Chapter 86
Chapter 86
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 86
Chapter Title: Chapter 86
-----------------------------------------------------------------
```html
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 86
Chapter Title: Desperate Defenses
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The two moons that had hung high in the sky slowly concealed themselves, and in their place, the rising sun began to gradually illuminate the world.
By the clock, less than six hours had passed.
Yet it was more than enough time to wipe out the lizardmen who had lived peacefully along this tributary of the Amatres River.
“Keruk… Heok, heok…”
Stagger!
Duke, the overseer of the tributary, resisted to the bitter end. He thrust his broken scimitar into the ground to prop up his blood-drenched body.
This was the waterway the Sea King had personally ordered him to defend.
Even in defeat, he could not suffer the humiliation of kneeling to the enemy here.
Before such a Duke.
Sss!
“Huuu… Kruk! That bastard’s one tough, filthy son of a bitch. Why turn something simple into such a damn ordeal?”
As Olga wiped away the streaming blood and sweat, a long gash now crossed his entire ferocious face.
It was no minor wound, but unlike Duke, it barely hindered his movements.
Compared to Duke, who could scarcely stand while leaning on a shattered weapon—and factoring in a troll’s superior regeneration—it hardly qualified as a wound at all.
That alone made the outcome of the clash between these two powerhouses unmistakable.
Perhaps deeming the fight at a stalemate with the contours clear.
The troll adjutant, who had watched silently, approached close enough not to disturb Olga’s focus and spoke.
“Kruk! Lord Olga, the rest have all been finished off.”
“Ah, good work. What’s the damage?”
“Ten dead, twenty injured.”
“Ten…?”
Ten dead—not against the Sea King’s elite main-stream forces, but mere tributary rabble.
Olga’s brow furrowed at casualties exceeding his expectations.
But only briefly.
Quickly schooling his features to mask his thoughts, Olga sneered at Duke.
“Kruk! Hear that, you? It’s over. How about dropping the futile resistance and offering your neck nice and quiet? On my honor as a warrior, I promise a painless end.”
“…Keruk! Cowards pulling sneaky night raids, now yapping about warrior’s honor? That’s a real joke.”
Even as blood poured from him, Duke scoffed at Olga.
Thud!
Forcing the broken scimitar aloft, Duke reset his stance and bellowed.
“Keruk! I am Duke, captain of the sixteenth route guarding Takliu’s tributary. If you fancy yourself a warrior, state your name with honor, troll.”
“…Kruk! That guy, man… what a pain in the ass.”
Olga scratched his head with the blood-caked back of his battle axe and tsked.
A lackey of the fake master playacting as the Great Deluge’s true lord, daring to claim warrior status.
To Olga, who served the Deluge’s real ruler, it was an infuriating affront.
Yet for his master’s honor and his own pride, he couldn’t let it slide.
…Well, everyone else is dead but him anyway. No real issue.
His thoughts settled, Olga slung his battle axe over his shoulder and replied to Duke.
“Fine. You made it to the end, so as a parting gift for the afterlife, I’ll tell you my name. I’m Olga, assault captain of the Great Vein’s fourth finger. Die honored.”
At Olga’s words, precisely declaring his Great Vein affiliation, Duke’s eyes subtly gleamed.
…Now, the path to avert pointless bloodshed with Golden Heaven lay open.
Please escape safely and reveal today’s truth to the Sea King…
Praying fervently toward some distant point, Duke tightened his grip on the scimitar and lunged at Olga.
He couldn’t afford to drag this out, lest the troll catch on.
“Kererereruk! Die!!!”
Sweeeee!
Green battle spirit surging in place of the broken blade, Duke’s scimitar viciously targeted Olga.
The lizardman’s signature fearless charge and murderous blade work was a strike to inspire awe.
“…Hmph!”
Wrong opponent, though.
Duke’s target was the very one who had snapped that fearsome sword.
To Olga, it was mere death throes.
Pakang!
The battle axe meeting Duke’s blade proved its power no fluke: it didn’t just shatter the scimitar—it pulverized it utterly.
Slash!
Unsated by the sword, Olga’s strength-laden axe diagonally clove Duke’s body behind it.
Sploooosh!
Duke’s lower half, sundered top from bottom, spurted a blood fountain from momentum, staggered a few more steps, then collapsed limply.
Far too hollow an end for Duke’s final fury.
“Kruk…? What the hell. Looked the part but went down easy. Too simple for a last stand.”
Sensing the unnatural emptiness, Olga cocked his head repeatedly.
“Kruk! He was spent long ago, surely.”
The reporting adjutant kicked Duke’s lower half as it lay before him and answered.
“These lizard shits… puny things, but they clung like mad. Their boss? Even more so.”
“Hm… yeah, makes sense.”
Accepting the adjutant’s words, Olga nodded.
Come to think of it, the casualty report had been far worse than anticipated.
Such outcomes always had causes.
Damage like that only made sense if every last one charged in suicidal frenzy.
Of course… that didn’t excuse the dead trolls.
“Kruk! Whatever, it happened ‘cause the fallen were that weak. The one to awaken needs no trash who can’t handle this much.”
Shaking Duke’s blood from his axe and sheathing it on his back, Olga banished thoughts of the dead trolls from his mind.
Then he bellowed at the adjutant.
