Chapter 10

The first time I faced a real orc was, if I recall correctly, about a week after I joined the knight order.

At the time, we were in a specialized forest thick with massive trees. The order was conducting an extermination campaign using every trick in the book: herbal smoke to flush the orcs out, barricades to pen them in, and pitfall traps lined with stakes to skewer them as they fell.

Initially, it hadn’t been considered that an orc’s massive frame could leap from tree to tree. Given their bulk, their physical structure is less like a monkey and more like a cross between a human and a pig. Since there had been no reports of such creatures moving by jumping between branches, the possibility had been dismissed with a “that’s impossible.”

That was why, when the creaking and groaning of wood echoed from above us rookies—who had been relegated to rear support because we were new—I didn’t understand what the sound was for a moment.

‘—? What was that? That’s not the sound of the wind…’

Senior Rock, who was looking after the rookies while drinking as he always does, looked up at the large tree behind us with a dubious expression. It was right then that the thing arrived.

‘No way… Rookie!! Get over here right now!!’

‘Y-Yes, sir!!’

Pulled by the hand Senior Rock clamped onto mine, my fortunately well-trained body reacted instantly. Because I responded, I managed to avoid a direct hit from an orc’s club that grazed my spine with a sickening shrrr. If I hadn’t reacted, I would have faced a miserable future of having my skull shattered.

A split second later, a thud!! that vibrated in the pit of my stomach shook the ground.

‘Wh-What…!?’

‘Bastard, was he reading the main unit’s movements!?’

Noticing Senior Rock had drawn his sword, I hurriedly unsheathed the blade I’d been lazily leaning against nearby and took a stance behind him. What I saw was a massive monstrosity.

‘BUGYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!’

‘…An… Orc.’

Illuminated by the moonlight leaking through the gaps in the canopy was a hideously distorted face. The shadows emphasized its vicious, glinting eyes and the tusks protruding from its jutting jaw. The club it held—the size of a grown man—only added to its overwhelming presence.

Following it, more monstrosities descended from the trees, scattering dead leaves and dirt: one, two, three of them.

This was an ambush by a group commonly called the “Soldier Leader” type—the second rank in an orc colony’s caste. They were a sub-group within the colony that acted for hunting and intercepting enemies. This was a group that we, the Royal Foreign Hazardous Species Countermeasures Knights, had to be even more wary of than the colony boss, and their strike had been frustratingly successful.

‘You’ve gotta be kidding me… of all things, they came to hit the rear support unit that has zero preparations!!’

‘Ready your weapons! Ready! Spears, sticks, anything! Just get in formation!!’

‘Weren’t the enemies supposed to stay away from the rear support side!? What are the seniors doing!?’

‘Hey, more importantly, if they break through here, they can charge the main camp right in the middle of combat!?’

‘Which means!?’

‘It means the knight order could be wiped out if we don’t intercept them here, idiot!!’

Amidst the screams and shouts of the non-combatant squads, my fellow rookies, and knights who hadn’t expected a fight, I realized the hand holding my sword was trembling slightly.

In my first real battle, the opponent was a foreign monster that could easily kill a human. My allies’ morale was low, and abandoning our position was not permitted. To top it off, because of the ambush, there was no time to organize a formation.

Would I be terrified in such a situation and get killed by an orc?

—I absolutely hated the idea of such a pathetic death.

I might not be a knight from a storybook, but the days I spent working myself to death to become a knight were real. Grip your sword, Knight Varna. Grit your teeth, clench your gut, and remember the swordsmanship drills you repeated every single day.

Is the opponent a living creature that dies if cut? If so, I have plenty of a chance.

‘…I’m not dying before I even get paid.’

Gripping my trembling sword with both hands once more, I took a deep breath in, let it out, and planted both feet firmly on the ground. A crisis like this was nothing compared to the time I fell asleep in the middle of a last-minute cram session before a test. The moment I woke up then, despair had literally crawled down my spine. I only made it by the skin of my teeth thanks to my friends.

‘Come at me, you pig!! I’ll have you pay for aiming at my life with your own!!’

‘GYABUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!’

The Royal Foreign Hazardous Species Countermeasures Knights and the orc squad clashed in the forest of giant trees as smoke rose high into the sky.

Compared to such an intense memory, I feel like I can handle something like an Imperial Match well enough. Since my life isn’t on the line, it’s nothing but lukewarm. I truly envy the other knight orders who only have to worry about their wallets and their honor while they fight.

“Assume your stances!”

