Orc Tribe
"What do you mean by that?"
A bewildered voice echoed throughout the dark chamber. With morale already plummeting from repeated failures, the figure seated at the head of the table—in place of their absent leader, who had left to pursue the Great Ritual—had just uttered words that plunged it even lower.
"Shouldn't we be mustering our strength more than ever in times like these?"
"Exactly. If we start retreating step by step like this, we'll keep falling back indefinitely."
"Right. When he returns after completing the Great Ritual, do you think he'll be pleased to find us sitting idle, doing nothing!?"
In an organization where a single slip of the tongue could cost one's head, sharp rebuttals flew unusually freely. The string of failures had planted desperation in everyone's hearts. Yet the shadow at the head remained unshaken.
"Have you forgotten that Ilaine, who was meant to be Elvenheim's sharpest dagger, is already dead?"
Even so, the shadows around the round table continued to voice their dissent.
"H-he used a false name thoroughly, and his body has already vanished. The temple's reports say Elvenheim dismisses talk of a black mage as mere rumor. We can't scrap the plan just because one piece is missing!"
"Indeed. Besides, we have the completed Thunderbolts. They can more than replace Ilaine."
Their arguments weren't without merit.
"The problem isn't simply Ilaine's absence. The real issue is Tiny Morse, the knight called the Radiant."
"......That guy."
"Ugh......"
The round table fell silent at the shadow's firm tone.
"Even the Aslan imperial announcement shows he's no mere operative under the Dragon's Eye. Our misconception contributed to this failure."
"Then how the hell did that bastard......?"
"That's why it's a problem. How did he know about our operations? Even after we purged the Dragon's Eye spies and altered our plans?"
No one could answer.
Then, soon enough.
"Could there still be a spy among us? One we failed to root out......?"
A shadow in the corner cautiously offered an opinion. But the head shadow shook their head immediately.
"If so, the palace damage wouldn't have been that severe. The emperor himself died, for god's sake!"
Bam.
"Though the chaos we hoped for didn't come, if the changed plans had leaked and the Blue Fox exposed, our grand undertaking would have been shipwrecked from the start. So that's not it."
But that emphatic declaration—punctuated by a slam on the table—only amplified the other shadows' unease.
"Then how did that bastard......?"
"What the hell happened?"
"No clue......"
"That's why I intend to confirm it from him this time."
The resolute voice cut through the murmurs, drawing all eyes to the head immediately.
"Pardon?"
"How......?"
"We'll change our target for now. With the empire avoiding chaos, there's a race that's lost its chance to vent internal strife, isn't there?"
Most shadows around the table nodded in unison. The warlike race dwelling in the empire's western plains and hills, originally slated as the next-next target.
"Orcs......"
"Yes. Earlier than planned, but now's the perfect time to let the festering Orc Alliance rot from the inside."
"Then that guy......?"
"If the previous two failures were coincidence or leaks from spies, he's already earned enough fame and won't move this time. But......"
The calm voice trailed off mid-explanation.
"If he comes to Bator, then as No. 3 says, there's still a spy among us."
With those words, a chilling killing intent swirled around the table as the head shadow raised a hand languidly.
"And if—unlikely as it seems!—he heads to Elvenheim......"
Despite the words, clear anticipation laced the head shadow's tone.
"It would mean he's a hero, blessed by the Goddess's oracle."
That statement silenced the table in an instant. Not because the name of their natural enemy—a term antithetical to demon worshippers who served the Demon King—had emerged.
"Puhahaha. So the incomplete administrator, no true believer, is about to blunder into history again?"
The laughter carried an inexplicable eagerness. And soon.
"This world's anxious manager sees only predestined fate."
"Blind to a world altered by excessive meddling."
"A world escaped from fate races toward ruin faster."
"Dimensional boundaries fray more easily, paving a quicker path for the true masters' return."
The elders around the table chimed in one after another, reciting the ancient "history" passed down in their organization. Unlike human records, they knew the first Great War with the demon realm—sparked in antiquity—stemmed from the world's imbalance caused by the Goddess's interference.
"A world meant to cycle destruction and rebirth. Yet the Goddess issued an oracle to avert ruin, twisting fate."
Thus, the "true masters"—meant to be quiet harvesters and creators of a new era—pierced the shaken dimensions to claim their rightful dominion, igniting what humans called the ancient Great Demon War. Contrary to current histories hailing humanity's victory, they believed the demons had nearly annihilated ancient civilization—and were the true victors. Ma-yeok and the Great Labyrinth stood as irrefutable proof on the continent.
"If he truly is a hero, our wishes will come easier."
"Just thinking about it......"
The table buzzed with excitement. But then, someone doused the anticipation.
"Couldn't they be relying on info from the purged spy?"
