Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: Iron Face
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Iron Face's expression turned unexpectedly surprised as he watched Ian emerge from behind the bushes.
The peculiar orc with a steel-gray face whistled lightly while gazing at Ian.
"Whooee! This is unexpected. Urk, that idiot might dream big, but he's not exactly weak. To think he'd end up this ragged—like a torn rag—against such a young human?"
"……."
Iron Face scratched his cheek awkwardly at Ian's utter lack of response.
"Hmm. Being ignored like this? That stings a little."
While eyeing Iron Face, Ian poured all his effort into circulating his Blood Demon True Qi to loosen the muscles frozen stiff from tension.
'...Damn it. Why is Golden Eye's closest aide here?'
The orc who had cleaved Urk down in a single strike was far more formidable than anticipated.
Silver Ear, Copper Fang, Iron Face.
The three closest aides holding up the golden sky beneath Golden Eye.
Judging by that distinctive steel-gray visage, this orc was undoubtedly Iron Face.
Who could have imagined the Red Fang Orc Tribe held such a pivotal role in Golden Heaven that Iron Face—the organization's highest executive and the top name on the Lichtenauer Martial Clan's kill list—would take notice?
"...So, how deeply is Golden Heaven involved in all this?"
"Huh?"
Iron Face blinked back in confusion at Ian's question, as if he'd heard nonsense.
Moments later, grasping the implication, he burst into laughter.
"Pahaha! What're you on about? As if our boss would meddle in this piddly little patch of dirt. Nah, I just swung by to check his liver."
"Check his liver?"
Thud, thud!
Iron Face prodded Urk's bisected corpse with his foot, as if nudging aside trash.
"Yeah, his liver. This dead fool was kicking up a fuss, but the humans stayed weirdly quiet about it. Figured I'd poke around, see if maybe Paon—that monstrous old coot—had lost a step or two."
Thud!
Finally, Iron Face's foot came to a halt.
"Thing is, Urk was a moron who couldn't recognize his own limits... but if he'd kept growing unchecked, he had the chops to climb at least to a Specter post in our outfit. And yet, he got thrashed so bad by some fuzz-faced rookie that he had to hightail it...?"
Swoosh!
"Gotta be one of two things. Either Urk was a bigger idiot than I figured, or his opponent wasn't some kid. But judging by the vibe you're giving off... looks like the latter. From where I'm standing, you could've totally crushed Urk. So, whaddya think I should do about that?"
Lick!
Iron Face licked the greatsword still dripping Urk's blood, his eyes gleaming wickedly.
"Hmm, if you keep growing, you'll turn into a real pain blocking Golden Heaven's path... Yeah, probably best to kill you now."
Whoosh!
The instant the word "kill" escaped Iron Face's lips, suffocating killing intent blanketed the surroundings in a flash.
It came straight from Iron Face—one of Golden Eye's inner circle.
For Latent Dragon Squad members not yet at their prime, it was a savage, brutal force that would've dropped them unconscious before they could even stand.
But to Ian, it was no different from the killing intents of the legendary heroes he'd faced in his previous life.
This man's aura posed no greater threat than Siegfried's, let alone Sword Saint Kaidu's.
Experience mattered.
If it'd been his first brush with something like this, maybe—but having weathered worse...
Even with his diminished power, it gave no cause to lose his cool.
...Wooong!
As Blood Demon Iron Chain Art energy flowed into the loosened chains of his Solar Meridian Blockage, vitality seeped back into his killing intent-frozen body.
He couldn't fend it off entirely, but if he confined it to his immediate vicinity, resistance was feasible.
Slowly, slowly—he diverted the constricting killing intent from Iron Face aside.
"Oh ho? Holding your ground?"
A spark of interest lit Iron Face's previously playful eyes.
Though he'd only unleashed a mere tenth of his power, Iron Face's caliber wasn't so low that a human shy of twenty could endure it.
Unless his own skills had gone haywire, the scene before him signified one clear truth.
"...Well, well? Thought you were just a promising little sprout, but you're already a full tree pushing out buds?"
Iron Face's playful posture shifted subtly toward seriousness.
His intent to genuinely claim Ian's life now shone through.
Ian coolly assessed the gap between himself and Iron Face.
'...No chance right now. No trick up my sleeve would let me win.'
This was worlds apart from breaking Urk with the Twin-Headed Blood Serpent.
