79

To put it bluntly, it was a massacre—or just pest control.

No matter how many armed pigs you gathered, a pig was still a pig.

Even if they braced their shields, I neither stopped nor could be stopped.

Right now, an orc that had planted its heavy shield firmly before my swinging arm was sent flying through the air.

I could have batted it sideways, but that would only make it crash into the other pigs and stop right away.

By giving it some airtime like this, I could force the orcs at the predicted crash site to move.

That disrupted their formation and caused confusion.

With such a densely packed mass, confused troops would simply crush each other to death on their own.

It was a useful tactic to save effort, though I felt a twinge of disappointment that punching them to death was surprisingly inefficient.

Men sometimes communicated with their fists.

By the way, I avoided kicking them much, since they tended to burst when I did.

While hurling orcs, I glanced at the city walls; it looked like they had firmly regained the advantage, with far fewer pigs clinging to them.

The small fires caused by flaming arrows were also extinguished, so it was safe to say the defense had succeeded.

The only question was when these pigs would retreat—but since that was a hassle, I decided to pay a visit to where their commander was likely to be.

The women I rescued should already have moved to a safe zone; this seemed like a good point to bring down the curtain.

Swaggering through the orc horde as if walking across an empty field, I mowed down any pig that came at me and pushed straight toward the center.

Spears snapped, axes shattered, shields and armor became meaningless.

Before me—like a nightmare—appeared one fatso.

Not a big orc—an actual fat one.

It was taller than the others, but its girth was in a different league: an undeniable, massive blob.

Drooling, clutching an oversized meat cleaver, and with unfocused eyes, it gurgled “gup-gup.”

My first thought was, “Is it high on drugs?” and it probably was.

Large-scale orc groups started using medicinal herbs.

I recalled many cases where they were seen using something akin to narcotics, either to overcome fear or temporarily boost themselves.

(Judging by its size, maybe this one has the most raw power?)

Thinking I’d test its strength, I ignored the cleaver swinging down and grabbed its hand—only to crush it to pulp by accident from sheer force.

It seemed it wasn’t even worthy of a contest.

With no choice, I wrenched away the huge meat cleaver and lopped off the fatso’s head.

Blood gushed as it fell backward, and I could clearly see fear spreading among the surrounding orcs.

I scoffed, “Finally starting to understand the difference in strength?” but it was still too early for them to run.

Unless I properly demonstrated my strength a bit more, it could interfere with my future activities.

I needed to firmly imprint that they were the hunted. Otherwise, thanks to idiots who wouldn’t flee and instead charged in, I might end up killing too many by mistake.

If they didn’t maintain their numbers appropriately and remain enough of a threat to deter humans from venturing into the forest, my operational territory would only keep shrinking.

I wanted them to remain tools to be used until the very end.

That wish was embedded in this slaughter.

(But they’re holding out longer than I thought. A normal orc force would’ve collapsed long ago…)

For their morale to hold after so much killing, either they’d been enjoying great spoils, or their commander—or leader—was terrifying.

I concluded they wouldn’t retreat unless I struck the head, and continued pushing toward the center, searching for a strong-looking orc.

The meat cleaver in my hand couldn’t withstand my power and broke after three swings, so I repurposed it as a throwing weapon.

I cleared out all the pigs blocking my path and reached the central area, but still hadn’t found the presumed commander.

With nothing better to do, I killed time grabbing random pigs and tossing them around until the orc ranks split apart.

Through the gap slowly strode a fully armored orc—its aura clearly different even from a distance. It was the size of an ogre, no doubt about it.

A glance at the city walls showed no more orcs trying to climb; they’d withdrawn out of bow range, gathering around as if to watch this battle.

It had turned into a monster-versus-monster showdown, ignoring the humans entirely, which could make negotiations later a bit troublesome.

Being too strong had its downsides.

Standing upright on two legs, the ogre-class orc was taller than me, who walked on all fours.

I had to look up slightly, but so what?

I could understand the romance of dual-wielding greatswords, but that plate armor was unacceptable.

If you were going to face me, you should take that armor off and fight.

I exhaled in disappointment, as if to say, “This won’t be a worthy opponent.”

Perhaps disliking my attitude, it pointed one of its greatswords at me and grunted something incomprehensible.

(I don’t get you, baldy. In the end, you’re still just an orc… I’d hoped for an opponent with some bite.)

I stepped forward, casually entering baldy’s range.

It swung at the same moment, and I was surprised by the speed.

It was much faster than I had expected, enough that I reflexively blocked it with my arm, but the impact wasn’t bad at all.

If its weapon had been a magic sword capable of cutting me, it might have had a chance, but unfortunately, with a heavy weapon that could only chop, the best it could do was leave a scratch.

Still, that one strike was praiseworthy.

So I stepped in again and, as a little payback, threw a quick, speed-focused jab at baldy’s face.

Unable to dodge, it took the blow squarely on its snout and staggered back a step, but quickly rekindled its fighting spirit and launched a flurry of blows with both greatswords.

I knocked each wild swing aside with my fists, caring nothing for its sword forms.

The sound of metal clanging against rock-like fists echoed for a while, until I saw panic appear on baldy’s face.

Its breathing grew ragged, and the speed of its swings gradually slowed.

Its limit came far too soon; I sighed in disappointment and decided to end this farce that hadn’t even qualified as a fight.

I batted aside the greatswords alternately with wide swings, leaving its torso wide open, then spun my body.

Hooked its legs with my tail, yanked them out from under it, and as its massive body floated slightly in the air, I unleashed an almost full-power roundhouse kick into its belly.

What kind of sound did that make?

At the very least, what the surrounding orcs heard was an explosion.

The kick smashed through the armor, destroyed the ogre-like body, and sent pieces flying.

The meat chunks and armor fragments landed on another orc, crushing it, but that was trivial by now.

The orc army broke at that very moment.

After a brief silence to comprehend—or rather, accept—the reality, they began fleeing all at once.

But there would be no pursuit.

Because I had no interest, and because my presence alone prevented the humans from chasing.

For now, the smell and stares here were getting uncomfortable, so I lumbered off to retrieve my luggage.

The Furon side would likely need some time as well, so I decided I’d get myself cleaned up before paying them a visit.

If time allowed, the women I rescued should be able to explain things.

For the sake of smooth progress—for the best outcome—I would endure for now.

A glance up at the walls showed some soldiers looking frustrated at the fleeing orcs, while others simply rejoiced at having survived.

The majority—no, almost all of them—would only think of the earlier clash as a “fight between monsters.”

(For now, just be happy you ‘luckily survived.’)

I slowly walked with Brof at my back.

But then an uneasy thought crossed my mind.

(…There’s no way the fleeing orcs will steal my luggage, right?)

As I walked, lost in thought, before I knew it, I had started running.

Someone on the wall shouted when they saw that.

It was understandable—they’d be startled if the object of their vigilance suddenly bolted.

I offered a silent apology and ran toward where I’d left my luggage.

Please don’t let it have been stolen.