Chapter 66 - An Orc Above Orcs vs. A Knight Above Knights (6)

Two hundred knights were lined up in front of the castle gate as dusk settled.

At their head was my heavily armed uncle.

"Wow. That armor suits you well."

"Is that so. Thank you."

It was a situation where we had to plunge into a horde of fourteen thousand Orcs and fight with our lives on the line, but my uncle's voice was calmer than ever.

The others were the same.

The knights of the Black Lancers had their visors down, so their expressions were unreadable, but their spirit was incredibly stable. Only a proper level of tension could be felt.

The knights of Winter Castle were the same. Rather, they looked anxious, as if they wanted to open the gate and charge out right this instant.

"Your Highness."

A knight covered in scars approached and handed me the reins of a pure white horse. I vaulted up and settled my rear in the saddle.

"It is a precious, pure-blooded steed of the North that does not falter even at the sight of monsters."

I turned my head at the sudden boast of the horse, and the knight spoke bluntly.

"Make sure to bring it back alive. I'll consider some injuries to be like a medal."

I ended up laughing, wondering how the men of the North could be so consistent.

As I urged my horse forward, the leader of the Black Lancers, Quern Liechtheim, subtly made room for me beside him. It was the spot right behind my uncle.

"That is the best spot."

Speaking as if doing me a favor, he winked one eye.

I gave a small chuckle at the ill-timed joke and steadied my breathing.

I felt countless gazes. I deliberately did not look around.

Because I could see them even without looking.

What kind of expressions they were making, and what they were trying to say.

The wishes and longing contained in the pouring gazes were making my skin tingle.

"Your Highness."

Just then, a delicate voice pierced my ears. It was Adelia.

Unfortunately, the blade I had forged with the utmost care could not be used in this battle.

Because it didn't fit the situation.

My intention to include Adelia in the battle was strictly for when reinforcements arrived at Winter Castle. The plan to fight a neck-and-neck siege, then throw open the gates, charge out all at once to push back the Orcs, and assassinate the Warlord was thwarted when the central lords remained silent.

A mission like this—penetrating the center of the enemy camp, assassinating the Warlord, and escaping the battlefield—did not suit her.

For one, she didn't know how to ride a horse, nor did she know how to be aware of her surroundings. If I took her, she would most likely go berserk and run wild, only to die amidst the horde of Orcs.

"Your Highness. Please, stay safe."

Her expression changed constantly.

One moment she would chew her lip with determination, and the next she would instantly grow frightened, her eyes trembling. She seemed torn between the pressure coming from the relationship of [Subordination] and her [Timid] trait.

If her [Butcher] or [War Maniac] traits were triggered here, nine times out of ten she would follow me.

However, for her, who had fully inherited the talents of the Sword Marquis, to perish in a place like this was not what I wanted.

"I'll see you when I return."

I leaned down and patted her shoulder. Whistling sounds could be heard from around us. I heard the knights making ridiculous jokes.

"You men are old enough, yet you act like complete children. Children."

"We're just jealous!"

The knights chuckled at my scolding.

But their laughter did not last long.

RUMBLE.

Soldiers appeared, pushing massive wheels in front of the castle gate. Wheels as tall as a person were stacked in twos and threes. The blades sticking out to the sides were incredibly threatening.

*CREAK, CREAK. * The knights' laughter was completely drowned out by the heavy noise of the rolling wheels.

The smell of oil pierced the tip of my nose.

"Ready."

At my uncle's command, the forearms of the soldiers in charge of opening and closing the gate bulged. The soldiers resting their hands on the wheels swallowed dry saliva.

"Open the gate."

The moment the low voice ended, the castle gate began to rise with a creak. The sight of the snowfield filled with corpses beyond the gate was revealed.

"Roll them!"

Vincent, who was watching the situation from the wall, shouted. The soldiers vigorously rolled the wheels while letting out heaves of exertion.

RUMBLE.

With a heavy noise, dozens of wheels rolled away beyond the open gate.

"Ignite!"

The Rangers fired flaming arrows. A fire suddenly flared up on the wheels, which were gradually picking up speed.

"Chaaaarge!"

My uncle shouted with spirit.

Two hundred knights kicked their horses' sides all at once.

The Orcs who had been loitering right near the castle screamed as they were crushed by the drum barrels. Two hundred horses galloped along the trail of flames left behind by the wheels of fire.

"Fire!"

Arrows flew through the air. The ballistas roared, and all the projectile weapons of the castle embroidered the sky.

Everything flying through the sky rained down all at once.

The Orcs screamed and were thrown back. The suicide squad charged forward, trampling over those dark green corpses.

And finally, we reached an area where the arrows and ballistas could not reach. The wheels of fire had long since been smashed and thrown aside.

There was no more cover fire.

From here on out, we had to open a path entirely with our own strength.

CLACK.

The knights of the Black Lancers were gripping crossbows. Knights darted out to the left and right of the formation simultaneously and fired their crossbows.

TWANG!

The bowstrings released, and the bolts shot out.

The Orcs, who had been roaring and raising their momentum on the battlefield, dropped like flies. The lancers discarded their crossbows and grabbed their spears.

My uncle raised his sword.

FLASH.

A blue flash erupted. The dark green wave was engulfed in a halo of blue light. The world turned red. And a path was formed in that red world. "Kuwuaaak!"

The dark green wave began to sluggishly fill the path once again. Just then, the Black Lancers increased their speed.

The lancers, having surged to the head of the formation in an instant, lowered their stances and tucked their spears under their arms.

One hundred, yet one. One, yet one hundred.

