Orcs (1)
There were, broadly speaking, two ways to hunt an orc.
The first was to provoke it into a fair fight, face-to-face.
Orcs exiled from their tribes generally did not form packs. They were fiercely individualistic, which made it possible to pick them off one by one across the vast expanse of the Rival Plains.
The second was the universal method of hunting: an ambush.
For now, Lawrence followed behind another group of mercenaries.
What was written in books and what happened in the field were two very different things. This was one truth he would never grasp unless he saw it with his own eyes.
“Why are you following us?”
“If you’re looking for companions, try somewhere else.”
He was stalking behind them like a thief, after all. He could hardly expect a warm welcome.
No reason to panic. If he looked suspicious now, he might invite trouble he didn’t need.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s rude, but I wanted to see how people hunt orcs, so I’ve been following the group that looked like the most experienced.”
Lawrence delivered the line he had prepared in advance.
The word experienced seemed to please them, because the mercenaries started bumping shoulders and grinning at one another.
“Hey, Rick. He says you’re experienced.”
“This one’s got a good eye. I’ve killed plenty of orcs.”
“That’s rich coming from a guy who’s never even taken down ten.”
“That was my tenth one yesterday, thank you very much. And you saw me get the bonus for it, too, so quit your whining.”
The mercenary who seemed to be the leader cut through the grumbling with a few sharp words.
“Hmph. Why did you think we were experienced?”
“I heard you talking in the wagon. You sounded like true experts, so I couldn’t help paying attention.”
The mercenaries looked uncertain, as if wondering whether they had really said that. But only for a moment. Soon enough, they seemed to decide that yes, they had indeed been saying exactly that, and they all nodded in agreement.
“I won’t get in your way. I’ll just watch how you hunt, then leave.”
At Lawrence’s calm tone, the leader turned to his companions.
“He says he’ll keep his distance. What do you all think?”
“I don’t mind. So long as he doesn’t interfere.”
“I’m against it. It’s unspoken law not to stick your hands into another mercenary’s meal. What if that kid decides to do something unpredictable? You want all of us dead?”
“I doubt that. He’s alone, anyway. Right?”
“And he’s not even a familiar face. I don’t know what he’s thinking, wanting to travel with us at all.”
The mercenaries bickered back and forth over Lawrence’s request.
Fortunately, they reached a conclusion quickly.
He would follow at the greatest possible distance.
He would absolutely not interfere with the beginning or the end of the hunt.
Neither was a difficult condition to accept.
“I’m Torin, a Bronze Plate mercenary. I’ve been active around Rombamel for about two years now.”
“I’m Lawrence, Bronze Plate mercenary. The most recent place I worked was the Remington branch.”
“The Remington branch? Never thought I’d run into someone from the Ulbazar Swamp here.”
Torin sounded genuinely surprised.
He glanced at the companions still chatting among themselves, then asked, “Can I ask you one thing?”
Lawrence nodded.
“I heard there’s a mercenary called the Shadow Mage down in the Ulbazar Swamp. Have you ever seen him in action?”
“...No. I haven’t.”
The answer came a little late, because he had been startled.
It wasn’t a lie. Not technically. Not...
They could hardly know that the very man they were speaking to was Lawrence himself.
“Is that so? I just figured maybe you’d know, considering how famous his exploits are.”
“If it’s because of a bard’s song, then honestly, I think believing it would make you a fool.”
“Now that’s a sensible thing to say. But what matters isn’t the song itself, it’s the report filed by mercenaries. Reports don’t lie. Unlike those lousy minstrels. At the very least, nobody can deny that he killed a Bugbear with magic.”
“……”
Lawrence neither confirmed nor denied it.
“A mage working as a mercenary is surprising enough, but a man strong enough to kill a Bugbear? This world’s full of things more like songs than songs, huh.”
“I suppose I’ll live long enough to see a lot,” Torin said, then rejoined the others.
To be honest, the brief conversation had been a relief.
He had been worried he might slip up and say something careless.
The mercenaries set off in search of the orc.
Watching their backs, Lawrence followed at a slow pace.
* * *
It was not long before they found one.
It stood well over two meters tall.
Its entire body, from head to toe, was dyed in blue-green hues.
Muscle bulged beneath the gaps in its leather armor.
Two trademark tusks jutted from its mouth, and several weapons were hung around its waist, along with strips of animal hide.
When the orc, an axe slung over one shoulder, spotted the mercenaries, it stopped in its tracks.
