Praise the Orc!

Chapter 109 - Great Northern War (5)

Emeranian completely defeated the enemy. At Juora, the leader of the orc forces, Akhu was defeated and killed in a one-on-one fight, causing the morale of the orcs to drop catastrophically. The progress slowed and the orcs waited for the main army without further attacks

Nuridot was devastated. Some survivors fled to other cities or the Luklan Mountains, but most lost their lives there.

In another city called Yekator, located on the outskirts of the dark elf territory, street fighting was taking place.

***

"Hopeless,” said Jaluten the dark elf as he cut one of the orc’s necks. "We have to join the main forces at Juora.”

"There are still a lot of citizens remaining.”

“There is nothing we can do.”

The dark elves following him had already reduced in number. Their fighting spirit was lost and their morale was at an all-time low. It was the same for him as well.

"But how can we leave them alone?”

Jaluten looked at the face of a young dark elf. It was a person who still had his sense of justice.

"I’d rather die fighting."

Jaluten shook his head. “It is a dog’s death. Remember what happened today. Then later on, we will get a bigger revenge on them.”

He looked back. The city was burning. The landscape that their ancestors had lived in for generations had now become distorted and turned to ashes. Their friends, family, and neighbors had been split apart by axes.

Jaluten grabbed the young dark elf’s shoulder.

"Jaluten...”

His hands were shaking. Jaluten stared into the eyes of the young dark elf and said,"Through any means, get revenge.”

He closed his eyes and nodded.

Yekator had fallen. The dark elves resisted using the city’s buildings as shields, but the orc’s axes broke their heads without any mercy. They slaughtered and looted like it was a game.

They asked a question. Execution or slavery. Those who chose slavery were cut in the ankles and forced to crawl. Execution literally meant their heads being split apart.

Hell was currently occurring. The dark elf Jaluten and his followers resisted to the end, but eventually had to watch the whole city burn.

"Go out from the rear wall. There will be caruks in the old barn behind the garrison. Go to Juora or Emeranian.”

They moved quickly. Jaluten knew better than anyone else. They ran while voiding the eyes of the orcs. It was towards the back road leading outside the walls.

At that moment.

"Rats still remain!”

An orc stood blocking them. Jaluten gave strength to the hand holding the long sword. He couldn’t waste time. He had to kill this orc at once. But he sighed as he saw more soldiers emerge from behind the orc.

"Are they the last ones?”

They were warriors of the Great Clan.

The one in the front was a monster who wielded his axe and defeated any dark elf. It was far above the attack power of any other orc here and he had a strong commitment to victory.

He stared at Jaluten. "You are moderately interesting.”

Jaluten whispered to the one behind him, "I will block them, so run away.”

“But...”

“It isn’t enough.”

Jaluten looked at the dark elf following him. It was a peaceful age. But Jaluten had known that such a day would come. He raised warriors hoping it wouldn’t happen in his era. They were his heritage. They were young people who insisted on committing themselves to a penance that no one wanted to do.

"For my sake, go,” whispered Jaluten. “Keep this in mind. Never die a dog’s death. Take revenge with all your might.”

It was his last testament. That determination was passed onto the dark elf. It was enough.

Jaluten rushed towards the warriors with his sword. Meanwhile, the dark elf received his signal and ran away. Orcs tried to chase after him but Jaluten stopped them with his sword. The long sword danced through the air. But it didn’t last for long. A big spear pierced his abdomen. Blood emerged. An axe cut his shoulder. His whole scapula was removed.

Jaluten staggered with his eyes wide open. Now his body wasn’t listening to him. His legs cramped. He was bleeding from the nose and the mouth.

"Kulkul, I admire your effort but it is over. I’ll show you.”

A warrior grabbed his hair and pulled him. Jaluten’s spirit was plummeting towards death. A black curtain was coming down from above his head.

"Look at that.”

Jaluten opened his eyes. The runaway dark elf had been torn down by the orcs waiting. Screams were heard from far away.

“You didn’t do anything.” The orc smiled. "It was all in vain. The whole thing.”

As he said that, he twisted Jaluten’s neck.

Crunch.

Jaluten died.

124 years old. From an early age, he had held a sword behind his father. As a young man, he had no opponents in the city then he became a teacher to the young dark elves when he became older. He needed strength in order to protect the peace and watched out for the orcs. On the day that Yekator was captured, he died with his followers.

His eyes failed to detect it.

***

"His eyes didn’t see it,” Crockta said.

He closed the elf’s eyes. He didn’t know who the dark elf was. Based on the long sword, he seemed to resist until the end. He was a corpse on the outskirts of the city, along with another dark elf holding a sword.

Crockta prayed for him.

"We were too late.”

They had come from Emeranian towards Juora and then Yekator. Nuridot had already been completely destroyed and a defensive line was established to fend them off. They heard that Yekator was still fighting, but only found a ruined city and many dark elf corpses when they arrived.

The orcs occupying this place retreated without a fight. They were waiting for reinforcements. The orcs of the Great Clan were heading north. Two cities had been devastated by just an advance vanguard. The main army led by the great chieftain had much greater numbers. The real war hadn’t started yet.

