Chapter 337: Graxar (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 337: Graxar (1)
He had caught their tail.
Spotting the rear of the orc vanguard, Roman Dmitry pushed through the howling blizzard and issued his order.
"From now on, we move according to the plan."
"Yes, sir."
Rumble.
Ruuuumble.
There was no hesitation.
The moment the order fell, Dmitry's soldiers charged the orcs.
Squelch.
"Aaargh!"
Kevin took the vanguard.
Charging in faster than anyone else, he struck an orc from behind and twisted the screaming beast's head clean off. Even then, the orcs failed to notice his presence. The howling blizzard completely smothered both their sight and hearing. They only realized something was wrong when they saw their comrade collapse into the snow.
But it was already too late.
Before they could even form ranks, Dmitry's soldiers swept over them like a tidal wave.
"Chweek! Enemies!"
"Chweek! The enemy is here!"
The orcs fell into utter chaos.
With most of their elite forces deployed to the front lines, the ordinary orc soldiers stood no chance against Dmitry's assault. It was a one-sided slaughter. Kevin slipped through the gaps, butchering dozens of orcs, while every flash of Chris's sword sent blood spraying across the white snow. On the continent of Arcadia, orcs were heralded as a race of warriors. Their innate physical advantages made them natural-born fighters, but their desperate struggles amounted to nothing against Dmitry's soldiers.
Clang!
They were completely overpowered in pure strength.
As an orc stared at his opponent with trembling eyes, Logan sliced his torso clean in half.
Crunch.
Spurt.
Blood splattered into the freezing air.
Dmitry's soldiers.
Each and every one of them was a match for a hundred. They were a force capable of staring down an entire army, where every single man could slaughter a hundred foes alone.
That was the caliber of Dmitry.
Even the unnamed soldiers fought with the might of a hundred men, while newly joined figures like Fred, Logan, and Ares performed just as brilliantly as Chris and Kevin. The enemy fell one after another, broken wherever they tried to mount a defense. The soldiers of Luna, who joined the battlefield shortly after, could not hide their shock at the scene unfolding before them.
'…Wow.'
'So this is Dmitry.'
'To think the people from beyond the Endless Mountains are this strong.'
During the battle at the fortress, they had been too frantic to properly take in the situation.
But now, witnessing Dmitry's military might with a clear mind, the sheer absurdity of their power made their heads spin. Weren't they soldiers just like them? How could ordinary soldiers wield Aura? It was a reality the common troops of Luna simply could not comprehend.
But one thing was certain: Dmitry was Luna's ally. Heartened by the performance of men who would have been absolute demons had they met as enemies, Luna's soldiers found their courage.
"Follow Dmitry!"
"Exterminate these heinous orcs!"
The first phase of the plan.
It was a slaughter driven by sheer, overwhelming force.
Judging by Graxar's actions so far, Roman Dmitry had anticipated that the orc rear guard would be weak.
It was only natural.
Luna had already fallen.
Since the Elves were the only remaining race capable of opposing the orcs, it made sense for Graxar to deploy his elites to the front to crush them. That was precisely their weakness. Although Roman Dmitry's forces consisted of only twenty-nine private soldiers and a few thousand Luna troops, the slaughter spreading from the rear utterly overwhelmed the tens of thousands of orcs.
Screams echoed.
Blood stained the snow.
And then,
just as expected, a shift occurred in the orcs' formation.
"Chweek! Subdue the rear first!"
"Chweek! Slaughter the humans!"
Graxar's command rang out.
Elves in the front, humans in the rear.
In a situation where their forces could easily be divided and crushed if they made a wrong move, Graxar swiftly ordered the elimination of the rear threat.
He was clever.
His judgment was quick.
Graxar had made the best possible decision—but that was exactly what Roman Dmitry wanted.
"Execute the second phase."
At those words,
the soldiers engaged in battle vanished into the howling blizzard.
* * *
Whoosh.
The blizzard raged.
The moment the enraged orcs gave chase through the storm, a group of soldiers burst out from the deep snow.
Burst.
"Chweek! Watch out— cough!"
"Aaargh!"
Stab, stab, stab, stab!
They were Luna's soldiers.
Thrusting their spears simultaneously, they turned the charging orcs into pincushions in an instant. In the blink of an eye, Luna's soldiers ruthlessly struck down the dazed beasts. If one man's strength wasn't enough, two joined in; if two weren't enough, three coordinated their attack.
It was just enough.
