Chapter 55
Chapter 55
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: Scar-8
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Never had the green waves felt so threatening.
The massively swollen green masses trampled the plains over and over. Grotesque lumps rising from the earth like boils.
"They're coming."
Despite the palisades and traps they'd labored over until last night, they looked woefully inadequate against that enormous orc horde.
"More than expected..."
The female slave—no, the legless adventurer—gulped nervously.
Even the adventurers, confident in their own abilities, were on edge, so the conscripts' morale had hit rock bottom.
"Hold your positions! Scattering means a dog's death! Don't stray from the palisades!"
The lord bellowed at the top of his lungs, but anxiety laced his voice.
A formation was a harsh structure. Farmers, blacksmiths, and innkeepers with nothing but spears had to stand their ground against giant monsters.
If fear shattered the line and people scattered, everyone would die in the end. It placed far too much responsibility on the weak and small.
At least the legless adventurer seemed a little pleased to reunite with her old party members. That naive-looking young man was probably her lover.
After a short wait, a messenger came running urgently from the main force.
"Lure them in!"
Nerwen heard the order and climbed onto the platform, nocking an arrow aimed at the massive orc horde.
"Got it. Get ready."
Elves hated crowds, and I wasn't thrilled about fighting alongside Nerwen either.
But the situation left no room for personal preferences.
No matter how much she disliked the tangled stench of humans, Nerwen had to be thrown into the fray, and I lacked confidence in handling sudden developments if she was too far away.
"Still, we're lucky to have a real elf archer. We'd have needed a separate squad just to lure those things otherwise."
"Real elf archer?"
The legless adventurer knew more than expected and chattered excitedly.
"Heard it from an elf acquaintance before—warriors are surprisingly rare even among elves. They live so long that the archery even landscapers or tailors pick up as a hobby is incredible..."
"She's a great warrior, so she must be strong. At the very least, she'll hold out until those piled-up arrows are gone."
Her condition was precarious. Carving branches into arrows all night was work no one else could help with, no matter how they tried.
But at a glance, the orcs outnumbered the arrows by far. The situation wasn't good.
"First volley, commencing."
Enel atop the wooden platform they'd prepared yesterday was unknowingly bolstering everyone's morale.
Elves were seen as noble, but many viewed them as calculating and cowardly. It was an inevitable difference in perception.
Just as even cat lovers wouldn't equate a cat's life with a human's, even kind elves prioritized elven lives in danger—usually their own.
So the mere fact that this selfish, risk-averse elf was on the battlefield made people feel they had a chance.
Or perhaps they were simply comforted by the sight of her beautiful figure elevated slightly above them.
"Here goes."
Nerwen's arrow sliced through the wind. Her slender needle pierced the massive green boil on the earth.
The first arrow made no visible change. But judging by her expression, it had surely hit.
She fired the second and third without a tremor. By the sixth arrow, the huge horde began to stir.
Slowly, the massive roars grew louder.
"Ugh, uwaaaah, kuwaaaaa!!!"
The shouts were familiar, but I'd never faced such a horde head-on before.
The ground rumbled. The green masses shook irregularly before gradually heading our way.
"Kraaaaa!!!"
The footsteps drew closer bit by bit, heartbeats pounding louder. As the orcs' grotesquely twisted features came into view, I drew my holy sword and gripped it with both hands.
The battle had begun.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "What is it? I don't have much time, so spit out your business and get out."
Arrogant words, but the nobles who'd entered this small mage's workshop had to be satisfied with that.
She rarely permitted noble visits in the first place. Being allowed to see her face was victory enough.
"We've come to discuss the Hero."
"That's a given. State your business."
But the mage's eyes weren't on them. Her childlike hands fiddled ceaselessly with magic materials, and whenever conversation paused, spells muttered from her tightly pursed lips.
"Naturally, Great Mage, you were unaware of this matter."
"Yes."
"His Majesty the Emperor... is skilled in schemes, so it was unavoidable. Who could have guessed? No one imagined he'd imprison the real Hero and steal her power."
