Even if You Enter an Orc's Den (3)
As the meeting drew to a close, Ditto Abaran rose gracefully and looked down at the assembly. Unlike Rasiah, he exuded a gentle aura, and everyone looked up at him with rapt attention. Ditto spoke to the crowd staring blankly at him.
"Regrettably, a massive fire recently broke out in the Temple's tower. I intend to restore it. It will be an unprecedentedly large undertaking. To achieve this, I will require a great deal of assistance."
Eyes widened at his calm proposal, so unlike Rasiah's usual fiery demands. This was, in essence, a clear invitation. It was as if a small side door to a tightly shut castle had swung open, beckoning them inside, showing them the right path to take.
A massive wall had always stood between the imperial family and the nobility, defined by a strict hierarchy. The guards protecting the castle had remained unchanged for ages. However, the ancient families that had long held secure positions—the Fidus family, the Chrysa family—were now faltering. Ditto's sweet proposal was a lifeline of opportunity for them. A chance to tear down this stiflingly ancient system and write a new history.
"O-our family can provide any amount of support!"
"Please, grant us the honor of assisting Your Highness!"
Voices clamored from all sides, competing for his favor.
"Ah, of course. I am well aware of your devotion to the empire. However, someone has already stepped forward to take over the shelter project previously managed by the Fidus family."
Duke Millio, who had been watching the situation anxiously since Ditto first spoke, brightened instantly.
"The Duke of Millio and the Count's family will handle the initial stages of the work."
It was the moment the tide turned, signaling the reconstruction of a newly fortified Abaran.
As the sun set, the throbbing pain pressing on his nerves gradually subsided. Ran, who had been hiding inside a cave to avoid the sunlight, crept out and scanned his surroundings.
"Squeal—damn it, I can't get used to this."
He couldn't stop the involuntary squeal that slipped out of his throat no matter how hard he tried.
He desperately wanted to return to his human form, but no matter how much he willed it, his body refused to change back. To make matters worse, the only thing he had on him was a dull, chipped sword he had snatched from the Orcs. When transforming into another creature, any belongings held as a human would naturally vanish. He didn't know the mechanics behind it, but his clothes and luggage would only reappear once he became human again. He had always thought this was a convenient feature—otherwise, he'd have to carry a bundle of clothes every time he transformed into an animal—but now that he was stuck, it was a major obstacle.
Am I going to have to live like this for the rest of my life?
No, that couldn't happen. Once Ratel and his companions reached the Temple, they would inevitably return to subjugate the Orc horde. If he was still in this Orc form by then, they would undoubtedly kill him. And if he ventured outside the forest, he would immediately draw the attention of humans.
Nothing is going my way.
He sighed and began to walk.
Since Orcs possessed superior night vision, walking now was far more comfortable than enduring the stinging sunlight of the day. He wasn't walking because he had a specific destination in mind. He doubted Ratel's group had waited for him; if they had ridden toward Limis, they would have arrived by now. Which meant they would eventually head back to this forest anyway. He had to find a way to turn back into a human before then.
What was it that El had said?
—Your power is so weak that you might never be able to return to a human for the rest of your life.
And what did the brat say after Ran gave him a good smack on the head?
—There is a reason your ability vanished long ago. It is because there was no longer anyone capable of using it properly. Animals and monsters are fundamentally different.
El had rubbed his head, replying petulantly:
—If animals were created by God, monsters were born from condensed malice. Therefore, transforming into a monster does not merely consume your strength; it inevitably affects your very identity. It is difficult to achieve in the first place, but once you become a monster, you will gradually lose your sanity.
That was what he had said, but...
Ran turned his head and looked around. He spotted an owl flying nearby, which landed on a tree branch.
"Squeal—"
At his sound, the owl whipped its head around to look at him. Its round, pendulum-like eyes locked onto him. The owl flinched upon seeing him and promptly flew away.
Even as he watched it disappear, he didn't feel anything unusual. He recalled how those Orcs had grown so incredibly excited just from seeing a flying crow. In contrast, his only feeling toward the owl was, at most, a mild appetite. After all, the only things he had eaten today were some bread and dried jerky before climbing the mountain.
Wait, did I normally look at flying birds and think about being hungry?
He couldn't quite tell if this was one of the symptoms of losing his sanity that El had mentioned, or if he was just associating a bird with poultry because he was hungry.
Hmm... no, I still don't want to eat a bird raw.
No matter how he looked at it, this was different from the sensation of his reason being paralyzed. In that case, maybe returning to a human won't be as hard as I thought?
He closed his eyes one last time and wished with all his might.
"..."
But as expected, nothing changed.
"...Squeal. Well, if I have to stay like this forever, I suppose this forest is better than nothing."
He figured he could just hide out until the protagonist finished wiping out the Orcs and left.
Rustle.
As he mumbled to himself, Ran turned his head at an ominous sound from behind. An unexpected face was waiting for him.
"Squeeeal—found you. Squeeeal—"
The Boss Orc hissed.
What? Why is he here?
Ran hurriedly checked the surrounding area. Fortunately, there were no other lackeys in sight. The boss approached, brandishing a dull sword threateningly.
Clang!
Ran blocked the blade and pushed back with his strength. Perhaps because he had copied the boss's physique, their physical strength was evenly matched.
