Chapter 107 : Chapter 107

Translator: AkazaTL

Pr/Ed: Sol IX

***

Chapter 107 – Counterfire (1)

At the edge of the cliff, the orc shaman Sherdik stroked his chin as he looked toward the sky. The mysterious stones in his hand clattered softly against one another.

“Warriors.”

“Yes! You called for us!”

“The Steel calls upon us, puhelhel.”

Sherdik threw the stones in his hand off the cliff.

“It seems our friend is in trouble. Quite a dreadful kind of trouble, in fact. Warriors, I ask you—who among you will go into the world to help our friend?”

At Sherdik’s words, every single orc present raised a thick, muscular hand in unison. As though it had been prearranged. Those who lifted their hands shouted together:

“Orcs! Do not! Fear battle!”

“Even if our enemy! Be a dragon ruling over the Sky Mountains!”

“Even if our enemy! Be the Dragon King who governs the vast seas!”

“Even if our enemy! Be the emperor of a great and famous empire!”

“Orcs never retreat—!”

A thunderous roar shook the mountain. Hearing that roar, the orc shaman Sherdik laughed, puhelhel. As his hearty laughter echoed across the cliffs, one particularly massive orc stepped forward from among the gathered horde. Over three meters tall, mightier and more dignified than any elite orc warrior—a commander whose very presence demanded respect. The other orcs stirred as the giant began to move.

“Sherizik herself is stepping forward?”

“Even her stride is glorious.”

“Look at those trapezius muscles—sculpted by the gods themselves.”

“Even the Goddess of Beauty would be jealous!”

No male orc could look upon her and not fall instantly in love. To the orcs, strength was beauty itself—and Sherizik, a female orc, was beauty incarnate. She was said to be the most beautiful orc to be born in a thousand years.

When she came forward, Elder Sherdik cleared his throat.

“Sherizik! My daughter, you intend to go as well?”

“Yes. I wish to go.”

Even the fine silk garments she wore could not hide her muscles.

“Father once said, didn’t you? That the human you’ve been watching would make a fine husband for me. But aren’t you a shaman, Father? I cannot trust a shaman’s eyes alone. So I shall see him for myself, and judge whether he’s worthy of being my husband.”

The daughter of the orc shaman, Sherizik, spoke with a calmness that was uncharacteristic of an orc—refined, without a single huff of breath. Truly, she was the beloved of all orcs.

“As expected! Wise, my daughter!”

“I know.”

The orcs said she was a beauty born once in a thousand years. But that also meant something else—

“I hope he’s at least worthy of me.”

Born once in a millennium. A true warrior, born with the talent of a Martial God.

“I’ve never once found satisfaction upon this mountain.”

The 「Green War God」. The great orc warrior Sherizik descended the mountain.

***

At the entrance of a remote village in the Verdí region, old gatekeepers stood their posts, trembling in fear. The reason was simple. For some time now, military tents had been erected outside the village—housing countless knights and mages, and even the second son of a noble house.

“Ugh…”

News spread fast in small rural villages. The old guards knew that two of their fellow sentries had recently been brutally murdered—one beaten across the face until he died. They were not heroes from myth or legend. Until last year, they were mere villagers who would flee at the sight of a wild boar.

They had only volunteered when the lord’s men promised to take anyone brave enough — regardless of experience. They were too old to fear death, the duty was easy, and it was a way to serve their families. Truthfully, though, they wanted to run. But they were far too old to start over elsewhere.

They had lived their entire lives on this land.

They could barely write, hardly read difficult words. They knew nothing of swords or battle.

All they knew was farming—how to till the soil, how to raise calves and piglets. They knew how to spread fertilizer and tell their grandchildren silly old folktales.

And so one of the old guards, while on duty, sat down and began to weep.

“Why are you crying, old man?”

“I’m scared… I'm so scared. Aren’t you?”

“……”

“I thought I’d grown too old to fear death. But now that it’s before me… I’m terrified. Those knights could kill me with a single kick. They could grab my hair and slap me all day, and I wouldn’t be able to resist. I can feel it. And that frightens me so much.”

The other guard couldn’t bring himself to scold his weeping friend.

“It’s pitiful, not even knowing where to run. I’ve lived here all my life; I can’t even imagine another place to go. Wild beasts used to raid our old home, so we moved here—this so-called safe village. That’s when I started this guard job. But now, the knights are far more terrifying than any beast.”

“……You poor man.”

“I’m not the only one who doesn’t know how to run. My wife, who’s relied on me all her life; my children; my grandchildren who’ve just begun to walk—they don’t know how to leave this land either. I told them to flee. But my son, my daughter, my grandchildren… they said, ‘We can’t leave you behind, Father. We can’t leave you, Grandfather. We’ll stay together. We’ll die together if we must.’”

“……”

“It’s a touching thing to say… and yet so miserable. I can’t help but wonder—what was my life even for? The gods told us to live faithfully, love our families, commit no sin—and happiness would follow. I lived that way, honorably. So why… why has the world turned on us like this?”

