All there was was a tiny hut built at a crossroads,
so ramshackle that its shabbiness was plain at a glance.
Perhaps because it was surrounded by forest in every direction, the area near the outpost was terribly dark
even in broad daylight.
The eerie atmosphere was so thick that even someone with considerable courage
wouldn't dare think of staying up through the night.
But who was Daemon?
In Trubenia, he was not someone who would be second to anyone
in daring.
Rather, he was surveying the surroundings, carefully observing
the approach and escape routes.
Turka, on the contrary,
had eyes that looked frightened.
"Chwik. This is the place. According to the report, this is the first outpost the ogre encounters
when coming down from the mountain, so if you wait here, you should be able
to face it."
Turka, seeming as though he didn't want to stay even a moment longer,
tried to turn his body away hurriedly the moment he finished speaking.
Seeing that the warriors under his command were all trying to follow without exception,
it seemed they, too, feared this place.
When they tried to leave him alone,
Daemon was briefly taken aback.
"Hold on."
At Daemon's call,
Turka raised his eyes as if puzzled.
"What is it?"
"You said the ogre raiding the village was an old, cunning one, didn't you?"
"Y-yes, but……"
"You said it's escaped the warriors' encirclement several times so far……"
Not knowing the other's intention, Turka could only nod.
Already, more than twenty warriors
had fallen to its hands. It was that experienced and cunning an ogre.
In Daemon's eyes as he looked at Turka,
there was a light of certain conviction.
"I don't mind staying alone. But if only I remain,
what on earth would the creature think?"
He seemed to be thinking deeply, but Turka lacked
the intelligence to infer the answer in the first place.
"Chwik. I, I don't really……"
"You fool…… It will certainly think like this: 'That wandering orc is definitely
bait. There's no doubt that countless orc warriors are lying in ambush nearby.'
Like that."
Turka's face suddenly went blank.
"Chwik! I see. Then……"
"Think back to when it attacked.
How many warriors were deployed then?"
"A-about five or so."
"That seems to be the most manageable number for it.
Then wouldn't it be right to deploy four more warriors here?"
Only then did Turka realize Daemon's meaning and nod.
"Chwik. Understood."
He turned his head and began searching for warriors worth leaving behind.
As his gaze swept past, the warriors trembled one and all.
They were all young, inexperienced orcs,
and their expressions showed they were thoroughly intimidated at the thought
of having to face an ogre.
'The situation is proceeding as expected.'
Daemon, feeling mischievous, began subtly playing to Turka's pride.
His intention was to leave him behind
and observe the situation in the village.
"Those fellows over there look fairly useful.
Leave those four and have the rest go down.
You, too. This is a very dangerous mission, after all."
A slightly sulky expression crossed Turka's face.
"Chwik. But I am the strongest among them?"
"Kids tagging along when facing an ogre won't do."
As expected, Turka protested fiercely.
"Calling us kids is absurd.
At the very least, I pride myself on being the bravest among them. Chwik.
To prove my valor,
I must remain here no matter what."
"Can you take responsibility for those words?"
"Of course."
Watching Turka thrust out his chest confidently, Daemon smiled faintly.
Inwardly, he was endlessly mocking him as a stupid orc.
Turka stepped forward without even realizing what decision he had made.
Then Daemon looked around at the remaining orcs.
"Those among you who consider yourselves true warriors, step forward.
Those with enough courage to face an ogre proudly."
At those words, the orc warriors stepped forward without thinking.
They had lost themselves at the words "true warrior."
Daemon chose three among them.
"You, you, and you—three of you along with me
and Turka will remain to face the ogre."
The selected orcs looked relieved.
Needless to say, the remaining orcs were not, of course.
Contrary to his initial bravado, as time passed, Turka couldn't hide his anxious expression.
Night had already fallen and it was growing dark; the warriors had all gone down to the village,
leaving only the five of them.
Left alone in the silent mountains,
fear was inevitable.
The other orcs were the same.
Though they were still wild orcs,
they were a race already accustomed to communal life.
Therefore, separated from the group,
their courage had vanished without a trace.
Not knowing when the ogre might appear and snap their necks,
Turka and the four warriors were on edge.
Watching them,
Daemon sneered inwardly.
'Fools…….'
He had already left the vigil in all directions to the warriors and was resting leisurely.
It was a decision based on the thought
that these nocturnal creatures would have better night vision than himself.
Lying in a comfortable posture and looking around,
a sudden strange light flickered in Daemon's eyes.
'Interesting.
Hunting ogres mingled with orcs…….
But what was that matter earlier about?'
Unable to contain his curiosity,
Daemon called out to Turka.
"Hey, Turka. Come here."
Turka jumped in surprise
and approached Daemon.
"Chwik. What are you doing raising your voice?
Ogres have far better hearing than us."
"Wasn't the plan to lure it here in the first place?"
Only then did Turka realize his mistake
and scratch the back of his head.
"Chwit. That is true."
"But what's happening in the village tomorrow?
The chieftain seemed quite troubled……"
"Chwik. So that's what you're asking about."
Turka continued his explanation nonchalantly,
as if it were no big deal.
