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Chapter 114: The Cruel March (2)

He was surprised because he felt too refreshed. Crockta looked around him, but he couldn’t find Tiyo and Anor, who were supposed to be lying inside the tent with him. Crockta ran outside.

“Oh, did you finally wake up?” asked Tiyo.

“Crockta, what a sleepyhead,” said Anor. The two were smirking as they cooked meat on top of a makeshift grill above the campfire. It was already noon.

“How...” muttered Crockta. They were supposed to follow the chiefdom’s route as soon as the sun was up, but it was already afternoon.

Caska smiled as she walked toward him. “Why are you looking at us like that? We were trying to be considerate of you.”

“You delayed traveling because of me?”

“Yeah.”

“The chiefdom is...”

“The chieftain is injured anyway. He certainly won’t overexert himself for a day, so you should rest.”

Caska had deliberately delayed the move for Crockta.

“There’s a saying that the more rushed you are, the more you should slow down,” she said.

Crockta looked around him. The dark elf soldiers were preparing their meals in good spirits. Crockta’s face stiffened.

“Caska...”

“What, you’re touched?” asked Caska.

Crockta had a realization when he saw the grin on her face. ‘These dark elves don’t understand war.’

Although they had experienced battles, they had never dealt with a full blown-out war, so they didn’t know how important half a day was. They had no idea that each and every hour was critical in determining the outcome of the war. None of them had ever experienced the kind of outcome that could result from a brief delay of plans due to fatigue. A single slash was enough to kill someone, and war was an accumulation of giant slashes and cuts. The blade could fall on them at any time.

“Were you able to get a grasp of the chiefdom’s situation?” asked Crockta.

“The scouting team will return soon,” replied Caska.

“So you weren’t able to...We need to depart immediately.”

“Crockta,” sighed Caska. “There are other units aside from us. Even if the chiefdom had gotten a head start, each city has its own troops, and the cities are working closely together. Don’t try to do everything on your own.”

She wasn’t wrong, but Crockta’s instincts told him he had to get moving immediately. He couldn’t get the image of the chieftain’s red eyes out of his mind. There wasn’t any mercy or compromise, reason or even ambition within those eyes. Crockta only saw a drive for battle, thirst for blood, and extreme violence. They couldn’t face a foe like Calmahart with common sense.

“We have to leave as soon as possible,” Crockta repeated.

Caska finally nodded in agreement seeing the serious look on Crockta’s face.

“Fine. Fine. I understand, but let’s eat first.” She seemed annoyed by Crockta’s persistent demand to decamp and turned around with her arms crossed.

Crockta realized he was hungry at Caska’s mention of food. Like she said, it wouldn’t be too late to start moving after eating something first. His anxiety could be stemming from his confrontation with Calmahart.

***

Tiyo and Anor were laughing and cooking meat behind the tent. Crockta walked up to them. Tiyo was on guard. “You are greedily eyeing the meat.”

Anor chimed in. “There’s a saying that those who do not work shall not eat.”

“The amount we have to give to a lazy orc who slept until noon...” Tiyo waved a few pieces of herbs that he had put on the meat to enhance the fragrance.

“Hmm, this much?” Then, he laughed uproariously. Anor followed after him and laughed with glee. They got along so well.

“I’m joking. Just joking. Here, take this. There’s no way we would be cold to you,” said Tiyo, still smiling.

Then, he handed Crockta a small piece of meat. It wasn’t even bite-sized. Tiyo smirked.

“Crockta’s on a diet!” Then, they looked at each other and began chuckling.

“Hahahaha!You are so mean! Crockta on a diet!”

“It’s all out of love and care for my friend’s health! Hahahahahaha!”

They were like the mean extras in a movie who harassed the main character. Crockta looked down at Tiyo and Anor one by one with sullen eyes. They continued to giggle and make meat skewers out of twigs and cooked them by twirling them around.

“Haha. Ah! Too hot! The stick is too short!” exclaimed Tiyo.