Tears fell from the old man’s eyes.

“I never wanted much. Just to wake up and have a piece of bread in the morning. To share a laugh with my family in the evening, telling silly jokes. To sing and dance when there’s a festival in the village… That was all I ever wanted.”

He wiped his tears, murmuring to himself. Just then, the other guard nudged his shoulder.

“E-enough now. Stop crying.”

“What sin have I committed, that the heavens give us such trials? Why won’t they allow us even a fragment of peace…?”

“Get up, man! The lord is coming!”

The crying guard slowly raised his head. Through tear-blurred eyes, he saw a young lord standing before him. The boy had the physique of a man, yet still the face of a youth. The guard scrambled to his feet. The young lord did not scold him. Instead—

“My father once said something to me.”

“M-my lord, I’m sor—”

“‘I will set right this sinful, misguided world with my own hands,’ he said. ‘For I am a knight of the great Karavan bloodline. I shall be your judge, for I am the one who slew the evil dragon, the iron-blooded protector of the realm, the righteous watcher descended from Karavan!’ He used to say such grand, novel-like things.”

“…What?”

“My father was mad. A man who could no longer distinguish between fiction and reality—who believed himself the hero of some chivalric tale. He lost his mind completely, speaking nonsense day and night.”

The young lord’s words made no sense to the bewildered guard.

The boy smiled faintly.

“But I believe… that at least part of what he said was true. My father was not the dragon-slaying hero, nor the kingdom’s iron-blooded guardian, nor a righteous watcher.”

“……”

“Yet, he was right about one thing—the world is going wrong.”

The young lord slowly drew his sword.

“And someone has to step forward to set it right.”

He said no more.

With that meaningful declaration, the young lord—Arhan—walked toward the camp where the knights were gathered. His steps were confident and light, so much so that the old guards dared not stop him. They only stood there, eyes fixed on his retreating figure.

One of the two old guards’ eyes glistened. Though his only hobby in old age was reading to his grandchildren, he had read quite a few books for a country man. He recognized the words the young lord had just recited. They came from a knightly novel—「The Knight of La Mancha.」

It was the old guard’s favorite story. And in that moment, the sight of young Arhan walking toward the camp looked just like that old knight charging at windmills in La Mancha.

***

I stepped into the camp. Inside, groups of knights were gathered—talking loudly, playing cards, arm-wrestling, drinking wine. But the moment I entered, all activity ceased. Every knight drew their sword. Every one of them here was a Sword Runner.

“To come here—you must be mad.”

“No.”

“Then, have you come to surrender?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

No one rushed me. They simply held their blades pointed my way, waiting. But I didn’t look at them. Instead, I fixed my gaze on a man reclining on a distant bed—idly popping grapes into his mouth, clad in a robe of multicolored silk.

“Edan Rhapsody.”

“Why call my name?”

“I challenge you to a duel.”

At my words, Edan Rhapsody chuckled—then burst into roaring laughter. The first time I’d seen real emotion on his face, normally drawn in perpetual boredom. After laughing for a while, he looked at me with a lifted corner of his mouth.

“You amuse me. Fine, I’ll humor you. Shall I give you a handicap? I won’t take a single step from where I stand—or perhaps I’ll use only one hand? Or fight you blindfolded?”

I answered calmly.

“It doesn’t matter how we fight. I don’t need any restrictions.”

He was said to be the successor to a Swordmaster, one of the most promising talents of the Five Great Houses. Facing him without limitation was as good as suicide. But I had no intention of dying.

“There’s only one condition.”

After long consideration, I had found the only path forward.

“Bring me your young master—the one who falsely claimed I had disgraced his honor. I’ll say it again: I have never done such a thing.”

Ten days of isolated training would never be enough to spread my Wings. Even if I did, when their army arrived ten days later, there would be no chance of victory. So rather than sit and wait, I chose to fight head-on.

“I’ll say it again. I never slaughtered your loyal retainer. I have committed no crime I must atone for.”

Not every battle is fought with blades.

All conflict is battle.

“So bring the Rhapsody heir before me.”

This too, was a battle.

“And tell him to look me in the eyes and say it again. Understood?”

After hearing everything I said, the second son of Rhapsody slowly rose from his seat. He no longer lounged like a lazy noble, nor did he yawn.

“Have you finished your little speech, pitiful fighter?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. When our army arrives in ten days, Toma will come as well.”

The second son of House Rhapsody—Edan Rhapsody—spoke, and one of the knights cried out:

“My lord! What are you—”

“But.”

The knight’s protest died away. Edan’s calm yet overwhelming voice filled the tent.

“You will not die easily, pitiful fighter.”

A terrifying declaration— A death sentence.

I didn’t bother to reply. I simply turned and walked out of the camp.

Their burning stares followed me as Liam spoke.

「Just as you said it would be.」

I nodded at my master’s words.

Then I answered:

“All we have to do now is wait.”

In ten days, everything would turn around.