Chapter 76 - Not One, But Many (1)

From stepping out among the Elves to reaching the Warlord, his steps and actions were so natural that no one could stop him, nor did anyone even think to stop him.

"What are you standing there like idiots for!"

If the First Prince hadn't loudly commanded them to join the army across the river, the people would have just stared blankly at him for a long time.

The Second Prince shouted that if they weren't going to abandon the soldiers of the North again, they needed to shake it off and move forward immediately.

The lords of the Central region and the Commander were overwhelmed by that majestic roar, unfitting for his age.

The problem was the exhausted soldiers.

Defending might be possible, but advancing was impossible.

At the Commander's words, the Second Prince spoke.

"The Orcs, pushed back by the Northern reinforcements, will turn their direction this way. If that happens, we cannot stop them with our current forces."

Even now they were barely holding on; if more forces surged in, all that would remain was total annihilation. But knowing the situation didn't mean they had a sharp solution right away.

"That must be the Silver Lion. Pull him and the other knights back. I will take charge here."

The First Prince spoke as if he knew their dilemma.

Of course, it was an opinion that was hard to easily accept.

Only after the Silver Lion stepped forward leading one hundred and fifty knights were they barely able to divert the monster's attention. If they pulled the knights back just trusting the First Prince's words, the terrible monster would be unleashed on the battlefield.

At that moment, as if to show off, the Elves stood by the First Prince's side.

Just nineteen of them had crossed through the middle of the Orcs to guide the First Prince.

"With them, it won't be any less than before."

The Silver Lion said that those nineteen were easily a fighting force comparable to a single knightly order.

The deliberation was long, but the action was swift.

The survivors of the Red Iron Chain Knights and the remaining knights began to clear out the Orcs all at once.

The chaotic, intermingled battlefield was cleaned up in an instant.

"Phalanx! Forward!"

"Hah!"

The soldiers moved forward.

Maximilian stood at their forefront.

"Forward! Push forward!"

The noble descendant of the royal family was encouraging the soldiers at the very front lines without caring for his own safety. The embers of fighting spirit, which they thought had been burned entirely and could no longer catch fire, came alive once again.

SWISH.

Intermittent rains of arrows flying in from across the river struck the backs of the Orcs' heads.

"It's the Ballorhard Rangers!"

The elites of Winter Castle, who had already finished lining up across the river, were firing arrows. The sound of their voices reached their ears like an auditory hallucination. Saying that they were not alone.

"Iron Hawks! Fire!"

Count Branbrut stepped forward himself and commanded the Iron Hawk Archers. At their lord's command, the archers of the Iron Hawk Archers responded vigorously and sniped the Orcs in unison. Orcs with arrows lodged in their napes and the backs of their heads died in droves.

However, the Orcs had long since become monsters that forgot both fear and pain.

They didn't care whether arrows were lodged in their backs or spears were thrust into the backs of their heads. They only looked straight ahead and went on a berserk rampage.

The barely ignited embers of hope crumbled down all too easily in the face of that madness.

"The soldiers cannot keep up with the knights!"

No matter how much the knights exerted themselves, the front line showed no sign of advancing.

Knights who protruded too far became isolated in enemy lines and were crushed out of shape by the Orcs' spears and axes. Soldiers whose stamina had dropped were grabbed by the collars by Orcs mid-battle and dragged into the enemy ranks.

At this rate, all the friendly forces would end up dying before they could even push the front line up.

BWOOOOOOM.

At that moment, the sound of a horn echoed out.

BWOOOOOOM.

The reinforcements across the river responded with a resounding military song.

Count Richter Liechtein and the other knights opened their eyes wide.

The morale of the reinforcements across the river surged in an instant. That surging morale was so clear it seemed as if they could grasp it in their hands.

BWOOOOOOM!

The sound of the horn echoed once again. The sound of the military song across the river grew even louder.

GRRRRR.

At that moment, a change occurred among the Orcs.

The Orcs, who had been rampaging like berserkers since their King's arrival, began to let out suppressed groans. Their eyes, once filled with madness, were now wavering.

The Warlord roared.

As if waiting for this, the First Prince blew a long note on the horn. The Elves clashed the blades of their swords together and hummed an unknown tune with clear voices. The terrible monster's roar was buried by that tune and the horn's sound, becoming an empty echo.

Starting from that moment, the tide of the battle began to change rapidly.

The madness in the Orcs' eyes completely died down.

The berserkers who seemed like they wouldn't die even if killed no longer existed.

When an arrow lodged into the back of the head of a kin standing right next to him, an Orc looked back. Fissures formed in the densely packed ranks of the Orcs.

The Orcs in the front rank were fighting fiercely, but the Orcs in the second rank kept looking behind them.

"Now! Push them back!"

Right on time, the Commander shouted.

"Hah!"

The knights and soldiers stomped their feet in unison and pushed the Orcs back.

"Phalanx! Push!"

"Hah!"

Count Richter Liechtein also stomped his foot to the officer's command and scattered his sword strikes. Dozens of spears thrust out from right next to him, turning the Orcs into honeycombs and knocking them down.

