Chapter 115 - Make a Sound in the East, then Strike in the West (1)
Surka breathed out as the recalled the fight that just happened.
The trembling hands had ripped apart the enemies. He had slammed his fists into the faces of those who begged for their lives and broke their skulls. Then he had grabbed the pieces of their brains and threw them in the air while laughing.
This. It wasn’t his way. It wasn’t the way of fighting for Surka, elite warrior of the Great Clan and son of Shiktulla who had been the greatest warrior of the Steel Axe Tribe.
His heart still hadn’t calmed down. The heartbeats shook his entire body. Every time his pulse jumped, the craving for blood rocked his body.
He grabbed the neck of a dark elf who had swung a sword at him from behind a building. The dark elf’s eyes widened. Surka’s hands gripped tighter. The eyes of the dark elf became increasingly blurred. Saliva flowed down from his mouth.
Surka lifted the dark elves. The eyes were filled with fear at the thought of soon dying.
He stared into them. His face was reflected in the dark elf’s eyes. Surka’s eyes were as red as the great chieftain’s. Surka was surprised at his appearance. He swung his fist and smashed the dark elf’s face. The dark elf slumped down. He became a corpse and sagged down like a rag.
He threw the corpse and looked around.
"The Great Clan’s victory!”
The noise of the battlefield flowed into his ears. Emeranian surrendered. All those able to fight the orc warriors had died.
The remaining dark elves were unable to fight. Women, children, the elderly. They were left. The battle was over but the slaughter continued.
It felt like Surka had lost his sense of reality. There was no sense of reality. He took a step forward. Someone’s legs were severed. They were thin and long, and belonged to a woman. He walked beyond it.
He met someone’s eyes, the eyes of a dead child. They couldn’t see anything and were looking into the distance. There was no body. The head had flown from somewhere else and turned upside down, showing the area that had been cut.
Surka went past it. He walked further and further. There were dark elves being collared and dragged by orcs. Those who rebelled were taken care of in a straightforward manner. Once the axes chopped at their friends or family, the rest calmed down. However, it wasn’t resignation, but hate burning in their eyes.
Suddenly, he made eye contact with an old dark elf. The elves lived twice as long as orcs. This dark elf had lived for a very long time. Surka could see the landscape of his life in his eyes. He didn’t despair or even cry. He just stared at Surka. Then his head was split apart.
"Why are you staring at a great warrior for, you bastard? Kuhuhu...”
The young warrior glanced at Surka. Surka moved past them. At the end, he found an old warrior looking at the landscape. Hammerchwi was watching the massacre with folded arms.
Surka called out to him, “Hammerchwi.”
The great chieftain could be seen in the distance. He was a unique giant even among the orcs. Every time he laughed and waved his limbs, buildings collapsed or dark elves died. He searched for all the dark elves remaining in Emeranian, along with his warriors.
“It has ended.”
"Then what do you feel?”
Surka looked at Hammerchwi. “Earlier, I wasn’t myself.”
Once the great chieftain broke through the gates of Emeranian, all the orcs had been in a berserk state. They only instinctively called the enemy. They became strongest and faster beasts, but they lost their reasoning.
Surka didn’t want to end up like that again. The aftermath of the frenzy still disturbed him.
“You aren’t the only one.”
Hammerchwi nodded. The moment Emeranian was destroyed by the orcs, there were those who paused and grabbed their heads. They looked around the city with perplexed eyes.
“I don’t know.”
Hammerchwi also knew what Surka was talking about.
What happened to the Great Clan? Obviously, they won. It was an overwhelming victory. Victory was the main goal of the Great Clan. However, the current scene before him didn’t feel like a victory.
"You are the son of Shiktulla.”
Shiktulla, the chief of the Steel Axe Tribe, was a renowned warrior in the north. The Steel Axe Tribe had fought the Great Clan to the end, but they were eventually defeated by the Great Clan’s leader and incorporated into the clan. It was the result of a fair fight. Shiktulla was famous, even when he became a member of the Great Clan.
“Do you know this word?”
Then he whispered something to Surka. Surka’s eyes became distant. He had heard it once. Yes, it was the word that his father had told him. The forgotten voice was revived.
"Yes, my father said it sometimes.”
“I see.” Hammerchwi nodded. Then he placed an arm around Surka’s shoulder. "Don't forget to remember this.”
"What do you mean?"
“I knew about it. But...”
Someone grabbed Hammerchwi’s foot.
An orc. They had won, but there were orcs who suffered from the dark elves’ intense resistance. This orc was dying and blood spilled out from wounds covering his entire body. Hammerchwi looked into his eyes and nodded.
Then his hammer broke the orc’s head. A clean blow. Hammerchwi sent the unknown orc to his death.
Hammerchwi held his hammer and said, "One day, it might answer you.”
The old warrior, Hammerchwi, smiled. He was old but as he grew older, he realized that he didn’t know anything. Everybody encountered a shipwreck in life. Sometimes it was because of them or sometimes it was through malice. They might not know where they were going but they would eventually wash up somewhere. However, sometimes a lighthouse was sufficient to get them back on track.
“Hammerchwi. Surka. The great chieftain is convening the warriors,” an orc soldier told them.
