Chapter 80 - Willful Negligence (2)
Orcheim and Dejame were being attacked at the same time.
The warriors of the Great Clan, as well as those integrated from the lower tribes, ran in the Luklan Mountains. The momentum of their march as they carried hammers and axes was really fierce! But their breakthrough was interrupted by an orc running out of Orcheim.
One of the orcs tried to attack, but his body was cut in half.
The opponent kicked his head as the orc’s lower body twitched on the ground. His head had been cut off. Wearing a red headband, full body tattoos, and a greatsword, the enemy was a strange orc warrior.
It was Crockta. Now every one of his gestures was deadly.
'One who Reached the North’ Crockta, Orc Warrior.
Achievement Points: 245400
Peerless Mountain Seizing Strength (Pinnacle)
Regeneration Authority (Pinnacle)
Leyteno’s Heart Swordsmanship (Pinnacle)
Extreme Fighting Spirit (Pinnacle)
Heart and Soul Penetration (Pinnacle)
Tattoos of War, Honour and Fighting Spirit (Pinnacle)
Army Crushing Roar of Madness (Pinnacle)
Creatures Butcher (Essence)
All of his already existing skills had reached the Pinnacle rating. After defeating the behemoth and opening the north, the system had rewarded him by raising all his Essence skills. He also got a new skill called ‘Creatures Butcher’.
This gave Crockta a new perspective when fighting. The ranks of Essence and Pinnacle wasn’t just a one-stage upgrade difference. It was a bigger growth than all the previous upgrades.
"Feel free to come.”
Crockta was confident that he wouldn’t lose to anyone here. He avoided a flying axe and cut down the enemy. He had completely grasped all the movements of the enemy and used acrobatics to avoid the enemy’s attacks as he cut one neck after another. Heads flew through the air.
Someone shouted, “Who are you?”
Crockta just laughed. He was happy to oblige if they wanted to hear it.
Crockta wielded his greatsword and shouted, “My name!”
The Pinnacle ranked skill, Army Crushing Roar of Madness!
The earth shook like there was a bombardment. The blood of the enemies flowed. Crockta shot forward like a lightning bolt after his battle shout.
He cried out his name as he smashed the head of another orc. The skull fragments and blood flew into the air. The orcs that had been advancing towards Orcheim froze on the spot.
They instinctively realized. The orc standing in front of them. He was a powerhouse who could decide victory or defeat in this battle on his own.
A one-man army.
“He is like the great chieftain...”, muttered the commanding orc.
Then he shook his head. It couldn’t be. There was only one great chieftain. In order to shake off the ominous thought, he shouted at the warriors following him, "I am Akbahal, a warrior who has received the title from the great chieftain!”
Then he lifted his axe.
“Follow me! Kill that cheeky orc! For the great chieftain!”
The morale of the warriors rose as they lifted their weapons.
"To the Great Clan!”
The orcs ran towards Crockta. Their spears and swords aimed at Crockta. The crossbows of the gnomes in the rear also aimed to turn the orc into a beehive. Crockta swung his greatsword and blocked them all at once.
His defense broke and Akbahal and the orcs aimed at Crockta. Dozens of weapons were locked on Crockta.
The greatsword blocked it. The fight between the orcs and Crockta continued. The orcs’ eyes widened as they felt themselves being pushed back, despite the numerical advantage. Whenever Crockta took a step, they had to step back.
Peerless Mountain Seizing Strength! Crockta swung his weapon with great strength. He aimed for all the orcs at once. The bizarre giant greatsword, Ogre Slayer fell over their heads.
Flesh and bone fragments flew in the air. The warrior Akbahal hastily threw himself back. It was ridiculous. Akbahal clenched his teeth and rose to his feet. The orc called Crockta was walking towards him. His eyes saw the weapon and his vision dimmed.
Akbahal’s head flew in the air.
“Oh my god!”
A terrifying monster that killed Akbahal with one blow! The morale of the soldiers plummeted after Akbahal’s death. Every time Crockta moved, another orc soldier died. The orcs kept falling back.
