Chapter 159: Blackout (1)
Chapter 159: Blackout (1)
Had you ever placed food right before the nose of a dog in deep sleep? Especially something like a sweet potato, its cloying scent wafting gently through the air.
The sequence of events that unfolded in such a moment was happening to the sleeping Homi.
Sniff.
Twitch, twitch.
First, her pert nose flared adorably.
Mumble, mumble.
Her lips, too, moved—lips that had by now shed the faint traces of girlhood and were transforming into a woman's.
Her fingertips and the tips of her toes each squirmed once, and when her luxuriant tail, which had been drooping limp, rose like a serpent—
"..."
Homi was fully awake. The piercing blue eyes unique to a snow leopard beastkin cut through the dead-of-night darkness.
Homi's lips shaped themselves into a peculiar form and let out a short whistle. It was a faint sound barely perceptible to the ear, yet it carried a unique wavelength that set a mammal's endocrine system on edge.
Her eyes snapped wide.
The dark elf sentries shivered as if a lion's breath had touched the napes of their necks. Yet they did not flinch; they responded with composure.
"Lady Homi. To our eyes, there is still nothing to be seen—"
"Is it an intruder?"
For they knew it was a warning sent to them by the world's finest tracker.
The sentries, who had been glaring ahead alongside Homi, spotted a distant light approaching a moment later.
"Halt! Halt! This is the encampment of the great House Meyer! Who are you?!"
Though a young-faced dark elf shouted, the torches in the distance advanced without response.
"They ignore the warning! I-is this not an attack?!"
The young sentry, hands trembling, nocked an arrow upon the bowstring and aimed. This was his first mission, and moreover, he was on campaign with Eugene's army. He could not help but be on edge.
Tap.
A long, thick tail wrapped around the hand that held the arrow and lowered it. The touch was soft and fluffy, endlessly gentle, yet the strength within it was as formidable as a great serpent's.
"Calm down, rookie. Those are human soldiers, aren't they? They're not like us—their eyes aren't sharp, and their ears aren't keen."
A veteran who had been watching Homi's tail play as if he found it unbearably endearing spoke up.
"They probably didn't even hear what you said. If they get closer, tell them again."
"Ah!"
"Nothing to be embarrassed about. I was exactly the same as you at first."
Despite the veteran's consolation, the young warrior's face flushed hot. He felt as though he had shot an arrow at a deer well out of range and then made a great fuss over it.
"Ah, shit... why is it always this crap on my watch?"
It had not been long since the order to retire had been given, so everyone rose at once.
"Is it a monster? Or people?"
"People. Judging by the height of the torches, it looks to be all infantry."
Eugene and Cassandra also walked out of the command tent.
"Could it be an attack?"
Cassandra asked as she helped Eugene into his cuirass.
"If it were, they would have approached with torches extinguished. But I cannot rule out bandits entirely."
The winter lull had passed: mercenaries seeking work, knights who had crossed from the peninsula belatedly chasing a lord's dream, dispossessed indigenous nobles turned bandit chieftains, and mercenaries colluding with them.
Armed bands brimming with either grievance or ambition roamed the land—such was the state of Sicily. Simply marching at the dead of night was suspicious in itself.
However, once he saw the approaching figures, he soon realized the worry had been unfounded.
"We are not the enemy!"
"Do not attack!"
A body of soldiers, soiled with sweat and dust and blood as if they had just endured a night battle, came fleeing toward them.
* * *
"You were attacked while encamped? By orcs, no less?"
"...That is correct, my Lord Viscount."
At Eugene's response, which seemed to find the claim preposterous, Sir Mateo bowed his head deeply.
'Damn it all.'
He was the second son of a peninsula noble house who had crossed the sea to make his fortune.
Circumstances had prevented him from joining the decisive battle against the former count, but Sicily remained a land of opportunity. The dream of becoming a lord, of securing even a single small village, tempted countless souls.
When even the Hydra appeared, Mateo seized what seemed the perfect moment. He hired mercenaries with money obtained by pleading with his father and crossed the sea.