“Kruk! Lizard cleanup’s done—let’s tidy up and head back. Talk all you want, their captain… was a handful even for us.”
This op was a long-brewed special from the ‘fingers.’
If exposed that they—not Golden Heaven—were the culprits… mild annoyance wouldn’t cut it.
“Kruk! Yes, sir—no worries. Hey, you lot! Torch these trashes, fetch ‘that’ and douse everything! Hustle!”
The adjutant nodded to Olga and commanded the other trolls. They torched Takliu lizardmen corpses, erasing battle traces one by one.
Gurgle gurgle gurgle!
Corpse cleanup done, the trolls dumped unidentified purple liquid wildly into the Amatres tributary.
Bubble bubble, burble!
The stream’s waters slowly染ed an ominous purple, faint lights pulsing in sequence.
“Perfect.”
Grinning at the sinister waterway’s response, Olga nodded slowly, then roared at his men.
“Back before the sun’s fully up! Job’s done—just await results now.”
The west side was likely the same by now.
The second finger’s forces, wielding similar arms and tactics to the lizardmen, would have torn through Golden Heaven’s woods.
Failure wasn’t in the plan.
Success assured, Olga and his troll pack sauntered off.
Remnants: charred lizardmen ashes and the Amatres tributary’s foreboding purple spread.
But Olga and the trolls had overlooked one thing.
The lizardmen here—including Duke—fought with such desperation not merely as Takliu elites.
There was a ‘reason’ worth staking their lives to protect.
The Amatres tributary lay deserted, brimming only with scorched ash piles. No souls stirred.
…Sss!
As morning arrived with not even embers aglow, a lone lizardman slowly rose from a quiet swamp, somewhat removed from the battleground.
“…Hic! Uncle Duke…”
Tears brimmed in the lizardman’s reddened eyes.
Just yesterday, Duke and the tributary folk had welcomed her with open arms. Now, they were gone—reduced to ash without even corpses left.
Having witnessed it all, tears were the most natural response.
Rub rub!
But she soon shook her head, wiped her eyes, and set her face in grim resolve.
“Uncle’s sacrifice… and everyone from the tributary… I won’t let it be in vain. Never.”
Of noble lineage, she was exceptionally sharp.
Thus she grasped why the tributary lizardmen fought to the last, why Duke invoked warrior’s honor to unmask the foe.
She firmly believed she would carry their will onward.
Her station and blood entitled her to it.
Now wasn’t for weeping—it was time to move.
If pursuit followed… her strength alone couldn’t promise escape.
She had to hurry.
Tap tap tap tap!
Emotions reined in, she slipped quietly from the tributary.
Toward the precise opposite direction Olga and the trolls had taken.
Takliu and Golden Heaven dominated the Great Deluge’s central and southern reaches—massive powers.
True, small fry like the birch forest’s black rock trolls carved out domains aplenty.
Yet they rivaled Aslan Kingdom’s Lichtenauer Martial Clan in scale; undeniable fact.
Thus, not sharing even one border? Practically impossible.
Roar!
Great Deluge’s far west fringe.
Golden Heaven’s foggy mountain foothills, the White Wind Orc Tribe’s village blazed fiercely.
As trolls had raided Takliu’s sixteenth tributary, so too did Daemak’s second finger—the Dark Elves—strike.
But here, the tide didn’t mirror the branch stream.
Golden Heaven’s orcs entrenched here… were era-defining veteran warriors.
“Chwiik!”
Village ablaze from Dark Elf atrocities, White Wind chieftain Turka swung his massive flanged mace in fury.
Crunch!
A Dark Elf caught in the seasoned mace’s arc had his skull burst, blood pooling on the ground.
Foggy Mountain teemed with mingled races, Takliu lizardmen among them—a brutal battleground.
Staking a village and dominance here… no feat for the faint.
Turka’s mace shamed even Urk, Red Fang chieftain under Golden Heaven trial—insultingly swift, precise.
Yet the invading Dark Elves were no amateurs.
Daemak’s second finger kept no weaklings.
The fleeting gap as Turka’s mace pulped a foe’s head.
Slash!
A Dark Elf seized it, scimitar severing Turka’s left arm.
With it tumbled the mace from his grasp.
Turka disarmed in a blink.
Dark Elves pounced to claim his life.
Gliding from shadows, they flowed like black waves.
Their blank faces approaching bone-chillingly, yet Golden Heaven tribe chieftaincy was no casual seat.
“Chwiik!”
Grievous wound notwithstanding, Turka betrayed no panic.
Thud!
His right foot snapped up the falling left arm.
Spraying fresh blood, arm and mace vaulted back before him.
Grab!
Clutching the severed-arm-impaled mace, Turka smote the onrushing Dark Elves.
Crack! Crunch!
Within mace reach, Dark Elves shattered indiscriminately—limbs, skulls.
Awe-struck by the onslaught?
The stoic Dark Elves faltered back.
Crunch crunch!
Seizing the lull, Turka stomped the severed arm, yanking free just the mace.
Thud!
One-armed, mace shouldered, Turka glared unshaken—a vision of the legendary one-armed horde-stopper.
Village inferno ignored, Turka showed no haste; Dark Elves stalked gaps for their mission. Standoff held.
Clap, clap, clap!
Someone’s applause rent the battlefield.
```