“Royal Foreign Hazardous Species Countermeasures Knights, Knight Varna…”

“Holy Heaven Knights, First Knight of the Commando Unit… Van de Lantze!”

We announced our names in accordance with the signal from the palace official acting as the referee. In this country, those other than nobles generally do not have surnames, so it wasn’t that I was giving a half-hearted introduction.

The Imperial Matches are formed by five people: the vanguard, second-vanguard, center, vice-captain, and captain. Since members are chosen purely by skill, someone other than the Commander can sometimes be the captain. Van, the rugged-looking giant in front of me, was one such man. Thanks to the tear-inducing efforts of my seniors, I—the center—was in the advantageous position of facing their captain, Van. Since I should have won last year as well, I wanted to take him down here.

‘Still, the strongest man of the Holy Heaven Knights… a charging spear as a weapon makes it difficult to gauge the distance. And they say fighting a spear with a sword is a disadvantage to begin with…’

The weapons used in the Imperial Matches don’t necessarily have to be swords. Furthermore, the Holy Heaven Knights are unique in their reason for formation and their personnel, so the fact that they use a school of combat unique to them—something not taught at the officers’ academy—is troublesome.

Now, how should I fight? Without waiting for me to find an answer, the flag was swung down along with the witness’s voice.

“Begin!!”

In an instant, Van’s spear flew toward my stomach at a terrifying speed that an average person wouldn’t be able to react to. I immediately parried the spear while suppressing the impact with ‘Second Form: Water Sweep,’ but combined with the weight of the spear itself, I couldn’t kill the momentum entirely and was forced to the side. Without a moment’s delay, a horizontal sweep of the spear came for me.

“Cheyah!!”

‘His follow-up is fast!’

I quickly lowered my posture to slip under the attack and immediately stepped backward. However, by the time I realized that movement had been induced by Van, it was too late.

“Once my chain of attacks catches you, there is no escape!!”

In an instant, a flowing onslaught of thrusts and sweeps—intense enough to skewer an enemy in a heartbeat—came crashing down. It was a cunning, continuous assault by someone who knew exactly how a target would move to dodge and precisely how to close the distance to corner them further.

However, battle is a living thing. If you grow conceited enough to think everything will go according to plan, the price is high.

A large charging spear is inevitably slow to handle, so the wielder must trace the most efficient trajectory possible to avoid leaving openings. That is the greatest difference from a highly flexible sword; it is the flaw traded for reach.

‘Thrust, thrust, thrust from a step-in, a sweep, pulling the hip back once to reset the spear… Next is a thrust. He’s making it look like he’s prioritizing controlling the distance over a full-on charge, but… he’s going to use his body like a spring for a full swing-through.’

“Ho, as expected of the ‘Beheader’! To weather my chain of attacks on your first sight of them is a magnificent feat for one so young!! But how long can you keep it up!? Last time I fell to a surprise strike, but it won’t go that way this time! Beginner’s luck only happens once!”

I observed every movement with predatory focus, parrying the tip of the spear by a hair’s breadth while watching for the slight preliminary tells. What movements were possible for him? Where was the ideal distance versus the danger zone? If he were to hide a trap within this exchange of what he could and couldn’t do, where would he place it?

Battle is an information war where you feel out your opponent’s intentions. Swordsmanship itself is nothing more than an accompaniment to psychological factors.

When I realized that fact, my swordsmanship surpassed my instructors’.

Victory through momentum alone is unstable. Victory through raw strength alone doesn’t last. That’s why I watch. I watch, no matter what. You only defeat an opponent without giving them a chance to look when you’re desperate or when you know them inside out.

I gathered as much information as possible—an almost endless amount—and verified the elements for a counterattack, but there is one crucial point here. It’s obvious, but… it’s out of the question if the body can’t keep up with the thoughts.

“Ooh…!?”

At this critical moment, my legs tangled.

“You left an opening!! Right there!!”

Certain of victory upon seeing the fatal lapse, Van unleashed a finishing thrust that looked powerful enough to pierce a bear in one shot. If you keep dodging a storm-like flurry of attacks, strain will inevitably build in your posture; you force a dodge, which causes more strain. If you repeat that, it will inevitably fall apart eventually.

—Unless, of course, that opening was left intentionally.

“The one who left an opening was you.”

That moment he overextended was the gap I’d been waiting for. And being able to flip the script from here is the tenacity of the ‘Royal Foreign Hazardous Species Countermeasures Knights.’ We fight in natural environments with unrefined footing every single time. As if I’d trip over something like this.

