[V11C13] The Last Orc
Translated by Jodas 11: Envoy of the AbyssThe Orc swung his club. While dodging, Gerald focused his attention towards finding a blind spot.
It would take more than a couple half-assed slashes to take down a Monster like this whose whole body seemed to be a hunk of solid muscle. To make things worse, the mana density around these parts was very high. Any shallow cuts would heal over almost immediately.
(Unless I can deal a critical blow, there’s no way I can win.)
While Gerald could wield his sword better than the average human, his attacks were extremely light compared to what a larger adult could dish out. Body weight was a weapon all of its own. From time to time he did wonder how his brother was able to pull off such devastating attacks with that emaciated body of his, but he figured it would be best not to compare him to any ordinary lifeforms.
The club came flying at him once more. Trying to parry it would never work. It would just break straight through his sword and shatter his wrists. Even just redirecting the attack would be impossible.
Even when he successfully dodges, his sweat runs cold. That lump that could easily splatter his head to bits grazed just past his face with a thundering sound. Of course he was terrified.
(The only thing I’ve got going for me is my precise movements. I need to assume my enemy surpasses me in everything else.)
As he dodged strike after strike, Gerald led the Orc to an area where the trees were packed more tightly together. The only way he had a hope of landing a killing blow was if he came from his enemy’s blind spot. Any sort of concealment or cover would work to Gerald’s advantage.
The Orc knew that as well, and so he did not simply swing his club around with abandon. He assessed Gerald with discerning eyes and aimed to land a finishing blow.
—This was a fight against a warrior.
Gerald hated fighting. He thought that solving one’s problems through violence was a relic of a bygone era. He couldn’t count how many times he’d seen his family all wound up about war this and battle that and thought ‘Why can’t you just talk it out for once?’
But now that he stood face-to-face with it, he understood just how hard ‘talking it out’ could be.
The problem was not whether or not you could come to a resolution by talking things out. The hard part was getting both parties to come to the table in the first place.
Gerald had no means by which to draw this Orc into a peaceful negotiation. The Orc reproduced by kidnapping and impregnating human women, after all.
Humans simply could not allow a creature that caused harm to humans to live. That was just a fact.
Yet nevertheless, there was just one thing he really wanted to ask.
“…Why didn’t you take us by surprise?”
When the Orc appeared before them, he said that he would let Gerald and Julius run free if they left Sophie with him.
But rather than going through all that trouble, he should have been easily able to ambush them and kill both Gerald and Julius outright.
“Well, now that you mention it, you’ve got a point.”
With his club still at the ready, the Orc paused to think for a second. Even as they spoke he did not let his guard down, always watching Gerald’s every move.
“Orcs don’t have many kids. As the first child born in a long while, I was raised with great care… Perhaps as a result, I’ve come to see children as a precious rarity.”
Julius and Gerald were just kids in this Orc’s eyes. So rather than kill them in an ambush, he gave them an opportunity to flee.
Gerald’s heart ached at that realization.
Both humans and Monsters could have shared values. If so, a small part of his mind couldn’t help wondering if they couldn’t someday come to understand one another.
“…Do you have any desire to surrender?”
“Sur-render? Never heard of it.”
‘I really don’t want to say the answer to that question,’ Gerald thought.
But, as he stood there on the battlefield with sword in hand, he knew he had to say these words.
“…Would you like to live on, if it meant serving humans and following a human’s command?”
“What a foolish question you ask, human.”
The Orc moved. Gerald steeled his resolve.
The warriors of Warmberg were known as the ‘War Wolves.’ As a War Wolf, Gerald howled.
“OOOOOHHHHHHH!”
Don’t give in to the pressure. That was what his grandfather, the Sword Saint, taught him.
He dodged the incoming club, stepping closer right into the enemy’s face. When the Orc tried to bite Gerald with his pointed tusks, Gerald raised his hand and slipped a shortsword into that gaping maw.
