Chapter 72
Chapter 72
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: Makgora
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After regaining my senses in my previous life, the role I took on was that of the "leader of the Carlos Merchant Group."
A massive trading powerhouse known across the continent—that's who I was.
Of course, its true nature was a resistance fighting against the Empire.
But no matter what its essence was internally, running a merchant group meant living every single day as a merchant.
That was why every one of my actions had to prioritize efficiency above all else.
That's why I tried to minimize unnecessary sacrifices among the elves.
And why I planned to deploy Paulo Minerva, an absolute powerhouse, to clean up the orc horde and Hatan.
It was far more efficient that way.
But before I could even convince Paulo Minerva, the war had already broken out.
And right in the center of it all, Hatan had singled me out.
At this point, I had only one choice left.
"Yeah, I figured it might come to this. Everything I do ends up like this anyway."
Without Dwayne—wrapped up tight in Banten, the sharp mind just like Kandar from my past life—my plans would be full of holes.
The 'leader' isn't the one devising strategies; it's the position that gathers opinions from staff and picks the best one.
'Once I get back to Banten this time, I need to put Dwayne to work for real. Brains are best left to those who use them well.'
Feeling the truth of the old saying that a dull head means a body full of toil, I started cracking my knuckles.
Crack!
To reiterate, I was the 'leader.' A role that demanded utmost efficiency.
I'd always strived to find the most efficient paths above anyone else.
But that didn't mean...
...I hated fighting.
Especially not now.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
That massive horde of orcs was pounding the ground rhythmically with their weapons, whipping themselves into a frenzy.
There was something in that utterly simple act that boiled the blood, transcending species.
'I just won't lose. As long as I don't lose.'
It was that straightforward.
Watching the scene that set something churning in his chest, Saladin let out an incredulous chuckle from beside me.
"Fuck, hanging around with that lunatic Jerome is gonna get me killed before my time. Never thought I'd live to see a real Makgora straight out of a book."
"Makgora?"
Milia asked Saladin, who began explaining it to her step by step.
To borrow his words...
...it was a "no-holds-barred deathmatch between a couple of loose screws."
Makgora.
A sacred duel said to allow only the chosen orcs who fell bravely in battle to reach the paradise of Valhalla.
The winner must grant the loser's final wish.
The loser must obey the winner, no matter what.
It was an orc tradition.
Neither Hatan nor I had formally called for Makgora, but the orcs' feverish atmosphere forced the issue.
Whether Hatan had ordered it beforehand or the orcs' own bloodlust drove them to it, who could say.
"Kreeee! Human, I, Hatan, the one destined to become the great Orc King for Jerome!!"
Boom!
Hatan slammed his battle-axe into the ground.
"I demand Makgora!"
As Hatan declared it amid the skyrocketing tension...
"Kreeee! Kreeee!"
...the orcs' fervor boiled over even hotter.
It was exactly what I wanted.
I'd been worrying that even after beating Hatan, the hyped-up orcs might restart the war.
But here they were, setting the stage for me.
So now, there was only one thing left for me to do.
'Win.'
What was the point of all this suffering since returning to the past, if not to repel the Empire's invasion and protect my family and kingdom?
For that greater goal, I couldn't afford to lose a mere skirmish like this.
So.
'Win.'
Riiip!
I tore off the blood-soaked, clingy orc garb and flung it aside, clenching my fist.
Hatan, basking in his tribe's gaze, strode forward slowly.
Step, step, step.
The steady drumbeat of his footfalls shaking the earth...
...turned into...
Thud, thud, thud-thud-thud-thud!
...rapid pounding against the ground.
And then.
Kabooom!
A massive clash erupted with a deafening roar.
Leaving the unconscious Darmian behind, Lena raced desperately toward Alfheim where Minerva waited.
She didn't fully agree with everything that human had said.
But the orcs' strength exceeded her expectations, and Minerva's refusal to appear on the battlefield despite it all...
...made her fear for the next generation that would shape their future.
Besides, the orcs had launched a cowardly ambush, dishonorable to the core.
Didn't those cowards deserve punishment?
'Yes, that's all it is.'
Clinging to that last shred of pride, Lena flung open the doors to Alfheim.
Bang!
"Your Majesty! Right now, our kin have suffered massive losses from the orcs' ambush...!"
Lena couldn't finish.
Minerva silently shook her head, finger to her lips.
Even a three-year-old child would know what that gesture meant.
"Y-Your Majesty...?!"
Unlike the flustered Lena, Minerva's eyes held steady.
"Not yet, Lena. We need to cull them more."
"...?!"
It wasn't the benevolent tone of the queen she'd always known.
"Blood is necessary for a race's growth. We haven't spilled enough yet."
Lena's mind went blank at Minerva's chilling words.
This wasn't right.
She'd sided with Minerva only because she believed the Forest Queen would unite and strengthen the elves.
Not because she thought she'd sacrifice the tribe so meaninglessly, without a leader's responsibility.
'Was that human... right after all?'
—Are you just going to stand by and watch the lives of those you love vanish so pointlessly?
That arrogant human's question flashed through her mind.
If she'd known, she should have made a decision sooner and fortified the tribe's defenses.
'No.'
Lena gritted her teeth and turned away.
'It's not too late yet.'
The Forest Queen ruled Elunheim, guiding the elves through long ages as their leader.
If she refused to move, convincing her here would just waste time.