-I shall become a lord without fail! I will plant my family's banner upon this island!
Mateo, who had come charging forth with such ambition, was battered to a wreck by the orc attack before he could even begin to realize his dream.
Now face to face with Eugene in the command tent, Mateo was wound painfully tight. Knights, visibly and fearsomely hardened, stood arrayed in perfect order around him.
'What kind of stance is that?'
They assumed a peculiar posture, legs slightly apart and both hands clasped behind their lower backs. Though clearly a stance of stillness, it radiated tremendous force.
"Take a look at this."
"Yes, my Lord Viscount."
Mateo stood before a complex map the likes of which he had never seen in his life.
"You said it was near a pond close to the foot of the mountain? Was the place you were attacked here?"
"That is correct."
From only a brief explanation, Eugene had pinpointed Mateo's former encampment with exact precision.
"It was not a good camping ground. Easy to draw water and close to a road, but vulnerable to an attack from the mountain."
"I never imagined the orc bastards would execute a night raid with such coordinated discipline."
"Is there any attack that comes with fair warning?"
Mateo grew even more crestfallen. He did not show it outwardly, but Eugene was his idol.
When Eugene had first made his name as the All-Conquering Knight of Bonyard, he had been a knight with only a single squire to his name.
Yet wherever he went, he achieved great feats, and within a single year, he had taken command of the left wing of the Sicily expeditionary force and became the architect of a great victory.
Even though he had started from a position far worse than Mateo, who enjoyed his family's backing, he had risen to the rank of viscount with but a single sword.
And to show such a wretched sight before a knight like that—Mateo wanted to crawl into a mouse hole and hide.
"How severe are your losses?"
"Forty-one of fifty-two remain."
"You managed the aftermath admirably. But it will be difficult for you to lead the unit further."
Despite suffering a night raid, he had somehow rallied his troops and broken out. But he had lost most of his supplies, including provisions and warhorses.
"You have endured much. Spend tonight with us. Here, you—distribute water and medicine to them."
"I am truly grateful for your aid."
Mateo's face was steeped in gloom.
All the rations left to them amounted to two days' worth of dry provisions. The mercenaries' morale was at rock bottom, and the lost supplies would have to be bought anew. But if he did, he would be unable to pay their wages. The unit's dissolution was a settled future.
"You must be at a loss as to what comes next. Would you campaign with my army? While you stay, I can share rations and sundry supplies, at the least."
And so, the next day, when Eugene made the offer, Mateo very nearly wept.
"You, my Lord Viscount, deign to make the offer—how could I possibly refuse? I have only gratitude."
After Mateo left the command tent, Rex asked,
"Was there truly a need to treat them so well?"
"I came out intending to catch just the Hydra, but the situation has changed."
Eugene's finger pointed at a village on the map. It was not far from where Mateo had been attacked.
It lay just outside House Meyer's sphere of influence, straddling a road, and was thus a place of considerable prosperity.
"I doubt the orcs simply left that place alone. I'll have to stop by and see."
"When they are not even your vassals, you insist?"
"It's near the direction the Hydra appeared anyway. If the village is safe, we can resupply. If not, we can earn their gratitude."
"Ah, so that is why you took in that knight earlier. To use him as a shield at the front."
"You put it harshly. I am merely preparing for an unforeseen battle, nothing more."
Eugene's army had been meticulously configured from the outset with the subjugation of the Hydra in mind.
If engagements with orcs were piled on top of that, new supply would be needed, and Mateo's unit was not a bad patch for that gap.
But Mateo's unit was not the only one that had been attacked.
"Who goes there?"
"We are monks of the Para Monastery! We were attacked by orcs while encamped—"
"..."
A body of thirty or so warrior priests merged into Eugene's encampment. It seemed the orcs meant to take a proper bite out of the confusion sown by the Hydra's emergence amid human wars.
As Eugene marched on, leading the swollen force, he marveled at the distant peak.
"The peninsula is one thing, but this island's mountain terrain is no joke, either."
A great mountain sat at the center of Sicily. It was as high and densely forested as the Apen Mountains that divided the Peninsula from north to south.
