Praise the Orc!

Chapter 109: The Great Northern War (5)

Chapter 109: The Great Northern War (5)

With Crockta’s help, the Ameranyan dark elves completely crushed their enemies.

Meanwhile at Juolaideh, the great warrior Captain Akhoo lost in a one-on-one battle with Driden and died, significantly decreasing the morale of the chiefdom orcs. A slow confrontation ensued, and the orcs refrained from attacking further and waited for reinforcements instead.

Nuridot, on the other hand, was devastated. Its few survivors fled to another city or joined the defensive forces in Mount Luclan, but most of them lost their lives.

In Yekatoru, a city located on the fringes of dark elf territory, there was a battle involving urban warfare.

***

“It’s hopeless,” muttered Jaluten, a dark elf, as he sliced an orc’s neck. “We need to join forces with Juolaideh.”

His subordinate answered, “Sir, there are still citizens left in this city.”

“There is nothing more we can do here.”

The dark elves who followed him had already lost all hope in their eyes. They had lost their will to fight, and it was the same for Jaluten.

“But how can we just leave them behind?”

Jaluten looked at the young dark elf’s face. He was a soldier with a strong sense of justice as well as a great fighting spirit and energy.

The young soldier said, “Sir, I would rather die fighting here than leave.”

Jaluten shook his head. “You’ll be dying in vain then. You should burn today’s scene in your memory and avenge your enemies in the future instead.”

The young soldier heeded Jaluten’s suggestion and turned around to look.

The city was burning. The cityscape of buildings and infrastructure that his ancestors had built and used until this very day had now turned into ashes. The bodies of his and his comrades’ friends, neighbors, and families were sprawled across the ground with their heads split open by axes.

Jaluten grabbed the young dark elf’s shoulder. The young dark elf’s hands were shaking badly as if he were about to have a seizure.

“Jaluten...” the young elf uttered.

Jaluten looked him in the eye and said, “We will definitely avenge them.”

The young soldier closed his eyes and nodded.

Yekatoru had fallen. Its inhabitants had tried to resist by using the city’s buildings as shields, but the axes of the chiefdom orcs had mercilessly split their heads open.

The chiefdom orcs, who were notorious for killing and raiding their opponents for entertainment, had asked the elves one question, “Do you want to die or become slaves?”

For those who chose to be slaves, the orcs would immediately cut the elves’ ankles and make them crawl on the floor. If they chose death, the orcs would immediately kill them by cracking their heads open. Such scenes that seemed to come directly from hell had appeared all over the city.

The dark elf warrior, Jaluten, and those following him had tried to fight back until the very last moment. However, they ultimately watched their city fall into ruin.

“Let’s retreat behind the city’s walls. There are karuks in the garrison’s old stable. Let’s head to Juolaideh or Ameranyan,” ordered Jaluten.

At his command, the soldiers moved swiftly.

Jaluten and his soldiers knew their way around the city better than anyone else. They managed to avoid the orcs’ eyes and quickly arrived at the back alley that would lead them outside the city walls.

Right then, someone shouted, “We have a couple of rats left!”

Some chiefdom orcs appeared and blocked the path of the dark elf soldiers.

Jaluten clutched his longsword tightly. He couldn’t drag out the battle; he needed to swiftly kill the orcs and move on.

However, he sighed with disappointment upon seeing a certain orc emerge from the group of soldiers.

“Are you the last of the remaining soldiers?” the orc asked.

He was a Great Warrior of the chiefdom and the monster who had been on the front line of the battle and murdered numerous dark elves by swinging his axe nonstop. His strength and power far exceeded those of an ordinary orc, and he had an extremely competitive spirit. He always had to win.

The Great Warrior looked intently at Jaluten and remarked, “I think you will be more fun to play with than the others.”

Jaluten whispered to those behind him, “Everyone, run away while I hold them off.”

“But sir...”

“No... sir.”

Jaluten looked at the dark elves who had followed him here. They had spent their lives in a peaceful era, but Jaluten had always known that a day like this would come.

When he trained these soldiers, he had hoped that an incident like this wouldn’t happen during his lifetime. These soldiers were his legacy. They were young dark elves who, in order to become stronger, had gone through arduous training and suffering that no one would ever want to experience.

