Chapter 52
Sparks fly.
Amidst the grating noise of flesh and bone being carved, screams echo across the battlefield.
The orcs whip their magic beasts, swing their axes, and dye the snowy field crimson.
Their tactics are human wave tactics.
Frustration weighs on Jeibarshu as they push forward with nothing but numbers.
The orcs, who value honor, employ only charge after charge. The North, which had been stubbornly holding out against their death-defying attacks, begins to crumble.
"Hold them! Fucking hold them!!"
"Aaargh! S-save me!!"
Splat! Along with the sound of a skull shattering, brain matter splattered in all directions.
Soldiers nearby immediately thrust their swords, and a knight ambushes the orc from behind. Another orc falls, but yet another swings its axe.
An orc squeezes through the broken gate and brings down its axe. A knight shoves a sword through the orc's throat as it does.
It's a battle like a nightmare.
Green and red blood mingle.
A desperate battle.
Emily gripped the famous sword she had received from him—Lucen. A sword slightly too large for Emily, who had yet to shed her childishness.
But the gaze of the girl holding the sword, received with full expectation and affection, was no different from any other knight.
"Brans. How does it look?"
"Well... it seems like the battle is quite evenly matched, doesn't it?"
No. At first glance it may appear so, but the state of the battlefield is steadily tilting in favor of the orc army.
"To me, it feels like the orcs have staked everything on this war."
"Definitely..."
It must be because the procurement of military supplies, including rations, hasn't been smooth.
'It's because Callius took even half of the supplies that the Earth Dragon and orcs possessed.'
In the end, only about half of the supplies would have reached the orc army, but they must have judged that alone to be insufficient.
Thus, unlike before, the orc army has mobilized everything this time, desperate to break through Jeibarshu's gates.
All the magic beasts have been unleashed, and the orcs vie to plant their axes into the gate to climb it. The corpses of orcs pile up like mountains, naturally forming a tower to scale the gate, and they don't hesitate to trample over their own brothers' corpses.
It's a maddening sight, yet somehow desperate at the same time.
It was only a matter of time before the gate fell.
"What should we do, my lady."
Callius had vanished, and his special forces were essentially disbanded.
The knights had thoroughly split, with Emily and Rivan at their respective centers.
Both were young and lacking in skill, but calculating for the future, the thinking was that Rivan's prospects were brighter than Emily's, being a woman.
"Brans. Allen, Aron."
"Yes, my lady."
"I understand! I, Aron, will carve a path right now! My lady, you can safely move the supplies..."
"No, we won't move the supplies."
"What?"
"There's no point. This battle will determine whether the castle falls or we win. If so, the supplies mean even less."
To live or to die.
That is the question.
If the castle falls, what use would all these supplies be?
"Then..."
"I am a Jervan. Jervan does not abandon the North."
Emily raised her sword.
The beautiful blade glinted in the sunlight.
"If the North is taken from me, I am no longer a Jervan. Even if I die, dying on the battlefield is what it means to be a Jervan."
"My lady..."
Allen and Aron looked at Emily as if deeply moved.
Brans was no different.
Brans's eyes glistened with tears.
"Sob! If only the Lord could have seen this sight...!"
Just as he was about to make a fool of himself once more.
"Emily."
Rivan appeared before Emily with knights behind him.
"Rivan, Rini."
Emily's eyes narrowed.
"The North, Jervan, doesn't fall as easily as you think. Getting involved now is foolish. It's wiser to wait for an opportunity and take the supplies. You or I rushing into the battlefield won't change much."
"Idiot."
"Wh-what!? You insolent—"
Rivan's face turned red as he drew his sword from his waist.
"Listen to me! Going now will only be a meaningless death!"
"Then what about the deaths of those fighting and falling right now?"
"Th-that's... a noble sacrifice."
"No, you're wrong. They're not sacrificing. They just hold hope."
The hope that they can win.
The hope that if they win the war, even if they die, their families won't have to die.
They're fighting and risking their lives with a sliver of hope—that protecting the North means protecting the country, and protecting the country means their families will be protected.
"Whether my death is meaningless or not isn't for you to decide. The value of my death is mine alone to determine."
"Nonsense!! If I behead you right now, would your death have value!?"
"Don't worry, I won't die to you."
"You insolent brat!"
Rivan's sword touched Emily.
It was simply to intimidate, but it was enough to draw blood.
"My lady!"
Clang!
But faster than that, Emily's sword was drawn like lightning.
Whirl, thud.
Rivan, having lost his grip on his sword, stared with round eyes, seemingly in great shock.
"You..."
"While you did nothing. I stood with these people on the battlefield."
"Nonsense! Nonsense! If you die! If you die, everything just ends!"
"The castle is about to fall right now, and you're still spouting that nonsense?"
"Th-the Lord and the Patriarch are in Jeibarshu! Even if the main forces are absent, as long as the Patriarch, who stands one step away from Master, is here, the castle will never fall!"
Emily looked at Rivan, who was shouting desperately, with pity.
"You don't know, do you?"