The moment the orcs regained their senses and tried to form ranks, Luna's soldiers vanished back into the blizzard without hesitation.
"Chweek! These filthy rats!"
"Chweek! Chase them!"
It was pure chaos.
The humans' attack had been sudden enough, but to think they would hide beneath the snow to launch an ambush? It was a tactic completely inexplicable by Arcadia's standards. The orcs, their eyes bloodshot with rage at the mere fact of being ambushed, gave chase. The snowfall was so heavy that even if they moved just slightly ahead, they could no longer see the comrades following behind them.
It was then.
Swoosh.
Crunch.
Something burst through the blizzard.
It was Roman Dmitry.
A monster they couldn't even defeat in a head-on clash suddenly appeared, butchering three or four orcs in an instant.
Necks snapped.
Torsos were sent flying.
After dispatching the orcs in a flash, Roman Dmitry vanished back into the blizzard, exactly as Luna's soldiers had. The orcs arriving late could only look on in sheer bewilderment. Their kin, who had rushed ahead to deal with the humans, were suddenly lying on the ground as cold corpses.
The second phase of the plan.
It utilized the Elves' territory.
The World Tree dispersed a faint life force into its surroundings, which meant that even during a heavy snowfall, the weather was not as severe within the Elves' borders. Thus, Roman Dmitry attacked the enemy's rear and lured them away from the World Tree's sphere of influence. Because the heavy snow was accompanied by a raging blizzard out here, the orcs could not properly utilize their numerical advantage.
Just like right now.
Thud.
"Aaargh!"
An orc screamed.
The warrior, who had been charging rapidly atop a White Wolf, had his chest slashed wide open by Roman Dmitry.
Hundreds had already fallen. Graxar's command had pushed his orcs straight into the jaws of death.
In this war, Roman Dmitry might have stood a chance even if he pushed forward with his individual might alone, but he refused to recklessly force a head-on confrontation. Graxar's true strength had not yet been properly gauged. Since the orcs possessed tens of thousands of warriors, a frontal clash relying solely on individual strength would inevitably incur heavy casualties.
Therefore,
he devised a strategy.
One that could inflict maximum damage with minimal casualties.
The martial arts of the North Sea Ice Palace made that possible.
Burst.
"Die!"
Stab, stab, stab, stab!
Soldiers burst out from the snow.
Over the past two days, Luna's soldiers had learned the stealth techniques of the North Sea Ice Palace. Half of them followed Dmitry's soldiers to attack the rear, while the other half hid in the snow, waiting for the perfect moment to lure the enemy.
Roman had taken the difference in martial power into account.
Those who were not strong enough to run wild among the enemy like Dmitry's soldiers were deployed in positions suited to their abilities.
'We are going to win.'
'We can win.'
The training they had undergone had paid off.
Luna's soldiers were now absolutely certain of victory.
While they were in awe of Roman Dmitry's martial prowess, they couldn't help but place complete faith in the tactics he had explained while teaching them the Martial Arts of Snow Heaven. If they were in the orcs' shoes, they knew they would have fallen for the exact same trap. Since the martial arts of the North Sea Ice Palace allowed one to accurately perceive the enemy's location and move without a trace even in a howling blizzard, the heavy snowfall was actually an incredible asset for the Luna Kingdom.
Corpses piled up.
The number of orcs rapidly dwindled.
And in the midst of this slaughter, Graxar finally began to move.
* * *
Observing the unfolding situation, Graxar realized they had fallen into a trap.
'The enemy commander is no ordinary man.'
Roman Dmitry.
He was an existence who had appeared from beyond the Endless Mountains.
He had undoubtedly reclaimed Luna's fortress with a mere thirty troops, and these human movements—turning the blizzard to their advantage—were highly likely to have originated from him. This was no mere hypothesis. Having thoroughly assessed the humans' strength while preparing for this war, Graxar knew this situation could not be explained by Luna's power alone.
Furthermore,
the Elves had begun their counterattack.
Though they hadn't grasped the situation at first, they seemed to have recognized the humans' assault as their golden opportunity.
'The outsiders from beyond the Endless Mountains are the problem. The Luna Kingdom has no power to oppose us, but that fellow Roman Dmitry and his soldiers are strong. If I overlook their existence, we might actually lose.'
His assessment of the situation was swift.
Graxar shouted, infusing his voice with Mana.
"Chweek! Everyone, fall back! Do not let yourselves be drawn in exactly as the enemy wants!"
And then...
Whoosh.
Rumble.
