Chapter 60 - Even in the Winter of Cutting Winds, Sprouts Still Rise (4)

Erhim Kilinger did not even dare to think about intervening in the perilous battle.

The crazed, rampaging ogre was one thing, but the problem was the man and woman who were running even more wildly amok than the monster.

No, even before that, he couldn't even feel the need to intervene. Because the ones dominating the fight were not the ogre, but the man and woman.

Whenever the golden aura swept past, the armor-like hide was ripped wide open. As if she had no regard for defense whatsoever, the woman unleashed a relentless barrage of slashes.

ROOOAAR!

The blood-soaked ogre roared savagely and threw a punch.

A ruthless punch that seemed to crush space itself; having just unleashed a massive strike and losing her balance, the woman appeared to have no strength left to dodge the attack.

At that moment, the First Prince stepped in.

Radiating streams of a brilliantly iridescent light that was similar to the aura the woman had ignited yet strangely different, the First Prince slashed his sword fiercely.

CRASH!

The First Prince's body flew through the air. The ogre clutched its hand and let out a shriek.

Blood dripped steadily from its hideously split fist. At the same time, the First Prince, who had been sent flying through the air, tumbled across the ground.

THUD.

After rolling across the ground several times, the First Prince sprang to his feet. In the meantime, the woman, who had regained her posture, unleashed another slash. The ogre's wrist was severed entirely.

GWAAK!

The ogre screamed and flailed its remaining hand wildly. Struck by that reckless attack, the woman was sent flying.

The First Prince caught the woman. Entangled together, the two of them rolled on the ground for a good while before rising at the same time. Then, they charged at the ogre once again.

Watching that sight, Erhim Kilinger marveled.

The woman tearing through the ogre's hide as if cutting into soft flesh was incredible, but what was even more impressive was the First Prince.

The woman on offense, the First Prince on defense.

At first glance, it was a perfect division of roles, but Erhim Kilinger knew this wasn't some pre-coordinated joint attack.

The woman's sword was as blind and reckless as the ogre's. There was not the slightest hint of consideration for the one fighting alongside her. She merely slashed at whatever was in sight.

The First Prince exquisitely supported that unilateral and blind offensive.

Not only did he take full charge of the defense she neglected, but he also perfectly broke the flow so the ogre couldn't focus on her.

It was an impossible feat without considerable combat experience and instincts; though the visible contributions were greater on the woman's side, it was actually the First Prince who was orchestrating this battle.

If it hadn't been for the First Prince, the woman would have long since been turned into a bloody pulp and smashed into the snowfield.

'Just how many battles has he participated in since arriving at Winter Castle for a young prince, who has barely been learning the sword for a year, to possess such judgment?'

It was truly a development that could not even be compared to the past, but the First Prince wasn't the only one who had grown so remarkably.

Arwen Kirgayen.

The woman who had once been destined to become an Iron Lion, but was now the First Prince's direct knight, had also become a seasoned knight.

While Erhim and Dunham were wasting time looking for an opening to intervene in the fierce battle with the ogre, Arwen commanded the Rangers to ambush the Orcs.

It was an excellent display of judgment.

The Orcs were completely exhausted from their battle with the ogre, and the sudden appearance of interlopers had left them utterly dazed.

The Orcs, who would have put up a long fight had they clashed properly, died instantly from the Rangers' sniping.

The Orcs that luckily managed to block the arrows were dealt with by Arwen Kirgayen. The Orcs, worn out from fighting the ogre, were helplessly struck down by her sword.

The Orc that used a red aura belatedly jumped into the fray, but that was after all the other Orcs had already fallen.

Arwen raised her hand. The Rangers, having long since finished reloading, took aim once again.

That was also when Erhim and Dunham, who had been distracted by the battle between the First Prince and the ogre, realized what they needed to do.

WOOOOONG.