“Go, for my sake,” whispered Jaluten. “Keep in mind, don’t die for nothing. Please avenge us with all of your strength.”

This was his dying wish. It was enough for him that he could convey his will to the young dark elves.

Jaluten raised his sword and charged at the Great Warrior. With that as the signal, the young dark elves headed toward the alley.

The orcs ran to chase after them, but Jaluten blocked the path. His longsword danced as he fought with the orcs, but he couldn’t keep it up for much longer. A spear pierced his stomach, spilling his blood. Then an axe struck one of his shoulders, slicing through the shoulder blade and chopping off the shoulder entirely.

Jaluten staggered with his eyes wide open. His body was now out of his control. His legs spasmed, and blood dripped from his nose and mouth.

“Haha, your efforts were in vain. It’s all over now. I will show you,” the Great Warrior told Jaluten.

He grabbed Jaluten by the head and dragged him away.

Jaluten’s consciousness was plummeting toward death. A black curtain was coming down from above his head.

“Look over there,” said the Great Warrior.

Jaluten’s eyes were wide open. The young dark elf soldiers who had fled were crumbling at the hands of orcs who had been on standby. Their screams rang throughout the city and echoed in the distance.

“You didn’t achieve anything,” said the Great Warrior with a smirk. “It was all in vain. Everything.”

Then he twisted Jaluten’s neck. With a crack, Jaluten was dead.

Jaluten was 124 years old when he died. He had followed in his father’s footsteps and held the sword ever since he was a child. No one had been a match for him in Yekatoru during his youth, and when he was older, he taught swordsmanship to young dark elves whom he’d made his disciples.

Out of habit, he used to tell his disciples all the time that they needed strength to protect peace and that they needed to be wary of orcs.

However, the day Yekatoru fell, he died alongside his disciples with his eyes left open.

***

“He couldn’t even close his eyes,” said Crockta as he shut a dark elf’s eyes.

He didn’t know who the dark elf was, but based on his tight grip on his longsword, it seemed that the dark elf had resisted until the very end. Crockta found his corpse next to another dead dark elf with a sword on the outskirts of the city.

“Rest in peace. I’m sorry we’re late,” Crockta expressed regretfully.

Crockta’s group had just passed through Juolaideh from Ameranyan to provide support to Yekatoru. Nuridot had been completely devastated, and the area above Nuridot was building a defense line to stop the orcs.

Crockta had heard that Yekatoru was still engaged in battle, but by the time his group arrived, the city was in ruins and littered with dark elf corpses.

The chiefdom orcs who had destroyed Yekatoru had retreated and were currently waiting at a nearby campsite for reinforcements. The orcs’ main troops were heading up north, but even the several smaller units that had split off from the main army had managed to completely devastate two cities.

The main troops that the chieftain led were much greater in number. The real battle hadn’t even begun.

“We can’t stay here much longer. The city walls have broken down,” said Caska.

She was the commander of a dark elf unit. Crockta and his friends had joined her unit as mercenaries and were now receiving commands from her.

“We made sure all of the villagers in the vicinity escaped... But what should we do now?” Caska voiced with a sigh.

The more she thought about it, the more hopeless she felt. She couldn’t come up with an idea that could help them win the war.

The number and quality of their soldiers were no match for the orcs who had been preparing for war for a very long time. The orc soldiers were accustomed to combat, but the dark elves’ only advantage was in siege warfare. They excelled at it, but they couldn’t hide behind the city walls forever.

“How terrible.”

Caska’s unit tried to gather all of the dark elf corpses and burn them, but it wasn’t feasible because there were so many of them. Moreover, there wasn’t an intact body in sight. They were collecting chopped body parts that were scattered all over the city. Several dark elves retched at the sight.

Crockta’s expression hardened upon seeing the corpses. Most of them didn’t have weapons. Children, women, and the elderly had been attacked indiscriminately and were all dead. There were some whose ankles had been amputated. The amputation sites were severely abraded; it seemed that the soldiers had made them crawl around with their stumps. They had even been sexually violated.

However, that wasn’t all. None of the dark elves had their ears intact. It was as if the ears had been collected as souvenirs. Crockta even occasionally saw piles of ears on the ground. It was pure slaughter.

Crockta didn’t consider the soldiers who had carried out such acts of cruelty as fellow orcs. They were completely different from the orcs who pursued a life of honor on the continent.