Iron Face was an insult to compare to Urk—a true powerhouse, one of the continent's elite, transcending even orc kind.
Of course, with his full might from Lucas's era intact, a freakish orc like this would've been beneath notice.
But in his current state—body imperfectly tempered, Blood Demon Iron Chain Art far from complete—he stood no chance against one of Golden Heaven's top brass.
Thus, time for a different gambit.
"Lay a hand on me, and it won't do you any favors either."
Creak!
Iron Face's motion—gripping his greatsword tighter to charge—halted abruptly at Ian's words.
"...Come again? What's that mean?"
The orc scratched his head with the sword's hilt, momentum broken.
"Look, sorry, but I hate lies. If you're just tossing that out to save your skin... it won't end pretty for you."
Despite Iron Face's grim warning, Ian held his composure.
"If your eyes aren't knotholes, you've already clocked that I'm no ordinary mark."
"...Most folks don't brag like that outta their own mouths. Fine, granted. That's exactly why I'm about to kill you, yeah?"
Ian thrust out his chest boldly.
"I am the second son of Paon Lichtenauer, patriarch of the great Lichtenauer Martial Clan. Touch me, and you're declaring you're ready for all-out war between the clan and Golden Heaven, right?"
Fox borrowing tiger's might.
A craven ploy to escape peril by name-dropping his backers—something his past self as Lucas would never stoop to.
But Ian had no options left.
He was a tiger not yet fully grown.
"Uh... for real? But hey, aren't you here on some mission? We could just frame the Red Fang Orc Tribe—say they offed you."
Swish!
Ian's gaze drifted far off toward the Valley of Rest.
"I ordered the men I came with to head back first for exactly this scenario. They saw plain as day me wiping out the Red Fang Orc Tribe and beating their chief. Think they'd swallow that story?"
"Ughhh..."
Iron Face scowled, wrestling with the dilemma.
'Aw crap, smells like bullshit. But if it's legit... total headache.'
Versus a pat on the back from the boss for squashing an unripe sprout...
...and the backlash from igniting a potential head-on clash with the Martial Clan.
The mental scales tipped obviously one way.
Clap, clap, clap!
Having crunched the cost-benefit, Iron Face whistled in admiration and applauded.
"Man, never figured someone'd straight-up threaten me in a spot like this. Alright, that was entertaining—I'll let you live, special exception."
Iron Face reined in his killing intent as he spoke.
Not that Ian's half-baked bluff was the whole story, of course.
'Still haven't wrapped up with those Turbid Flow and Great Desert scum. Dragging the Martial Clan in now? Too messy. No point kicking the hornet's nest early.'
Wasn't that why they'd recruited the Red Fang Orc Tribe from Fire Mountain?
To keep tabs on any Martial Clan stirrings.
Today, confirming they still wouldn't sit idle if chaos erupted around Fire Mountain? Mission accomplished.
Plus, with the former rulers of Fire Mountain—the Red Fang tribe—wiped out, they'd need to rush in other Golden Heaven affiliates before Turbid Flow or Great Desert goons sniffed it out.
Shing! Click!
Decision reached, Iron Face slung his greatsword onto his back and pivoted.
"Oh yeah, kid. What's your name, anyway?"
"...Ian Lichtenauer. The man who'll one day swallow the entire Martial Clan whole."
"What? Puhaha! This guy's a riot."
Iron Face roared with laughter at Ian's audacious reply—what was so hilarious about it?
Ian's declaration rang just like some cocky orc vowing to topple Golden Eye and seize Golden Heaven.
'If he knew those monsters' power, he'd never spit that out so easy.'
Boss Golden Eye or the clan's freakish elder Paon Lichtenauer.
The pinnacle monsters of the continent had outgrown the word "strong" long ago.
'Eh, if he's thrashing around clueless about his limits, he'll croak on his own soon enough. Martial Clan's a cutthroat joint anyway.'
Like the Red Fang chief Urk, now rolling dead on the ground—deluded enough to eye the boss's throne without knowing his place.
"Whatever, fine."
Click!
Iron Face shrugged as he secured the greatsword, turning away.
"Grow tall and strong~ Then we'll cross paths again someday."
Next time, you'll leave that head behind, though.
With his dubious blessing(?) to Ian, Iron Face bolted into the bushes and vanished in a blink.
How much time passed?
"...He's gone."
Hooooh, ptui!