Suddenly, Crockta stopped moving forward. The clan warriors sighed with relief and used the chance to catch their breaths.
Crockta laughed. The battle wasn’t over because he stopped. Behind Crockta, the warriors of Orcheim ran out. Their morale had risen to the sky after witnessing Crockta’s force.
The battle cries of Orcheim’s warriors rang through the Luklan Mountains. Crockta watched as they broke through the helpless Great Clan warriors.
Orcheim was completed. Next was Dejame.
Crockta started running. His physical abilities far exceeded his previous left after gaining Peerless Mountain Seizing Strength and Regeneration Authority. His muscles were filled with a tremendous strength, and it felt like he was flying. His stamina wasn’t exhausted.
In an instant, he reached a ridge. The dark elf village Dejame was below him. Numerous orcs surrounded the village. There was a battle between the invading orcs and the dark elves trying to stop them.
Arrows rained down on the invaders but the defenses were gradually being shaken by the orcs’ offensive.
Crockta took a deep breath. Air was condensed inside his body. Crockta gave strength to his abdomen. His diaphragm became as hard as steel. His roar rattled the Luklan Mountains.
His roar halted the orcs and dark elves. The battlefield fell into a moment of panic. Crockta smiled and leaned towards Dejame. His thighs swelled like they were going to burst. His body soon burst out.
Every time he pushed against the ground, the landscape passed by in a flash.
It was a tree. It was a rock. Tree. Rock. Tree. Tree. Tree.
And the enemy. Ogre Slayer split the enemy’s flesh asunder, causing a fountain of blood to erupt with every flash of its blade.
"W-What is going on?” The orcs still didn’t understand the situation as they yelled. Crockta was kind enough to explain it to them.
“I am the warrior Crockta! You who have invaded the Luklan Mountains!’
Two orcs blocked his way. Ogre Slayer slaughtered the two orcs because they could use their weapons. Limbs flew into the air.
"All of you will die!”
Dejame was surprised by the sudden emergence of an orc warrior. The commander of Dejame grasped the situation and ordered his soldiers to shoot.
"I’m the reinforcements from Orcheim, so don’t shoot!”
The dark elves couldn’t believe their eyes. "There’s only one person for reinforcement?”
"No matter how the orcs...!”
But the situation was reversed due to one orc crushing the enemies. The orcs surrounding Dejame started to slowly thin out as if they were swallowed by a beast. Dejame’s commander, Janaru watched from the highest spot and gulped.
“It is a sight that is hard to believe...”
The orcs who climbed the barrier and the ones who resisted were all killed by the greatsword. Everywhere he passed, a terrible fountain of blood would spurt out.
After Crockta joined the fight, the dark elves regained their numerical advantage. Now the dark elf warriors rushed out of the barriers to wipe out the rest. They used rapiers and arrows to remove the orcs.
Crockta took deep breaths. There were dead bodies all around him.
He looked up at the sky. Memories of the wars he experienced were superimposed over it. He had been tired of the cruel battlefield, but now he was once again standing over it.
“If you don’t kill, you will die.”
There was the corpse of a dark elf at his feet. The eyes were blank as he was already dead. Crockta closed the elf’s eyes. He always asked himself the same question. Still, there was no answer.
‘Is this the right thing?’
He didn’t know.
'Is it fair?’
He didn’t know.
However, he could only do what he believed.
"I-I, I received the title of warrior from the great chieftain.”
“Is that right?”
"If you kill me, you will surely be slain by the Great Clan and its chief. If you let me go then I will...”
Crockta raised his head. He saw an orc looking at him. The hand in his armor was shaking. His eyes were distorted by fear. Crockta started laughing. It was a pitiful sight for an orc warrior to be begging for his life, instead of maintaining the pride of the great chieftain.
"You will surely become the target of the great chieftain if you kill me.”
“That’s right. So...”
Ogre Slayer cut off his words. The head of the last Great Clan warrior flew in the air.
“Then it can't be helped.”
Another victim was thrown into the Colosseum. There were five orcs, four dark elves, and two humans. One gnome. The majority of them were carrying weapons, but there was no fighting spirit in their eyes.
