84

I ran across an empty plain.

My target lay to the east—specifically, the town of Gareia, located east-northeast of Brfu.

Rumor had it that a special individual called the “Emperor,” said to be equal to or even greater than me, was in that town now occupied by orcs with no humans left.

That said, the reliability of this information wasn’t high.

According to reports, this Emperor individual “moved around often,” and that town had simply been the last confirmed sighting.

According to acting commander Rachel Aunes, “It is currently the greatest threat to the Furon Council. If we eliminate it, our current forces should be able to push back the orc horde.”

In other words, its current combat evaluation was one army by itself—no different from my own self-evaluation.

I felt a little interested, but the words “it possesses terrifyingly durable armaments” killed my curiosity.

This great forest was former Imperial territory.

There was a chance it had simply gotten hold of some old Imperial equipment, so while the mystery hadn’t been revealed yet, there was likely to be an anticlimactic “just as I thought” ending. I kept my expectations moderate.

(Who would’ve thought the commander fled, an acting commander stepped up, and she turned out to be the spitting image of my sister…)

I wasn’t about to talk about fate, but when things lined up this neatly, it was a little unnerving.

For the record, my sister’s name was Mireina, and my younger sister’s was Serine.

The names weren’t identical, thankfully, but what if she turned out to be their relative and also a perfect look-alike?

As for the family name, apparently “after transitioning from Empire to Council, the nobility system was abolished, and all citizens began using family names.”

If I got the chance to visit again, I looked forward to bringing a magazine with my sister’s picture.

(Not good, I’m letting my mind wander. Thanks to the emotional suppression function slowly wearing off, my thoughts are getting a bit unstable.)

At any rate, if it was true that defeating this so-called “Emperor” meant the Furon Council could win, then taking it down meant she would be almost completely safe.

Thus, my current objective was first to find that Emperor.

I was headed toward Gareia, the site of the last sighting, but there had been no sign of orcs along the way yet.

I knew their horde was quite large, so they’d be easy enough to spot, but whether the target would be among them was the bothersome part.

And if I assumed that acting commander was “the girl of my family,” then there was a high chance she’d feed me false information just to use me.

Even if pressed later, she could just insist, “I believed that intel was accurate.” That much I could predict.

(She’d probably have no problem using me to reclaim the town… Well, I don’t mind being used once, but I expect compensation. Specifically, Imperial seasonings. Technologically, it shouldn’t be impossible, so they should exist.)

There were many other things I wanted, but first came food.

Improving my meals was still an unachieved goal.

If I couldn’t get them here, future improvements would be hopeless, so I could only hope.

If possible, I wanted a steady supply system, but that was up to them, so there was no point dwelling on it.

By now, I should’ve traveled far enough, but there was still no sign of the destination or enemies.

I decided to pick up the pace, since there weren’t even animals around for food.

By the time the sun began tilting, I finally drew close enough to spot the town.

(It’s not that big. Should I assume the low walls are why it fell, or was it the Emperor rampaging?)

If I stormed into town, how many residents would remain?

While I didn’t need to factor them in, rescuing them could help with future dealings with the Furon.

Like a side quest—I kept it in the corner of my mind as a “do it if possible” task, but I wouldn’t take unnecessary risks if the situation was dire.

There had been plenty I’d saved who ended up useless anyway, so I decided to limit my expectations and recklessness.

As I got closer, I could make out orcs atop the walls with my naked eyes. One of them was gnawing on what looked like a human arm.

As expected, the residents were being eaten.

That meant they’d either gotten bored playing with captives or broken them, so now they were food.

If they’d intended them for breeding, they’d have been sent to the rear immediately after the town’s capture, so there shouldn’t be any here.

Judging from the time since the town’s fall, I should probably assume there were no more survivors.

Since the flat plain offered no cover, the risk of being spotted was high, so I used my mimicry ability to approach.

Even an orc couldn’t detect me by scent at a distance.

Unspotted, I clung to the wall and deactivated the camouflage, climbing up.

Before the orc who spotted me could cry out, I chopped its neck with a hand strike, breaking its spine, and just as I was about to descend, I was noticed.

A deflated horn sound, “puoooon,” rang out, the player apparently incompetent, tilting his head and tooting.

I jumped down toward him to stop it.

Another orc, fed up, smacked the horn-blower, who then sounded a proper “BUOOO” alarm just as I landed before them.

I grabbed the terrified pig looking up at me and smashed it against the wall to kill it.

(Now, how should I proceed from here?)

Armed orcs would surely gather, and judging by the ruined townscape, the terrain advantage was theirs.

Even if I ceded the lay of the land, it wasn’t a bad idea to wreck the place first while looking for the Emperor.

If I caused a scene, there was a chance it’d come to me, and either way, the pigs were destined for slaughter.

Trudging along past rubble, I stepped onto the main street and spotted a group of armed orcs.

(First that group. Then I’ll run toward the center.)

By the time I had the thought, I’d already trampled the orc group.

Realizing they couldn’t stop me, the orcs dropped their shields and braced their spears in a hedge formation.

I decided to teach them that switching from one hand to two hands was pointless; instead of charging, I grabbed a huge chunk of rubble and hurled it at the spear formation.

A stationary target made for an easy hit.

(Throwing big rubble is nice. I can wipe out groups and keep my hands clean.)

A new addition to my limited ranged attacks repertoire.

With that, I began collecting large, heavy objects around me to practice throwing accurately, strolling down the main street.

As I tossed gifts at each orc group that appeared and made my way toward the center, I spotted a clearly larger pig ahead.

(Not the Emperor… just an armed King. Just an oversized regular orc.)

If one of those was around, then there was likely no Emperor here.

Disappointed, I slumped my shoulders and swept aside the approaching pig with the wooden pillar I carried.

It felt comfortable enough that I kept it in hand as I headed straight for the King.

Apparently offended by my nonchalance, it pointed its greatsword at me and started snorting loudly, barking out orders.

No need to guess; the heavily armed orcs stepped up to block my way.

The lesser orcs cleared the path, and as I reached the central plaza, the pigs instantly filled the main street behind me.

They thought they’d cut off my retreat, but they didn’t understand I could shatter their lines with a simple charge.

In any case, I stepped into the plaza where the orcs had gathered. As I advanced, the frontmost heavily armored orc held out an empty hand in a stop gesture.

I had no obligation to listen, but there was no harm in finding out what they wanted.

If anything, I was a little curious what they’d try in this situation.

Once they confirmed I’d stopped, one of the eight pigs glanced back and gave a big nod.

The King climbed a pile of rubble, raised its greatsword to the sky, and snorted noisily.

After a while of raucous squealing, it pointed the sword at me and started “gup-gup” laughing; the others joined in with laughter.

(I see. They want to make an example of me—or maybe turn me into a spectacle, a new toy.)

Whether my guess was right or not, the orc king suddenly cut off its laughter and jerked its chin to signal the armored orcs.

Eight of them stepped forward.

So I stepped forward too.

The distance between both sides closed, and since we both carried large weapons, our reach overlapped quickly.

“PUGUUUOOO!”

The King roared, a shout to start the match.

So I hurled the pillar I was holding straight at the pig king.