“Where is the chieftain?” asked Crockta.

Caska flinched for a second and then brought out a map.

She answered, “According to the scouts, he will confront the defense line a week later.”

Crockta nodded.

Getting rid of the chieftain was the most important task, as he was the source of all the problems. He was the one who had revived the chiefdom, unified the orcs, and made plans to use them to conquer the northern region. He was the one who wanted to bring the northern region under his rule before striking the continent. The real battle would begin after he arrived.

“Caska,” said Crockta.

“Yeah?”

“I want to propose a plan.”

“What kind?”

Crockta crossed his arms and thought deeply about the plan. He needed to strike the enemy when their guard was down—at a time and place that they least expected. He had always been called to action in such plans during his time in the foreign troops.

“A surprise attack with just a few skilled members,” he replied.

“The goal is...?”

“The chieftain.”

Caska’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

“The dark elves are focusing on protecting their cities, so no one will expect us to ambush the enemy’s head.”

“No.”

“We will strike the enemy where they least expect it,” declared Crockta.

“Do you know why they least expect it? Because the success rate is too low! They don’t even think about it because it doesn’t make sense. Cease your nonsense!” exclaimed Caska.

“If we continue like this, it will be the end for the dark elves.”

“...”

Crockta closed his eyes and opened them again.

[Eyes of the Ashen God (Beyond Classification) has been activated.]

He didn’t like using this skill because he didn’t feel comfortable with seeing someone else’s lifespan. After all, life and death were inevitable. He didn’t want to act out of line against fate and defy matters related to life and death. Thus, he had never used it since the time he had first used it at Nameragon.

After seeing the numbers above the heads of those in Caska’s unit, Crockta closed his eyes again. The numbers above the dark elves’ heads were all different, but they all pointed toward a not-so-distant future. All of them were going to be killed.

“Caska, is there a way to reach Zelkyan?” asked Crockta.

“Zelkyan?”

“I have to tell him about the plan myself.”

Crockta’s gaze turned solemn. His instincts told him that there was only one way to win this battle. Other plans and tactics would only lead to defeat. The only way to win was to assassinate the chieftain.

***

“Grr...”

A beast-like sound emerged from an orc’s mouth.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

The orc got up. His large body became even bigger as he straightened his posture. He had a bulky frame that made other orcs look like children, and his great strength could handle an axe as large as his body with one hand. This orc was Calmahart, the chiefdom orcs’ chieftain, who was aptly described with the word ‘monster.’

“We will march again tomorrow. We will increase our speed and plan to arrive as soon as possible,” said Calmahart.

“Understood.”

“As soon as possible. Within five days.”

“Yes.”

Calmahart sat on his throne. It had been newly made according to his growing stature and was decorated with the bones and skulls of the enemies he had killed. It was constructed in a way that the slaves could carry it like a palanquin during processions.

Calmart smirked. “Sorcerer, what do your prophecies say?”

“My prophecies always give the same answer.” The sorcerer bowed. “The chieftain’s conquest of the north. Everyone will hold their breath in the presence of your power.”

“Haha, is that so?” The chieftain grasped his armrest. “That’s... boring.”

He tightened his grip, ripping off the armrest. Then he tossed it. The armrest fell next to the sorcerer and rolled across the ground.

“Do you have anyone who will show me a good time?” asked the chieftain.

“I’m not sure...”

“I want something unusual.” The chieftain grinned. “Yeah, I want someone to open that door and ambush me right now. No, tomorrow is fine too. I want someone to swing a sword at my neck while I’m asleep. I hope my entire army will be annihilated when I arrive at the dark elves’ front lines.”

“...”

“Do you know why I’m trying to go to the continent?” asked the chieftain.

“How would I?”

“I don’t have any rivals in the north.” Calmahart sank into his chair. “I hope there is a match for me in the continent. Someone who can put up a good fight.”

The sorcerer smiled and bowed even deeper this time. “You will definitely find someone. Of course, the victory will always be yours.”

The sorcerer closed his eyes. Calmahart’s future in his visions was always the same—the sight of murder and death, the continuation of victory and slaughter. He had never seen a future where Calmahart loses. He was the brightest star the sorcerer knew and would continue to be so without a doubt.