Orc Subjugation (2)
‘Huh! Can’t a puppy fly out from a lion’s body...’
Argen, the platoon leader of the 7th platoon, stared in astonishment.
“Congratulations. You’ve mastered the Odd Eye.”
“...!”
Wayne instinctively grasped what Argen meant by Odd Eye. His entire field of vision had been dyed green.
Offering a faint smile in response, he said, “Thank you, Sir Argen.”
“‘Sir’ is too much honor. Just call me Argen.”
“Got it. Argen.”
Wayne’s expression turned slightly flustered as he asked, “But how do I switch this back to normal vision?”
Even after halting his sword swings, his eyes remained tinged with pale green, and the world looked as if it had been brushed over in soft pastel hues.
“Just let it be, and it’ll fade back to normal soon enough. More importantly, get used to that Odd Eye view. You’ll see something similar once you climb into a Gigant.”
“Ah! Understood.”
As Argen predicted, after a brief moment, the world returned to its usual colors.
“And the real perk of the Odd Eye? At night, everything’s way brighter and sharper than regular human sight.”
“Oh! Nice. So any Magic Knight can pull this off?”
“Yep. Gigant eyes sparkling like that? All thanks to the Odd Eye. But a green one... that’s a first for me.”
“Is it?”
“Most are blue. Rare ones come in gold or purple, so green’s not impossible, I guess.”
At that moment, his escort knight Blaster came rushing over with the healer in tow. Snow trailed close behind.
“Ah! No big deal. Young Lord Wayne just mastered his Odd Eye.”
“What?”
Snow tried to play it cool, but shock plain as day on her face. No wonder—she’d spent months drilling concentration into her eyes before perfecting her own Odd Eye.
‘Come to think of it... that’s way too weird.’
How could someone supposedly brutalized by Cassnet build skills like that? Not even days of training—just two hours after her explanation, boom, Odd Eye complete. Had to be years of proper, systematic work. And that Odd already deep in his body? Crystal clear.
Wayne glanced her way, and Snow dipped her head slightly.
“Young Lord Wayne, congratulations.”
“Yeah? Kinda bummed, myself.”
“Pardon?”
“Once I hop in a Gigant, no more sword lessons from you. Won’t get to see that pretty face every day. Haha!”
Snow shot him an exasperated look.
“Phew! Took me a full year after Odd Eye to board my first 3rd class Gigant.”
“A year?”
“And you need three-plus hours of intense combat to earn one—to become a real Magic Knight. Don’t slack off on this fluke win; push harder...”
“Phew! What a relief.”
“Pardon? Relief? Did you even hear me?”
“Of course. Means I get to admire your beauty daily for at least a year. Relief city.”
“Pardon?”
Flustered and embarrassed, Snow’s cheeks burned red. Argen stifled a chuckle with his hand beside her, drawing her glare.
“This funny to you?”
“Hell yeah. Where else you see the captain squirming like this? Heh!”
Argen sensed the sudden killing intent and clamped his mouth shut.
“Strategy meeting time. Round up the officers and head to my tent.”
“Ah, right away.”
Argen bolted. As Wayne moved to follow toward the command tent, Snow blocked his path.
“Why are you tagging along, Young Lord Wayne?”
“Strategy meeting. I wanna...”
“You’re not 7th platoon. No need. Tomorrow, you stay at base camp.”
“What? But the battle...”
“I’ll build you a high observation post. Close enough—binoculars will do fine. Orc subjugation’s no one-and-done fight. Watching the full picture, Gigants included, teaches more.”
“Tch...”
Squad leader’s word was law. No dice on joining tomorrow’s scrap.
Early dawn.
Snow delivered on her promise: a towering observation post. Shoddy affair—no railings, just four logs jammed in the dirt, topped with a thick plank. Stairs? Nope. Single rope dangling.
Wayne scaled the 10 meters hand-over-hand. Stamina? He had that in spades.
“Well, view’s killer!”
Ferrari Village, orc-overrun, sprawled in the distance. Then Blaster hauled his bulky frame up.
“You’re supposed to stay ground-side. Why up here?”
Worried the platform might pancake under the weight.
“Battle fever got me too.”
“Fine, but easy on the moves. What’s with the bow and arrows?”
“Battle’s a battle. Better safe.”
“Pfft! Gigants losing to orcs? Dream on.”
16x binoculars swept Ferrari Village. Orcs barricaded entrances and paths, hunkered for siege.
“Orcs as bravery icons? Ancient history.”
“Huh?”
“Old-school orcs: dumb as rocks, but braver than any race in a fight. Now? Cowering inside, prepping defenses. No guts to step out.”
“Fair...”
Pre-Gigant, pre-Magic Knight, pre-Titan era? Human-orc clashes were brutal. Orcs packing 3-4x human strength—only drilled knights could hang. Mass battles? Humans always on back foot, forced to castles, sieges, tactics just to even odds.
“Look—Lady Snow’s on the move.”
“Snow?”
Blaster pointed.
“Damn, your eyes are sharp.”
Gigants loomed large, but ID’ing the pilot bare-eyed at this range? Near impossible.
“Hunters track prey through woods, dodge lurking beasts. Eyes gotta...”
“Quiet! Gigants moving.”
Three Gigants closed on Ferrari Village from three flanks. Orcs, vibe-checking the tremors, loosed arrows.
Thud! Thud-thud!
Big targets—plenty stuck from afar. Arrows? Bounced harmless off Gigants.
Wayne shook his head.