He kicked off the ground.
At the vanguard of the enemy, Dmitry's soldiers popped up here and there, relentlessly attacking the orcs.
Though there were powerful existences among them who rivaled himself, Graxar boldly charged forward.
Grip.
He gripped his axe tightly.
As his Mana surged, threatening to explode, his muscles swelled massively.
"Chweek! Die!"
Boom!
Ruuuumble.
A tremendous clash erupted.
The opponent he attacked was none other than Ares.
Ares, who had just dispatched a group of orcs, quickly pulled back his sword, his face contorting from the sheer impact. It was a destructive force that far exceeded his expectations. As if he had anticipated Ares blocking his strike, Graxar swung his massive axe in rapid succession, driving Ares into a corner.
Boom!
Crash! Crash! Crash! Crash!
It was an overwhelming sight.
The waves of Aura radiating from Graxar pushed back the blizzard, revealing their figures clearly.
Humans and orcs.
They were fundamentally different from birth.
Because orcs were born with the bloodline of warriors, Arcadia called them predators.
However,
there was a fact that people often overlooked.
The origin of Aura stemmed from Alexander, and no matter how similar they were to humans, Aura was not a power that orcs were naturally familiar with. Over time, orc warriors who used Aura began to appear. The reason they were so powerful was not because they were outstanding Aura Swordsmen, but because they were physically gifted from birth. Combining that innate strength with Aura allowed them to overwhelm human Aura Swordsmen even at the exact same level.
Think about it.
What would happen if an existence born with an orc's monstrous physique also possessed a genius talent for Aura?
What kind of monster would that create?
Such an existence was Graxar.
The Gray Wasteland tribe had submitted to him for that exact reason.
Staring at the brilliant Aura he manifested, they bowed their heads to the undeniable fact that he was truly the strongest orc in history.
Crackle.
The Aura distorted.
A blazing red Aura crashed down upon Ares's head.
Boom!
Ruuuuumble.
A single strike.
A tremendous shockwave erupted, and Ares was pushed back.
His stiffened face and slightly trembling hands proved that the blow just now was no laughing matter.
"Man, if I don't take this seriously, I might actually lose."
He smirked.
It was then.
Graxar rested his axe on his shoulder, baring his savage fangs.
"Chweek! Hear me, leader of the humans! Let us settle this between us. If you defeat me, the Gray Wasteland tribe will admit defeat."
His duel with Ares had been a sort of performance.
After proving his overwhelming presence, Graxar chose the only way left to win this war.
And then...
Whooooosh.
From beyond the blizzard, a voice rang out.
"You make an interesting proposal."
Roman Dmitry revealed himself.
* * *
Graxar.
He was a formidable existence.
Although Ares was one of the top powerhouses of the Salamander Continent, Graxar had momentarily pushed him back. Of course, that alone did not guarantee victory. Ares had not exerted his full strength, and Graxar had not shown his full power either.
What was truly interesting, however, was Graxar's judgment.
'Despite having the numerical advantage, he judged that a war of attrition would be disadvantageous. He must have realized that numbers alone cannot turn the tide when we are actively utilizing the heavy snowfall. Graxar is no ordinary orc. He possesses powerful martial might, along with the wisdom and leadership of a true commander.'
Luna's defeat made sense now.
Since Graxar had led the war with overwhelming might and leadership, the orcs had no choice but to win.
The problem was the timing of the war.
From the moment a connection was forged between Dmitry and Luna, an unforeseen variable had arisen for Graxar.
Roman Dmitry spoke.
"When I win, or when you win... what do you think will happen to those who followed the loser?"
"Chweek! That is up to the victor, of course."
"Indeed. That is the problem."
Roman smiled.
Lowering his sword, he walked slowly toward Graxar.
"Graxar. This war is not a simple war of conquest. You have revealed your intention to use humans as food, and you have actually replaced your military rations with prisoners of war. From that moment on, our relationship was already decided. Whether I lose or you lose, not a single person who followed the loser will escape the responsibility of defeat."
This war carried the fate of their respective races.
It meant that this was not the kind of war where one could survive simply by raising a white flag.
Graxar had been arrogant.
When he assessed the humans' strength and initiated the war, he had never once calculated the possibility of defeat.
"I accept your proposal. And let me tell you this in advance."
Roman raised his sword.
Looking at his opponent, the smile vanished from his face.
"If I win, I will exterminate the orcs from the continent of Arcadia. So from this moment on, use whatever means necessary to stop me."