"Chwit. It's the matter of selecting the slaves
who have grown too old to work.
Once the ogre hunt is over,
we take them back to the tribe."
"Those too old to work?
What are you planning to do with them……"
Turka continued with a slight smile,
as if it were nothing.
But to Daemon listening,
it could never be a light matter…….
"Chwik. There's no need to keep useless slaves alive, is there?
So we plan to take them to the tribe and cull them."
"…….
Daemon looked at Turka with blank eyes.
A light of anticipation had risen on Turka's face.
"I don't know if you've tried it,
but human meat is quite tender and soft. Chwik.
If things end as planned,
a great feast will be held in the tribe.
Of course, if ogre meat is added to that,
nothing could be better, could it?"
Daemon's face hardened stiffly
upon learning the full truth.
Killing old people to hold a feast with their meat……
It was a wretched feeling,
chilling enough to send shivers down his spine.
To think that the humans of Trubenia
had fallen to such a miserable state……
As a fellow human, he couldn't help but feel dejected,
and at the same time, killing intent toward the orcs
surged up within him.
"Have you perhaps eaten human flesh?
Five hundred years ago, warriors used to have human meat for all three meals, or so they say,
but it's not easy to come by now."
Glaring at Turka, who continued speaking so nonchalantly,
Daemon barely managed to calm his heart.
Honestly, he wished he could kill him with a single blow.
But the one who ate humans
wasn't just this one.
No doubt the orcs throughout all of Trubenia
did the same.
Thus, a single resolve
was being carved into Daemon's heart.
'I swear I will utterly exterminate the orc seed from Trubenia.
No matter how long it takes.'
Because he had calmed his mind,
Daemon's face returned to being expressionless.
"No. I don't want to eat human meat."
"Why is that?
Meat so tender and savory is rare."
Daemon had to suppress his boiling rage once more.
"I decided not to eat it
after an incident where I nearly choked to death on it once."
At the plausible answer,
Turka nodded.
In that instant,
light flared in Daemon's eyes.
A light as though he had sensed something.
'Something is approaching.
Heavy footsteps.
Most likely an ogre.'
Daemon subtly turned his head
to gauge the orcs' condition.
They seemed to have noticed nothing at all.
It was the very moment proving
that Daemon's senses surpassed orcish instinct.
Daemon calmly settled his mind
and gauged the direction from which it was coming.
'Judging by the wide gait,
it's undoubtedly an ogre.
The direction is……'
Daemon's gaze naturally turned
to the direction opposite from where the wind was blowing.
Predators almost invariably hunt downwind.
That way, their scent won't be detected.
In that direction,
one orc was sitting with his back to the outpost wall.
But he had noticed nothing.
Most likely, the ogre was targeting him.
Perhaps because it was cautious,
it didn't rush in immediately.
Daemon quietly picked up the spike gauntlet
resting on his knee.
'I'll go out after one of them is taken.'
It was a pity for the one who would be taken,
but Daemon didn't care in the least.
The orcs likely felt the same.
Orcs were by no means a race
that grieved over the death of comrades.
Waiting for the ogre to launch its ambush,
Daemon carefully caressed the gauntlet.
The gauntlet he held
was the only object that could revive the memory of his master.
After he was captured,
the gauntlet had been carelessly thrown into a corner of a junk warehouse,
and after becoming a lich, Daemon had only managed to retrieve it
after considerable hardship.
And for five hundred years,
he had cherished it dearly.
Despite its history,
Daemon had taken it out simply to face the ogre.
'I must avoid using magic as much as possible.
No doubt the dragons are desperate to retrieve the magic report from me.'
Suddenly he became curious
about what was inside Incresia.
He had received the report itself,
but hadn't been handed a single item list of what was inside.
That was natural,
since the list itself had been entirely inside Zikreit's head…….
'If I can just identify the coordinates,
taking out the items won't be difficult.
I just need to look slowly over time,
so there's nothing to worry about.'
Since these were things the dragons had hidden away,
he couldn't even guess their value.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say
they had collected only the rarest and most precious treasures of Trubenia…….
One might say he'd become the wealthiest man on the continent,
but it was hard to find a joyful expression on Daemon's face.
From the beginning, he had been a martial artist
with little material desire.
A hint of tension flitted across his face,
which had been lost in thought.
'It seems the creature is about to attack.'
He quickly readjusted his grip on the gauntlet.
The outpost's rough wooden wall
burst open almost simultaneously.
Splinter.
What burst through the wooden wall
was a massive hand the size of a cauldron lid.
The hand grabbed the head of the orc sitting with his back to it
and dragged him away.
"Chwiek!"
The unfortunate orc warrior
was left nothing but a wretched scream
as he was dragged beyond the wooden wall.
Only then did the orcs realize it was an ambush
and hurriedly grab their glaives and rise.
"Chwik. It's the creature."
Something like a gust of wind swept past
in front of them.
Turka brightened
upon realizing it was Daemon.
"O-Outlaw."
"Block its retreat.
Don't let it escape……"
Daemon uttered briefly
and launched his body through the hole the ogre had made.