Chapter 121
Chapter 121
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 121
Chapter Title: Rockfall Trap
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“Kerrrruk?!”
The lizardmen charging forward with surging momentum suddenly felt an empty void beneath their feet and staggered, losing their balance.
However, these were the elite troops that Takliu prided itself on.
In the briefest instant, they regained their composure and restored order to their wavering ranks.
But the monsters facing them were elite forces as well.
They too refused to let that split-second opportunity slip away.
Ssssh! Ssshh!
Tiny shadows that had been quietly hiding their small bodies behind the massive frames of ogres hurling trees suddenly revealed themselves atop the ogres' shoulders in unison.
And then.
Pfft! Pfew pfew! Pfft!
They unleashed a volley of minuscule poison needles too small to see with the naked eye.
For the lizardmen, who hadn't fully reformed their lines, responding to those poison needles was a hopeless endeavor.
Pok! Pok pok!
The tiny poison needles burrowed between the lizardmen's scales.
They looked like children's toys at a glance, but.
“Keruk, keherruk…!!”
The goblins' poison needles produced fatally lethal results no child's toy could achieve.
The struck lizardmen rolled their eyes back, foaming at the mouth, and collapsed in an instant.
“Hee hee hee hee! What idiots! To think they'd charge right into such childish bait!!”
A small figure that had appeared on Tumgrok's shoulder hopped up and down, mocking Lucius with a frivolous voice.
It was Snigl, the hobgoblin leader commanding the goblin forces—Little Finger of the Great Curtain.
Regardless of the echoing laughter, the goblin warriors perched atop the ogres exploited their elevated vantage point for a wide field of view, relentlessly stabbing poison needles between the lizardmen's scales.
“Keruk! You damned pests! Get your heads in the game! And you call yourselves the proud elites of the Second Route?!”
Lucius, the Yi-gwi whose rage boiled over, bellowed through gritted teeth.
Not all among the Four Dragon Fiends held equal rank.
Lucius had reached perfect mastery, unmatched by any in Takliu save the Sea King and First Dragon.
Yet that mastery rang hollow now; he couldn't quell his surging fury.
The monsters known as the dumbest: ogres.
And the ones deemed weakest: goblins.
His proud Second Route elites were perishing helplessly before these defective idiots.
And at the worst possible time—with the Sea King personally marching forth.
To show such impotence before the third-ranked in Takliu's hierarchy to these pathetic foes.
As humiliating shame overwhelmed him and he knew not what to do.
“Kuh ku ku! So the Four Dragon Fiends, Takliu's pride, amount to this. If Yi-gwi, the pinnacle among them, is this level... the Sea King's must be obvious too. Looks like we can clean things up before the Earth Dragon stirs.”
Tumgrok and Snigl's vulgar sneers rattled Lucius's ears.
…Snap!
With those words, something snapped in Lucius's mind.
He could endure mockery of himself.
But mockery of his king... he could not tolerate.
His lord deserved no such treatment.
Tumgrok and Snigl leered down at him with sneering faces.
Beyond the urge to tear their faces to shreds, no other thoughts connected.
…Grrrrr!
His leg muscles swelled as if about to explode, and murderous intent infused the gladius gripped in his hand.
As he condensed his power to leap out and sever Tumgrok and Snigl's heads.
“Enough of that, Lucius!! How much more disgrace do you plan to show before the Sea King?!”
Regulus, unable to watch Lucius's rampage any longer, roared at him.
“……!!”
Halt!
Lucius's legs, poised to charge, froze in place as if broken.
“The commander gets swept by emotion and toyed with by the enemy, and now he ignores issuing orders to rush into the fray himself! That's precisely why dragons are always rated above ghosts!”
…Grind!
Under Regulus's reprimand, Lucius glared at Snigl and Tumgrok with bloodshot eyes, then bellowed to the battlefield.
“...Tend to the wounded and withdraw slowly! Make way for... the Fifth Dragon, Regulus's unit...!!”
The order carried a whirlwind of complex emotions, but the Second Route lizardmen harbored no doubts.
Though they'd suffered heavy losses in that short, sudden chaos, they were elites among elites.
They could discard personal qualms the instant an order dropped and execute flawlessly.
As the lizardmen moved to retreat in perfect unison, the goblins and ogres attacked even more fiercely, piling on damage like clothes soaking in a drizzle.
Tumgrok and Snigl outwardly sneered at the lizardmen, but inwardly clicked their tongues as the Second Route troops ceased reacting and silently prepared to withdraw.
‘...Tch!’
Had Lucius just lost his temper and charged in... Snigl's prepped deadly poison could have taken him out in one ambush.
‘Well, regrettable but unavoidable. Drakellas said absolutely no overextending.’
—If you can snag another of the Four Dragon Fiends, perfect, but absolutely no risks. Remember, our goal is stalling for time, not defeating them.
Though this grand scheme had gone awry, all the Fingers acknowledged that dark elf hag's ingenuity.
If she said no overdoing it, then no overdoing it.
‘Even if she'd urged us to push, we wouldn't have gone further anyway.’
This mess stemmed from Drakellas and Galtrow's blunders to begin with.
They were merely lending a hand due to the Great Curtain's crisis.
Otherwise, who'd sacrifice their ogre spawn to cover for that hag's mistakes?
‘Alright, time to pull back casually.’
Tumgrok glanced sideways at his shoulder, and Snigl, thinking the same, nodded.
“Krurruk!! All units, retreat!!”
As if awaiting that cry, the lizardmen shifted formations while the ogres and goblins ebbed away like the tide.