The quiet suggestion from the corner instantly cooled the heated atmosphere. Hostile glares turned his way, but.
"The Aslan incident was handled within the leaked info and still got botched halfway. That explanation fits better."
Regrettably, the added point rang true to all.
The head shadow pondered briefly, then nodded slowly and spoke.
"Look at his movements."
"Pardon?"
"He's moved to Carun and Asrian without hesitation, timed perfectly with our operations."
"Ah......"
"And consider the forces he brings. It'll confirm it."
"Pardon?"
"He's already achieved results and gained recognition. If he still moves with a small group, ignoring imperial or Carun aid, it proves he's a hero. The more who know, the greater the dimensional tremors."
Exclamations erupted around the table at the lucid conclusion. The head shadow raised a hand again, calming the near-boiling mood.
"No. 8's point is valid too. Don't expect too much. He's most likely not heading to Elvenheim or Bator, and even if he does, he'll probably bring imperial troops. Our hopes remain just that—for now. We haven't reported to him yet."
In truth, they withheld reports fearing the failures might hinder the Great Ritual.
'He has to be the hero. He must be. It's the only way to escape blame for these failures.'
Hiding those inner thoughts, the head shadow surveyed the table. They stared briefly at No. 8—who had doused their engineered momentum—then issued a command.
"If he heads straight to Elvenheim with no imperial movement, No. 8, handle him personally. Mobilize the organization's full might."
"......Understood."
He would definitely head to Elvenheim. Whether killing Ilaine was coincidence or not, he'd now suspect and worry about the girl he met last year.
'With disasters striking one after another, it'll cross his mind. Even preventively, he'll rush to Elvenheim. Even if he's just Dragon's Eye propaganda.'
Strike while the elders panicked irrationally from failures, framing him as the hero and killing him.
'If he's real, even better.'
Composing themselves, the head shadow gazed at the silent table and quietly intoned the creed.
"For the new world!"
"For the new world!!"
"Alright, the plains at last. You know what to watch out for most here, right?"
"Orcs."
"That's right."
Garen grinned at Tiny's immediate reply. It was basic knowledge any decent knight should know.
From the empire's western plains to the hills near the Great Forest where Elvenheim lay, the orc tribes—divided into numerous clans—dominated that vast expanse.
"Merchant caravans pay tolls to major tribes or skirt borders on precarious paths. The first marks you as a submissive weakling, banning free travel across the plains. The second takes far longer. So what should we do?"
Garen asked with a mischievous glint, like a teacher posing a tough riddle. But against his expectations.
"The warrior's challenge."
Tiny answered without hesitation.
"From here to Elvenheim in a straight line, you'll meet three orc tribes. Win three one-on-one duels, and no more orcs will bar our way."
A flicker of disappointment crossed Garen's face.
"......Correct. Well, ahem. Slum orphan, huh? Who'd you learn this from?"
"Picked it up here and there."
"Whatever. With just us two, that's six fights. Confident? Orcs are nothing like the humans you've fought. Their physical prowess creates variables unrelated to mana rank......"
"I know. Very well. No need to worry."
Just moments ago claiming "picked it up," now asserting perfect knowledge. Garen thought,
'......This kid's full of secrets.'
But he let it slide. His lord had ordered no prying into this transcendent genius. Besides,
'A true friend covers for a friend's secrets.'
Garen smirked and moved on.
"Good. You know we can't kill them in these duels?"
"Yes."
"But they won't care if they kill you?"
"Of course."
"......Alright, let's go. Hya!"
Neighhh!
As Garen yanked the reins to charge.
Flash.
"Grrr."
Snort.
Neighhh!
His horse panicked at the massive silver wolf reflecting sunlight, exuding majesty. Despite seeing the spirit en route to the border, Garen's steed Sandr still couldn't adapt.
"Whoa......"
"Ah, sorry. I'll go ahead."
Tiny surged forward like the wind, leaving the wolf rider and hesitant knight. Garen sighed, soothed his horse, and followed.
Soon, Tiny faced a dozen giant lizards charging from the front.
'Tomodos!'
Smaller than horses, but carrying orc warriors averaging over 2 meters tall and nearing 200kg—barreling across the plains without faltering—they were monsters.
Leading them: an especially huge orc. Green-skinned, fierce-faced, with two large tusks jutting over his upper lip. He bellowed at Tiny.
"фофстоал вдйлввды!!"
Tiny didn't speak Orc fluently, but guessed the meaning. And he still memorized the one Orc phrase Zerik taught him.
"ылыьы цоыелвьд едпофвьа втоыплыул!! (I demand the warrior's trial!)"
Tiny's shout rang toward the charging Tomodo orc warriors.
"......These days, orcs understand the common tongue pretty well."
Garen's mutter, trailing far behind, reached neither Tiny nor the orcs.