Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Crossing the Forbidden Boundary
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Mid-Realm, Agena.
In this vast world made up of one entity yet spanning four grand continents.
If someone asked which continent was the harshest, every soul living on the continents would answer without hesitation: the North Continent, Krohoka.
Barren steppes, scarce resources.
The land of nomadic tribes scattered in clans.
In the past, the Hegemon Lucas Alexei unified those nomads and founded an empire.
After him, Siegfried Dupel—who became a hero and object of admiration for all across the continents—established and ruled a nation, greatly improving conditions.
Yet even now, to the people of the continents, the North Continent remained synonymous with desolation.
However, if asked which land was the most dangerous, the answers from continent-dwellers would flip entirely.
The South Continent, Bestrika's Great Tree Sea.
It was the one barren forbidden ground in the expansive Mid-Realm of Agena where not a single human footprint was permitted.
Monsters forever eyeing human lands covetously.
To block and repel their advances, the Aslan Kingdom's Magic Tower and the Lichtenauer Martial Clan never ceased their vigilance, not for a single moment.
The boundary line dividing the continent, where humans and grotesquely bizarre monsters faced off endlessly.
Among that line, the southern stretch deemed least crucial.
Sasasasasak!
Six humans were brazenly crossing the tacitly agreed-upon boundary line.
"Hey."
A hulking man whose orc or human origins were impossible to discern cautiously called out to the one leading the group.
"Speak."
"Are we really... getting no more backup? We're truly supposed to take down the Red Fang Orc Tribe with just our own strength?"
He tried to suppress it, but his voice trembled slightly, unable to hide his anxiety.
For a man of his usual temperament, it was utterly unthinkable.
"What, scared? They called you a wastrel of the Kalia Martial Clan, but you're more of a coward than I thought."
...Pfft!
As Ian chided Ralph—not quite a rebuke—a small ripple of laughter spread through the squad members.
Stung by the reaction, Ralph bristled and shouted back softly.
"...Doesn't the squad leader even know what kind of mission we've been assigned? You think the Red Fang Orc Tribe is just like any run-of-the-mill orcs?!"
"An orc's an orc. What, do these ones even emit sword aura or something?"
Sensing something off in Ralph's overly passive attitude, Ian shot back.
No matter that subjugating a tribal orc group was risky for a first mission, it wasn't impossible by any means.
Yet Ralph and the other squad members were far too tense.
Excluding himself, they'd all been on multiple prior missions, so lack of experience wasn't the issue.
"Damn... They say ignorance is bliss, huh? Back when I went on a mission with the clan's Gold Pole Unit, I overheard something."
Ralph glanced around—though no one else was near besides the squad—and lowered his voice before continuing.
"...Rumors that the Red Fang Tribe might be connected to the Golden Eye."
The squad members, already tense at Ralph's words, stiffened even further.
The response came from the rear, from the mage Dane.
"...Damn it all. I hoped it was just bullshit. Everyone's on edge for the same reason, right?"
"......"
No one replied to Dane, but everyone knew it was affirmation.
"This is insane. Even taking down a normal orc tribe is a life-or-death gamble, and now they want us to handle one possibly tied to the Golden Eye? Might as well tell us to drop dead."
Swipe!
Dane looked toward Ian at the front as he spoke.
"Leader, let's bail on the mission. This is way too dangerous. It's suicide."
Not a single squad member raised an objection to Dane's absurd suggestion of abandoning the mission.
The name "Golden Eye" carried that much weight.
Golden Eye.
The Great Tree Sea, spanning half the South Continent, was a chaotic battlefield where countless monsters clashed to expand their territories—a true hellscape.
The Golden Eye was an orc among orcs, a monster ruling a third of that infernal domain.
Its power was said to surpass ordinary orcs entirely, venturing into realms eyed by the continent's absolute powerhouses.
No matter how much of wastrels they were, they were barely out of their teens.
Keeping their heads held high before the name Golden Eye was no easy feat.
"Any reason to be scared?"
Ian, parting the brush at the front as if baffled by their worries, tilted his head.
"...Did you actually hear what I said? This mission might involve the Golden Eye!"
"Yeah, I heard. The Red Fang Tribe might be linked to the Golden Eye."
"You heard that and...?"
"So, are we off to take down the Golden Eye right now?"
Ian cut Ralph off, stating flatly.
"Think simple."
Crunch!
Ian, who had been pushing through the brush, ducked into cover and continued.
"The directive's mission is to eliminate the Red Fang Orc Tribe. As long as we execute it perfectly."
Peering through the leaves ahead, Ian spotted Red Fang orcs standing guard in the distance.
"It won't matter if it's the Golden Eye or anyone else. No one will figure out the real threat."
This was his first real combat since possessing this body.
Compared to that final battle on the Kairon Plains against hordes of elite warriors, it was nothing.
Even so, he couldn't suppress the boiling blood.
"From now on, move exactly as I say. I'll get everyone home safe. Promise."
There was no problem in this world he couldn't solve.
As Ian devised a plan to wipe out the Red Fang Orc Tribe, a murderous glint slowly filled his eyes.