“Those damned bastards!!”
Lucius caught on and flew into a rage, but there was nothing he could do right then.
Nay, doing nothing was the dangerous choice.
For Tumgrok and Snigl's retreat was no simple withdrawal.
Ruuuuumble!
Upper reaches of Dragon's Gorge.
A thunderous roar like crashing thunder echoed as massive boulders, carved from the gorge walls, began plummeting toward the floor.
Direct hits from such brutish rocks would leave even a Four Dragon Fiend unable to rise unscathed.
“Kuh ku ku! Catch you later, stupid lizards.”
With Tumgrok's parting sneer, the accelerating rocks barreled right toward them.
“Everyone, evacuate!”
Regulus, cleanly abandoning pursuit of the ogres and goblins, urgently fell back while shouting.
Kaboom!
A massive dust cloud billowed with the roar, engulfing the surroundings.
“Cough, cough... Is everyone alright?!”
“Keruk! We're fine here!”
“Keruk! No major issues on our side either!”
Fortunately, Regulus's swift command had averted heavy casualties.
But that relief was fleeting.
As the dust settled, Regulus beheld the revealed scene and ground his teeth just like Lucius had.
“Damn it all...!!”
The sole path from Dragon's Gorge to the Great Curtain was blocked by rubble from the collapsed gorge.
Yes.
The Great Curtain's goal had never been to inflict casualties via rockfall from the start.
The Golden Stream had established its domain in the southwestern reaches of the Great Flood.
In other words, it lay geographically distant from the northern Great Curtain.
Yet there was one relatively swift route into the Great Curtain.
Mist Mountain, once ruled by the White Ghost Turka in life.
Bypassing that mountain and crossing a minor Takliu tributary led straight to the Great Curtain's western sector.
A path Golden Stream, ignorant of the terrain and barred by the Amatres River, would never have known without Aelion's tip.
They'd figured, upon safely reaching the western sector, they'd march unhindered to the Dragon's Tomb.
But Golden Stream's expectations were spectacularly dashed.
“Kraaaaa!!”
A massive troll's hearty roar shook the mountains and forests.
Kabooooom!
A monstrous hammer no less immense clashed with the silver-eared orc's iron rod, unleashing a deafening boom.
As the two colossal monsters collided head-on without evasion, the surroundings turned to wasteland like a bomb blast.
“Ha ha ha ha ha!! This is pure joy!!”
One might expect chills at the sight of orcs still fording Takliu's streams to invade.
Yet the troll swung his hammer heedlessly, thrilled beyond reason.
This troll, rivaling even an ogre in size and the equal of Silver in build, was Galtrow—Ring Finger of the Great Curtain.
“What's so joyful, Galtrow?”
Silver, parrying the hammer, asked dryly in disbelief.
“Your foolish actions have plunged the balanced Great Flood into chaotic hell. And now, your prank's price has the Great Curtain in dire peril. I can't fathom what you're laughing about.”
“Of course it's delightful!!”
Galtrow bellowed heartily, baring white fangs at Silver as he scooped up a handful of earth.
“It's been ages. In this parched, harsh land... endless days piling strength solely awaiting the Earth Dragon's awakening.”
Sa-ra-rak…!
Red sand devoid of life trickled between his fingers.
“Though not the war I envisioned, you can't know the agony of crouching with power untapped.”
Whoooosh!
Shaking off the sand, Galtrow regripped his hammer and smashed down at Silver's iron rod as if to pulverize it.
“Now I can flaunt that power freely at last! How could I not rejoice?!”
Kabooooom!
Galtrow roared as his hammer met Silver's rod.
“Happy to flaunt power freely, eh...”
Silver echoed the cry once more.
He too had once thought like Galtrow.
Back when he fought endlessly for his kin at the bottom of the Great Flood's food chain—for their lives and safety.
Thus.
“...Then I'll show you.”
Silver could never 'understand' Galtrow's feelings.
“And make you feel it crystal clear.”
Grrrrrind!
“Just how agonizing and brutal the path of war truly is.”
Silver's iron rod began spinning viciously.
Led by the brutal clashes on the left flank where hulking Galtrow and Silver vied for each other's lives, Great Curtain trolls battled the incoming Golden Stream forces.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
Meanwhile, Golden Stream's other powerhouses—Iron Mask and Donga—faced the undead horde surging from the right.
Craaaack!
Skeletons struck by Iron Mask's greatsword shattered by the dozens in single blows; ghouls pierced by Donga's spear skewered in sequence like kebabs.
The other orcs fared similarly.
Lacking Iron Mask or Donga's divine prowess, yet they suppressed the undead effectively.
It bordered not on battle, but unilateral slaughter.
And still.
“Argh, seriously! This is annoying as hell!!”
A thick vein bulged anew on Iron Mask's irritated forehead.
It was bizarre.
Barring Galtrow, the Great Curtain's west held no standout powerhouses.
And even that vaunted Galtrow merely matched Silver.
With Iron Mask and Donga joining... no matter how thoroughly the Great Curtain ambushed, such a force gap should've overrun them instantly.
Yet Iron Mask and Donga hadn't advanced a single step.
Undead.
Immortal abominations that wouldn't die.
Merely definitional; powerhouses like these two could obliterate them in moments.
The simple reason these orcs stalled: sheer numbers.
Absurd volume.
Destroy one, two advance; smash two, four swarm.
The culprit summoning this illogical disaster lurked amid the undead waves crashing like tides.
The Thumb—and de facto leader holding the Great Curtain sans Earth Dragon.
The undead sorcerer, Arch Lich Arckandor.