“......”
“......”
Torin signaled to his group.
They moved to their assigned positions and put their hands on their weapons.
Then came the signal that the others were ready.
“Chikarak!”
At Torin’s forceful cry, the orc answered in kind.
「Chikarak!」
Its thick, guttural voice was laced with a rough nasal snort. That was the orcs’ distinctive battle cry, according to the material the receptionist had given them.
Successfully drawing the orc’s attention, Torin drew sword and shield.
Human and orc glared at each other across the distance.
Seeing no immediate rush to charge, Torin spoke again.
“Chikarak!”
His voice rang with force.
At the cry, sounding almost like a threat, the orc’s expression twisted in fury.
「Chikarak!」
It kicked off the ground.
Dust burst into the air.
In only a few strides, it closed the distance and swung its axe.
“Ghk!”
It was a heavy blow.
Torin’s knees buckled as he received the axe on his shield.
The orc wasn’t a Bugbear, but the weight behind that axe was still terrifying, the force of its whole body driving the attack forward.
There was no room for a counterattack.
Torin, gripping his round shield with both hands, could only struggle to hold his ground.
Meanwhile, the companions who had finished preparing finally revealed themselves.
Bowstrings were drawn taut.
A rain of arrows flew toward the orc’s exposed back.
The mercenaries cared more about speed than raw power. In fact, most of the arrows failed to pierce the leather armor and clattered to the ground.
Still, the arrows achieved their purpose.
The orc, which had been pressing Torin hard, turned its head at the sudden threat from behind.
Spotting the mercenary drawing his bow, it reached to its waist and pulled free a small axe.
The muscles in its arm, from shoulder to hand, swelled visibly.
The axe danced in a blur, following the spinning motion of its wrist.
With a savage extension of the arm, the axe cleaved through the air.
“...!?”
The mercenary at the bow ducked frantically.
Just overhead—where his head had been a moment before—the thrown axe tore past.
How far was it going to go?
The axe the orc hurled did not stop until it had flown a long way beyond them.
With the rear threat eliminated, the orc turned back to Torin.
But Torin did not miss the opening created by that brief distraction.
His sword was already in motion, slashing at the orc.
Too shallow.
He had aimed for the hand holding the axe, but the orc reacted faster.
Only a minor scratch.
Blue blood sprayed into the air.
「Chikarak!」
At the sight of blood, the orc’s eyes went red with fury.
Torin’s attack had only made it angrier.
Just as the axe came around again, blades and a spear erupted from both sides and stabbed into its body.
“Die!”
“Drop dead, you bastard!”
These were the other companions, closing in on the orc with their bodies lowered.
Attack did not end after one strike.
Once a blow had landed, they would keep attacking until the orc fell.
Even so, the orc refused to stop.
The roar of a wounded beast rang out.
Blue blood gushed between its tusks.
It swung its axe in a wide arc.
“Khh!”
The sword-wielding mercenary leaped back.
But the spear, which had stayed outside the axe’s reach, kept stabbing at the orc again and again.
They targeted the seams between the leather armor, the weak spots the armor couldn’t fully guard, like joints.
Blood pooled thicker and thicker around the orc’s feet.
Though it staggered, it did not let go of resistance, but numbers were against it.
At last, one knee hit the ground.
“......”
Its ragged breathing already seemed on the verge of fading out.
Torin put it out of its misery.
Once the kill was confirmed, the mercenaries collected the blood from the orc’s heart.
Then came the most important part. A small smile formed on the face of the mercenary who cut off the nose from the orc’s head.
“You think this is funny? I really thought I was going to die.”
“You’re looking perfectly alive to me.”
“If you’ve got enough energy left to complain, you can probably handle three or four more just fine.”
Torin frowned at his companions’ teasing.
“Next time, get out here sooner. At this rate I’m going to break down for real.”
“The arrows have to land before I can move. Complain to Rick, not me.”
“That’s why I told you—I’m no good with a bow.”
“When the boss says move, you move. Since when does the youngest get to talk back?”
“No, fuck that. Why am I the youngest? We’re all Bronze Plates here.”
Watching the whole thing, Lawrence rested his chin on his hand.
One mercenary drew the orc’s attention from the front.
Another used arrows from the rear to pull its focus away.
Then, once the orc believed it had neutralized the threat and let its guard down, they landed the blow they had been saving.
Simple, but effective.