Excluding the Silver Lions who had achieved four circuits, the Triple Chain knight, considered one of the finest swordsmen in the kingdom, deliberately surged his energy. No matter how fierce an Orc was to tangle with an ogre, it could not help but become cautious.

The Orc took a step back.

"Krarak! Krak!"

The Orc shouted, scraping its throat.

*'They say His Highness the Prince can understand the language of Orcs.' * Erhim discreetly glanced backward.

Right on time, the fight was coming to an end.

He saw the ogre slumped in a pool of blood.

Both its feet had been cut off, and one arm was severed right at the wrist. Propping itself up on the ground with its stump and wildly swinging its intact hand in all directions, there was no trace of the ogre's initial ferocity to be seen.

If anything, the one who looked ferocious was the human.

The woman, covered from head to toe in blood, got behind the ogre. With a sword strike slashing upward from below, the ogre's one remaining arm was cleaved off from the armpit.

"Gwoooo."

The ogre let out a monstrous shriek. The woman thrust her sword into its opposite armpit.

RIIIIP.

The ogre's shoulder was torn away.

THUD.

With its head smashed into the puddle of blood, the ogre thrashed about. The woman mounted the ogre's back. Her eyes leaking streams of yellow and red light, the woman grinned.

STAB.

The flashing golden sword pierced straight through the back of the ogre's neck.

"Keok! Keok!"

Spitting bloody froth, the ogre hacked a cough. Pulling her sword out, the woman immediately drove it down again.

SPLAT, SPLAT, SPLAT.

A gruesome noise that sounded like mincing meat; the ogre convulsed.

It was a terrifying sight that might haunt his dreams. Erhim furrowed his brows and turned his head away.

Before he knew it, the First Prince had approached and was standing right in front of him.

Unlike the blood-soaked woman, he looked immaculate, without a single drop of blood on his body.

The First Prince strode forward and produced a metallic scraping sound from his throat. The Orc reacted to that bizarre noise.

Kreuk, kreuk.

A noise exactly identical to the one the First Prince had made. Only then did Erhim realize that this bizarre sound was the 「Orc language」 he had heard rumors about.

The Prince and the Orc chattered for a long time.

He couldn't even begin to guess what they were talking about. It was less of a language and more of a series of growls—an unfamiliar something where even the nuances were hard to grasp.

CLACK.

The First Prince reached out and pressed down on the crossbow of the Ranger right next to him.

"Step back."

The first to react to this truly out-of-the-blue command was Arwen. *Clink*, she shoved her beloved sword into its sheath and stepped back. A beat later, the Rangers lowered their crossbows and widened the distance.

Erhim furrowed his brows.

It was because the First Prince and the Orc, standing face-to-face with their weapons tightly gripped, looked exactly as if they were about to duel.

But that was actually the case.

The Orc rumbled low in its throat, and the First Prince responded with that metallic sound again.

A scene as if knights were introducing themselves before a duel; Erhim's eyes went wide.

A duel between an Orc and a human—it was an unheard-of strange occurrence.

Erhim agonized for a moment.

Recalling the way it had freely wielded its red aura while fighting the ogre, that Orc was a powerhouse on par with at least a Triple Chain knight. To face such a powerhouse immediately after fighting a fierce battle with an ogre was an excessively reckless act.

Of course, the Orc had also fought a fierce battle against the ogre, but it had had plenty of time to catch its breath.

'If things go wrong, I'll step in.'

He might be reprimanded later, but he at least had to prevent the eldest son of the Royal House of Leonberk from becoming monster food.

Erhim placed his hand on his sword hilt, preparing to jump in at any moment.

But in the end, that was a truly useless worry.

His swordsmanship was so unparalleled it was hard to believe he had only been learning the sword for a little over a year, and his footwork was as bold and fearless as if he had rolled around battlefields for decades. Although his breathing was heavy, it was quite stable considering he had engaged in consecutive fierce battles, and he was minimizing his loss by drawing out mana only where and when it was needed.