"Enough prattle."
The noble's face soured slightly.
"You want cooperation? You need my power to pressure the Emperor and the Princess, right?"
"Y-yes."
Sorceresses calculated costs and benefits. Anything outside her interests was dismissed as trivial.
Naturally, she had closer ties to the noble faction than the Emperor's side.
Those needing sorcerers' conspiracies were schemers plotting foul intrigues, and the wealthier ones who ignored the Emperor's tax rates and rules.
Elenor and Pashier had grown close over much time, battles, collaboration, and cooperation. It was natural for nobles to see Pashier as an ally.
"On hold."
"...Pardon? This is our chance! As long as the Emperor lives, no such scandal will erupt again!"
The Emperor was a thorn in many nobles' sides, but wise and cunning enough to maintain governance while antagonizing them.
He always managed nobles with the shield of justice, bestowed noble titles lavishly even on meritorious commoners, and was friendly with adventurers and merchants alike.
But this incident was different. He offered no clear explanation, allowing nobles to spread malicious rumors freely.
While his moral standing took a hit, he couldn't wield his weapons against them.
"What's the goal? Tax authority? Droit du seigneur?"
"Both, for now."
The tax auditors dispatched by the Emperor were loathsome to nobles. They controlled the nobility to prevent excessive taxation.
Droit du seigneur was rarely exercised in practice. A lord could embrace far cleaner, more beautiful courtesans if he wished, and few nobles with refined tastes would stomach rural peasant girls.
But symbolically, it was a mark proclaiming noble authority. A sign that common women were theirs for the taking, if they so desired.
"Enough. I don't care what you lot do, but I'm in a position where I must tread carefully now..."
"If you'll just join us in condemning the Princess..."
"Don't expect my help."
"Why..."
"I've lost my conviction. I don't want to act on impulse."
Pashier's deflated voice was a far cry from the cold, competent image they knew.
The diminutive sorceress stormed out as if she truly had urgent business. The nobles remained clueless to the reason for her change, right up to the end.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The momentum was different.
I'd faced monster hordes near the capital before, but those were stragglers.
They weren't different orcs, so there was no special tension. Swinging the holy sword cleaved flesh, and I blocked their massive greataxes without issue.
For now, it was holding. Adventurers were falling, but the battle line was maintained.
"Hup!"
But the main force, bolstered by soldiers, was even more precarious. It wasn't a properly organized standing army—it was a hastily assembled rabble of the elderly and disabled.
People fell, others filled the gaps. Terror welled in their eyes with every collapse in the front line.
"You're holding well! Don't give up!"
The fact that no soldiers had fled yet was probably thanks to the orc wolf packs spreading to the flanks.
The wolves howling ferociously from the sides lent authority to the lord's words: "Run, and it's a dog's death."
But the battle wasn't going well. We were being encircled.
No matter how hard I pushed forward, slashing orcs, a sword had limits. Even spending mere seconds cleaving each orc that charged with full force meant cries echoing from all around.
"Enel! Be careful—it's coming!"
Nerwen called out urgently. In the midst of felling orcs, I shouted back in irritation.
"What the hell! If there's a dangerous one, you take it out!"
Nerwen was an archer from the Demon King subjugation party. Even if she'd lost some blessings along the way, she wasn't one to falter against mere orcs.
Unless she ran out of arrows or strength to draw the bowstring, no orc could survive a single shot from her.
"It's here. The one we were worried about—the real deal is coming! I'm pouring arrows into it, but this bastard just tanks them and..."
Before her words finished, I spotted the thing itself.
A monster twice the size of a normal orc loomed before us. Three arrows protruded from its neck, yet it moved as if unperturbed.
Its green flesh brimmed with muscle, bulging even more savagely and barbarically whenever it tensed.
"Kreoooooo!!!"
A factor that could multiply the orc numbers—a legion commander-class demon brimming with demonic energy.
The Orc Lord stood before my eyes.