As if suspicious, he threw out the question once again.
“Who on earth are you? Chwiik.”
“That question again. Didn’t I already tell you? I’m an outlaw of the wasteland…”
“No, not that. I want to know your race and where you come from. Chwiiik. And I also want to know how you were able to become so strong.”
Damon shrugged.
“That? Well, it’s not as though I can’t tell you, but is there really any need?”
He had meant to mercilessly dismiss the question, but Damon soon changed his mind.
He was in high spirits after having gained his freedom, and he did have some intention of teasing the naive orc. He soon began the work of planting an absurd dream in the hot-blooded young orc warrior. Of course, it was a story fabricated from beginning to end.
“Fine. I’ll tell you.”
Damon stared straight into Turka’s eyes and continued.
“First of all, I have no race of origin. Because, just as they abandoned me, I also abandoned the name of my race. As you all know, I was cast out by my people because I was weak. But no one could have guessed that this would become the opportunity for me to grow strong.”
As Damon’s story continued, the orcs’ attention focused on his mouth. Since they were all young warriors, the tale Damon had concocted could not help but be utterly captivating.
“You who grew up under the strict protection of your tribe would not know. How barren the wasteland is, and how full of danger. But depending on how you think of it, danger can become an opportunity for self-improvement as much as you like. Ogres, trolls, wyverns that constantly attack, and even threats from other tribes… Life in the wasteland can truly be described as one crisis after another. Of course, it is an established fact that countless wandering orcs failed to overcome it and lost their lives. But who would know? That the one who overcomes all those dangers can become a truly strong being…”
“Chwichik. Then are you saying you are a truly strong being?”
Damon turned his head and glared at the orc who had interrupted him.
Thwack.
Seeing their comrade fly off and collapse unconscious, the orcs shuddered. As if nothing had happened, Damon dusted off his hands and continued.
“Before being a strong being, I am also an outlaw. Namely, the outlaw of the wasteland! Have any of you ever faced an ogre?”
Of course, there was no way they had. Young orcs with no experience were not mobilized to hunt a big prize like an ogre. Most of them were hot-blooded orcs not even three years old. This hunt was nothing more than a way to build up their experience. Seeing the orcs all shake their heads, Damon puffed out his chest.
“You probably don’t know. That the ogres who have left this world by my hand already number more than twenty…”
The moment Damon finished speaking, cries of disbelief burst out.
“Chwiiik. That’s a lie. I can’t believe it.”
“Even experienced warriors need more than twenty of them gathered together to face an ogre. Nonsense.”
Damon shot the orcs an icy look. The orcs flinched under that gaze and, one by one, closed their mouths. Damon rose to his feet with an expression as if he were deeply disappointed.
“Then again, I’m the madman for trying to tell a story to bastards like these.”
He was about to turn away without any lingering attachment when Turka’s urgent cry caught him by the ankle.
“Chwiiik. Can you stand by those words?”
Damon turned his head with a blank expression. When he saw Turka staring at him intently, an amused look appeared on his face.
“Of course I can stand by them. But there’s no way you bastards could bring an ogre here…”
“We cannot bring one. But if you follow me, you should be able to face one. Chwichik.”
Interested by Turka’s words, Damon changed his mind. In truth, the ogres that had left this world by his hand far exceeded twenty. If trolls were included as well, the number would be close to a hundred.
“Fine. Then tell me the situation.”
When Damon nodded, Turka began to explain as if he had been waiting for this.
According to him, even the prosperous Chugar tribe had a problem. It was a commotion caused by one old ogre.
In truth, because they had fought together as allied forces in the racial war, the relationship between ogres and the orcs belonging to tribes was not all that bad.
The Chugar tribe, in particular, could be said to be in an even better situation. Since food was abundant, whenever an ogre came, the tribe would provide it with a considerable amount of meat, and in return, the ogre would only eat wandering orcs and would not lay a hand on members of the Chugar tribe at all.
But ever since an old ogre that had acquired a taste for human flesh appeared one day, an enormous headache had arisen for the Chugar tribe. Old, cunning, and even sly, the ogre rejected the livestock meat handed over for it to eat and targeted only human slaves. It had, in effect, become addicted to human flesh.
Because of that, many slaves who had been plowing fields and tending sheep were caught and eaten by the creature, and as a result, the food coming to the Chugar tribe was reduced by half. The slaves had become afraid of the ogre and would hardly go outside.
In the end, the Chugar tribe had no choice but to act, and the chieftain dispatched many warriors to capture and kill the ogre. If they left the creature alone, there was a concern that the food supply would be completely cut off.
But the opponent was an experienced and cunning ogre. It never showed itself in places where many warriors had been deployed. It only dealt with groups of orcs it could handle, and the result was a complete victory for the ogre. Since it always burrowed into weak points, warriors died, and slaves continued to be lost. Even alone, the ogre was fully capable of facing a dozen or so warriors. That was the great problem confronting the Chugar tribe.
Turka was asking him to catch that very ogre. If Damon’s words were true, the Chugar tribe would be relieved of a great headache. Even if they turned out to be false, there was absolutely no loss to them. It would simply end with one wandering orc dying a dog’s death.
For that reason, Turka tried hard to persuade Damon. But to Damon, who stood far above Turka’s head, the trick was painfully obvious. Even so, Damon was thinking that he might as well fall for the scheme.
‘That thing can’t be allowed to live.’
He could not simply stand by and watch an ogre that devoured humans, the lords of creation. Nor could he ignore the fact that he wanted to see how the human slaves who had fallen into the hands of orcs were living. For even though he had once become a lich, his essence was undeniably human.