Ian regulated his breath, settling his Blood Demon True Qi, then spat the blood pooling in his mouth onto the dirt.
Splat!
Blackened, congealed blood soaked the ground.
Exposure to Iron Face's killing intent during that brief standoff had shaken his internals, inflicting grave wounds within.
"...Knew it deep down, but I'm still miles away."
Through this ordeal, Ian steeled himself to fully abandon any nostalgia for his former power.
In the past, Iron Face wouldn't have rated as an opponent.
In the past, even the current "lord of the Martial Clan" Paon Lichtenauer would've needed three thousand clashes to barely overpower him.
Hell, had he survived and grown uninterrupted, he might've surpassed the current Paon.
But what good were such what-ifs now?
He was weak.
Weak enough to unseal his weapon just to fell one orc chief.
Weak enough to invoke his lineage to survive one orc faction exec.
"...First goal: reclaim my past realm."
That former peak would serve not as endpoint, but milestone.
By now, with time elapsed, powerhouses eclipsing his old self—like Paon Lichtenauer—must've arisen aplenty.
His old nemeses might've too.
"Long road ahead."
Wipe!
Ian wiped his chin crusted with dried black blood, resolve hardening his features as he trudged the opposite way Iron Face had come.
...Thud!
A massive green bulk crashed to the ground.
As the final orc crumpled to its knees and sprawled out, the man concealed behind its back came into view.
Bathed in blood, his body riddled with gruesome wounds.
Yet he still drew breath.
"...Hah!"
Thunk!
Ryu An Pallkion gasped a deep, held breath and slammed his sword into the earth.
Legs giving out, he leaned on the blade with one knee down—then a small hand pressed to his back.
Wooong!
Warm, soothing energy.
Helena channeling recovery magic for him.
"...G-good... job."
"This one's the last, right?"
"Y-yes!"
Ryu An scanned the surroundings anew at her reply.
There was Ralph, gasping raggedly on the ground just like him.
Dane and Sylvia slumped against the wall.
Yes.
No other orcs stood firm besides their group.
"...We actually pulled it off."
Ryu An chuckled in disbelief, even to his own ears.
Sure, Sylvia's Blue Night and poison dust had left most orcs on death's door.
But they were orcs all the same.
Born warriors—their battle fervor never snapped from mere weakening.
Yet they'd triumphed over the remnants.
Why?
'Captain's doing, no doubt.'
Ian nicking the fleeing chief's ankle during pursuit had played a part.
But above all, the chief's panicked flight had been starkly visible to his own orcs.
Expecting their morale to hold after that would've been the real surprise.
"Still... got words for the captain."
With results like these, he could at least claim they hadn't held him back.
Step, step!
As the exhausted group caught their breath, footsteps echoed toward them.
A man with black and white twin swords sheathed at his hips.
A massive something clutched in his right hand.
Whoosh!
He hurled the round object their way.
Thud, thud! Roll...
It hit the ground weakly and tumbled.
The Latent Dragon Squad's eyes locked on it.
The orb was none other than a severed head.
That of the hulking orc dubbed chief.
"C-captain... you nabbed the chief?"
Ralph stammered the question, voice trembling in awe.
Ian answered his squadmate's query slowly.
"No, I didn't get the chief. By the time I arrived, Iron Face had already dropped him."
Ian spoke plain truth—not one to steal credit for others' kills—but the squad interpreted it differently.
"...What? Iron Face?"
"Golden Heaven's Butcher, Iron Face?"
"Top of the kill list..."
"Faced that monster and walked away alive?"
"What the hell kinda guy's the captain...?"
Ian turned and headed off somewhere, heedless of their shock.
"H-hey, where to? Falling back?"
"Fall back? Hardly."
Ian snapped curtly at Dane's query.
"Tribe's routed—gotta hit their village, snag whatever. Rulers of Fire Mountain region's gotta have spoils stashed."
The squad's faces lit up at his words.
The Cataclysm Lands brimmed with resources rare even in Agera.
Fire Mountain might be just the fringes, but they could score gear useful at their level.
Step, step!
The Latent Dragon Squad jolted alert at Ian's receding figure, scrambling after him.
"W-wait up!"
"Captain, good loot's for sharing!"
Patter patter!
Exhausted heaps just moments ago—where'd this vigor spring from?
As if they'd never faltered, the Latent Dragon Squad tailed Ian.