Chapter 41

Battles with Orcs almost always took place in mountain recesses; fighting on flat ground with no cover was a rarity. Since the area surrounding the Orcs’ cliff was mostly level, a straightforward frontal assault would have put us at a disadvantage.

On the other hand, we didn’t exactly have the luxury of time to stack sandbags or dig trenches while Orcs rained boulders down on us.

Thus, the conclusion.

“We use the catapults to hurl balls of scent the Orcs hate. When they can’t stand it and come crawling out, we toss tear-gas firecrackers to blind them, then the spear units move in for the kill. That’s the plan.”

“So we ambush them as they flee the smell, blind them, and then finish them off… Is that really okay for a Knight to do? Morally speaking?”

Nagi looked genuinely repulsed by the tactical details. I’d call that a textbook reaction.

However, even if it looked that way from a civilian’s perspective, our mentality as a Knight Order was unshakeable: whether it was cowardly or underhanded, winning without casualties was everything.

Senior Garmon, gripping his spear beside us, spoke up to counsel Nagi.

“The Order doesn’t run on idealism alone. More importantly, make sure you don’t breathe in the smoke from those firecrackers.”

“I get it already…”

“You were given special permission to participate this time, but be careful not to push too far forward.”

“I told you, I get it…!”

“Do you have your handkerchief? Remember, your snack budget is three hundred Stele.”

“Is this a field trip?! Quit making stupid jokes!!”

“Well, it’s your first battle, isn’t it? Every soldier is nervous during their debut…”

“It’s not my first battle! I’ve fought them once before! And I took one down by myself!”

“Heh… You what?! I never heard about this!? Why didn’t you say anything until now… wait! Was that what you were trying to tell me so meaningfully back during my last leave?!”

“Gehehe, it’s your fault for not listening more closely back then, Brother!!”

The Garmon and Nagi brothers were putting on a masterful display of brotherly banter. Let’s call them “Gar-Nagi.” There was a reason these two—who sounded like they were speaking in some kind of industry shorthand—were lined up near the cliff with me. In truth, Nagi had been allowed to participate in the Orc subjugation, provided he was backed up by Senior Garmon and myself.

With Nagi, the leader, on the front lines, the members of the Kliffia Militia were also handling the catapults.

In short, it was a way of showing that the Knights relied on the Militia.

On the surface, it looked like mere hospitality, but since the only ones who knew how to operate the catapults were the Militia members who performed test fires several times a year, it was actually a rational decision. And since we were short on people skilled with polearms, Nagi’s participation was a welcome addition.

Furthermore, we arranged it so that Senior Garmon and I made the request to Nagi in front of everyone, and he accepted for the sake of the town. Nagi showed he was willing to put his life on the line for Kliffia and accepted the proposal from the brother he had been feuding with. The change in the Militia’s attitude upon seeing this was dramatic, in a good way.

Their leader had said that for the sake of the town, he would set aside personal feelings and join hands. The older members of the Militia, realizing they had been letting emotion take priority while claiming to act for the town’s sake, finally relented. This successfully cut off any risk of them acting on their own.

Thinking back, although Nagi had boasted that he would “bow his head if personal feelings were excluded,” he probably wouldn’t have been able to accept the request for cooperation with such a sincere expression if it hadn’t been for that fistfight against the backdrop of the sunset.

The same went for Senior Garmon; without that, his usual safe, vacant smile might have only increased Nagi’s distrust.

‘I pulled some pretty reckless stunts, but I guess it was worth it…?’

The dynamic of Nagi rebelling against Garmon remained unchanged, but the sharp edges and thorns were gone from his words. It seemed this was the proper way for brothers to be.

“Huh? Hey, what are you smiling at?”

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking you two are two peas in a pod… Sorry, I let my guard down too much before the operation.”

“Honestly, Varna-kun, where is your sense of tension? Be resolute, be resolute.”

“You’re one to talk!!”

Nagi’s retort landed square on Garmon, but after a moment, everyone fell silent.

Naturally, the same went for all the members in their various positions.

