Chapter 40
"The orcs have certainly grown in strength. They used their past defeat as a stepping stone and prepared steadily."
The axe tempered by the bitter taste of past defeats cleaves through the northern wind, howling.
The split northern wind cuts into soldiers' flesh and carves deep wounds into the castle walls.
"Arghhh!"
Screams coil through the north.
Crash!
Along with the orc march, the charges of massive magical beasts continue in succession.
Soldiers block the magical beasts rushing to destroy the walls like siege weapons with their bare bodies, only to be brutally trampled.
"But it's just as expected of Zerban."
A man with a black hood pulled down over his head, yet golden hair fluttering, spoke as if impressed.
"Throughout Carpe's long history, only Zerban has protected the north. No matter how much the orcs prepared, it's not a place that would fall so easily."
Lamatou of Crasion tapped his beloved staff against the ground habitually, twisting his lips.
"A family with such grand history, ultimately falling to the Empire's lapdog."
"Lapdog... I wonder how devastated the lapdog must feel hearing that."
At Luteon's tone as he spoke with a smile, Lamatou clicked his tongue.
"Zerban's elite are tied up in the east as you wanted, so there's nothing they can do this time."
Thud-!
"It's a success."
"Indeed..."
The wrinkled eyes looking on bitterly saw the gray castle walls.
The castle symbolizing the north.
The sturdy Jayvarsh develops creaking cracks from the charge of the massive magical beasts.
But the northern soldiers do not hesitate to sacrifice themselves to block the advance of the orcs and magical beasts.
It is impossibly fierce.
"Killavan, what will your brother do?"
When Luteon, smiling, asked, Killavan von Zerban, positioned behind him, bit his lip tightly holding indescribable emotions.
"The important thing is timing."
"Indeed. Timing. Without giving it to the orcs, and breaking Zerban! Like a cunning snake in between, you must hold the castle!"
Luteon made unnecessary fuss.
Killavan looked at such Luteon and let out a big breath before opening his mouth.
"I..."
Whooosh-
"Hmm."
Just as Killavan was about to say something.
Suddenly the wind changed direction.
Then Lamatou's lips drew an arc and Luteon's eyes sank calmly.
"Recovered already? Recovery power no different from a troll! It might be the grace of the gods that guy possesses. Tsk tsk."
As Lamatou glanced as if he knew something, Luteon shook his head with a displeased expression.
"Grew from the duel with Keltuk. Even a scoundrel, Zerban is Zerban. Tsk tsk. Isn't this getting interesting?"
"...At least I don't think so."
Not interesting at all.
Watching the rare black-haired figure and red cloak slaughtering orcs like a storm, Luteon turned his back.
"But even so, nothing will change."
Because he would make it so.
* * *
Slaaash!!
A cleanly falling sword stroke.
Green heads split by it.
Not a single drop of their green blood stained Kallias's Predator Sword.
A swift sword incomparable to before.
'My body is light.'
The sword in his hand is even lighter.
It's as if it has no weight.
Like one body with his own arm.
Kallias felt such a sensation.
Though he nearly died, the battle with Keltuk made him grow.
Manhwabongyuk rose to Ibbong, and as he became able to use the techniques of Eunhwapageom, it became much easier.
The sword strokes he had been practicing looked irregular and full of unnecessary parts when he saw them again.
Reorganizing that and learning new habits again is troublesome.
But in front of Kallias, there is a wave of green orc forces.
They were perfect for practice partners.
Sliiick-!
With one swing of his sword, the heads of orc soldiers soar into the air.
The Predator Sword, having consumed blood, sharpens its edge even more keenly and slaughters the orcs with tough skin and bones.
"The Captain opens the way! Break through!"
"In the time you're talking, kill at least one more!"
The knights inspired by Kallias's martial prowess boost their own morale and swing their swords.
Halting.
Looking back, Kallias watched the knights fighting fiercely each on their own.
Among them, one figure fighting the most flashily.
A child with a frame half the size of others, slashing down orcs without hesitation.
Emily.
Stab stab stab stab stab!