“Fine. Lead the way. I will make certain to catch it.”
At Damon’s words, Turka beamed and rose to his feet. Thinking that the other party had fallen for his scheme, he quickly guided Damon to his tribe.
As Damon entered their base under the guidance of the orc warrior, not the slightest trace of tension could be found in him. On the contrary, he thought it fortunate that he would be able to glimpse the life of the orc race, which had been shrouded in mystery. The orc race, who could be called the hands and feet of dragons, were no different from enemies to him…
‘If I learn their habits, it should become easier to deal with them, shouldn’t it?’
Walking while thinking this and that, Damon finally entered the settlement of the Chugar tribe. The first thing he saw were guards who boasted physiques even more rugged than Turka’s.
“Chwiiik. Halt.”
The orc infantrymen on guard duty looked Damon up and down as if they found him extremely strange. And for good reason. It was strange enough that the young warriors who had set out to hunt wandering orcs had been beaten to a pulp, but they were also escorting, as respectfully as if he were a distinguished guest, a fellow who was clearly a wandering orc at a glance.
Turka soon approached and whispered something in their ears. Though their expressions were somewhat doubtful, the guards let them pass without much suspicion. The fact that Turka was the current chieftain’s grandson probably played a large part in that. Of course, he was only one grandson among hundreds.
“Chwiiik. Pass.”
Damon leisurely walked on, taking in the scenery of the orc base he had only heard of before. The first thing that caught his eye was the extremely primitive standard of living of the orcs. Most of them lived in crude tents made of leather and tree branches. The walls surrounding the settlement likewise looked as though they had been made by simply cutting massive logs as they were, with no trace of elegance to be found.
The walls and defenses pursued only thorough practicality. In contrast, however, their weapons showed a conspicuous difference. The glaives held by the orcs were not only well sharpened, but at a glance had clearly been well tempered. Of course, it did not take Damon long to guess the reason.
‘They were probably made by human slaves. To think they became slaves to orcs of all things—what a harsh fate they have.’
As he walked along, thinking one thing after another, a group of troops suddenly blocked his path.
Since they were all warriors who looked experienced, Damon could not help but feel somewhat tense.
‘Who are these fellows?’
When they saw them, the young warriors who had guided Damon became respectful in their attitude. Seeing Turka hurry forward, they seemed to be fellows of fairly high status even within the tribe. Turka ran over and spoke to an aged orc standing in the middle of them. Meanwhile, Damon merely watched what they were doing with his arms folded leisurely. The conversation between the two went on for quite some time.
‘Did I come here for nothing?’
Damon, who had been yawning widely, suddenly opened his eyes wide. Inside the orc base, he had sensed traces of mana spreading from a place he guessed to be a tent. A chill could not help but run down his spine.
‘Damn it.’
Since there was a chance, however slim, that it might be a dragon, Damon’s heart sank. But as time passed, he was able to regain his composure. First of all, what spread out from the tent was nothing more than wide-area detection magic, and judging from its power, it by no means surpassed the 6th Circle. Moreover, was he not in a state where he was not casting any magic at all? Judging by the situation, it seemed to be a lich under Berkis, so Damon forcibly calmed his heart.
‘This is troublesome.’
Of course, he had enough skill, but he could not rashly confront it. That would be the shortest route to having his whereabouts discovered by Berkis… Firmly assuring himself that it could not possibly sense him while he was transformed through Reverse Body Transformation, Damon calmly looked around.
He saw the old orc who had been conversing with Turka approaching him. Thinking that things would go as they would, Damon received him. It seemed that he was indeed Chugar, the chieftain.
“Chwiiik. Welcome to our Chugar tribe, wanderer.”
When spit splattered onto his face along with the orc’s distinctive nasal sound, Damon frowned. As he had thought, the other party definitely seemed to be the chieftain of the orc tribe. Damon decided to act rather boldly.
“Chwiik. Don’t bother with empty words… The treatment a wandering orc receives is obvious anyway. So where is the ogre I’m supposed to face?”
Because the other party was not a young orc like those until now but a seasoned one, Damon answered while making a fairly convincing imitation of the orc’s nasal speech. Of course, he did so in a rather defiant manner. As if angered by that attitude, the guards under Chugar leveled their glaives at Damon.
“Chwit. A mere wandering orc dares to be so impudent…”
“Chwiik. Do you want to die?”
Damon quickly examined each of their faces. They all looked like experienced and seasoned warriors. Of course, even so, it was obvious that they could never be a match for Damon.
Without another word, Damon held out his hand toward Turka.
“Hand it over.”
“Wh-what?”
When Turka rolled his eyes, not understanding what he meant, Damon silently took from his hand the broken haft of the glaive. It was the staff with which he had beaten down Chubaka and the warriors under him.
Holding the two staff pieces in either hand, Damon took a stance. He had felt the need for a certain degree of armed demonstration so that they would not look down on him. He growled at the guards who had aimed their weapons at him.
“Chwiik. I’m dying to know how weaklings who look like they couldn’t even catch a single slime are going to kill me. Chwiik. Why don’t you try killing me?”
As Damon had expected, the guards’ rage rose to the tips of their heads. Of course, all the orcs, including Chieftain Chugar, merely watched. Proving one’s ability through a duel was one of the most common occurrences in orc society.
Of course, Damon, who had provoked the fight, had a hidden motive. The detection magic was already sweeping over him thoroughly. Therefore, his intention was to grasp in detail the nature of the being casting magic inside the tent while engaging in close combat.