86

It had grown completely dark, and I stood alone amid scattered orc corpses.

Tracking them had gone fine, but once those pigs—who thought they’d gotten away—started shambling and eventually stopped moving altogether, my patience snapped, and this mess was the result.

They had probably decided they’d be killed if they reported back, so they chose self-preservation and never returned.

Which meant I had no choice but to search for another group’s footprints. Even with good night vision, it was still hard to see in this darkness.

“Makes things real troublesome.”

I snarled, taking it out on a nearby pig.

With the last survivor finished, I reluctantly began searching the darkened plain.

Soon after, I found another group’s tracks more easily than expected.

So my sense of direction had been right after all.

(Well, I don’t know how long this will take, but it doesn’t look like my face-to-face with the orc boss is that far off.)

Come to think of it, I still hadn’t met an opponent who could let me fully unleash this body’s specs.

Spider-man was a terrible match-up; that was closer to a struggle for survival than a fight.

We were out to kill each other, but thanks to how slowly he switched gears, I easily snatched victory.

Fighting humans was just playtime—hardly worth mentioning.

When I faced that strangely large Shadow Viper, I got to flex my strength to my heart’s content, but it was far from what you’d call a battle—just overpowering with brute force.

The Red Ogre had been close to satisfying.

Its raw strength wasn’t bad, but everything else was.

Ever since I got this body and learned what it could do, a desire occasionally poked through—to “enjoy all-out combat.”

That wish still hadn’t been granted, and even now, though I hoped “this time for sure,” I couldn’t expect much when there was the concern that their true nature might just be “orcs armed with Imperial alloy gear.”

In any case, the plan to offer up the cocky orcs and their ringleader as a blood sacrifice hadn’t changed, and I had no complaints about tracking them through the night.

Not sleeping for a day or two wasn’t a problem, and not needing to eat was, once again, incredibly convenient.

After following the footprints for a while, a large structure came into view.

(That’s… a stadium? Pretty collapsed, but it still keeps enough of the original shape to tell. So this is their base.)

There should only be three stadiums within the Empire, so I now knew roughly where I was.

The problem was that I was unfamiliar with southern Imperial geography, so I couldn’t count on knowing the state of nearby towns.

The terrain around here had little relief, and it felt a bit strange that I couldn’t see any remains of towns, but I had no way of knowing what had happened in the last two hundred years.

Even so, I couldn’t abide their using Imperial architecture.

Sure, with some of the roof still intact, this would make a perfectly adequate stronghold.

The interior passages were built for humans, so orcs could use them too, and if usable fixtures remained, it would be better than building something shoddy from scratch.

But it grated on me that mere pigs would make use of the Empire’s legacy.

Judging this, like with the goblins, to require extermination, I approached the stadium and used my telescopic vision to look for an infiltration route.

Bonfires burned near the entrances, and several orcs seemed to be patrolling as lookouts.

I also needed to think about where to stash my gear. Getting in would be easy, but I wanted a spot that suited my purposes.

So I kept just outside the lookouts’ sight range and circled the stadium all the way around.

In the end, I decided that slipping in through a collapsed section of the roof was optimal—there was even a spot where I could safely leave my pack.

I sprinted for the stadium, leapt onto the wall, and power-climbed up—and, as was only natural, I was spotted immediately.

There was no helping it; stealth against orcs only went so far.

At the roof section I’d found, I hung my backpack where it would catch and also be concealed, then jumped down about six meters and made a dynamic landing in the stands.

At that, I felt every orc in the stadium turn to look at me at once.

Even if I planned to search for the Emperor, it would be far less effort to draw it out than to find it among what had to be thousands of orcs.

“GRAAAAAAAAAAH!”

So I roared.

With the forceful declaration of “I’m right here,” I swaggered through enemy territory as if I owned the place, provoking the local boss to come out.

But I got no reaction, and the surrounding orcs showed no sign of charging.

With no one moving to stop me, I kept walking and ended up down on the field.

Still no response—did that mean the boss here was a coward?

Thinking that, I heard some kind of cry reach my ears.