‘Adapt or die in a changing world—spot on with those clowns!’
Thirty years since last orc sighting, tactics frozen in time. Orc arrows shredded knight plate and shields. Gigants? Laughed off musket balls, cannon blasts—dented, chipped, never pierced or snapped.
“Kuoook! Spears—hurl ’em!”
Gigants neared; spears flew. Punchier than arrows—like popping pistol shots at a tank.
Whoosh! Boom!
Gigant blade pulverized barricades. Game over.
Axe-wielding orcs mobbed legs, but Gigant stomp scattered ’em like pins. Sword crashed down like thunder.
Craaaack!
“Kuaak!”
“Kuek!”
Screams echoed all the way here. Three, four orcs pulped per swing. Green blood slicked Gigant limbs in seconds.
Orcs—3rd class Gigant fodder (triple ogre power)—pushed to village heart, then bolted through gaps.
Fleeing orcs beelined for base camp.
‘No contest in muscle or brains...’
Ninety muskets tracked the horde.
“Fire!”
Bang-bang-bang! Crack!
Lead pack—dozen orcs—dropped.
“Reload!”
Orcs thundered on fearless, but gunners cool as ice crammed powder and ball home.
“Fire!”
Twenty seconds: fresh volley, fresh corpses.
Enraged orcs closed gap. Gunners fell back; hundred pikemen surged with 2.5-meter spears leveled.
Stab! Stab!
Beefy orcs, sure—but honed tips skewered hide and guts.
Musketeers bayonets fixed, charged.
Orcs buckled. Donezo. Gigants smashed the rear.
Scatter? Sixty cavalry cleaned house.
‘Wait... headcount’s weird.’
Wanye cocked his head. Scouts pegged 200-plus orcs yesterday. This? Half that, tops.
Spine-tingle hit; gut screamed wrongness. Wayne whipped around.
“Gah! Orcs!”
His shout and point yanked every head in camp. Three, four pissed orcs vaulted the log wall; hundred more charged it.
“Orcs!”
“Hold the orcs!”
Fifty camp pikemen charged.
“Signal the front!”
Whiiish! Boom!
Red smoke rocket bloomed overhead.
‘Holy shit—split forces?’
Wanye reeled.
‘What the hell? Orcs evolving now?’
Charge-only meatheads pulling strategy? Targeting base camp screamed intel on the mechanics inside.
Wall-jumpers ignored pikes, zeroed unarmed wrench-monkeys.
“Kuoook! Over, all of ya!”
Head-and-shoulders orc bellowed from cover—the boss.
Twang! Thunk!
“Kuaak!”
One arrow, one drop. While Wayne scanned, Blaster picked off climbers—shafts homing in on dodging torsos.
But numbers swelled; mechanics bled out.
“Ugh! Arrows dry.”
“Fuck! We’re toast! Blaster—on me!”
“But it’s danger—”
No debate—Wayne rope-slid down. Blaster unsheathed his massive blade, dropped after.
“Everyone—here! Wagons, now!”
“Pikemen—shield the mechanics!”
Frantic techs and quartermasters bee-lined Wayne’s trio of wagons on his yell.
Blaster’s cleaver split an orc chasing a mechanic.
Crunch!
“Kuek!”
One-shot drop. Pikemen clustered ’round his rock-solid stand.
‘Gotta hold till Snow...’
Thirty down already, pikemen halved. Annihilation loomed.
Then Wayne clocked the 3-meter maintenance Gigant propped by a wagon.
“Blaster! Hold this spot—whatever it takes!”
“Huh?”
Wanye vaulted aboard. Yanked the grip—hatch slammed shut.
Issue: ‘How the fuck do you drive this?’
First ride, total panic. Expected yoke, pedals, gauges—nada. Pitch black void.
‘Right! Odd Eye!’
Time critical. Orcs flooded wall, butchering stragglers.
Urgency wrecked focus.
‘Come on! Lock in!’
Replayed daily swings, today’s breakthrough rush.
Sudden heat surge—world lit green.
“Ah! There!”
Odd Eye green-scape. Gigant eyes flared same.
‘Damn it—move already!’
Vision worked; body lagged. Infuriating. Ten meters off, pikeman dragged and hacked apart. Blaster flailed furious, but three orcs shoved him back helpless.
‘Move! Fuck! We’re dead!’
Desperate head twitch—miracle: Gigant dipped chin.
‘What? Freaky-ass...’
Glanced arm: hairy monster limb. Legs, torso—all beast-mode.
‘Boarding trips hallucinations?’
Panic brief. No think-time. Head worked? Limbs next.
Chased the dip-feel into a leg step.
Whirr! Thud!
‘Yes!’
One forward. Opposite:
Thud!
“Whoa—whoa?”
Footplant—balance gone, pitched front.
Frantic next step for save, but toddler-stumble city...
Thud-thud! Crash!
Two full rolls before pancaking.
“Kuek!”
‘Huh?’
Two orcs flat underfoot, brains oozing from crushed eyes and nose.
Maintenance Gigant: still 3m murder-machine.
Wayne arm-pushed upright—Gigant mirrored, loomed over orcs.
“Kuok?”
“Kuoook?”
No blind charge—tumble repeat. Instead, legs shoulder-wide, arms splayed max for big-boy stance.
Maintenance model’s freakishly long arms scraped dirt—hulked enormous.
Gigant shielded the crew; orcs froze, no dare-rush.
“Come get some, you fucks!”
Wayne flipped double-birds, roared.
But then—