SWOOOOOSH!

The arrows fired by the Iron Hawks poured down on the Orcs' heads.

"Their front line has collapsed!"

Until now, the only side collapsing had been the friendly forces. Encouraged by the fact that the Orcs' ranks had collapsed for the first time, the soldiers vigorously thrust their spears.

"Knights, advance!"

"WAAAH!"

At a shout of unknown origin, the knights squeezed out roars and leaped out of their ranks all at once.

Barging into the midst of the Orcs whose front line had completely collapsed, they performed a bloody dance. The Orcs were sent flying in an instant.

"Hup!"

Count Richter Liechtein vigorously swung his sword and stepped back.

It was too much to continue. His mana was not connecting.

The energy that had deeply invaded his body while fighting the monster was tangled in his rings, interfering with the flow of his mana. He needed time to step back for a moment and control his energy.

Fortunately, the tide of battle had improved enough that it was okay for someone like him to pull out.

Just a moment ago, he had resolved himself to fight to the death.

The battle situation had changed so rapidly that it was hard to keep up.

The horrifying strength of the monster known as the Warlord, the Northern reinforcements that had suddenly appeared—there was nothing that could have been predicted.

Furthermore, who could have ever imagined that the one leading the reinforcements like a savior would be the eldest son of the Leonberk family, who had been called the disgrace of the royal family.

Count Richter Liechtein retreated from the front line and looked back.

The monster, who would completely overturn the battlefield if unleashed, was completely tied down by the First Prince and the nineteen Elves, unable to move freely.

BWOOOOOOM.

The First Prince, who fiercely blew his horn, cut in among the Elves and thrust his sword.

To think that he was an incorrigible scoundrel.

Had the prominent figures of the kingdom collectively gone blind?

Richter Liechtein let out a hollow laugh and followed the First Prince with his eyes.

GWOOOOOAR.

The Elves' sword energy could hardly pierce the red energy the monster wore like armor. Even the sword energy that occasionally pierced through that energy only left a small scratch on its flesh at best.

Only the First Prince's sword dug through that red energy and inflicted deep gashes on the monster's body. The Warlord seemed conscious of this as well, as it was far more wary of the single sword thrust by the First Prince than the nineteen swords thrust by the Elves.

He couldn't believe it even while seeing it with his own eyes.

He hadn't been able to properly wound it even with a sword coated in an Aura Blade, and even the handpicked elite knights of the Central region hadn't been able to pierce that red energy at all.

Yet now, a boy who hadn't even had his coming-of-age ceremony was accomplishing what no one else could.

No, strictly speaking, it wasn't that no one had been able to do it.

The previous Count Ballorhard had gone beyond just piercing the red energy and inflicting a wound; he had entirely severed the monster's arm. And he had done so all by himself, without anyone's help.

"What do you mean, fellow Silver Lion? What do you mean, the kingdom's greatest master swordsman?"

He felt so ashamed of the times he had spoken of the previous Count Ballorhard's realm in front of the nobles that it was humiliating.

Richter Liechtein rebuked his arrogant self.

Such shame was not his alone.

Count Branbrut had prided himself on his Iron Hawk Archers being elite troops comparable to the Ballorhard Rangers.

It was a delusion.

The number of Ballorhard Rangers was less than a hundred at best. However, even with that meager number, they were completely overwhelming the Orcs.

When far away, they fired bows and crossbows, and when up close, they used swords. If necessary, they raised their shields and pushed the Orcs back.

Yet every single one of those skills was no less than that of the elite troops the lords of the Central region boasted of.

When using bows, they were master archers that even the archers of the Iron Hawk Archers couldn't match, and when using swords, their movements were more agile and fierce than most swordsmen. When holding shields, they were more steadfast than any heavy armored infantry the Count had seen.

On top of that, how incredibly high was their morale?

Since the battle began, they hadn't stopped their military song even once.

The same was true for the knights of the North.

Although they were a small minority of less than a hundred, they endlessly sang and encouraged the soldiers.

And at the center of it all was the First Prince.

He couldn't fathom what meaning there was in the First Prince's actions of blowing his horn whenever he had a chance, even while fighting the monster.

The only thing that was certain was that every time he blew the horn, the morale of the Northern army fluctuated.

And when that fluctuating morale soared to the ends of the sky, the Orcs were no longer fierce beasts.

The Orcs were already no different from defeated soldiers groaning with their bloodied bodies.

All that remained was to exact the price of blood.

* * *

The first thing I saw was its vacant shoulder. The moment I saw the guy's shoulder where something that should have been there was missing, my uncle's final moments came to mind.

You bragged so much, and you really managed to cut off the monster's arm.

At the fact that my uncle, left behind alone in the enemy lines, hadn't just died in vain, I ended up choking back tears.

And on the other hand, I felt relieved. Relieved at the fact that my uncle had left my share behind.

GRRR.

The Warlord growled low in its throat, seemingly displeased.

Having already seen blood, its eyes, filled with a fully inflamed vicious nature, glared straight at me.

The emotions wavering in those red eyeballs were surprisingly familiar.