Those highly refined spearheads struck the Orcs.

CRASH!

Blood splattered, and torn limbs flew everywhere.

The lancer unit charged forward, crushing the Orcs like that. And just as the brunt of their attack was losing its momentum, the suicide squad's military banner fluttered wildly.

Without realizing it, I kicked my horse's sides and lowered my stance. It was as if an invisible hand was pushing my back.

We rushed straight ahead past the lancers who had lost their momentum. There were Orcs in front of us.

My uncle scattered his Aura Blade.

The dark green wave surged once again. The knights of Winter Castle simultaneously hurled the short hand axes they wore at their waists. The Orcs' formation collapsed helplessly.

An organic movement executing so perfectly there was no room to even slip in.

The path newly pioneered by the knights who had given up on Transcendence was unfolding before my eyes.

My excitement rose. I recited a poem. Hundreds of rings resonated in response.

A new path stretched out before my eyes.

I, we, simply rode down that path.

And finally, we arrived.

The center of the grand fourteen-thousand strong army, the place where the largest flag fluttered, the place where the king of the dark green race, the hero of the Orcs, was.

We had arrived before the Warlord.

An Orc royal guard, where each individual was more than capable of leading a tribe, blocked our path. Gripping swords and spears overflowing with red Fighting Spirit, they charged forward with roars.

"We break straight through!"

My uncle shouted. Even before that, the knights of the Black Lancers tucked their spears under their arms and stepped to the front in unison.

The powerful spears that had crushed the dark green army clashed with the Orc royal guard.

CRASH!

The ranks of the black lancers, who had unilaterally trampled the enemy until now, slammed into a solid wall for the first time.

The Orc royal guard turned into bloody pulps and scattered in all directions. Lancers tumbled from their horses and flew through the air, impaled on spears.

A beat later, the black warhorses screamed and collapsed. Impaled by spears and swords, the riders were pinned beneath them and let out groans.

The lancers leapt over them and thrust their spears. The blue flashes they ignited clashed with the red energy of the Orcs.

With an explosion, the royal guards and lancers were blown back.

Other lancers leapt over them again. The same scene repeated over and over.

And then, the red barrier created by the Orc royal guard was torn apart.

Beyond it was the dark green monarch sitting on a throne made of bone. The bastard stood up, grabbing his spear.

A horrific presence pressed down on the surroundings.

I gritted my teeth and recited a poem. Countless rings lent me their strength.

My uncle extended his sword.

A brilliant blue light, more radiant than any flash I had seen thus far, erupted from the tip of his sword.

CRASH!

An immense explosion and shockwave scattered pure white snow.

Without hesitation, I charged into that world clouded by snow mist. Into the place where red and blue lights flickered.

The flames of Requiem began to blaze.

I leaped from my horse and brought my sword down. One of the red trajectories embroidering the air shifted direction and blocked my sword.

My vision momentarily blurred from a shock that shook my internal organs.

Heaven and earth flipped several times. I slammed Dusk into the ground. I raised my body.

RIIIIING.

My ears were muffled as if I had been plunged underwater. My stomach churned. Unable to hold it back, I gagged and vomited. I wiped my mouth with my hand and re-adjusted my grip on my sword.

[...]

I reignited the blue flame that had completely died out.

A massive spear swung down at me.

Just as I was about to thrust my sword, something brushed past my front.

It was a pitch-black warhorse.

Countless black horses brushed past me. It was the Black Lancers.

One of the lancers abruptly dismounted from his horse.

"...!"

The face of the man shouting toward me was familiar.

Was it Quern Liechtheim.

The leader of the Black Lancers, who had jokingly winked one eye—he winked one eye and mouthed something to me.

"...!"

I stared blankly at the man's face. And belatedly, I realized that the man was not winking.

One of his eyes was completely empty. His torn eyelid was twitching constantly.

Ah...

"... Ha!"

He roughly pulled me back. That harsh motion tightening around my collar snapped me back to my senses.

"His Highness the Prince!"

A rough shout dug into my ears. Startled, I looked around.

The dismounted knights of the Black Lancers and the knights of Winter Castle were holding off the swarming Orcs. And right in the center were my uncle and the Warlord.

CRASH!

The red flash and the blue flash clashed and separated several times; watching that, I caught my breath.

"Heup!"

Exhaling, I instantly shook off the Warlord's Fighting Spirit that had infiltrated my body. My chaotic mind instantly cleared.

Quern heavily pounded the back of my neck.

"Go!"

I threw my body forward. Toward the center of the battlefield where the Warlord and my uncle were clashing.

"You're late!"

My uncle, who had become a mess in just a short time, forcefully flicked his sword. The Warlord took a step back at that intense strike.

Standing by his side, I gripped my sword.

It felt as if my skin was being ripped apart by the Warlord's Fighting Spirit. Radiating the maximum status granted to me right now, I resisted that overwhelming presence.

"I'm late, but let's do this properly now!"

I shouted through gritted teeth. And I recited a poem.

The [Poem of Winter], which wove together the small karma I had built up in this bitterly cold land and the earnest wishes the people of Ballorhard had accumulated over hundreds of years.

My uncle sang along with the War Poem and fiercely rotated his rings.

In an instant, the bastard's presence faded, and fighting spirit welled up in my heart. Blue flames surged up from Dusk. At the same time, my uncle's Aura Blade, which had grown faint, began to blaze even more intensely.

CRASH!

The Warlord kicked off the ground. A crimson Fighting Spirit rising like a tidal wave covered the entire surroundings.

In that red world, my uncle and I fought like madmen.

And we were defeated.