"That's simple too."
I pointed my index finger straight at Baukalrak.
"It's because of guys like you."
"...Grrr. Guys like me?"
As expected, Baukalrak hadn't grasped it at all.
"Put simply, your chieftain Rugal wants to pursue the two reasons behind the elves' and orcs' growing prosperity—simultaneously."
The Lycanslopes' southeastern domain bordered the outermost edges of the mountains, making trade with adjacent human lands, including Banten, as advantageous as it was for the elves.
But the surrounding monsters had already been cleared out by the orcs, leaving little hope for major battles.
If things continued like this, the Lycanslopes would surely lose their wild ferocity.
"Picture it: Lycanslopes gleefully trading gold with humans."
"...Grrr. Feels awful, but I can't argue."
Baukalrak himself hadn't seen real combat in two years.
The reason Lycanslopes wielded overwhelming influence over other races was their savage combat prowess.
A Lycanslope stripped of its fangs and ferocity was little more than a dog.
"That's why they need the northwest."
The northwest teemed with sub-dragons—wyverns, drakes, dragonkin, and more.
Rugal planned to station young Lycanslopes like Baukalrak there permanently.
"As long as they're fighting for survival against top-tier monsters like wyverns and true dragons, your tribe won't lose its edge."
That's why Rugal readily accepted the offer to help subjugate the wyverns and turn the emptied land into a Lycanslope village.
With part of their territory vacated, new conflicts would naturally arise to claim the void—a certainty.
As the Lycanslopes fought to defend that land, battle after battle...
That brutal process would sharpen their fangs even further.
Yes.
'Enough to hold their own against the orcs led by Hatan.'
"...Never pegged our chieftain for such a schemer. Sly old fox."
"It's the fate of any leader."
Those who rise to lead bear the duty of safeguarding their community.
In that process, tempering the young to secure the tribe's future was inevitable.
'Though that's probably not the only reason.'
Whether human or beastkin...
'If I don't have to step in, it makes decisions easier down the line.'
Rugal, chieftain of the Lycanslopes, was too old to lead an expedition to the northwest himself.
The northeastern mountains where Baukalrak and the Lycanslopes led us were oppressively grim.
Without their razor-sharp scouting senses, we might have clashed with countless orcs just to reach this point.
"Chwiik! Hu-humans! What business brings you here?!"
Only when Hatan's main orc force appeared did we reveal ourselves to the sentries, who drew their blades in threat.
"He said showing this would get me an audience with Hatan himself."
"Chwiik! Human! You dare speak the chieftain's name?!"
The orc, never imagining a human would know their chieftain's name, now eyed my hand.
"Chwiiiik! Th-that! It's the item the chieftain entrusted specially!"
The orc who spotted the dagger bellowed in shock.
Then, in his own way, he apologized courteously.
"Chwiiiik! Sorry for the misunderstanding, human! Chwiik! We're verifying now—just wait a moment! Chwiik!"
'Talk of escalating clashes was no exaggeration. This is brutal.'
In the Dragon Mountains' northeast...
After successfully annexing the southern and central regions—excluding the Beast Forest and Lycanslope lands—the High Orc Hatan had pushed northward in a blaze of conquest.
But the Dragon Mountains were dubbed the abyss of abysses for good reason.
No matter his evolution into a High Orc, monsters in the range surpassed even Hatan in tier.
The prime example was the cyclopes—the strongest monsters dominating the northeast, staunchly blocking Hatan's advance.
Cyclopes.
Monsters of colossal build, said to carry the blood of heavenly gods, with a single eye claiming half their face.
That lone eye instinctively pierced enemies' weaknesses like a divine sight.
Each one rivaled a mid-to-upper sword expert in might.
Thus, even Hatan, who unified the mountains' orcs, couldn't easily breach the cyclopes.
No, rather...
'Challenging cyclopes at all is impressive enough, honestly.'
Only tribal chieftains could face ordinary cyclopes; Hatan alone bridged the vast gap in the rest of his forces.
That alone spoke volumes of his growth.
Yet still...
'The cyclopes are stronger than I thought.'
Truth be told, I'd figured(?) Hatan would punch through them more easily.
His monstrous talent and warrior skill seemed superior to any cyclops.
'Something's changed.'
I sensed the unforeseen wrinkle the moment we reached the northeastern orcs' camp.
Unlike the continent, deceptively serene despite the Holy Empire's insidious tendrils everywhere...
This place was hell itself, just unknown to human realms.
"Chwiik..."
"Chwiik... Arm hurts..."
The battle must have been grueling, for even these belligerent orcs bore exhaustion and fear in their eyes.
No single day's fight could etch such emotions into orcs.
Besides, these were elite warriors from great tribes—not ragtag small-tribe orcs inured to combat.
'...The cyclopes have a lord-born leader too.'
Otherwise, Hatan wouldn't be struggling like this.
"Chwiik, Jerome. It's been a while."
In a tent twice the size of others, the High Orc Hatan—his skin no longer green but a vivid orange bordering on blood-red—greeted me calmly.
"...Hey, you. What happened to that wound?"
But I couldn't stay calm upon seeing him.
A massive diagonal gash from Hatan's shoulder to his leg.
Its size alone told the tale:
This monstrous orc would have been unable to greet me here if it had cut just a bit deeper.
"Chwiik. This?"
Hatan, nonchalant as if discussing a mosquito bite, shrugged it off.
"Left by Argus, captain of the cyclopes."
"...Does that one have lord potential too?"
Unfortunately, my hunch was right.
Not only orcs among monsters evolve.
Others can ascend tiers too.
And this time, it was a cyclops.
Hatan nodded casually at my grave question.
"Chwiik. Yeah. Damn strong. If I hadn't witnessed your father's duel with the elf queen two years ago, I'd be dead."
'Things just got complicated.'
In my past life, Hatan met his end in Ikenia Kingdom's southern Mano Territory.
Afterward, who became the Dragon Mountains' overlord? I never learned, distracted by the Empire's war.
But now history had shifted.
Who claimed the mountains' throne mattered greatly to me—especially for the coming war with the Empire.
'...No helping it.'
I'd hoped to snag wyvern wing scales and slip away easily.
'No, better this way. Keeps the dagger's usage intact.'
Glancing at Saladin, he gave a subtle nod.
He knew my thoughts and had reached the same conclusion.
'The Lycanslopes will relish the fights, and Ariana's group... I'll sell it as necessary for the wyvern hunt.'
After weighing the pros and cons of our aligned interests, I spoke to Hatan.
"You've been through hell, Hatan. So, here's the thing."
"Chwiik? What is it, Jerome?"
Hatan, bandaging his right arm, asked back.
"Let's make a deal. It's been a while."
I recalled our past negotiations as I said it.
"Chwiiik, intriguing. What's on your mind, Jerome?"
A faint smile tugged at his lips, remembering too.
"Simple. We'll help you with your war against the cyclopes."
I pointed not toward the cyclopes' lands clashing with the orcs outside the tent, but the opposite direction—the sub-dragon territories.
"You help us hunt the wyvern nest."
It'd be messier, more tasks piling up.
But still far better than burning my one-time orc free pass.