"Yaaawn!"
Kuruk, the Red Fang Tribe orc on guard duty, didn't bother stifling his boredom-induced yawn.
"Kuruk, slothful."
It wasn't fitting for a proud orc dominating the Mountain of Fire region, so Karak—standing guard beside him—cautioned him.
But even Karak's nagging only earned a snort from Kuruk.
"Heh! Our tribe, untouchable. Why bother staying alert? Just wastes energy."
Kuruk's confidence pierced the heavens.
And this brash display perfectly represented the Red Fang Orc Tribe's attitude.
Mountain of Fire.
A minor fringe area in the southwest of the Great Tree Sea overall, but around here, no one dared mock the Red Fang Tribe.
It was only natural.
They were under the direct protection of none other than the Golden Eye.
Of course, to the Golden Eye—the hegemon ruling the Great Tree Sea's southwest—the Red Fang Tribe was merely an outpost to monitor human activity.
But that connection alone ensured no reckless fools in the Mountain of Fire region dared touch them.
Indeed, they'd recently razed a human village to the ground, yet no retaliation came.
The village burned to ashes, every living thing inside becoming a feast to sate the tribe.
Yet whether out of fear of the Golden Eye's name, the humans maintained a silent pretense of ignorance.
So it was understandable why Kuruk brushed off Karak's warnings so indifferently.
"...Heh. Do as you like. But moderately. Stay somewhat alert."
Karak sighed, turning back to face forward, but got no response from Kuruk.
"...Heh. Kuruk, sulking?"
"......"
Karak called out again, but no reply came from Kuruk.
Being ignored after a mere scolding finally soured Karak's expression.
"Heh! Kuruk, un-orc-like. No warrior."
"......"
Even prodding at an orc's ultimate taboo yielded no response from Kuruk.
Finally sensing something wrong, Karak turned to look.
To an orc, pride was irreplaceable.
No reaction to such a jab was impossible.
An arrow piercing Kuruk's forehead, blood trickling from the tip, filled Karak's vision.
"Heh, hehe! Intruders...!!"
Shocked, Karak reached into his bosom for the horn.
The instant he tried to blow it and alert of intruders.
Whiiiiiish!
Something hurtled toward the hand about to sound the horn, slicing through the air.
Thud!
"Heeeh!"
Karak screamed in agony as the hand clutching the horn was impaled alongside it.
In that brief delay from pain.
Tat-tat-tat-tat!
A young boy closed the distance to the orc Karak in an instant, leaping into the air and thrusting a long sword straight at his throat.
"...Grrrk!"
Only a gurgling rasp escaped, his vocal cords severed.
Aorta severed, perhaps—blood sprayed from Karak's neck like a fountain.
No matter how valiant the orc, surviving a pierced throat was impossible.
...Thud!
Ian, having swiftly eliminated the two patrolling orcs, signaled the squad from the brush.
As the members dropped their stealth and emerged, Ian wiped blood from his face and spoke calmly.
"The next shift might come down for rotation soon. Let's hurry a bit more."
Ian led the squad along a forest path the orcs avoided, slowly advancing inward.
But rather than heading straight to the tribe's heart, they hid in a spot overlooking the slain orcs' positions, waiting for the relief guards.
Throughout, Ian remained utterly calm and rational, showing no excitement.
Perhaps because of that.
The Latent Dragon Squad members watching his back wore subtly changed expressions.
Just moments ago.
The arrow piercing Kuruk's head and Karak's hand hadn't come from Ian.
It was the priestess Helena.
He admired her archery prowess but wasn't surprised.
Tales of the naturally gifted divine archer—or excessively timid priestess—Helena were famous even within the clan.
And it wasn't just her.
They all knew each other's names and reputations without introductions.
As if competing over who was the bigger fool, outrageous rumors about each had spread throughout the clan.
But the boy now wiping blood from his cheek while leading from the front was the exception.
By rumor, the Second Young Lord was a half-baked nobody who hadn't mastered a single martial art.
Yet during their brief stay at the squad's nest, the members had confirmed the rumors about Ian's skills were utter nonsense.
No one ignorant of martial arts could instantly pinpoint flaws in Ryu An's training and thrash Ralph like a stray dog.
Fine, say he hid his skills.
A tactic to conceal himself amid the clan's cutthroat competition.
His prowess to easily overpower Ralph made quick work of orc guards believable.
But Ian hadn't just felled the patrolling orcs—he'd killed them.
Slicing throats, severing aortas—efficient and clean.
Orcs were monsters, sure, but bipedal like humans save the head.
Even seasoned humans felt revulsion taking lives, monster or not.
That's why promising youths with great skill often died pathetically on real battlefields.
But Ian showed no such hesitation.
Not a shred when taking lives for the mission.
The martial skill to drop Ralph, paired with cold, ruthless precision.
It evoked the seasoned poise of the clan's veteran masters.
Even if one hides their strength threefold, this seemed excessive.
'What the hell is this guy's deal?'
As the Latent Dragon Squad's suspicions grew, Ian ignored their curiosity and issued a low command.
"Everyone, battle ready. Our next targets are approaching."