Chapter 103
Chapter 103
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 103
Chapter Title: Erasing Olga's Traces
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"From this moment on, everyone pursue Olga's trail! Wipe away every trace you find as you track it down—every single one you spot. Avoid contact with any other races unless absolutely unavoidable! It doesn't matter if they're strong or weak! No objections! In three days, erase every last sign of Olga, then rendezvous at the designated spot and withdraw to the Great Tent!"
Aelion barked the order the instant Byona had gathered the dark elves scattered throughout the canyon.
"...What do you mean by that?"
Byona shot back at Aelion's command.
She had expected the sharp-minded Aelion to take some action now that Olga's return was overdue.
But erasing every trace of Olga? She couldn't make heads or tails of it.
"Sigh... Byona, use that quick wit of yours to think a little. Do you really believe that hotheaded fool Olga is just leisurely hanging around without coming back? Like there's some treasure trove out there?"
Aelion rubbed his temples, as if the mere thought gave him a headache.
"He's probably run into bad luck and gotten himself killed already! Whether by the Four Dragon Fiends or those Iron Face orcs from Golden Heaven!"
Sure, he was a muscle-headed idiot, but even he wouldn't be dumb enough to reveal their affiliation with the Great Tent.
If he were that hopelessly stupid... the Fingers wouldn't have sent him on this mission in the first place.
But... what if.
What if he'd been captured by clever foes like the Four Dragon Fiends, who pieced together even the tiniest clue linking him to the Great Tent?
One misstep, and the Great Tent could face merciless assaults from both Golden Heaven and Dark Current.
With the Earth Dragon still deep in slumber, such a disaster... would be a problem. In every way.
He hated to admit it, but without the Earth Dragon, the Great Tent lacked the strength to fend off both Golden Heaven and Dark Current with ease.
'Even with the great blessing the Earth Dragon bestowed upon us, ensuring we rarely lose in our own territory... yeah, that won't cut it.'
Aelion sorted his thoughts and urged his subordinates onward once more.
"If you get it, then move! We can't leave behind even the tiniest ant-trail speck! Oh, and don't forget to skirt any areas overlapping with those pig bastards or lizard scum—avoid fights where you can! Hey, you there! Hold up!"
In the midst of issuing frantic orders, Aelion spotted a subordinate who'd been scouting outside and casually questioned him.
"Uh, the Iron Faces are prepping to hit Dark Current's vanguard, right? Any updates? We need to know to adjust our route."
"It... seems things have gotten a bit tangled."
The subordinate furrowed his brow, at a loss for how to explain.
"What? What do you mean? How could it get more messed up than this?!"
Aelion's heart sank at the report, and he pressed urgently.
Olga's overdue return was already suspicious enough. If Golden Heaven's movements went awry too, it would spiral beyond his control.
'Damn it all...! I never imagined the plan unraveling this badly...!'
It was getting embarrassing, recalling how he'd boasted to the White Ghost Turk, 'You'll see—they'll definitely try to kill each other.'
"So, we figured Iron Face would lead the vanguard charge, but instead, Jorg advanced on the Beast Fields with his whole tribe."
"...What?"
Aelion blankly echoed the subordinate's words.
"What the hell? Weren't the orc chieftains kicking up a fuss, forcing Iron Face to step up? Why's that old coot jumping in now?"
It wasn't entirely off-base. They'd anticipated the hot-tempered chieftains moving first, so it was within expectations—no real snag.
But the subordinate delivered another response that shattered Aelion's predictions.
"Well... Iron Face kept dragging his feet, so Jorg couldn't take it anymore and led the entire Blue Lightning Tribe to the front lines."
"...The entire tribe? Not leaving a single one behind?"
"Yes. Looks like Golden Heaven plans to purge the old-generation great warriors who don't see eye-to-eye with Golden Eye during this war."
Aelion let out a hollow laugh at Golden Heaven's absurd maneuver.
"Ha! So they're making the most of the flood to paddle along."
Even in this chaos, dumping their political rivals onto the battlefield first.
No wonder the Fingers had warned him to watch out for Golden Eye specifically, unlike the other orcs.
'Golden Eye lives up to the name... definitely a cut above the rest.'
Feigning movement to bait Iron Face, dragging it out until impatient great warriors jumped in first.
And using the war to cull those thorns in his side.
All improvised on the fly, adapting to the situation their own scheme had created.
"Bastard's a crafty one..."
Golden Eye and Sea King... both pretenders playing king without the Earth Dragon present. But their abilities? The real deal.
No one could claim kingship lightly, fake or not.
But...
'That actually works in my favor.'
One tribe marching en masse to the Beast Fields meant the flames of battle would rage fiercer than expected.
Both sides would be too busy to notice them.
"This is actually good. Everyone, hurry! While those idiots bash each other's skulls in, we erase the traces and pull back."
Swoosh!
'...Ugh!'
Aelion grimaced as pain stabbed his upper abdomen when he stood.
He wanted to sit back down... but he couldn't.
The plan hadn't failed yet. Staring blankly wasn't his style.
Preparation was never excessive.
'Rip each other apart, you fools.'
Aelion gazed south, praying fervently.
The fiercer the Beast Fields battle, the harder reconciliation would become.
Boom!
The eighth water vein guardian lizardman's head exploded like a watermelon.
The eighth vein was the hotbed guarded by the belligerent Arm Fiend, Quintus.