“Be careful. We don’t have enough branches.”

“We have the meat but not the proper tools...” Tiyo smirked again.

“But there’s someone even more pitiful; he doesn\'t even have meat. At least I’m not empty handed...hehehe.”

“You know, it’s no good comparing yourself with someone who has it worse just to feel better about yourself. Haha,” quipped Anor.

“Then why are you laughing? He...”

“Then what about you, Tiyo? Hehe...”

“I’m laughing because the weather is nice! Hehehehehe!”

“I’m also just laughing because the breeze is nice! Hehehehehe!”

Crockta closed his eyes. How sad was this? They say a rotten apple spoils the barrel. This young man called Anor set the trustworthy warrior Crockta aside and let himself be influenced by Tiyo, the opportunist.

This dude who had been bullied not too long ago, became a bully himself after learning how to cuss! Crockta raised his greatsword, casting a long shadow over them. Tiyo and Anor flinched.

“C-could it be...?”

“We just teased him a little...haha...”

With a piercing look in his eyes, Crockta swung his greatsword without hesitation.

“...Ah!”

On top of the blade pointed at them was...meat.

Crockta used the blade of his Ogre Slayer as a grill to cook meat. The meat smoothly slid over the masterpiece of the Golden Anvil tribe as if its surface had been greased each time Crockta moved his wrist. The meat didn’t stick to the blade at all. Crockta placed the herbs Tiyo and Anor had been teasing him with on top of the meat and sprinkled some salt.

When it was about time, Crockta flipped the meat on his greatsword. He seared the outside of the meat while retaining the juices inside, leaving the piece of meat really tender.

Tiyo and Anor looked down at the thin branches in their hands. The meat they had grilled directly above the fire was all burnt, the herbs seared onto them didn’t look very appetizing either. Moreover, the branches were so small that they would break after a few uses.

Crockta withdrew his blade. The perfect steak was gleaming before their eyes. Tiyo and Anor didn’t even realize that all of their meat had burned because they were busy observing Crockta’s grilling skills. They forgot about their meat and just stared at the Crockta’s.

Crockta’s hand moved slowly. He was going to take a bite out of this perfect steak. As soon as he took a bite, red juices exploded in his mouth. What took place in his mouth wasn’t just simple consumption for the sake of sustenance; it was a party of flavors! Crockta’s steak looked like a once-in-a-lifetime feast to Tiyo and Anor who had been unable to enjoy proper food ever since their long days of camping had started.

Tiyo was the first one to grasp the situation.

“I apologize...!”

With a thud, Tiyo lowered his head as he got down on his knees.

Crockta looked at Anor. Anor, who looked like he was walking on eggshells, gave in to Crockta’s skills.

“Uhh...” He plopped down. “I want to eat steak.”

Crockta looked at the two redeemed men with hollow eyes. He prayed they wouldn’t fall back on the path of evil.

“Say my name,” demanded Crockta.

“Who am I?” asked Crockta.

Tiyo and Anor raised their heads. Crockta had the benevolent smile of an old god in a mural. As if they only then realized something, they muttered, “Crockta...”

“Yes, I’m Crockta.”

He then stood up and transported the uncooked piece of meat next to Tiyo and Anor onto the surface of his blade. Three large chunks of meat densely occupied the Ogre Slayer as it headed toward the flames.

“I’m a very merciful warrior.”

Tiyo and Anor regretted their past actions as they watched the meat sizzling on the blade.

***

“We really made it,” muttered the Great Warrior Shireuga.

The cruel march ordered by the chieftain had finally ended. They looked at the fortress in the distance and gripped their weapons. ‘Ameranyan...the city of dark elves.’

It was the most prosperous area among the cities that bordered their territory. If they crushed that place, they could immediately advance to key cities like Nameragon or Rorgach, and most importantly, the World Tree. As soon as they chopped down the tree and burned it, victory would be theirs.

Then, the north would fall under their reign and set the foundation for their invasion of the continent. The chieftain wanted to turn the entire north into a tool for war and annihilate everything below the border.