The sense of loss and anger over something lost as the price of arrogance—that emotion felt like looking into a mirror.

To think that the feelings the monster and I harbored for each other were so similar. How funny it was.

Even that murderous intent to tear the opponent to death right this instant was surprisingly identical.

If there was a difference, it was only the fact that this encounter was a coincidence for him, and an inevitability for me.

I asked the Warlord.

『Are you a king because you reign? Or do you reign because you are a king?』

The Warlord exhaled through his nose and gripped his spear. It was a face that showed he had no interest whatsoever in my question.

『It seems the question is too difficult.』

I asked him again.

『If you have no subjects to rule, are you still a king then?』

Breathing heavily as if he would thrust his spear at any moment, the guy flinched and looked around. I, too, followed his gaze and looked around.

The humans, whose morale had risen with the presence of the reinforcements, were squeezing out their last bit of strength. The Elves aided the human army with their cloaks fluttering. From across the river, another suddenly appeared human army was fiercely pushing back the Orcs.

The Warlord's army, which only knew how to advance forward, was being attacked from all sides and was falling into disarray.

He glared at me with a face frozen hard as stone.

It seemed he finally realized what I was trying to do.

But it was already too late.

He was arrogant and overconfident in himself. He had become overly intoxicated by his successive victories.

How laughable must the resistance of weak humans have been?

I could tell. His excitement, which must have been at its peak as he crushed humans and trampled their castles and cities, and his intense desire for his own kingdom that would finally be built on the fertile southern lands, leaving the barren North(北土), were painted so vividly I could almost grasp them.

He must have thought he could quickly break through the defensive lines, just as he had done so far.

Without even knowing that his forces were continuously melting away.

『What are you, if not a king?』

I questioned again.

The Warlord glared at me before opening his mouth.

『I have been a king since birth, and I shall be a king from here on.』

It was the first answer spoken in a language, not a beastly roar.

『For this is like a destiny bestowed upon me by fate.』

A voice without even a hair's breadth of agitation.

『I am still the king.』

I simply sneered.

『If you are a king.』

It was a mockery of the arrogant dark-green monarch, and a sneer at my own foolish self.

In the past, I had achieved countless great deeds,

but I had not obtained a single one of them as my own.

I was the King of Swords who had never once sat on the throne,

and the darkest shadow that was miserably discarded in the gutter.

I was a fool who had only now resolved to reclaim it all.

『I am a usurper.』

This was disillusionment toward the incompetent one sitting on the throne made of dragon bones,

hatred toward the monarch who had abandoned his most loyal and brave men,

and fury toward the warlord who had stolen what was mine.

『I sing the Poem of Martial Deeds of the [Extraordinary Grade], the [Poem of the Overlord(顯王)].』

『Though neither the high place nor the solemn throne(賣座) is mine.』

『There is not a single one that I cannot sit upon.』

Furthermore, this was the enlightenment I gained while being miserably hauled away in a cart,

and it was the first poem I created from conviction(念), not from deeds(業).

『Do not even think of honor.』

The flames that had been burning while clinging to the dusk froze exactly as they were.

『You shall die more miserably than the most insignificant Orc.』

The indigo-like flames turned into a dark ultramarine, like that of the deep sea.

GWOOOOOAR!

The Warlord roared fiercely.

The red energy clinging to his spear blade surged as if to crush the whole world.

The Sword Maidens' humming, which had continued without pause, was cut off. Their dance movements, which had been flowing like water, faltered.

The Sword Maidens stepped back all at once.

『Anything more than this. Is impossible.』

Gunne sent me urgent hand gestures.

I watched her rapidly moving hands before turning my head.

I focused solely on the soul-freezing chill transmitting from my fingertips.

It had truly been a long time.

It felt as though I had only now become whole.

Because this chill was what most resembled my essence, born in the lands of severe cold.

GWOOOOAR!

The Warlord's Fighting Spirit flew out, aiming solely at me.

It was a desperate attack, as if killing me alone would bring this entire battle to an end.

However, he shouldn't have forgotten.

My conviction was not mine alone, and this battle was not mine alone.

SWOOOOOSH!

A dull noise, too heavy to be called the sound of tearing air, was heard. It was a projectile fired from across the river by ballistae that had only just finished deploying.

"Black Lancers!"

Beneath the falling rain of steel, the knights led by the one-eyed knight charged in.

"Charge!"

Gathering their life's energy at the tips of their spears, the knights slammed into the red energy.

If left as it was, it would have been a reckless charge that would amount to nothing against the Warlord's malice and murderous intent.

But I had no intention of helplessly losing them like in the past anymore.

"Cleaving the dragon's scales that no treasured sword could cut, and drinking its burning blood."

『I sing the [Poem of Slaying Dragons].』

A Poem of Martial Deeds of the Extraordinary Grade and a War Poem,

and over that, another Poem of Martial Deeds pertaining to a Myth was overlaid.

Amidst the pain of my heart tearing and my soul scattering, the whole world turned blurry.

Within that world, only the dim trajectory shining dark blue was clear.

The dark blue line cut straight through the middle of the red energy. And the red sea was split apart.