There was no doubt about it: the way ordinary mercenaries fought was brutal.
One mistake, and death followed immediately.
By default, any monster possessed physical ability far beyond that of a human.
Even with equipment to help, charging forward and fighting head-on was never wise.
Even if one blow could land, taking a life with a single stroke was no easy matter.
It was not merely a choice but a necessity for mercenaries to work in groups, coordinate, and go out to hunt together.
Of course, that was only true for ordinary mercenaries.
“Good work.”
“This doesn’t even count as hard work.”
Lawrence held out a hand to the resting Torin.
With a word of thanks, Torin took it and stood.
“You were a big help.”
He now roughly understood the flow of an orc hunt.
“Why don’t you hunt with us instead of going around alone? We can’t split the pay too generously, but we’ll make sure you’re not shortchanged.”
“I’m all right.”
Lawrence declined the offer.
Torin’s goodwill was appreciated, but the other mercenaries seemed uncomfortable with the arrangement.
A mercenary was not a charity worker.
No one liked seeing their own share of the pay cut down.
Especially not over something no one had planned for.
After parting ways with Torin’s group, Lawrence headed deeper into the plains.
Scattered across the grasslands were many mercenary parties of three or four men each.
There was no sign of the bandits he had feared might be lurking here.
Apparently the orcs were keeping them away, too.
He continued into the inner reaches of the plain, where human traffic grew scarce.
Lawrence intended to conceal his magic as much as possible.
There was no benefit in making his identity as a Shadow Mage known.
His name was already out there, thanks to somebody who had stitched together every story they could find and a few they couldn’t.
Bugbears, Eligators...
There would be people who looked favorably on the Shadow Mage’s exploits.
Unfortunately, the world was never so simple.
Back when he was young, he had listened to the songs of bards and let himself dream.
Now he knew all too well how terrifying malicious eyes could be.
Even the guild receptionist had been the same.
Hadn’t he made a nice profit by killing an Eligator?
Lawrence had denied it outright, but the receptionist hadn’t believed him.
That was the point.
Whether the story was true or false mattered less than the fact that people saw what they wanted to see.
That there might be truth in it was enough.
Most mercenaries probably thought the same way as the receptionist.
People were not as stupid as orcs.
No race went around openly reaching into other people’s pockets in broad daylight.
He had only to remember Horos Village.
If someone truly intended to come at his back, there was no easy answer.
Being unable to stop even a pickpocket—that was Lawrence’s current reality.
It was the price of having a name known out of proportion to the strength he actually possessed.
Lawrence cursed Cedric, who was probably singing in an inn somewhere.
That damned fool. Unable to sing worth a damn, and still he’d sent a complete stranger marching toward danger.
Did Cedric even know that the person in his song was now in a difficult position because of him?
Of course he didn’t.
The face he made while singing looked like a man wondering which woman he’d sleep with tonight.
“......”
Lawrence let out a sigh.
What else could he do?
The water was already spilled.
Insulting Cedric would change nothing.
Instead of wasting time cursing him, he needed to grow stronger as fast as possible.
If Lawrence could become strong enough to live up to the protagonist of a real ballad, then no one would dare come at him lightly unless they had lost their minds.
He needed power worthy of the name Shadow Mage.
That was what this orc hunt was for.
Money would lead to learning to read.
Learning to read would lead to new magic.
He had no intention of letting this opportunity, finally grasped at last, slip through his fingers.
How far had he walked?
By the time there were no more mercenaries visible nearby, Lawrence began searching the ground for tracks.
Everything that lived left traces behind.
The skill of reading traces, which he had learned while crossing the swamp with Neil, worked just as well here on the Rival Plains.
Traces left by people.
Traces left by wild animals.
And traces left by orcs.
Lawrence slowly followed the third kind.
It was not long before a blue figure came into view.
Lawrence dropped flat to the ground and studied it carefully.
An orc.
Compared to the one that had fought Torin’s group, this one was slightly shorter.
This time it was armed with an axe and a bow, and it was moving with its nose almost to the ground, as if tracking some wild animal.
There were no other orcs or mercenaries in sight.
After confirming that fact several times, Lawrence raised a hand.
There was no need to call out to it like Torin had. Lawrence was not a chivalrous knight, and he had no reason to make things difficult for himself by fighting fair.
Ambush was the very flower of magic.
“Shadow Spear.”
Lawrence hurled Shadow Spear at the orc’s back.