The voice wasn’t loud.

But in contrast, the orcs moved quickly.

The wall of bodies—no, the wall of pigs—split, and a straight path opened.

To that silent “Proceed this way,” I snorted in answer.

There was no doubt the boss was up ahead, and from the orcs’ movements, their discipline looked high.

Even so, I figured one of those who had fled from me earlier had to be here too, and from the look of things, they hadn’t managed to overwrite their fear.

In other words, they feared the boss more than me and judged me the weaker.

As I walked the pig road, observing my surroundings, it slowly appeared.

Ahead of my gaze—I saw a monster that looked like an armed orc climbing up onto a dais.

(Looks orc-ish… but also not.)

A special specimen that made me nod “I see.” It definitely looked orc-like, but something was off.

Because it was armored, I couldn’t see everything, but the face was close to an orc’s while the build leaned ogre—an unfamiliar, taut physique that made me tilt my head.

As for its equipment, it carried a ridiculously huge saber and a plain, undecorated slab of a tower shield, and its helmet and armor were probably leather. To face me, that seemed perfectly reasonable.

But with a build closer to an ogre and a body this ripped—so unlike an orc—“Emperor” felt less fitting than something like “Muscle Orc.”

(So the name must come from its command ability? Strong as an individual, but it shows its true value in the horde. In that case, let’s see how far it can push back against me—someone who has honed individual strength to the limit.)

I strode forward at my leisure, while the Emperor waited atop the dais.

When our distance shrank under twenty meters, the Emperor raised the saber in its hand.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAH!!”

A true war cry.

This was what you called a manly roar.

The pigs encircling us all at once sprinted up into the stands, while the orcs who remained hurried to set up braziers, lit them, and ran off at a jog.

Light filled the stadium, and the stage was set.

The Emperor leapt down from the dais and landed with a thud that made the ground resound, then started walking toward me.

Our distance fell under ten meters, and we faced each other in a natural stance.

No signal was needed—this fight had no rules, and its only decision would be the other’s death.

I lowered my center of gravity, and in response the Emperor raised its shield.

(Good. First, a test of strength.)

Seems this one “gets it,” I almost smiled—but I didn’t hold back.

I kicked off the ground and charged the set shield.

I wasn’t going all out yet, but at a speed that would absolutely blast a normal ogre away, my mass slammed in.

With a great bang, the Emperor slid back several meters while taking my charge on the tower shield, yet it held its posture and dug in.

As for me, I hadn’t expected to be stopped. I was shocked, but immediately stepped in again.

But it didn’t move—no, I couldn’t move it.

(No way… are we evenly matched!?)

Surprise after surprise.

Just as I thought I’d show it my true power, a saber thrust shot out from beside the shield.

I had no intention of taking that head-on, so I side-stepped to evade and fired a left straight.

Of course it was blocked by the shield, but a hardness beyond expectation ran up my fist.

However, the next strike wouldn’t be so gentle.

Much as I wanted to enjoy this longer, being held off like that was irritating.

So I drove a full-power right straight into the tower shield—not at the body, but aiming to break the equipment.

My punch struck true, and a thunderous boom echoed through the stadium.

The feel in my hand—was nothing.

The Emperor staggered back a few steps, but while a faint imprint of my fist remained, the shield was otherwise intact.

(Hey, hold on a second.)

I knew that feeling.

It was the same as back then.

Right after I woke… that moment of despair.

(That’s the same metal they used for the Gate! What the hell kind of gear are you wearing!)

If it was the Gate’s metal, then even at a tower shield’s thickness, it could probably stop my full power.

“Annoying thing!” I snarled—and at the same time, I understood perfectly why the Furon Council-State had been helpless.

And the Emperor’s own power was close to matching mine.

I felt keenly that this was too heavy a burden for humans.

So why was I enjoying this so much?

I knew why—because the thing before my eyes could rightly be recognized as an “enemy,” a genuine threat.

I looked up at the night sky to cool my excitement and let out a long breath.

I shifted my gaze back to the Emperor, sank my hips, and set both hands to the ground.

All right—let’s begin the fight.