Chapter 2

A knight gallops gallantly to the rescue of civilians or comrades in distress.

They help the weak and crush the strong. They punish villains who wield power without restraint and protect the livelihoods of the people—that is the very essence of a knight. It’s a role perfectly described as a “champion of justice.”

An idiot like me, longing to be such a hero, once thought about repelling bullies or chasing away wild beasts. Fortunately—and unfortunately—the people around me during my childhood were all so kindhearted it made me worry for them, so I had no choice but to live a normal life.

Despite my young age, I reached the philosophical conclusion that “justice cannot exist without evil,” and so I had to keep that restless heroic spirit tucked away deep in my heart until I joined the knighthood.

But now that I’m actually out on the battlefield, I find myself seriously questioning if there’s any justice at all in our brand of combat.

“BUGYAAAAAA!!”

“PIGIIIIIIII!!”

Deep in the forest, a portion of the Orc pack had formed a group and was charging straight ahead.

They weren’t heading out to attack humans; they were simply fleeing because their colony (basically their nest) had been decimated by a surprise attack. Their boss had been lured elsewhere and killed by yours truly, so they weren’t very organized, but a panicked mob of Orcs is incredibly violent—making them even more dangerous than usual.

However, their movements tended to be predictable, and as it stood, the Orcs hadn’t noticed they were being herded along a specific route. Even Orcs, who are surprisingly clever when hunting, are useless once they end up like this.

“Three… two… one… Alright, go, Varna-kun!”

“Acknowledged. Beginning pursuit.”

At the signal from Senior Rock, who was peering through binoculars at my side to check the Orcs’ speed, I leaped soundlessly from the shadows of the trees onto the forest trail.

That said, I wasn’t exactly about to solo the lot of them with a series of flashy, reckless slashes; I was merely the rearguard. And that’s because…

“Bugyaa… BIGIIIIIIIIII!?”

Suddenly, the Orc at the very front of the pack was swallowed by the earth and vanished. The Orcs behind it, who had been sprinting at full tilt, tried to halt, but they couldn’t stop in time on the slick leaf mulch covering the ground and disappeared one after another. Only the very last Orc managed to dig its heels in and stop at the edge, but unfortunately, such effort was wasted.

“Bu—Bugi…!”

“Just fall in already, you’re a pain.”

Having taken its rear, my sword instantly sliced through the Orc’s Achilles tendons while I simultaneously kicked its back with my full body weight. Normally, a physical attack against an Orc—which weighs more than twice as much as a human—would be nothing short of reckless, but when a surprise attack is this perfect, knocking one over is easy.

“BUGYOEEEEEEEE!?”

And so, the last one vanished from the surface of the earth.

Or rather, it departed on a journey into the “underworld”—a massive pitfall trap from which there was no crawling back.

I’ve never heard of a knight using pitfall traps in stories, but apparently, it’s a traditional tactic in this order. By the way, the pit isn’t exactly bristling with bamboo spears; it’s just a very deep hole. It’s a five-meter-deep crater dug in advance by Senior Roberto, the order’s undisputed master of shoveling.

Furthermore, to guide them here, we’d set up scent bags on other trails, felled trees, and laid various other traps to ensure they were funneled correctly.

Noisy pugi-pugi squeals echoed from inside the hole.

Right now, the bottom was packed tight with Orcs like a can of sardines. Orcs have decent jumping power, but since the one that landed on top had its tendons slashed, escape looked impossible. Even if they weren’t trapped, I’d just be waiting to ambush whoever managed to scramble out, so any struggle was futile.

“Ooh, they fell in nice and neat. Well then, shall we bury them?”

“Let’s. And don’t slack off—actually help me fill it, okay?”

“So little faith. Don’t worry, I won’t mess up the burial.”

“I say that because there’s a good chance you’ll just stand there and watch me until I’m finished.”

“I’ll do it, I’ll do it. It’d be a problem if they crawled back out because we did a half-baked job.”

Senior Rock and I grabbed large dirt-moving tools and began shoveling the mounds of earth piled near the pit into the hole with a rhythmic heave-ho. Miserable screams drifted up from below, but since Orc blood is toxic and a nightmare to clean up if you kill them with a sword, suffocating them is the best way to go. Since only one was actually bleeding, we wouldn’t have to haul away much contaminated soil.

Every time I do this, I get the feeling I’m burying something precious along with the dirt. I’m sure it’s just my imagination.

As you might have noticed by now, strategies involving a head-on clash with Orcs are extremely rare in this order. Actually, they’re almost non-existent. It’s mostly stuff like luring them into pitfalls, stopping them with barricades to pick them off with arrows, or smoking them out with fire.

“Still, you sure are handy, Varna-kun. This operation would usually require at least four people to account for the danger, but with you here, we can manage with just two. God bless Varna-kun.”

“Personally, I find it easier to just take their heads. If you ignore the cleanup, that is.”

“Stop, that’s scary… You really need to realize that ‘being strong enough to ignore safety’ is a bit of a problem, you know?”

