The Sixth Study: Great Chieftain Belkan (5)
The heavy wooden desk, forged from mana-steel, crumpled like paper under the impact.
“This is impossible!”
Bang!
Great Chieftain Belkan slammed his iron-hard fist down onto the table. The sheer brute force left the mana-steel surface horribly dented and warped.
“What kind of human trains trolls into loyal soldiers and then single-handedly counters a flame storm prepared by the elder shamans?!”
Every offensive Belkan launched had failed. No matter what troops he sent, the rock trolls’ zwei-handers repelled them with ease. So he had mobilized the shamans to summon a flame storm, only to be met with—
Elementalist Tellorian (Magic Card, Legend)
A terrifying elementalist who commands all four primary elements. He unleashes destructive energy in a single burst, turning entire battlefields into scorched wastelands!
Effect:
Destroys all enemy units of level 10 or below on the battlefield and summons Battle Mage Tellorian. The summoned Battle Mage Tellorian is treated as a level 40 mage.
Alongside the Mace Hundred, Tellorian had appeared and immediately unleashed a barrage of terrifying spells. The orc shamans were forced into a desperate defense.
“Does this even make sense?!”
“It makes perfect sense,” Tellorian replied calmly.
“Your forces are exhausted and depleted from prolonged combat. The shamans have already spent most of their mana contending with the kingdom’s mages.”
In contrast, the Mace Hundred’s army was fresh, and Tellorian still had mana to spare. He could fight all day if necessary.
“I’ll acknowledge your success in taming the trolls!”
Great Chieftain Belkan’s face flushed red as he jabbed a finger toward his own face. In any Mirror War, moments like this were inevitable—when the losing party refused to accept the judgment and flew into a rage.
“But the part where you claim to possess enough firepower to turn the tide of battle single-handedly? That I cannot accept! You’re nothing but a whelp who has barely passed twenty!”
Tellorian considered how best to convince the Great Chieftain. Belkan was an exceptionally sharp-minded individual; he must already understand the truth.
My judgment is never wrong.
The Mirror War he had cast was a future-reading ability created by the power of omniscience. Doubting the verdict meant doubting not the ability itself, but the possibility of manipulation.
Yet I have already proven my reliability.
He had shown Belkan sufficient goodwill and trustworthiness. With a Insight stat of 24, there was no way the orc could fail to recognize that.
Then the issue must be emotional.
On a small scale: the fury of having lost the game.
On a larger scale: the hollow despair of watching decades of preparation turn to dust.
“If we don’t annihilate the kingdom army here and now, we will never get another chance! We must end Essil’s field army right here! Damn it all!”
No matter how many times he repeated the same offensive, the result remained unchanged. Great Chieftain Belkan would inflict a crushing defeat on the Essil Kingdom forces at Haslen Plains, but he could never wipe them out completely. The Mace Hundred would always rally the remnants and retreat.
“You have won.”
“For now, perhaps. But it’s too late.”
“The war still favors your side.”
The death of the kingdom’s champion.
The annihilation of its nobility.
“The gray tide of mountain orcs will pour down from the great mountain range in response. At the same time, the wood elves of the Great Forest will declare their first Wild Hunt in ages.”
Countless human settlements would fall to the wild races’ surprise attacks. Horrifying massacres would follow, no different from the slaughter of livestock.
“Furthermore, greenskins such as goblins and trolls will flock to your banners. Dark elves, vampires, and the demon cults will run rampant afterward, and the human nations of the Heartlands will collapse in utter ruin.”
Once order crumbled, the peasants would starve. The starving serfs would turn into bandits or cultists and rise up to kill their former masters. Lords would be fed to dogs, their wives reduced to playthings. Noble daughters and sons would be offered as sacrifices to demons.
“…What exactly are you saying?”
“The human kingdoms are collapsing from within.”
The central nations had already reached the limit of their internal contradictions. As a result, a considerable number of the lower classes would view the invasion of the heterogeneous races led by Belkan as a chance for liberation.
“…Humans truly are…”
The internally weakened human kingdoms would topple like bowling pins struck by a ball. Great Chieftain Belkan’s authority would pierce the heavens, and all the races that had long harbored hatred for humanity would gather beneath his banner.
“Through a [Diplomacy] check, I will unify them into a single alliance. The name of the alliance shall be Aleurin, the orcish word for harmony.”
With so many factions participating, the cultures were diverse and the interests complex. Yet Great Chieftain Belkan was an S-rank leader. He successfully reconciled every conflicting interest and united the disparate forces.
“You now control half of the central region.”
“…Even so, it’s not good enough. This is far slower than the plan I had envisioned.”
“Nevertheless, the Aleurin Alliance’s forces are numerous and powerful. The human kingdoms are abandoning resistance one by one and surrendering. The Harrington family will be the exception, of course.”
Great Chieftain Belkan could not laugh.
“Even if it becomes a war of attrition, we should be able to hold out for about five years.”
The heterogeneous alliance commanded by Belkan would repel even the imperial legions. The sheer ferocity of the orcs would make the northern army hesitate to intervene, and the moderate races who had initially held back out of fear of retaliation would gradually join the alliance.
“But since the surprise attack has failed, there is no path forward.”
“Correct. Because it is the Empire we face.”
When one legion was annihilated, two legions marched north. When two legions were wiped out, four legions advanced. And when those four legions were slaughtered as well…
“The Emperor will declare a personal expedition.”
An imperial personal campaign.
To prepare for that, they needed to seize the central region as quickly as possible and strike at the Empire.