"Know what?"
"There exists one among the orcs who can fight the Patriarch evenly."
"Such a guy exists? Nonsense! Don't say ridiculous things!"
"It's true. The Patriarch hasn't taken to the field in all the wars so far. Why do you think that is?"
"That's..."
The Tyrant of the North.
The Earl of Carpe.
The Lord of Jervan.
Elberton von Jervan had been wary of him.
If he were to take the field, that one would appear from the orc army as well.
* * *
Booooooo—!
Once again, the sound of horns silences the battlefield's screams.
Thud, thud.
An orc wearing a helmet made of mountain goat horns and wielding a massive axe takes steps forward.
With a massive frame and a weighty gaze to match, he surveys the battlefield.
Looking at the half-pierced gate from siege weapons, he drives his axe upside-down into the ground beneath his feet.
Kaboom!!
As the ground trembled and soldiers hesitated—
Through the pierced gate, the calm gaze of Jervan's lord met his.
"Has the time come."
"M-My Lord..."
"The Patriarch..."
Striding forward, the lord of Jeibarshu and the Tyrant of the North.
Elberton von Jervan stepped out slowly, his black cloak fluttering.
"M-My Lord! It's dangerous!"
Ignoring the knight's dissuasion, he draws his sword from his waist.
Click.
Immediately, cracks spread across the massive gate before him.
Crash!
It collapses.
"Gasp!"
"Patriarch!!"
As the gate fell, orcs surged in. The soldiers were startled, but Elberton's sword was faster.
Shring.
As soon as the chilling wind-like sound was heard, the orcs rushing toward him were torn to pieces and fell.
Not a single drop of blood stained his sword. The presence Elberton exuded slowly dominated his surroundings like a heavy fog.
As the tide turned, the orcs who had been screaming fiercely came to a halt.
"I will join you."
Behind Elberton, his guard unit slowly descended.
As the lord of the North took his steps, the orcs hesitated and stepped back like Moses parting the sea. At the end, as if having waited, the king of the orc forces stood with his double-edged axe held upside-down and his hands folded.
Orc King.
Orc Great Chieftain.
Or the being called the Orc Warlord.
His tyrannical presence, standing one step away from Master, crushes the battlefield.
Behind the Orc Warlord, several great warriors stood guard.
Whoosh.
A gust of wind swept through.
As fresh snowflakes settled on the ground, the figures of the great warriors and the guard unit vanished.
Clang! Boom!
The noise of their clash was already monstrous.
But as if paying no mind to the fiercely battling warriors, the Warlord and Elberton simply stared at each other.
Amidst the flurry of strikes from the great warriors and the guard unit—
At the center of the storm sweeping the battlefield, Elberton and the Warlord's steps slowly approached each other.
Neither slow nor fast steps.
Yet each step crushed the ground, carrying an aura of tyranny.
Tat, tat, tat.
The speed at which they rushed toward each other grew faster, and soon their figures disappeared and reappeared.
Kwaaaaang!!
A roar that couldn't possibly be the sound of an axe meeting a sword echoed out.
Each and every strike was truly lethal.
The double-edged axe swung by the Warlord was like watching a landslide.
And each strike of Elberton wielding the Storm Sword Callis was like a typhoon.
The real war had just begun.
* * *
"Kuhak!"
Aron and Allen swung their swords with their backs pressed against each other.
Dodging the surging orcs and their descending axes, they thrust their swords once more.
Only after shattering skulls and severing an arm did they breathe heavily.
They weren't the only ones.
Orfin and Emily.
Rivan, Rini—without exception, they swung their swords ceaselessly on the battlefield.
They were young boys and girls, but on the battlefield, there was only ally and enemy.
The ruthlessness of the battlefield had acknowledged them as knights, and the orcs' axes were not benevolent enough to discriminate between young and old.
Three days since then.
For three days, the war continued without rest.
After the battle between the Orc Warlord and the Earl, they had thrown themselves into the battlefield and swung their swords without pause.
It was then.
A stray orc axe flew toward Emily's side.
'Oh no.'
Her reaction was delayed as she steadied her breath.
By the time she raised her arm, the axe was already before her eyes.
When she clenched her teeth and closed her eyes—
Clang!
"Are you alright?"
"Grandfather!!"
Bernard had appeared.
Lightning Sword Bernard.
He immediately cleared the surroundings and struck down with blue lightning infused in his blade.
Kaboom!!
Dirt flew and orcs were sent flying from the impact.
"Are you okay, Grandfather?"
"I'm fine. Don't worry. But where did Callius go?"
"Callius is..."
As Emily's face darkened rapidly, Bernard's expression grew grave.
But there was no time for that as the battle took a turn for the worst.
-Uwoooooooo!!
Suddenly, a cheer from the orcs washed over like a wave.
Looking toward where Elberton was with a bad feeling, Bernard's eyes widened in shock.
"My Lord...!!"
Puhak!
The Tyrant of the North, who had clashed evenly with the Orc Warlord for three days.
Blood spurted from Elberton's chest.