"The orcs that attacked Mateo's unit also dwell there."
"Strictly speaking, they were the island's original masters. They were pushed into the mountains after losing the competition with humans who crossed the sea."
"Calling monsters the masters..."
Rex could never quite grow accustomed to Eugene's habit of neutrally assessing all things in the world.
Perhaps it was precisely that way of thinking, so devoid of human-centric presumption, that allowed him to live as harmoniously with the dark elves as though they were family.
* * *
"I am too late."
The village, though they arrived in the forenoon, lay as silent as the grave, without the slightest noise. It was because the inhabitants were all scattered about as corpses.
Bones were exposed over large portions—not from the progress of decay, but because they had been gnawed upon and devoured.
"Oh, God!"
"The orcs shall pay!"
At the horrific sight, the warrior priests wailed in lamentation.
There was a reason the Apostolic Council was respected even while being reviled as violent or worldly. In this savage age, it was the only power that genuinely wept for the weak. That much, no one could deny.
The warrior priests spread out and began gathering the scattered bones into piles.
Traces where limbs had been hacked into convenient pieces for eating, then seized, torn at, and cast aside. It was a scene common to any village that had suffered an orc raid.
"Foul monsters! May divine punishment be upon you!"
An old priest, fallen to his knees, clenched his fists in fury.
Before him lay two severed arms, their hands still clasped together. One arm belonged to a child of about ten; the other was an adult woman's.
It was the trace of a mother and daughter who had fled holding hands, killed by the orcs, their arms then hacked off and eaten just as they were. The desperation of their final moments and the onset of rigor mortis had joined into one, so that even after being severed, the hands remained linked.
Caw.
The only beings that moved within the village were the crows. They had settled upon the human corpses strewn everywhere and were enjoying a rare feast.
They nonchalantly plucked at eyeballs until the priests drew within a certain distance—a sign that their experience was earned across more than one or two battlefields.
"Hm?"
Sensing something amiss in that spectacle, Eugene clenched his fist.
"Halt!"
"Unit, halt!"
The troops echoed the command and stopped. Thanks to the Might, Eugene's hand signals could be seen directly even by the soldiers in the rear.
"The priests, too, are to return at once!"
At Eugene's order, the warrior priests who had been collecting the bodies hurried back.
"W-what is it?"
"I don't see any rats or wild dogs."
"Pardon?"
"With corpses scattered everywhere like this, why are there only crows?"
"Well, isn't it because those bastards can fly away at any time?"
"To my ears, that sounds like beasts that cannot fly are unable to enter this village."
"...!"
At that moment, Homi stepped onto Sandy's back and stood. Her long tail stood perfectly straight at a diagonal, without a quiver.
Ping!
Homi, who had been glaring at the village ground, loosed an arrow at a spot. It pierced through a pile of straw spread over the dirt floor and vanished.
"Guhk—!"
A faint groan came with the sound of tearing flesh. The dark elves' long ears pricked up all at once.
"It's an ambush!"
"Form ranks!"
At that moment, the straw, leaves, and branches that had been laid as camouflage over the ground sprang up into the air. The orcs who had been hiding in pits beneath the earth revealed themselves all at once.
They were thorough enough to have even smeared mud over their bodies here and there to mask their scent.
"Mateo getting hit wasn't simply carelessness, then. These bastards are far more cunning than I thought."
Rex nodded at Eugene, who was clicking his tongue.
"If you look purely at intelligence and skill, they're at the very forefront among monsters."
Orcs possessed their own smelting and weaving techniques, and even knew how to brew liquor.
"Prey has come waltzing in on its own legs!"
"Spill their guts!"
The orcs roared fiercely before Eugene's army, not the least bit intimidated.
Monsters that armed themselves like men, formed societies, and spoke a common tongue. In some respects, orcs were humanity's most dangerous rivals. Though it was likely the same from their perspective.
"Dark fairies!"
"Smooth meat!"
The orcs licked their chops, black tongues flickering between jagged teeth. Orcs who relished human flesh prized elf flesh above all else.