‘What will the world be like once the conquest is over?’ wondered Shireuga. He struggled to shake off those thoughts.

“The city of those who were made to be our slaves is over there. The city of weak trash,” said the chieftain as he stood up on the palanquin. His gruff voice rumbled and echoed everywhere. The sorcerer cast a spell with his hands, and the chieftain’s voice grew even louder and rang fiercely among the soldiers.

“We will seize that place. I will allow anything you desire. Make that place yours. You can have everything.”

His eyes turned red as he looked at the orcs all around. The fatigued orc army began to murmur in excitement.

Shireuga also felt something strange burning in his chest. His heart raced, and the excitement before battle swirled in his head. He raised his weapon in the air because he wanted to feel the weight of his axe, and his arm twitched because it had missed the liberating feeling of swinging the weapon. He wanted to swing at, chop, and crush the heads of his enemies as they begged for their lives.

Battle and victory—those two things took over his thoughts.

“Planning is for the weak,” said the chieftain as he stepped down from his palanquin. For a second, the palanquin lurched. The slaves flinched, but the chieftain didn’t seem to mind. He just casually swung his axe.

A few of the slaves supporting the palanquin lost their balance and fell, causing the palanquin to collapse and crush the rest of the slaves. The chieftain immediately jumped on top and put his whole weight on them before starting to stomp. Shireuga could hear the sound of bones breaking underneath as the slaves let out their final screams. Blood gushed from underneath the palanquin.

“We can get as many slaves as we want from there.” The chieftain smirked. “I will run over and crush the entrance.”

The chieftain extended his hand and pointed at the huge door of the fortress. The soldiers had bombarded the door with siege weapons, but it refused to collapse.

“I will push them out.” The chieftain raised his axe. “Follow me and slaughter everyone in sight. That’s the plan.”

The orcs raised their weapons, and the Great Warriors shouted, “Victory for the chiefdom!” The orcs shouted after them.

“Victory!” Shireuga was also swept up by the atmosphere and the chieftain’s voice and shouted along with everyone.

“Death for the enemy of the chiefdom!” the Great Warriors continued chanting.

The orcs shouted back eagerly, “Death!”

With the orcs’ shout as the signal, the chieftain began running. The orcs followed behind him. The orcs whose stamina and morale had been rock bottom from the cruel march leapt forward with new-found excitement.

Everyone burned with fighting spirit as they roared and ran toward the fortress. They didn’t care about the impenetrable fortress and the countless arrows that would rain down on them. They only saw the chieftain’s back and ran. The chieftain looked like a giant charging at the fortress.

“Ahhhhhhhhh!” The chieftain’s body swelled up with waves of red energy as he ran. He ran as fast as a beast roaring and stomping the earth. His target was the door. He slung the axe over his shoulder and charged. One of them would break.

Dust rose up in the air, revealing the victor. The door was broken while the chieftain didn’t have a scratch on his body.

“Kill this trash!” he shouted as he made his way into Ameranyan and swung his axe, sending severed dark elves soaring above the fortress walls. The chieftain had successfully crushed the line of defense inside the fortress by himself, and the orcs entered the city like a swarm of ants. The massacre had begun. It was an unimaginably explosive and cruel march.

That day, Ameranyan was annihilated.

***

When Caska received news of Ameranyan’s fall, her entire army was shocked.

She was quiet for a while and then declared, “We are heading to Nameragon.”

Crockta was unable to say anything. Her home had been wiped out, and Caska felt as if she was responsible for it because she chose to delay their journey to Ameranyan.

Just yesterday, she had been on her way home, but everything had disappeared. Despite the grief, she decided to set her hometown aside and march onward. Although she had lost everything, she gritted her teeth and tried not to fall apart because her soldiers had lost their homes as well.

She dropped her head and quietly cried when her emotions surged. She couldn’t stop now. They had to continue walking. She had to suppress her sorrow with physical pain. It was a cruel march.