So it was no surprise that lizardmen loyal to such an Arm Fiend fell in battle here.
In fact, it was commonplace in this sector.
Who would dare wreak havoc near the top Dark Current exec Quintus's post?
Yet these reckless intruders bellowed even louder, ignoring all.
"Chwiik!! Kill them all!!"
An orc covered head to toe in Blue Lightning tattoos raised his skull-crushing hammer, rallying those around him.
But exactly five seconds later.
Swoosh! Slash!
A charging lizardman's gladius sent the hammer-wielding orc's head floating skyward.
"Kerruk!"
Splash!
The lizardman who'd slain another orc shook the blood from his gladius and growled low.
"Kerruk! You filthy pig scum... do you even know where you are? Acting out of line like this."
Covered in dark red scales, blood-smeared gladius and round shield in hand, the lizardman exuded bone-chilling intimidation just standing there.
This was Quintus, the youngest of the Four Dragon Fiends.
He was so baffled by the absurdity that he couldn't even muster proper rage.
Not because orcs had invaded.
Fights with the pigs were routine, like eating or breathing.
But this desperate frenzy? A first.
He'd even seriously wondered if he was dreaming.
"Chwiik! Arm Fiend Quintus! There you are, you bastard!!"
As if to prove his doubts wrong, a massive orc on a dire wolf charged in.
Thud-thud!
Even mid-charge, his spear pierced a gaping hole through a nearby lizardman's torso—spearwork worthy of legend.
It was Jorg, the former great warrior dubbed Blue Wolf.
"Kerrruk! Are the orcs really going mad...?"
To think a great warrior of Jorg's caliber would lead such a suicidal assault.
Quintus, familiar with Blue Lightning Tribe's usual style, could only assume senility.
"Keruk! Jorg, looks like you're the ringleader... So all this is Golden Heaven's will?"
Quintus bellowed the question to seize moral high ground.
Might as well thin out the Blue Wolf Tribe while they were at it.
They slaughtered each other anyway; no reason to spare those walking into the slaughter.
But contrary to Quintus's hopes, Jorg roared as if offended by the very question.
"Chwiik! Quintus, you shameless cur! Grown even bolder since last we met!"
"...Keruk, what?"
"Chwiiik! Not content with ambushing Golden Heaven's tribes, you Dark Current scum even killed Mist Mountain's Turk! You struck first!"
To Quintus, ignorant of the truth, it was utter nonsense.
"Keruk! The more I hear, the more it sounds like you've lost your marbles, old timer!"
Some tributary streams had gone missing recently; he'd been investigating.
Turned out to be Golden Heaven's doing.
'These filthy orcs frame their own shit on us and have the gall to ambush?!'
But he'd picked the wrong foe.
Youngest of the Four Dragon Fiends or not, Quintus's prowess was no joke.
Plus, he'd earned the "Arm" title for his explosive temper—not dragon, but fiend.
No reason to tolerate Jorg's bullshit.
"Kerruk, perfect timing! I've been itching to squash you flies anyway! Fine, I'll end your stubborn life right here, geezer!"
Roooar!
Quintus surged with killing intent.
Gladius in one hand, round shield in the other, he charged Jorg.
Jorg countered with spear at the ready, dire wolf at his side.
Kaboom!
The clash erupted in a thunderous boom, revealing the outcome.
Quintus stepped back one pace, while Jorg atop his dire wolf was shoved back much farther.
His spear shaft trembled without cease.
'...One of the Fiends, as expected. Strength like no other.'
A being who'd transcended racial limits to touch Master realm.
Jorg had reached the cusp of Master... but one step short.
That single step defined a lifetime warrior's final limit.
One step separated them, but it was decisive.
If the fight dragged on, Blue Lightning Tribe would perish.
Quintus knew it best.
"Kerruk! You'll regret your bravado, old man!"
Quintus sneered, lips curling.
Jorg silently raised his hand to the surrounding orcs.
Was that the signal?
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Orcs battling nearby hurled torches wildly toward the fields.
Fwoosh, roar!
Despite riverside moisture, the fierce flames devoured the grass in seconds, swelling in fury.
"Kerruk?!"
The sudden heat panicked the lizardmen.
Their water-laden skin dried in an instant.
But it didn't end there.
As fire spread, fallen corpses began to burn one by one.
"...Keruk! What the hell, Jorg?"
"Chwii! As you see, you're stronger than me."
Jorg wiped blood from his mouth, sneering back at Quintus.
"Gotta have some edge to make it interesting, right?"
"Keruk! With this cheap trick?!"
Quintus scoffed derisively, but inwardly reeled.
'Fell for it. These pigs... burning their own dead.'
In flames, lizardmen were hopelessly disadvantaged.
They thrived with water.
Fire stifled their full power.
Even he felt scales cracking already.
Yet orcs had never used fire mid-battle before.
One reason: they believed burning flesh trapped warriors' souls as nameless dishonor, barring the Warrior Lands.
No one imagined orcs igniting willingly.
'...This old bastard's dead set today.'
A declaration: he'd take Quintus down, honor be damned.
...Crunch!
Jorg's fist clenched watching the blaze.
If his corpse burned there, his honor would crumble.
But no regrets.
'For the orcs.'
Convictions clashed as Jorg and Quintus's fierce duel raged across the fields.
Oblivious that those convictions hurtled toward the wrong target.