Bracing my foot half a step back using one leg as an axis, I dropped my center of gravity all at once and lunged forward. This was too close for the spear’s ideal range, but for a sword’s range, it was perfect.

“What… You!?”

“It’s a feint! Surprised!?”

Van’s eyes widened in shock as the strike he thought had captured me was evaded. Because this isn’t something usually considered in standard martial arts, it’s likely hard to respond to with a formal style. In that regard, being a commoner with neither status nor class, I can do whatever comes to mind.

“Ngh!! As if I’d let you finish it so easily!!”

However, he was a veteran chosen as the strongest of his order for a reason. He didn’t move so strictly by the textbook that he couldn’t handle a youngster’s shallow trickery. The moment his thrust was evaded, he had already shifted his footing, and the charging spear was swung in a horizontal sweep.

It was fast, but I read it. Gauging the exact moment the spear was swung through, I quietly—extremely quietly—unleashed that technique.

“Second Form—Water Sweep.”

I slid my blade against the shaft of the spear, nestling into its trajectory—softly, like flowing water, parrying only the path without stopping the force. This was different from the desperate ‘Water Sweep’ I’d used to parry at the start. The essence of this secret technique isn’t just in the parry; its core lies in the “break.”

“Check.”

As Van struggled to keep his footing while off-balance from that strike unleashed from an impossible posture at close range, I thrust the sword I’d used for the parry straight at his throat.

“…Heh, hehe. To have my spear parried so brilliantly… Have I grown old, or is it simply time for the generations to change?”

“—That’s it!! The winner, Knight Varna!!”

In an instant, cheers erupted all at once from the spectators’ seats of the Imperial Matches.

However, I could clearly feel a blatant bias in the volume of the cheering. The Royal Foreign Hazardous Species Countermeasures Knights were, needless to say, going wild, but the reactions from other groups were mixed. People connected to the Royal Palace or the Royal Family were excited by my performance due to a certain Second Prince’s influence, but there weren’t many among the privileged class seats who were purely enjoying the match.

The other knight orders in particular were likely seething internally, thinking, “That commoner-born pauper knight is getting ahead of himself.” Though they didn’t show it on their faces and offered praise with their mouths. The privileged class is a complicated bunch. They should learn from a certain street-food lover who, despite being in the ‘Holy Shield Knights,’ is cheering for me right alongside the Pig-Hunt Knights without a care. …No, that’s a major problem in its own right.

“Varna-kun~~!! You’re so cool~~!!”

“As expected of the strongest man in the order!! Straight down the hero’s road~~!!”

“If you get through the next match, you’ve defeated every knight order!! Give it your all!!”

I shrugged, wondering if this country could ever become a place where people spoke as honestly as that, and sheathed my sword. My opponent, Van, walked up to me. A genuine smile, not a forced one, was on his face.

I took the hand he offered and we shook.

“You’re quite popular, ‘Beheader.’ Right now, the commoners’ aspirations are all focused on you, aren’t they?”

“That’s a chilling thought. If you actually become a knight, it’s a disillusionment. Better not to show them dreams like that.”

“Don’t say such withered things despite being so young… You should show them more brilliant dreams. You might not realize it, but you’re living inside a dream yourself.”

What is this old guy talking about so irresponsibly? Many members of the ‘Holy Heaven Knights’ were originally overseas nobles, so their vibe is slightly different from the privileged class in our country, making them hard to react to. And then, his smile suddenly morphed into something wicked. He looks like someone—ah, it’s the face my bearded geezer of a Commander makes when he thinks of something bad.

“—That being said, how about marrying into money? Why not become my adopted son? In this country, the boundary between commoners and the privileged class is a bit blurry in some parts. If you’re adopted, you’re in! To start with, a marriage to my second daughter… here, a photo. She’s cute, right?”

“Wait… she’s cute and all, but hasn’t she not even hit ten yet?”

“Idiot, in noble marriages, a twenty-year age gap is normal. It’ll work, it’ll work.”

“I’d rather not be called a lolicon by my colleagues, thanks. Besides, aren’t you plotting something no-good using my fame and strength? No thanks, I don’t want to be sandwiched between you and Commander Luger.”

A tanuki¹ at the front gate, a tanuki at the back gate. Also known as a rat in a bag.

Despite looking so knightly until a moment ago, once you peel back a knight’s skin, the inside is full of guys like this. Dealing with orcs is ten times easier than dealing with these black-hearted tanukis. In a mental sense, anyway.

I want to finish this kind of battle quickly and go hunt some orc heads—I, who was trembling before an orc just over a year ago, truly felt that from the bottom of my heart.