It took us about ten minutes to roughly fill the pit. We planted a yellow flag to mark the spot for the recovery team and left the area.

Throughout the forest, various traps had been set for the Orc hunt.

If even a single Orc is allowed to escape, the consequences are terrifying.

If they were to get desperate and raid a nearby village, the damage could be catastrophic.

On the other hand, a head-on confrontation risked casualties among our own.

Navigating that razor-thin margin of safety is the daily reality for the Royal Foreign Hazardous Species Countermeasures Knights.

While we were on the move, I sensed a presence nearby and signaled Senior Rock to stop with a raised hand.

Visibility was poor, but based on the size of the silhouettes, it was likely—

“…What is it?”

“Three Orcs in the brush over there.”

“Are you serious? Unit Seven was supposed to have set traps on this route… Did they slip through? Crap, if they keep going that way, they’ll bypass the perimeter and vanish.”

Rock squinted through his binoculars at the Orcs, his face contorting with annoyance.

People might mock us as the “Pig-Hunt Knights,” but we are the foremost experts when it comes to hunting these swine.

However, expert or not, this forest was Orc territory. Even with the most carefully hidden traps, a calm Orc might sense a faint irregularity in the environment and steer clear.

The traps couldn’t do the job, and the containment line to the rear wasn’t foolproof yet.

In that case, our next move was decided.

I leveled my sword and mentally calculated the distance from the shadows of the trees.

Three targets total. Linear distance: forty meters. Footing: stable. Visibility: poor… Not bad conditions for an ambush.

“I’m going in. If we leave them, they’ll cause trouble later.”

“Normally, the rule of thumb for ambushing Orcs is to have at least equal numbers, but well, you’ll make it look easy, won’t you? Alright, Varna-kun, go get ’em!”

The moment the words left his mouth, I sprinted forward as if kicking the very earth away.

The poor visibility worked in my favor; the Orcs hadn’t noticed me yet.

The plan: take the first head with the opening strike, take the second with the follow-up, and finish the third in a face-to-face duel.

As I ran, I snatched up a fallen branch and tossed it, instantly circling around the opposite side of a tree.

The three Orcs snapped their heads toward the sound of the branch hitting the ground. Seizing that split second of distraction, I unleashed my blade into the empty air.

“Seventh Form—Harrier.”

I spun my body mid-leap, driving the edge into an Orc’s neck with the velocity of a high-speed top.

Shh-tick. The blade flashed, and the head of the Orc at the very back went flying.

“BUGYA!?”

“BUGIIIIIIII!!”

“Too loud. First Form—Teal!”

Having decapitated the first and landed in the center of the trio, I took advantage of their shock to whip out a lashing strike. The “Teal” was a technique specialized for speed, but depending on how it was used, its terrifying sharpness and reach allowed for a completely one-sided assault. Under the weight of that unexpected blow, the second Orc’s head tumbled.

That was the end of the surprise advantage. Reacting to a presence behind me, I performed a springing side-leap just as a lethally powerful club smashed into the spot where I’d been standing a heartbeat ago. The element of surprise was officially gone.

“BUGYAAAAAAAAAAA!!”

An Orc’s club is hard, heavy, and long-reaching, swung with the beast-like reflexes of the creature itself.

The idea that their massive bodies make them slow or clumsy is a complete fantasy; Orcs are mechanically efficient.

But that just meant I needed to be faster.

I aimed my sword in a straight line from my hip toward my opponent, gently resting my palm against the pommel.

Even if an Orc fights efficiently, it only has one club.

A strategy that relies solely on swinging at an unshielded enemy within range is nothing to be feared.

I dodged the Orc’s enraged horizontal swing, then its vertical smash. Then, the very instant it wound up for a massive, frustrated blow—my foot stomped the ground hard enough to gouge the earth, propelling my body forward with explosive speed.

“Sixth Form—Red Sparrow. Gouge through.”

Utterly simple. Moving faster than the Orc could bring down its club, I lunged, driving my blade toward its heart. The “Sparrow” was the simplest yet most lethal piercing technique in the school of swordsmanship; it destroyed the Orc’s heart in a single thrust, passing straight through its body.

“Bu… gi… gah…”

“Extermination complete. Senior, the flag, please.”

“Yeah, yeah. Honestly, your fighting style is as terrifying as it is reckless, Varna-kun. You’re not going to take that one’s head?”

“I put a sword through its heart; it’s dead enough. As long as it’s dead, I’m satisfied.”

I pulled my sword from the Orc, which could no longer move now that its central pump was destroyed. I took the flag from my senior—who had strolled over leisurely after the fact—and jammed it into the ground.

I didn’t feel much of an accomplishment. If anything, I felt a twinge of regret that I’d caused so much bleeding by hitting the heart and the necks; I’d have to apologize to the recovery team later. When you have to dig up all the soil contaminated by Orc blood toxins, you sometimes end up hauling back more dirt than actual monster.

It’s a hell of a workplace where every kill comes with a side of guilt toward your coworkers.

I couldn’t help but feel how cold and harsh the world is when being too good with a sword actually makes your life harder.