But before leaving, Lena couldn't hold back one final word.
"...This isn't right, Mother!"
Without waiting for Minerva's reply, Lena bolted back the way she'd come, even faster.
"...Tch. Foolish girl."
Minerva's enigmatic murmur lingered quietly in Alfheim's air before slowly fading away.
"Hah, hah..."
Lena ran until her heart felt like it would burst.
'That human was definitely wary of the Orc Lord's power.'
Hate to admit it, but he'd clearly overpowered her—one of the elves' elite.
If even he was cautious, the Orc Lord's level must be no joke.
With the queen, Minerva, and the elders absent, no elf could stop the Orc King.
Even if she went, there was no guarantee she'd block him.
No—in fact, she might be more hindrance than help.
But.
Even so.
She couldn't just stand by and watch her kin die meaningless deaths!
How long had she run?
Lena finally reached the battlefield.
Kaboom!
"...!!"
What she saw in the center defied all expectation.
"What... is this?"
An orc a head taller than the rest, terrifying just to look at.
And a human covered head to toe in dense muscle.
They were exchanging techniques, filling the vast battlefield with their overwhelming presence.
Whoosh!
A massive axe the size of a man's torso cleaved through the air toward me viciously.
I dodged with footwork and Moon Step; where I'd stood, the axe that meant to shred me instead cratered the ground.
Kabooom!
It wasn't an axe strike—it felt like a siege ram had pounded the earth, the shockwave shaking the plains.
'Opening!'
Swinging something that huge left a massive gap, inevitably.
Thud!
I stomped hard, blocking Hatan's axe, then drove Iron Fist into his exposed side where his grip left it open.
Thwack!
A dull thud like beating a drum echoed out.
But the sensation at my fingertips told the tale.
'Blocked.'
Before my mind could process, my body twisted aside again.
Whiiish!
A small hand-axe whistled past, inches from slicing my throat.
I whipped around and aimed a heel kick at his head from above.
Swoosh!
But he jerked his head, dodging by a paper's width.
A flurry of minor feints and counters.
After the brief exchange, the giant axe and fist clashed once more.
Kabooom!
A sound unbelievable for human fist against axe.
With axe locked against my hand blade, the orc king burst into satisfied laughter.
"Kreeee! Haha, this is it, Jerome! This is what I mean!"
Hatan snorted roughly, not hiding his joy.
As his great ancestors' spirits foretold.
He'd claimed the sacred white flower and returned to his tribe.
Punished the chieftain who dragged him and his warriors into petty schemes, dooming them to dog-like deaths.
With blood revenge complete, he sought to become master of these mountains, like the mighty forebears in Valhalla.
But.
No matter how much he fought, an emptiness lingered unfilled.
The lack of a worthy rival plunged Hatan into boredom.
Even invading elf lands to test their queen...
He knew it deep down.
'Orcs' might triumph over elves, but 'Hatan' beating Minerva? Unlikely.
Facing the strong was joy itself.
Yet he couldn't forget that most thrilling fight.
The insolent human who dared challenge a great warrior like him.
He hadn't expected to feel that thrill so soon again.
Nor that the human would grow so strong so fast.
He'd worried his own excellence might lead to a dull bout.
But look—his rival had grown splendidly!
"You talk too much, Hatan."
Whirrr!
Aura swirled wildly around my fist.
'Dragging this out favors him, not me.'
Even Hatan, grinning in satisfaction, probably knew.
Incredibly, Hatan surpassed my realm, now at the early stage of level 3.
Back home, only Father could beat this level.
'Then I'll end it in one shot!'
Hatan wouldn't miss my intent from that surge.
He sensed I was going all-in.
"Kreeeeeeee!!"
The sacred white flower.
The great power of ancestors, passed down through those blooms.
Warrior spirits condensed into his beloved weapon.
The force that once dominated this continent.
Vibration.
Tiny motions too fast for the eye.
Nothing in the world could withstand them.
"Unbelievable."
Who'd have thought the orc I'd chased off in that deal would return leading such a horde.
No wonder Kandar, the brains of Golden Cross in my past life, shouted, "Strategy's basics are first and foremost leaving no loose ends!"
'Should've taken that to heart more.'
A fleeting regret passed.
But it was mere 'regret,' not true remorse.
Yeah.
Before I knew it, I was enjoying this duel itself.
I looked up at the orc brimming with monstrous energy.
His lips twitched amid his battle-ready stance.
Yeah.
He was loving this fight too, no doubt.
Snort.
"Fine, since it's come to this. Let's see who comes out on top, to the bitter end."
My Heterogenous Power, Steel, was made for breaking and shattering.
In past and present lives combined, I'd never fought so exhilaratingly.
Always holding back three-tenths, always planning for next time.
It was natural.
That was a resistance leader's duty.
But now.
I could fully savor this clash of built-up efforts.
'Break and shatter onward. That's the essence of my power.'
In that instant.
I felt my mana rod thicken and harden further within.
Grip!
Right now, I didn't feel like I'd lose at all.
Vortex—the technique that always saved me in clutch moments.
But since returning to the past, using it always wrecked my insides.
Yet this moment.
I could show this orc the true pinnacle of Vortex.
Legs spread wide, fist pulled back far, aura compressing.
He mirrored me, infusing his axe with terrifying power.
This strike would decide it.
As our gathered energy peaked.
Without a word on who went first, we charged at each other.
Or.
We tried to.