The scent-balls, soaked in a smell Orcs detested, were ready for launch. We had finished test firing, loaded the goods, and finished positioning; the start of the mission was essentially in the countdown phase. Even if the scale was small, we were about to face a desperate Orc attack, so we couldn’t afford to be too lax.

Instead of launching the scent-balls directly into the interior, we had rigged them with gunpowder and fuses to explode right above the holes. Behind the spear units, the men in charge of throwing the tear-gas firecrackers—packed with mustard and other spices—waited with bated breath for the Orcs to arrive.

A strange exhilaration enveloped my body. I gripped the hilt of my usual sword—the only one allowed within the spear unit—and looked up at the cliff.

Even though we were about to take lives, I found myself impatient for the moment to arrive. I wondered if this sensation was because I unconsciously craved battle, or if I was simply swelling with expectation for what lay beyond it.

‘Well, the fact that we’re getting rid of the Orcs is a happy thing regardless. I’ll just swing my sword as always and hunt down the prey.’

We were the Pig-Hunting Knight Order, and I was Beheader Varna.

If there were Orcs, we annihilated them; if there weren’t, we found them and annihilated them.

Another day of hunting the heads of the nuisances infesting the Kingdom for a meager salary.

Eventually, a Myna bird Familiar let out a shrill cry as it circled above the cliff—the signal for the start of hostilities.

“TIME: 14:00!! COMMENCE OPERATION!! COMMENCEEEEE!!”

The Kliffia Cliff Orc Subjugation—“Operation: Killer Bee”—was underway.

The operation began as planned with the catapults launching the scent bombs.

“Wind direction good! Angle fixed!”

“At this distance, the wind hardly matters, and the angle’s been fixed for hours.”

“Can’t you appreciate a man’s romance for once?!”

“Yeah, yeah… Scent bomb loaded, ignited! Five seconds to launch!! …Three! …Two! …One!”

“SCENT BOMB, FIREEEE!!”

I felt a slight surge of murderous intent toward the smug face of the Militia senior who had insisted on standing in front of the catapult despite never having fired one, just because he wanted to do that shout. Meanwhile, a lower-ranking member pulled the lever. Carrying the weight of the counterweight as it descended with eerie slowness, Nonoka-san’s specially-made scent bomb took to the air.

The scent bomb climbed slowly through the sky, trailing small sparks as it traced a parabola—and then, near the hole at the top of the cliff, it went BANG!! and burst.

“Target hit! …Did it? I can’t tell from here if it landed where we wanted.”

“The plan was for it to explode before it entered. Just go home already.”

“Stage one successful! All units, battle stations! Tear-gas firecrackers, READDDYYYY!!”

“A hit! Alright, load the next round!!”

“No, there is no next round. Please go home.”

“The Orcs are coming! For safety’s sake, withdraw the catapults! Withdraw, withdraw!!”

The Kliffia Militia Catapult Squad’s turn was over. The catapults, along with the senior who had tried to linger on the scene, were swiftly moved off the battlefield by the Knight recovery team.

Watching from a distance, I suddenly realized I recognized the man being hauled away.

“Wait… looking closely, isn’t that the guy who spat on the wooden sword I use at the tavern? You know, that really stupid guy.”

“That moron… he’s a total disgrace to the Militia! Does he want to be expelled?!”

“Deal with the moron later! The Orcs have moved!!”

Startled by Senior Garmon’s casually harsh words, I looked up at the top of the cliff. There, swarming out from the heights in a frantic mess, were Orcs panicked by the stench that had hit them after a slight delay. There were about 20 of them. That likely accounted for the last of the soldier-class.

Unable to endure the intense malodor, the Orcs’ movements lacked any precision; some, in their desperate scramble for fresh oxygen, leaped out into midair where there was no footing and plummeted.

“Bugyaaaaaaa!? …Bugih!!”

“Buggi, buggi…!? Pigyiiiiii!!”

Even with the sudden fall, they adjusted their postures in mid-air and landed with a heavy thud on all fours. This was exactly why Orcs could move without hesitation even in places with extreme verticality. Despite the cliff being nearly fifty meters high, the fact that they remained combat-ready made their biological sturdiness nothing short of exasperating.