With a thin rapier, fierce thrusts and fox-like swift movements, she slowly but steadily brings down the orcs.
'No need to worry.'
The more battle experience Emily gets, the stronger she will become.
Just like himself.
Emily was a flower slowly blooming on the battlefield right now.
"Kallias!"
Crackle zap!!
As lightning crackled and exploded, orcs burst apart.
Through that, Bernard appeared with his dignified mustache.
"We must advance. Once decided, there's no retreat for us. Quick decision!"
"I know."
Shring.
Gripping the Predator Sword, Kallias explosively poured in pure divine power.
Petal sword qi forms on the smooth blade and a strange silver light envelops him.
"I'm going."
"Yes!"
Eunhwapageom-Pahwaro.
A silver surge rushing like a wave, like a storm.
Kwaaaaaaa-!
Slash slash slash slash slash!
Lightning wrapping the destructive sword strokes.
With just a single technique, the orcs fell as if struck by a storm and lightning.
Kwaaaaang!
"Now!"
Bernard, feeling the exhilaration of the battlefield, led the knights.
"Move! If we don't break through now, we have no future!"
"Go! I'm going, damn it!"
"I'm going! Ugh!"
"Hey! Allen, wake up! If you hesitate now, you die!"
"I know. Aaron!"
Those who fall cut the enemy's ankles.
Those who collapse grab the enemy's ankles and advance. In the fierce and dirty battle, each person's large and small sense of justice would clash.
But now, only the will of those blocking and those breaking through resides, and Kallias merely slashes at the forefront, again and again.
He had deeply felt how to survive in this world over the past three years.
'If you slash, you can live.'
The path opens just by slashing.
But if you can't slash, you die.
An extremely simple principle.
Kallias had known this long ago.
* * *
There's an old saying that a child grows while fighting. Because it is humans who grow by hitting and fighting, feeling various emotions and diverse pain.
"He's grown."
Elberton, standing on the Jayvarsh castle walls surveying the battlefield, also thought there was truth to the old saying.
The guy had grown.
Seeing his current appearance, who would see him as the north's scoundrel.
He, who sweeps through the battlefield in all directions and carves a path, was absolutely not someone who could be called a scoundrel.
"A new wind blows."
Cough, cough!
Spitting out blood-tinged coughs, Elberton disregarded his own body and only looked at Kallias.
The knight order that pierced the side of the orc forces was carving a path to Jayvarsh like a raging fire.
A fierce battlefield.
Within it, a silver flower blooms.
"Seizing the moment of a frontal charge to stab the side. Even with Bernard beside him, it's not an easy action to take."
Given Bernard's personality, he wouldn't have made such a judgment.
It was probably Kallias's judgment.
Lucky timing. Timely.
But without the ability to back it up, it would have collapsed quickly.
However, Kallias did it.
Now they've reached the end of the forces and are about to join with Zerban's army.
"Was my judgment to drive you out right? Or was it wrong."
Did driving him out make him grow like that.
Or did he originally have such potential. Thinking of meaningless things, Elberton soon shook his head.
Now it was an ambiguous thing of no use at all.
Before being the father of a scoundrel, he was Zerban who must protect the north.
Such turbid thoughts must be erased by the fierce northern wind, and it was time to act as the master of the north.
Tap.
Kiiing!
Jumping down from the castle wall, what resides in the sword drawn with tyrannical force is the cutting wind of the north.
Thud. The heavily planted stance generates a new wind.
Huuuuung-!
The sword that started with the north.
The wind of Storm Sword Kallis splits the battlefield in half like the miracle of Moses.
Appearing between the orcs and Zerban's soldiers, a black-haired figure with a red cloak fluttering takes heavy steps one by one.
"Kallias."
The eyes of the son covered in green blood were not something worthy of looking at his father.
Therefore, the father too.
Did not treat him as a son.
"The war has only just begun. Do you need rest?"
"...I don't."
"Then go and take them. Offer the necks of the enemies who ravaged the north!"
At Elberton's shout, the soldiers' swords soared into the sky.
And Kallias too.
As if responding, turned his back once more.
With Jayvarsh, which he had barely reached, behind him.