Hairless, retaining youth for long, and without skin ailments—truly a delicacy among delicacies.
Even before such orcs, Eugene's army remained composed.
"They're calling you smooth-skins, too?"
"Shut up and focus on the fight!"
As the heavy cavalrymen smirked, the tribal warriors barked at them.
-Hey, smooth-skin.
-What's that monkey saying? You proud of all that fur?
These were the human mercenaries who teased them every time they bathed after joint training. At first they had scoffed, but hearing it over and over somehow got under their skin. They couldn't quite say why.
The orcs revealing themselves one after another from the village and its surroundings numbered somewhat larger than Eugene's army.
"They managed to hide this many."
"Had we entered the village and been struck, we would have taken losses."
The tribal knights looked at Eugene with faces of admiration. Avoiding an ambush like this required both keen observation and beast-like intuition. One had to possess both.
Fighting under such a commander was the greatest fortune. Because dying in a situation where you couldn't even properly demonstrate your skill, struck by surprise, was the most unjust death a warrior could suffer.
Among the orcs, one whose head loomed two larger than the rest stepped forward, carrying a great butcher's axe.
Squeeeal—!
He rode a Hogzilla, bred from crossing a domestic pig and a wild boar. A monster combining the bulk of a domestic pig, improved for greater meat yield, with the tusks and ferocity of a wild boar.
"Grond!"
"Grond!"
The other orcs raised their weapons and cheered.
"Grond?"
"A title designating the mightiest warrior within an orc tribe. When armies face each other head-on, rather than raids or ambushes, he takes the vanguard."
"They really are different from other monsters. Though that makes them all the more dangerous."
The Grond mounted on the Hogzilla came forth boldly and leveled his axe at Eugene's army.
"Roooaar—!"
As if he had no need for words, he let out a battle roar. What it signified was plain.
"Lord Viscount. Grant me the chance to redeem myself."
Mateo, gritting his teeth, volunteered for the duel.
"What business does a freeloader have butting in?"
"Castle Lord, please grant me the honor of taking the vanguard!"
And then he was bullied by the tribal knights and shrank back.
"I will step forward."
"Ah..."
"Hm..."
And they, too, grew quiet behind Eugene as he strode forward.
'It's dangerous. The commander must safeguard his noble person...'
They could not possibly give voice to such customary words. Because even they knew it would be absurd.
"I'm sorry, it must seem as though I'm stealing your glory. But this is my first time fighting orcs of this scale, so I want to seize the initiative firmly."
When their lord stepped forward so readily, how could they protest?
"Grrrr—!"
"Roooaar—!"
As the human army parted and a knight began to emerge from their midst, the orcs roared. In those howls lay faith in the tribe's strongest warrior and mockery for the human who would soon be a corpse.
"Uuuuu...?"
"Wooaaaar...?"
And the orcs' shouts quickly subsided.
It was because they were overwhelmed by the sheer force of the enormous warhorse that emerged, snorting vapor through a mouth bristling with savage fangs, and the knight mounted upon it.
The axe the knight carried was so viciously formed it made the Grond's weapon look shabby.
"Hahahaha!"
"Why'd those bastards suddenly grow quiet?"
As Eugene's army laughed heartily and jeered in turn, the pride-wounded Grond ground his teeth and kicked the boar's flank.
Thus, the contest between the two great warriors who closed the distance ended in a mere two exchanges.
Shrrrk!
In a flash of black light, the great orc's upper and lower body, armor and all, were separated.
Whirl.
All eyes from both armies converged on the upper torso as it spun through the air like a top.
"A bamboo dragonfly?"
Someone murmured thoughtlessly.
The sight of the two muscular arms spreading outward as it rotated with centrifugal force was utterly surreal.
The rider had vanished, but the Hogzilla was a dangerous beast in its own right. It threw its massive weight into a body slam against Might.
Thud!
And nothing happened.
"Squeal—?"
An impact as if it had rammed an iron pillar. Over its dazed, reeling head, the blade of the black axe fell.
Crunch!