Not every Orc had descended yet, but the stench must have been unbearable, as most of the soldier-class made their way down to the base of the cliff. At that moment, timing it perfectly, Vice Commander Rony raised his voice.

“Now!! Ignite the tear-gas firecrackers! All units, throw!!”

“Spear squads, watch you don’t breathe in the smoke! Hyup!!”

The tear-gas firecrackers, created by the Tool Creation Squad based on overseas monster-hunting texts, were hurled into the fray. They burst with a rhythmic pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!!, sending up plumes of red smoke. The source of the smoke was a wealth of spices—actually, those were expensive, so it was apparently a low-cost, pungent chemical substitute provided by Nonoka-san.

The effect was—once again—staggering.

“Bugyaaaaa!? Bugushu, buga… bugushu!?”

“Gabo, bugu!? Pigiaaaaaaaaaaaa!!”

The Orcs that had fallen from the cliff were hit one after another by the tear-gas smoke and let out hideous screams.

They thrashed about, clutching their faces, to the point where one might think they would simply die if left alone. Younger Orcs, still under adulthood, were fanned by the smoke as they descended and fell as well. This time, overcome by the pain in their eyes and throats, many failed to even break their fall, hitting the ground with one dull thud after another.

Now, all that remained was—.

“The Orcs are breaking through the smoke!! Their eyes and noses are useless!! Don’t panic, don’t let them get close, and take them down one by one!!”

“All men, rouse yourselves!! Level weapons, intercept!!”

“BUGYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!”

Charging through the smoke, the Orcs rushed forward, relying solely on their one remaining sense: their ears.

Perhaps unable to procure materials, most were unarmed and used their bare hands.

—An Orc without a weapon in hand suffers from inferior reach, but because they can move on all fours, their agility increases. If one let their guard down, they could easily have several bones snapped; they were dangerous entities no matter how you looked at it.

So, how should I go about taking a head when the enemy charges in on all fours?

The answer… was to raise my sword directly above the Orc and do this:

“Hidden Style, Fourth Form—‘Horned Owl’.”

“Bugyaa, a…?”

In the next instant, I swung my sword down from the side of the charging Orc.

Viewed from the flank, the neck of the Orc charging forward was shockingly defenseless.

With a clean thump, the Orc’s head fell to the earth and rolled.

Blood sprayed violently from the headless corpse, but since this was a brawl on flat ground, there was no need to plant a retrieval flag.

“…Whew. Haven’t used that in a while, but I’m not rusty.”

Within the Kingdom’s Offensive Draw-Sword Arts, there were techniques known as the “Hidden Styles” that were not included in the twelve secret arts for various reasons. The one I just used was one of them—a movement technique called Horned Owl. By using a special kind of footwork to instantaneously circle to the opponent’s side without changing posture, it appears to the enemy as if you have vanished from their sight.

I used it this time because, as the only one not using a spear, I needed to ensure I took the Orc’s head.

When I was an amateur, I thought it was primarily a trick to catch the opponent off guard, but I had come to realize it was actually a secret art designed to facilitate an attack from the most advantageous angle. …To be blunt, mastering it was harder than any of the eleven standard secret arts, excluding the final one. If you failed, you’d be slammed into the ground at high speed with a wham!, which was incredibly painful and embarrassing.

By the time I moved, the knights surrounding the cliff had entered combat with the Orcs one after another, finishing them off reliably. They made sure to wound the limbs to make them collapse, and in that moment, used spears to pierce vital spots like the throat or heart, immediately scanning the surroundings afterward.

It was clinical, but a steady and certain method of hunting.

They were used to handling panicked Orcs, and the monsters’ numbers dwindled in no time. Standing out remarkably among the crowd was the duo of Nagi and Senior Garmon.

“Nagi, the finishing blow!!”

“Got it!! Drop dead!!”

“BUGYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!”