* * *
Tap, tap.
"Haa...."
Kallias, who hadn't even properly taken off his armor and had placed his feet on an unknown pile of baggage and sat as if lying in a chair, let out a long breath.
Three days.
In the battlefield that lasted for three whole days, he crossed the line of death dozens of times and surpassed his limits hundreds of times.
Dealing with the orcs wasn't difficult. Orc soldiers. Up to orc warriors, they are not difficult opponents for me now.
Rather, it was at just the right level as training to fix bad habits.
'The problem was those guys.'
Giant magical beasts.
However the orcs tamed such magical beasts, they fought alongside furry rhinoceros-like beasts.
Because they were the size of houses, no matter how good one's sword skills were, even a momentary mistake meant crossing between life and death.
Of course, because their bodies were so large, they had dull parts, so stabbing their eyes or vital points brought them down, but.
"My lord, please have some water."
Gulp, gulp.
Kallias, who drank all the water in the bucket at once, wiped the blood and sweat on his weapons with a wet towel.
"Survived well, didn't you."
"Hehe, my lord knows best that my lifeline is tough. Haha!"
Even after a full three days of battle, Brance had managed to survive until the rest period that came.
Though he had shallow wounds, compared to the soldiers and knights scattered everywhere, his stamina seemed fine.
"How much longer will it go?"
"Who knows. Whether it lasts a month or a year, that's what a battlefield is."
He said so, but it wouldn't last that long.
From their perspective, they would want to capture the castle quickly before reinforcements arrive.
The ones with no time are the orcs.
In contrast, we just need to defend...
'Has it been reduced by half.'
The forces had been reduced by half.
It was because Zerban's finest elites were absent and the numerical disadvantage was also clear.
The situation was merely the second-worst, avoiding the worst.
"How are the old man and Emily?"
"Both are resting now. Since we don't know when war will break out again."
Both only had light bruises.
They didn't suffer deep wounds.
If that's a relief, it's a relief.
"Ah, a knight named Allen lost an eye. He's still young, tsk tsk."
"I see."
Lost an eye during the war.
It could be considered fortunate that he didn't lose his limbs as a knight, but it would still take time to adapt.
"The knights who followed me."
"Consider half of them dead."
"I see."
Even skilled knights died.
They couldn't all be unharmed.
His mouth tasted bitter, but it couldn't be helped.
That is the battlefield.
"Still, there are many more who follow you now, my lord. I heard the soldiers murmuring, and I saw with my own two eyes and heard with my own two ears words of praise for you coming and going!"
"Brance."
"Yes, my lord! There are also many saying that you, my lord, should become the new master of the north rather than that Killavan or whatever his name is! There's no need to worry!"
"Shut up."
"Yes!"
But Brance was beaming.
When you could die at any moment, what's so fun about that.
When you die, it's over.
"But where is Killavan?"
"Well. The soldiers didn't seem to know either. So they're probably cursing him..."
"Hmm, is that so."
The wheel of Fatalité.
This quest probably has him involved.
"Not that it matters."
"What? What do you mean?"
"Nothing."
[Wheel of Fatalité]
-Number of orcs killed: 1172
-Number of magical beasts killed: 486
-Number of people saved: 193
-???
If he's involved, I just need to slash him.
Then the reward will go up too.
That's all I need to think about.
Other things don't matter.
There's something else that concerns me.
The thing I was most worried about.
The situation I'm most reluctant about.
Because that has now reached right before my eyes, unable to be suppressed.
"Kallias von Zerban."
A sturdy old man with flowing white hair tied short. He calls Kallias.
'Nohitel.'
Zerban's butler who swore loyalty to Elberton. Nohitel.
His strength was on par with a Paladin.
The old butler maintaining an upright posture like a well-sharpened famous sword.
He called him.
"His Excellency calls for you."
Elberton's summons.
Originally, I would have gone without a word.
But the current me cannot do that.
"The only one who can tell me to come or go is the god above the sky. Valterus alone. So if he wants to see me, tell him to come himself. The Count's loyal hound."
The characteristic of the Count's scoundrel.
Has begun to dominate my body.