Split cleanly from the spine through to the skull, the Hogzilla's upper half was driven into the earth. The pig's hind legs, kicked up by the recoil, were pitiful beyond measure.
"..."
"..."
In an instant, silence descended upon the orcs' ranks. Meanwhile, from Eugene's side erupted a thunderous cheer. Heaven and earth trembled at the sound of weapons and shields clashing together and feet stamping the ground.
"All forces, commence attack!"
As Eugene, mounted on Might, raised his blood-soaked axe, arrows and sling-stones poured forth from behind him toward the orcs.
Mateo's mercenaries and the warrior-priests of Para Monastery were swept up in the fervor as well.
"For Meyer!"
"In the name of Saint Para!"
Though they had not known each other long, they melded into one body with Eugene's army and charged the orcs.
* * *
Shrrrk!
A flash of black light, and the torso of the orc at the very front was cleaved diagonally.
Thud!
The orc struck by the axe's head had its ribs utterly shattered and vomited blood.
Eugene was sweeping away the orcs before him with brutal efficiency. It was closer to one-sided slaughter than combat.
"Spread wide!"
At the shout of a tribal knight, the cavalry withdrew from Eugene's killing radius. It was a far cry from the typical image of vassals guarding their lord, but they had no choice.
Their liege was swinging abnormally large weapons, including a great flail. If they clung to his side trying to protect him, they risked being swept away along with the enemy.
Still, they faithfully fulfilled the role of restricting the avenues of attack so that multiple orcs could not rush him at once.
"Block the one on the left!"
"That one crawling on the ground! It's not dead yet!"
Haind thrust his spear through an orc's heart, and a heavy cavalryman trampled an orc under his horse's hooves—the creature crawling with venomous hatred even with its legs severed.
Though it seemed it might not matter to Eugene even if multiple orcs swarmed him at once.
"Guhk—!"
As the great axe swept horizontally, two orcs in its path toppled, spraying blood.
One fell with its neck and shoulder sliced diagonally; the other slumped down, its chest split nearly in half.
The Hell Axe, meeting Eugene's monstrous strength, carved apart all enemies in its path at once. There was little point in rushing him in numbers.
"Luden! Get clear!"
"What? Ack!"
A tribal knight who had just taken off one orc's head and pierced another's chest suddenly blocked a flying object with his shield.
Splat!
The dark elf knight Luden stared at the orc's upper body stuck to his shield, blood serving as adhesive, with an expression of utter disbelief.
Behind the dead-eyed orc, its breath extinguished, he saw Eugene lowering his great axe.
"Sorry. I didn't expect it would fly all the way to you."
"I-it's quite all right!"
Slide.
The orc's torso slid off the shield and dropped to the ground.
The most crucial thing in battle was the flow and the atmosphere. Eugene had been fearsome when swinging his flail, but now, wielding his axe, his sheer presence pierced the heavens.
The visual impact of comrades being butchered, the stench of blood that seemed to stab at the nostrils. The orcs, who had rampaged as if they feared nothing in the world, screamed like a flock of sheep.
Meanwhile, Eugene realized that the axe-blade was not simply cutting orc flesh and breaking bone.
'I can see it.'
When the metal of hell chopped the orcs' bodies like a guillotine, the spirit dwelling within was gnawing at something else.
'The emotions of those being torn apart.'
Eugene at last reached the orc chieftain. This was the sire of the Grond who had died first.
The Hell Axe, raised high toward the sky, fell, and the chieftain tried to block it by lifting the greatsword he held.
As shattered fragments of iron scattered, the orc chieftain's body was cleanly bisected from the crown of his head down.
In that moment, Eugene witnessed the chieftain's mighty soul, seized in the spirit's teeth, screaming.
[Shrieeeek—!]
Every orc behind the spot where the chieftain was cut halted in the same instant. As if their sight and hearing had been paralyzed.
The orcs' souls were swept away like ants before a colossal torrent of terror.
In the heart of the battlefield. At the center of the orc host, a silence fell as though time itself had stopped.
End
ⓒ Gusojae#1wecx