In a fluid motion, Senior Garmon brilliantly broke the Orc’s posture, and at the same time, Nagi slid in as if pulled by a magnet to deliver a certain kill. This simple movement, refined to its ultimate efficiency, produced a mountain of Orc corpses around the two of them.

“…Even though they could only communicate through the occasional spear training, they’re showing off a combination like they’ve been partners for over a decade…”

It seemed that those “hospitality matches” filled with pulled punches—while meaningless for individual growth—had been highly effective for their coordination. Fighting in a way that never obstructed the other, as if they knew each other’s boundaries perfectly, they looked like two people performing a dance.

“I’m all about solo play, so I can’t do that—HUP!!”

“Bugyeh!?”

Cutting down an Orc that approached on two legs rather than four with a spinning slash, I happened to glance toward the cliff and noticed something. Even though the adult Orcs had been mostly dealt with, the juveniles and females seemed to have noticed the carnage below and remained at the top of the cliff.

“The tear-gas smoke has settled. No sign of them throwing rocks… it’s not a bad time for a surprise attack. —Senior! I’m going up to finish off the Orcs on top of the cliff!! If they stay perched up there, this will never end!!”

“Yes! Go get—wait, absolutely not!? What if you fall while fighting in a place with such bad footing!!”

“It’s no use, Brother! Varna’s already heading for the cliff!!”

“Are you a runaway express train?! Good grief, Senior Rock used to manage Varna-kun so well, didn’t he!?”

He didn’t manage me, he just gave me an okay sign without thinking, I mused to myself.

Relying on the route the Orcs had used to come down, I kicked off the rocks and climbed the cliff. In the steeper sections, I climbed using raw arm strength with my sword gripped in my teeth, reaching the summit in about a minute. The moment I arrived, a juvenile Orc waiting above tried to stomp me, but I lined the edge of my blade up with the angle of its foot.

“Pikiiiiiii!?”

Its misfortune was that it had put its whole soul into that stomp to kick me off; its foot split beautifully over the blade, causing it to slip and tumble down the cliff. I was sprayed with a bit of blood, but ignoring it, I rolled onto the clifftop and sprang up into a sprint. I swung my sword at the flinching Orcs.

“Oooooooooooooh!!”

“Gikyaaaaaaaaa!!”

With a war cry, I lopped off the head of the Orc in front of me, and with the returning blade, I stepped in and slashed the Orc behind it, sprinting across the clifftop to put an end to the Orcs one by one. I killed them all equally—those too young to fight and those who weren’t—and shoved them off the ledge.

Whether it was cruel or savage, there was no mercy in a struggle for life.

The very last Orc—the boss of the pack—swung a club, which I dodged by crouching.

Without waiting for the wind pressure that seemed to scoop the air from above to vanish, I slid my blood-stained blade forward.

“You’re the last one! ‘Spot-Bill’!!”

“Gah…!?”

A slash with speed akin to an iai draw sucked into the Orc’s neck, and its rugged face took to the air.

In that instant, however, realizing I’d made a blunder, I forced my body into a rotation to recover from the mistake. With a grind, my pivot foot gouged the ground like a spinning top, and a momentum-fueled roundhouse kick sent the headless Orc’s body flying.

Adding one more rotation, I did one more thing—I used the flat of my sword to swat the free-falling head of the Orc I’d just sent flying. Stopping my spin, I let out a long breath.

“…I can’t afford to let the bodies or heads fall into this vertical cave, after all.”

Having swatted every Orc head away from the cliff to ensure Myun-myun’s home and the town’s water source weren’t contaminated, I sighed and looked down at the base of the cliff. I couldn’t see any Orcs left alive. At the same time, the Familiar that had been flying around for both distraction and as a messenger flapped its wings and landed nearby.

“VARNA! VARNA! THAT WAS THE LAST ONE!”

“Oh, the Familiar. If that’s the last of them… then Orc extermination is complete!”

“EXTERMINATION COMPLETE!! MISSION SUCCESS!! SUCCESSSSSSSS!!”

From the top of the cliff where numerous headless Orc corpses lay, the Familiar’s victory declaration echoed out.