“…If not for you and those trolls, my plan would have succeeded. I intended to destroy Essil in a single blow and launch a surprise attack on the imperial capital.”
But.
Too much time had been wasted.
The Empire’s main forces would return.
“The Empire will sign a ceasefire on the eastern front and mobilize its primary army. The northern forces, who have been watching from the sidelines, will also assemble a large expeditionary force. If the central region falls completely to the Empire, they know they will be next.”
The consequences that would follow were catastrophic. Having witnessed the horrors in the central region, the Emperor would issue an orc-extermination decree, and the northerners—who had once been relatively conciliatory toward the heterogeneous races—would turn into fervent xenophobes.
“So in the end, our orc race will be wiped out.”
“A small number will survive.”
The orcs who fled into remote wilderness untouched by human hands would survive. In exchange, they would have to abandon their culture and traditions. Merely staying alive would be difficult enough.
“That would no longer be an orc,” Great Chieftain Belkan declared firmly.
“Merely a monster.”
“At the very least, orcish civilization would come to an end.”
At last.
The long discussion reached its conclusion.
“We must prevent the outbreak of a racial war.”
“A wise decision.”
“Grey Sage Tellorian.”
We are ready.
We will follow your guidance.
You have persuaded Great Chieftain Belkan!
📍 Experience: +20
📍 Lore Points: +1
📍 Progress to Level 18: 70/100
📍 Current Lore Points: 22
“Then let us begin by solving the water supply issue.”
“I was about to ask you the same question.”
Dozens of tribes that had been scattered across the Great Wasteland had now gathered in one place. If they could not secure drinking water and food immediately, disease and starvation would destroy them.
“I will summon rain through magic.”
“Through magic?”
The drought of the Great Wasteland was not a problem that could be solved by simply calling down rain with magic. To restore the devastated ecosystem, they would need enough rain to flood the dried-up oases. They needed the kind of torrential downpour the desert orcs called Hargash.
“As you know, our shamans are not incapable of bringing rain. If we perform a rain ritual, we can summon rain for several days.”
But this year, not a single drop of Hargash had come. It was an unprecedented event that had never occurred since the desert orcs first settled in the Great Wasteland.
“However, with the power of us mortals, we can never truly replicate Hargash. When Hargash falls, it requires the breath of the Elemental Lords.”
Knowledge (Nature)
Experience +10
Lore Points +1
Progress to Level 18: 80/100
Current Lore Points: 23
“You are correct.”
Tellorian put a pipe summoned from his subspace to his lips. His expression overflowed with confidence.
“But what if we borrow the power of an immortal?”
“If we could receive the help of an immortal, it would certainly be worth attempting. However, do you have a way to contact a high-ranking immortal whose stature rivals that of the Elemental Lords?”
The difference between a mortal and an immortal was simple. If something withered with the passage of time, it was mortal. If it remained unchanged even as eternity flowed by, it was immortal. Therefore, ancient dragons and archliches belonged to the mortal category. Their bodies could endure eternity, but their minds could not.
Whereas immortals?
Gods did not grow weary of life even after living for a million years. Angels and devils felt no boredom from good or evil deeds. Elementals simply existed in the exact form they had possessed since the dawn of time.
That is why immortals are closer to natural phenomena than to sentient beings. Or perhaps to highly advanced mechanical devices that perform specific procedures with maximum efficiency.
In other words—
They were not sentient beings.
They do not even reside in the material plane to begin with.
Immortals lived in their own separate dimensions. Heaven and Hell were the most representative examples. Such dimensions possessed the characteristic of permanence and rarely changed.
Knowledge (Dimensional Studies)
Experience +10
Lore Points +1
Progress to Level 18: 90/100
Current Lore Points: 24
This is where the first major obstacle appears when seeking the help of an immortal. First, a spell capable of sending a message to another dimension is required.
This was transmissibility.
Next, an appropriate price must be paid for the immortal’s assistance. However, immortals usually have no interest in the treasures of mortals.
This was recompense.
Finally, to summon an immortal into the material plane, one must use rare catalysts and perform a complex summoning ritual. A professional spellcaster capable of overseeing the entire process is also absolutely necessary.
This was summonability.
Together, they are called the Three Elements of Summoning.
Transmissibility—to clearly convey exactly what kind of help is desired.
Recompense—to offer a price befitting the assistance.
Summonability—to properly perform the ritual and call forth the being.
Therefore, when summoning an immortal, all three elements must be perfect. Even the slightest mistake can lead to catastrophic results.
That was why the procedures and price required to summon an immortal whose power rivaled that of an Elemental Lord could not be overstated.
“Even for you, that would be difficult, wouldn’t it?”
Just as the Great Chieftain was about to sigh—
“Lucifeles.”
Click!
Hellfire erupted from thin air, and a red-skinned nobleman appeared. As the powerful archdemon spread his wings, a majestic imperial-style choir echoed across the space.
“Did you—call—me?”
The archdemon spoke.
Like an actor upon a stage.
“My—dear—friend?”
The tyrant of Gehenna scanned his surroundings, hellfire flickering in his eyes. Great Chieftain Belkan felt his entire body freeze in terror.
“Oh ho.”
The archdemon’s sharp gaze landed on him.
“So you are my trading partner.”
Lucifeles of Gehenna revealed a sinister smile. His snow-white teeth contrasted against his pitch-black intentions, creating an even greater sense of unease.
“Speak. Leader of slaves.”
The youngest son of the Devil House.
The freeloader of Gehenna.
“It shall be done as you desire.”
Descent.