"Squeeeal—you, ran away!" the boss shouted, glaring at him through their locked blades.
Of course I ran away, why would I stay?
What surprised Ran was that the creature had abandoned his horde to hunt him down alone.
"Squeal. Did you follow me?"
"Squeal—yes!"
"Squeal. Why?"
"Squeeeal—to decide, the winner! Squeal—"
Rather than the fact that the monster knew such a complex concept, Ran was more astonished that an Orc possessed such values.
"Squeal. If I run away, you can just keep being the boss."
"Squeeeal—no, cannot! Once defeated, squeal—must hand over, the horde! If I do not defeat you, squeal—they will not follow me!"
What kind of troublesome custom is that?
"Squeal. That has nothing to do with me. Just go back, tell them you won, and keep playing boss."
At his reply, the Boss Orc tilted his head.
"Squeeeal—are you, really an Orc?"
Is this such common sense among Orcs that my very identity as one is being questioned?
"Squeal. Anyway, I don't need to be the boss."
Ran shoved the locked blades aside with effort and took a few steps back.
"Squeal—then, die by my hand. Squeal—"
Ran sighed at the simple-minded logic, which was akin to telling someone to starve to death if they didn't want to eat.
"Squeal. Then what happens if I kill you?"
"Squeal, the lackeys will follow you."
He hated both options.
Orcs lacked intelligence, so they had a habit of unconditionally following whoever they recognized as their leader. He supposed it was their survival strategy. Once a leader was imprinted on their minds, they only had to obey commands without having to think for themselves. A bare minimum of survival instinct, fanatical loyalty to the leader, and sheer cruelty were all that made up an Orc. Though, it was rare for any of them to remember an order for more than a day.
In short, becoming their leader would only bring immense trouble. If Ratel arrived and found him leading a pack of Orcs, the protagonist would definitely kill him.
"Squeal. Fine, let's do this instead."
"Squeal?"
As Ran lowered his sword, the boss frowned in confusion.
"Squeal. We fight again in a week. We postpone the match until then. How about it?"
"Squeeeal—no! Do not want to wait! Squeal—"
Absolutely nothing was going his way. Despite being dim-witted, the creature was so simple and stubborn that it couldn't comprehend anything outside its immediate goal.
"Squeal. If it's not in a week, I'll run away from you forever. You'll spend the rest of your life chasing me until you grow old and die."
"Squeeeal—that is fine too."
"Squeeeal!!! No, wait, aaargh!!! Why on earth do you want to fight me so badly? Just go back, let your lackeys serve you, and live a good life!"
"Squeeeal—you speak, strange words! Squeeeal—deciding who is strong, is natural! Must keep, the promise! Squeeeal—"
The monster said something odd.
"Squeal. A promise? What promise?"
When Ran asked, the Boss Orc stared blankly up at the sky.
"Squeeeal—do not know."
It was the most useless, idiotic conversation he had ever had.
"Squeal. Do whatever you want. I'm not fighting unless it's a week from now."
Ran turned around and walked forward. Behind him, he could hear the heavy footsteps of the Boss Orc following him.
"Ran—! Where are you?"
Jing shouted, wandering through the forest. He knew searching the entire mountain in a single day was an impossible task. Yet, with the Prince missing, he couldn't just sit idle. Why had he let Ran and Ratel go ahead on their own? It had been a mistake to complacently assume Ratel would handle any wild beasts. He had taken it for granted that he could protect him.
—Aren't you just pouring your loyalty into him to satisfy your own ego?
At that moment, Ratel's mocking words seemed to echo in his ears. Jing grimaced, gripping the reins tightly. What angered him most was that the moment he heard those words from Ratel, a voice deep inside his heart had whispered that Ratel was right.
Jing liked Ran. He respected him, felt grateful to him, and pitied him. But could he truly deny that it was a form of self-defense to alleviate his guilt for betraying the imperial family?
Shaking off his chaotic thoughts, Jing shouted again.
"Lord Ran—! Are you alive?"
"Squeeeal—"
Instead of Ran's voice, the grunt of an Orc echoed from not far away. Jing slowly halted his horse and listened closely.
"Squeeeal—fight, squeeeal—"
The Orc was speaking.
Jing carefully drew his sword, making sure not to make a sound, and dismounted. He crept toward the source of the noise, silencing his footsteps.
Few Orcs were capable of speech. Those with high enough intelligence usually possessed larger bodies and heads, naturally taking on the role of the boss. This also meant their sense of smell was far more acute than others. Considering the wind direction, their scent detection range was roughly sixty feet.
Jing's eyes narrowed. If the Orcs were in a pack, it would be reckless to charge in, but judging by the sounds, the Boss Orc seemed to be alone or with only one other. This was actually a good opportunity. If there were only two, Jing could easily handle them by himself. Moreover, if the creature could speak, he could capture it and interrogate it about Lord Ran.
Jing moved against the wind. When he drew close enough to spot the Orcs, he had to rub his eyes at a sight he had never witnessed in his entire life.
"Squeeeal—if I really get food, will you fight me? Squeal!"
"Squeal. Yes, yes. Not humans, though. Go fetch some small animals or wild berries. Make sure they're tasty."
"Squeeeal—understood. Wait here."
It was the bizarre spectacle of one Orc ordering another Orc around like a servant.