"It is hard to stay here for a long time. The gates are destroyed,” Caska said. She was the dark elf commanding the troops. Crockta’s party was under her command as a type of mercenary.

"The nearby villages have evacuated... Now what?”

Caska sighed. The more she thought about it, the more impossible victory seemed. The dark elves weren’t a match, both in numbers and the quality of the soldiers. Orcs were used to battle and seemed prepared for war. The only hope for the dark elves was hiding behind the walls and enduring a siege.

"How horrible."

They wanted to collect the bodies of the dark elves to be burned, but it was too much. There were no intact bodies. Rather than corpses, it was more like body parts scattered all over the city. Some dark elves were nauseous.

Crockta’s face stiffened as he looked at the dead. Most of them weren’t carrying weapons. Young children, women, the elderly, all of them were dead. Some of them had their ankles cut off and were crawling somewhere. It was a thoroughly devastating trail.

That wasn’t the end. All the dark elves didn’t have ears, like they were taken as souvenirs. There were no bodies with their ears intact, and sometimes there were a bunch of ears on the ground.

It was a slaughter just for slaughter.

Crockta decided not to think of them as orcs. They weren’t orcs. It was totally different from the orcs living in honor on the continent.

“Where is the great chieftain?”

Crockta asked Caska. She flinched and opened her map. "According to the reconnaissance, he will reach the defense line a week later.

Crockta nodded.

Removing the great chieftain was the most important task. The source of all of this was the great chieftain. He was the one who brought together the orcs of the Great Clan and decided that they would take control of the north.

After unifying the north, they would strike at the continent. After he came, the real battle would take place.

"Caska.”

“Yes.”

"I would like to suggest an operation."

“What is it?”

Crockta thought with his arms folded. They must attack the enemy. Hit a point that the enemy could never imagine. It was the most important point. And he was a man who had always been mobilized for such an operation.

"A raid consisting of a small number of elites.”

“The goal?”

"The great chieftain.”

Caska’s eyes widened. “What?”

"The dark elves are basically just trying to survive. Who would’ve imagined that we would hit the great chieftain with a surprise raid?”

"No.”

"The enemy will never think about it.”

"Do you know why? The success rate is low! Don’t even think about it. It is ridiculous. Nonsense.”

"Then the dark elves will be ruined."

“......”

Crockta closed his eyes. Then he opened them again.

[Grey God’s Eyes (Outside the Ratings) has been activated.]

He didn’t like this skill. There was a sense of repulsion in seeing someone’s lifespan. It was natural to live and die. It was unnatural to force it. It was presumptuous to try and counteract it. So he had sealed it after he first used it at Nameragon.

But,

Crockta closed his eyes again after seeing the numbers floating above their heads. He didn’t want to see anymore. The numbers above the heads of the dark elves were all different, but they pointed to a similar future.

A massacre. They would all be slaughtered.

"Caska, do you have a way to contact Zelkian?”

“Zelkian?”

"I have something to say to him.”

Crockta’s eyes sunk.

His instincts were telling him. There was only one method to win this war. Other operations and tactics would lead to defeat.

It was the only way.

Assassinate the great chieftain.

***

"Grr...."

A beastlike sound emerged from the mouth of an orc.

"How are you feeling?"

“Good.”

He got up. His body, which was originally big, had become larger. He was big enough to make other orcs seemed like a kid, and powerful enough to swing his axe with one hand. The word monster suited Calmahart, great chieftain of the orcs.

“We march again tomorrow. Increase the speed. Arrive as early as possible.”

"I understand.”

“As quickly as possible. Within 5 days.”

“Yes.”

He sat on a throne. It was a newly created one in order to accommodate his larger size. It was decorated with the skulls of the enemies he killed, and the slaves were forced to carry it during the march.

Calmahart smiled.

“Shaman. Your fate reading?”

"Huhuhu, my reading of your fate is always the same.” The shaman bowed his head. "You will win the north. Everyone will be killed before your armed forces.”

"Kuk kuk, is that so?”

The great chieftain grabbed his armrests.

"That...haha.”

He used strength and tore off the armrests. Then he threw them. The armrests rolled to the side of the shaman.

"There is no one who will entertain me.”

"Let’s see...”

"I want something unexpected.”

He grinned.

“Yes, like now. I hope someone will open that door in a surprise attack. No, tomorrow would be good. I want someone to swing their sword towards me neck while I’m sleeping. When I arrive at the dark elves, I want all my troops to be destroyed.”

“......”

"Do you know why I want to go to the continent?”

"How can I know?”

"I have no opponents in the north.” Calmahart buried himself deep into the throne. "I hope to find an opponent. An opponent who can make me struggle.”

The shaman laughed. Then he bowed deeply.

"I’m sure you will find it. Of course, you will always win.”

The shaman closed his eyes. The future of Calmahart that he saw was always the same.

Death, killing, slaughter, and victory. He never saw defeat in his future.

Calmahart was the brightest star he knew. There were no doubts about the future.

Glossary of Common Korean Terms.

Praise the Orc: Glossary Link.

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