The First Prince was only sixteen years old—an age far too early to achieve the unity of Sword, Aura, and Body. However, in Erhim's eyes, the First Prince seemed to have already reached that state.

'When he visited Iron Lion Castle just a few months ago, he still showed signs of clumsiness.'

It was a staggering rate of growth that he never would have believed had he not seen it with his own eyes.

"Kueargh!"

While he was briefly lost in thought, a shriek rang out.

Looking forward, he saw the Orc, its heart pierced by a sword, spilling bloody froth.

SHUK.

The First Prince raised his foot and shoved the Orc away. Blood sprayed as the sword slid out. The convulsing Orc parted its lips.

"Kreureuk."

Looking down at the Orc arrogantly, the First Prince made a metallic sound.

The Orc closed its eyes with a satisfied expression. And it never opened them again.

For some reason, Erhim tried to guess what the metallic sound the First Prince made meant.

That it was a good opponent, that it was an excellent duel.

He had a feeling it meant something like that.

THUD.

The First Prince collapsed onto the ground.

"Ugh. I'm dying."

Sprawling out completely, the First Prince closed his eyes. Arwen and the Rangers rushed out towards him, but the lying Prince suddenly sprang up.

"Adelia!"

From within the crimson pool of blood, the woman staggered to her feet.

"Y-Your Highness..."

She had a face that looked as if she would cry at any moment.

Confirming that she was safe, the Prince suddenly yelled.

"Don't come closer!"

Saying he would get blood on him, the Prince reacted with disgust.

At her cold-hearted master's attitude, she eventually shed tears. On her blood-smeared face, the tracks of her tears were washed pale.

At that grotesque sight, Erhim and the Rangers flinched and shuddered. Turning their heads, they never looked toward where she was again.

* * *

Having relieved the fatigue of battle by camping for a day, the party immediately scoured the mountain range without hesitation in search of their next prey.

The steps of the Rangers acting as guides were unhindered, and they showed none of their previous caution. When asked for the reason, they said that with the smell of an ogre reeking this strongly, any ordinary monsters would have already fled far away.

"Couldn't Orcs be drawn to it?"

Having already seen Orcs set out to hunt the ogre, Erhim asked the First Prince.

"Unless there are others who set out with the intent to subjugate it like the ones we met yesterday, maybe. Ordinary Orcs will never come toward a place that smells like an ogre."

The First Prince added a comment with an indifferent expression.

"If there is a guy who doesn't run away even after catching the scent of an ogre."

The Rangers suddenly sent a hand signal.

"That means it's either another ogre, or a monster just as bad as an ogre."

The First Prince's voice lowered a pitch.

KIIIIEEEK!

A sharp roar from afar pierced their ears.

"Like right now."

As soon as he finished speaking, thumping footsteps were heard from the distance.

Blue skin, a hooked nose, and buckteeth like the tusks of a wild boar. Along with a stench like hundreds of rotting corpses, a massive monster revealed itself. "It's a Troll."

The moment the Prince drew his sword, a mass clad in a golden aura lunged at the Troll.

And the battle began.

Inheriting the cunning and regenerative power of giants, the Troll continuously regenerated its body even as it was torn to shreds by countless slashes.

The Prince was disgusted, and the Butcher rejoiced.

After fighting for an entire half-day and hacking the blue body into dozens of pieces, the party began to wander the mountain range again.

Wherever they passed, bright red bruises were left behind on the pure white snowfields.

Blood flowers bloomed all over the mountain range.

And the seed the Prince had planted in his maid finally reached full bloom.

『The [Poem of Domination] reacts to the change in the subordinated.』

『There has been a change in Adelia Bayern's traits.』

The Prince was startled. He was preemptively terrified of what other changes might have occurred in her already serious trait list.

However, before the Prince could even figure out the changes that happened to the maid, another message was heard.

『Adelia Bayern has woven a new Poem of Martial Deeds.』

『The one who swore subordination offers a portion of her karma and Poem of Martial Deeds to her master as tribute.』