The great chieftain had set up his throne in the middle of Emeranian’s square and was sitting on it. The newly picked dark elf slaves were by his side. The great chieftain laughed. The core power of the Great Clan, the great warriors were gathered. They weren’t many but they were skilled warriors who had gone through many battlefields. For ordinary soldiers, they were elites who were difficult to engage with.
The great chieftain explained the next plan.
Surka looked at the shaman while listening. He wore a robe and stood silently behind the great chieftain. It was surely a thought from the shaman’s head.
“The next goal is Juora,” declared the great chieftan.
“The orc troops are heading north towards Nameragon. The unit that captured Nuridot will also join them. Their numbers are huge so let’s go quickly.”
Caska said. They marched without a break after hearing the news. Caska felt guilty about not listening to Crockta’s words and had a stricter command over the schedule.
“Isn’t there a possibility that they will go to Juora?”
"They will act to capture Nameragon. Then they will quickly advance to Spinoa."
Crockta nodded. The battle at Nameragon would happen in a matter of days. The great chieftain had to be removed there. The adventure in the north was now approaching the climax. There was a lot of work to do in the meantime. Most of the problems were caused by the mad great chieftain. He would calm the north and then return to the continent again.
The troops began marching again. They needed to arrive at Nameragon in the shortest time. The harsh march continued. Nameragon was quiet. There were no signs of fighting yet. Caska was relieved.
They had hurried to Emeranian and now it was time to take a break. The orc army hadn’t arrived at Nameragon yet. Crockta entered Nameragon and suddenly felt strange.
It was an unknown feeling. It was calm. His instincts warned him of something. It wasn’t the air of a city just before a war. As if this wasn’t the next battlefield, his whole body was telling him to look elsewhere.
He looked outside the city. The orcs weren’t visible yet.
Crockta invoked a skill that he didn’t want to use.
[Gray God's Eyes (Outside the Ratings) has been activated.]
After discovering the world of Elder Lord was another dimension, there was a sense of rejection about reading the life span of others. So he used this skill once more. But at this moment, it was necessary.
Then he read the lifespan of Nameragon’s citizens and soldiers.
No. It wasn’t here.
"Crockta, why are you so slow dot?” Tiyo asked.
Crockta didn’t answer as he looked at Nameragon with the Gray God's Eyes. The lifespans of those who were at war were mixed up. It was a war between those who would die soon and those who would die later, a cross between life and death.
But none of the children in Nameragon would die in the near future. At the very least, they wouldn’t die in the next week. This meant the battle wouldn’t happen soon.
He realized the source of his discomfort. It wasn’t Nameragon. If so, what was the identity of the large unit?
“Make a sound in the east, then strike in the west,” muttered Crockta
The large army was clearly heading towards Nameragon. However, another force would be heading towards Juora. With the power of the great chieftain and the great warriors following him, it was possible to take a small city. That was the great chieftain’s crazy power. Juora was in danger.
"Did you say Driden is at Juora?”
“I heard it dot. That bastard.”
Even so, Driden couldn’t deal with the great chieftain. Right now, they had to move.
"Caska!” Crockta called out to her.
She looked back. “Crockta.”
It was still a weak voice. Crockta approached her.
Her eyes widened at Crockta’s urgent voice. “What’s going on?”
"There is no time to explain in detail.”
Crockta explained the whole story. He had a weak ability to predict where battles would take place and it wasn’t here. After the big army had settled in, they would use a few elites to strike Juora. There was no time left.
She didn’t seem to believe it. "Even so, we can't leave the large army alone. It is also too late if we join now.”
“Juora is in danger.”
"It can't be helped.”
Emeranian had changed her personality. She became more serious about the war. It couldn’t be helped, even if Juora fell. She was afraid of Nameragon and Spinoa being invaded. It would soon be followed by the fall of the dark elves. The larger mission was to protect this place.
"Then I'll go alone." Crockta declared.
"Crockta, it is too late now. Rather...”
“No, I have to go.”
Crockta had no intention of letting the sacrifices grow any further. Kill the great chieftain. He had to try.
"What are you saying dot?”
Tiyo and Anor walked over and stood beside Crockta.
"I won’t let Crockta go alone dot. We will go together dot.”
They had listened to Crockta’s conversation. Tiyo had never seen Crockta talk nonsense. Sometimes he made odd jokes, but he also made the right decision when it came to someone’s life. Crockta was a man more reliable than anything else. If Crockta said Juora was in danger, Juora was in danger.
Tiyo trusted him. It was the same for Anor.
As Tiyo and Anor looked up at her, Caska was forced to nod. She was concerned about Crockta, but he was the strongest warrior so knew and a man who determined his own path. It wasn’t necessary for her to worry.
“I’ll give you the fastest caruk...”
“No,” interrupted Anor.
Crockta and Tiyo looked at him. Anor didn’t meddle in much.
“I heard that there was a museum in Nameragon,” Anor said.
He was a dark elf who grew up in Nuridot. Although he had no affection for them, he saw the innocent people of his hometown dying. He couldn’t hide behind Crockta and Tiyo just because he was scared. It was his turn to act.
There were also things he could do in his own way.
Anor suddenly said, “I heard that the stuffed body of a super fast mutant wyvern that frightened Nameragon in the past is contained there.”
Praise the Orc: Glossary Link.
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