He looked up. His men were pushing down several more orcs and dark elves. They rolled on the dirt ground before rising to their feet.
But their eyes were still frightened. They grabbed their weapons and slowly moved backward. Was it still insufficient?
He threw away his axe. Now he was bare-handed.
“Win your freedom.”
There was hope in a few eyes. He laughed. His prey found a ray of hope and raised their weapons towards him. It made no difference if he tore them apart with his bare hands or with a weapon. The prey exchanged glances with each other. They arranged themselves in a battle formation. The orcs were in front, the dark elves in the rare and the humans and gnome between them.
How pitiful. Such things were useless in the face of an overwhelming power difference.
Then the prey rushed at him.
The orcs gave a battle cry.
He smiled and stomped his foot. The earth shook from the tremendous power. The orcs stopped like their feet were tangled together.
He roared. "Kiyaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!”
It was a terrible scream, a roar that seemed to tear at the ears and souls of those who heard it. Within a short time, he was moving forward. The difference in weight became clearer. The orcs looked up at him blankly.
He looked down at them and laughed. Then he swung his fists. They tried to resist, but his fists smashed their weapons and crushed their skulls. Bits of brain and red blood were scattered on the ground of the Colosseum. He stepped on the dead bodies and moved forward.
Now the prey were fearful again. Their eyes were panic stricken. It was a desperate reminded that their lives were no longer theirs. It was a mix of helplessness and violence.
It was his favorite sight.
The dark elves fired their arrows. He waved his arm with annoyance and the arrows fell after hitting his forearms.
He grabbed the head of an orc in the front and lifted him up. The orc desperately swung the axe but it got stuck on his hard skin. He gave strength to his hands. The orc turned red then blue as blood gradually rose.
The orc’s skull exploded.
“Boring,” he muttered.
Now there was only fear in the prey’s eyes. They chose complete despair over helplessness and violence. Their willpower disappeared.
He charged. The prey thrashed in horror. Neither arrows or axes harmed him. He crushed the orcs in turn. Tearing off their limbs and piercing their bellies. He grinned at those who were waiting for their turn.
Within 20 minutes, all the people close to him had been turned into gory corpses. It was a cruel image where internal organs and limbs were mixed together, making it impossible to know which part belonged to who.
At that moment, his subordinate approached. “Did you have enough fun?”
“It is insufficient.”
He had an overwhelming body that was twice the size of regular orcs. He was the great chieftain, leader of the Great Clan who ruled over the northern orcs, Calmahart.
"The war has yet to come.” His subordinate returned the axe to him.
He continued, “It will be opening soon. All the orcs are gathered under the banner of the Great Clan and the Luklan Mountains will soon be dealt with.”
“Hammerchwi has returned.”
"That..." Calmahart glanced over. His subordinate was nervous. “Hammerchwi and all the warriors have returned injured.”
"According to Hammerchwi, he met an orc from the continent...”
Calmahart took his axe. “The continent?”
"From below the border?”
"Kukuk...” Calmahart laughed. “How interesting. Where is Hammerchwi now?”
"He is being treated by a shaman.”
The subordinate followed Calmahart. He was a large orc but he looked like a small child standing next to the great chieftain.
The subordinate asked, "What should we do with the rest of the slaves?”
At the back of the Colosseum, there were some slaves waiting for their turn. They had been gathered to sate Calmahart’s thirst for blood. Like those who were killed earlier, they were originally destined to face Calmahart in the Colosseum.
Their gazes turned towards Calmahart. Fear mixed with hope in their eyes.
"My excitement has cooled down.”
The faces of the slaves brightened. And at that moment.
Calmahart threw his axe. The axe tore through the air towards them. The axe split apart the orcs and gnomes standing in a line. The line of orcs, dark elves and humans were literally cut in half.
A feast of blood occurred.
Calmahart added, “If they survived.”
He turned around.
The gnome standing at the far end was pale as he stared at his severed hair.
Praise the Orc: Glossary Link.
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