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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Silverriver
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“Winter has come,” Bell said, her expression grim.
I didn’t understand. It was summer.
“It’s summer. Does winter have another meaning here?”
Bell explained,
“We don’t really distinguish seasons in Winter Castle. It always snows.”
-KRRRRRAAA!
A repulsive roar, unlike any human sound, like nails scraping against a chalkboard.
“So, there’s only one reason why winter comes to Cardia.”
Bell hurried up the stairs leading to the castle walls. Agnes and I followed.
-BLARE!
A horn blared, its sound echoing through Winter Castle. Soldiers rushed about on the walls. A single horn blast had transformed the fortress.
The soldiers who had been napping, the scouts sharpening their blades and eating… everyone was preparing for battle, as if following a prearranged signal.
-Creak…
The castle gates closed. The last scout to enter gasped for breath, then shouted,
“They’re coming!”
The soldiers, gripping their swords and spears, gritted their teeth. My heart pounded in my chest.
I finally understood why. The pungent stench of blood filled the air. A green tide surged from beyond the mountains.
“Archers, to your positions!”
“Squad leaders, report your numbers! Any missing personnel?!”
The commanders barked orders. The soldiers’ hands moved quickly, gripping rocks, arrows… no one was unarmed.
“See that?”
Bell pointed beyond the mountains. I followed her gaze. It wasn’t just a green tide.
“Holy shit…”
Agnes cursed under her breath. It was understandable. Anyone seeing this for the first time would be shocked.
Orcs, the same creatures I had been slaughtering by the dozens, were approaching Winter Castle in legions. Thousands of them, at least.
The very air of the castle crackled with tension.
“You asked what winter was, didn’t you?”
Excitement surged through me. My body thrummed, eager to unleash its power.
Bell muttered, pointing at the orcs,
“That’s our winter.”
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The scouts, huddled against the castle walls, gasped for breath. I followed Bell to where the Count stood.
“Count.”
“You’re here.”
The Count stroked his short, bristly beard.
“Speak of the devil. I didn’t expect winter to arrive the moment you did.”
“It’s a war, then.”
“Winter is harsh, but it passes quickly. I hope this war will be the same.”
The noisy fortress fell silent. Everyone was ready. The Count stood up, a massive spear in his hand. A weapon so large I wondered how he could even wield it.
“We should… welcome winter with a proper greeting.”
The Count assumed a stance, hefting the two-meter spear with one hand.
“Hmph!”
He hurled it.
The spear tore through the air, a blur of steel. To throw such a massive weapon with one hand… I was impressed by the Count’s strength.
“Ugh, my arm always tingles after throwing that.”
The Count rubbed his arm as he watched the spear fly. This man, the Count of Cardia, the Lord of Winter Castle, had endured countless winters like this.
-BOOM!
An explosion erupted amidst the green tide. The spear ricocheted off a particularly large orc.
“Oh? They came prepared.”
“Orc Lord sighted!”
The scouts shouted as the Count expressed his surprise. An Orc Lord? Did they even have such a title?
I glared at the creature. It glared back at the Count, its killing intent palpable. That creature’s head would be mine. My blood boiled, my heart pounding, just like when I had hunted the Orc Warrior.
The killing intent, the anticipation… it fueled my excitement. But I held back, desperately suppressing my aura.
‘Not yet.’
Not yet.
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The orc horde didn’t move, despite being hit by the Count’s spear. They held their ground.
The standoff continued. The Orc Lord, after its brief appearance, had vanished from sight. The orcs seemed to have no intention of attacking.
After a day of this stalemate, the commanders grew restless.
“The orcs don’t seem to want to attack.”
“Should we attack them?”
“It’s possible, but we’ll suffer heavy casualties.”
They all looked puzzled. It didn’t make sense. The orcs would be the ones to suffer in a prolonged siege. Humans could endure hunger, but monsters couldn’t.
And with the Orc Lord’s appearance, the most likely scenario was a trap. But the scouts hadn’t found any other signs, despite their thorough searches.
“Tsk.”
I clicked my tongue and chewed on a piece of barley bread. It was cold, hard, and tasteless.
I was hoping the orcs would make a move. My excitement was fading. I didn’t want to lose this hard-won momentum.
‘But I can’t just suggest a reckless charge.’
I was an outsider, after all. I couldn’t overstep my boundaries. I looked at the green tide, unusually still and quiet.
And within that green, a darker shade of green stood out. The Orc Lord. The Orc Lord was, literally, their king.
Bell had explained it to me. A unique individual capable of commanding the otherwise mindless orcs. Its ferocity and intelligence were said to surpass that of any orc or human. That’s why we had to be extra cautious when facing an Orc Lord, Bell had warned.
‘Archxius.’
‘You’re perceptive as always.’
Archxius cursed at me. I was used to it, so I ignored it.
‘I heard it possesses the intelligence of a human and the ferocity of an orc.’
‘Hmm… I don’t know.’
A ferocious monster, driven by its primal instincts. Its nature never changed, Archxius said. Her tone was filled with disgust.
I asked her why she hated orcs so much.
‘Ah…’
Looking at the orcs’ faces, I understood. They weren’t exactly an aesthetically pleasing race.
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On the second day of the standoff, the orcs began their attack. They advanced in small groups, keeping the scouts busy.
-Whoosh!
Arrows sliced through the air, and orcs beneath the walls fell with cries of pain.
-BLARE!
The horn blared again. More orcs were charging, a green tide engulfing the white plains.
They carried ladders, protected by shield-bearing orcs.
-Thud.
Ladders were placed against the castle walls. The knights pushed them back, severing them with their auras.
-Twang! Twang!
The air filled with the sound of bowstrings being drawn and released. A rain of arrows fell upon the dark green horde. The white snow turned green, then red with blooming flowers of blood.
-Clang!
Despite the scouts’ efforts, grappling hooks latched onto the walls. The soldiers of Winter Castle were elite, but…
…they were outnumbered.
-Roar!
Orcs climbed the ladders, roaring. The scouts’ arrows found their marks, and the orcs without shields fell to their deaths, becoming fertilizer for the red flowers.
The battle raged. Orcs died screaming, but there were always more.
They showed no sign of giving up, climbing the ladders as if driven by a desperate need to reach the top. I was surprised. This wasn’t a full-scale assault. Despite the fighting, their numbers hadn’t dwindled.
Beyond the walls, the dark green tide watched, waiting. And among them… was the Orc Lord.
I gripped my sword, its blade slick with orc blood. But in my eyes, it was clean. I only wanted the Orc Lord’s blood, to sever its head and paint the snow crimson.
Uncharacteristic thoughts filled my mind. Killing intent surged through me, my blood pumping, my heart racing.
My body reveled in the thrill of battle.
-Roar!
An Orc Warrior, having scaled the wall, raised its club. I stared at it. Agnes shouted,
“Deron!”
-Shing
Lost in the thrill, I drew my sword, the motion so fluid and effortless it sent shivers down my spine. I could hear my own heartbeat, the scent of blood intoxicating.
My body, as if finally unleashed, surged with power. Free from the constraints of my terminal illness, it craved more. It demanded more blood.
A voice echoed in my mind as I closed my eyes, focusing my aura. A presence different from Archxius, sending a chill down my spine.
-ROOOOOAR!
The king of the orcs, its size dwarfing the others, its fighting spirit blazing.
The Orc Lord. It moved. Seeing it roar, I grinned.
Finally.
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