Before coming here, he’d had Rukiye prepare this mana-imbued shortsword for him.
His father had taught him to always carry a smaller blade in addition to his longsword. Once in grappling range of the enemy, this allowed him to make attacks more freely.
Considering this Orc’s resilience, he should have had no issue beating down Gerald with his remaining strength even after his throat was pierced.
However, the Orc dropped his club and pulled the shortsword out from his mouth. Blood stained his stern face, yet his eyes still gazed at Gerald not with the ferocity of a beast, but with the dignity of a warrior.
“I am the last of the Orcs. Unlike other Monsters, our reproduction rates are poor.”
While Harpies also abducted humans to reproduce, a single victim could fertilize the eggs of several Harpies.
And since only a human woman could give birth to an Orc child, it was only natural that they would go extinct first.
The Orc coughed out a clump of blood, then raised the corners of his mouth. As if he was smiling.
“Take my head, and tell the world that the Orcs are no more.”
The giant fell to his knees.
Holding his sword at the ready, Gerald asked:
“…Do you have a name?”
“Lunag.”
“…Then I will tell them that Lunag, the last Orc, was a valiant warrior.”
Gerald — Gerhard Blanke — hated fighting.
All this about a warrior’s honor and pride and whatnot was just an excuse to have things your way. It was just a convenient tale you told yourself to legitimize ruling over others through violence. So he had always thought. He still thinks so. Never once had he ever wished to be a warrior.
And yet now, for just this once, he carried himself as a warrior. To not bring shame to the warrior before him.
He did not want this Orc’s pride and honor to go to waste.
Gerald stepped forward, and swung his blade.
And thus, yet another species met its end.
After separating from Tia, Wren and Sevil made their way to the gardener’s hut in the gardens. Julius’s escapades had confirmed that there was a staircase inside that led to the underground passages. Down those stairs laid the room where Fiene was held, what they called The Cradle.
After the group split up, it was a given that somebody had to come here.
But it wouldn’t be practical for all of them to gather here and storm the underground together. This was the most obvious way to get to The Cradle, after all.
The Monsters had to have known that some humans were aware of this passage. It would be strange if they didn’t stage some lookouts around here.
“I knew it, they’re here.”
Sevil whispered as the gardener’s hut came into view, keeping herself hidden in the shadow of the trees.
Brownish silhouettes wandered to and fro around the gardener’s hut. Most likely, some form of brown-furred Monsters. While they were fortunately downwind of the Monsters, they would likely be spotted by the time they drew close enough to make out those forms more clearly. Monsters’ ears and noses were ever sensitive.
Sevil may have been relatively skilled with her sword compared to other humans, but at best she reckoned she might be able to win against a single Monster in a one-on-one duel if it was already weakened.
Now, however, there were many Monsters. All with their full strength thanks to the crystal contamination. Breaking through by force would be a tall order.
(But if we’re close to The Cradle, that Fiene’s home, the Monsters around here have to be some kind of intelligent… Any Monster who indiscriminately attacked any human in sight would be a liability here.)
Wren reached into the bag across his shoulder and pulled out something Rukiye had prepared for him.
“Alright, let’s do it just like we planned. With a pretty boy’s guts and charm!”
“Leave it to me then. I have no shortage of either.”
“…You’ve got plenty of guts, that’s for sure.”
“Charm too. Don’t you agree? Am I not charming and beautiful?”
Sevil pushed back her black hair with a flourish and smiled elegantly.
She certainly was beautiful. Beautiful in an intimidating sort of way.
“I think your aura kinda overwhelms your charm… Can’t you dial it back a little against these Monsters? They’re gonna be on edge around you, you know?”
It was strange. Even as they stood in the heart of a Monster’s nest, so long as Tia and Sevil were with him, he felt like he could joke around freely.
(Wow. Even though I’m just an Apprentice Mage who can hardly even use magic.)
Almost wanting to laugh at the absurdity, Wren clenched his fingers around the tool that Rukiye had prepared for him.