Praise the Orc

Chapter 150: Evil Empire

The two sides faced each other on the plains as their flags fluttered in the wind.

The king of humans and the lord of Alaste slowly approached each other on horseback.

“Greetings, Your Highness.”

“It’s been a while, Count of Alaste.”

The king was a young, handsome man with blonde hair and blue eyes and had the air of an aristocrat.

Of course, he was more than just an aristocrat, he was on the brink of becoming an emperor.

“It’s a fine day. Regardless of today’s outcome, we shall accept it gracefully in reverence to the gods,” said the king.

“Thank you. It puts my mind at ease to hear Your Highness say so.”

The king furrowed his eyebrows, but the lord of Alaste’s expression remained unchanged.

“You seem confident. Is Galadin in good health?”

“He remains as hearty as ever. Would you like to see him?”

“It’s fine. If I wanted to gaze upon the faces of old men, I would just look at my ministers.”

Their eyes locked in an unyielding gaze.

The Count of Alaste returned the king’s stern look with unwavering confidence.

“Very well...” The king twisted his lips into a wry smile. “When the sun reaches its zenith, let the duel begin. I will advise Adantadore to control his strength, considering Galadin’s advanced age.”

“We very much appreciate your consideration, but...”

“But?”

“Galadin will not be participating in the duel today.”

“What?”

The king scrutinized the lord’s face with suspicion. “Then, who will?”

“You will see for yourself when the sun is at its zenith.”

“...”

The king was puzzled by the lord’s carefree attitude. He frowned upon the lord’s attitude but was also confused about who the mysterious warrior could be.

“Very well. We’ll see,” replied the king contemptuously.

The two then turned their horses around and returned to their camps.

The lord of Alaste immediately sought out Crockta who was waiting in a tent behind the camp. The lord’s face was stiff with tension, but he couldn’t help but grin at the sight inside the tent.

Crockta was humming a tune on a bed, and Vigo was fanning him.

“Is it cool enough?” asked Vigo.

“Stronger,” replied Crockta.

“Hyah!”

“Do it properly. Are you going to take responsibility if I lose because of heatstroke?”

“I will do better, sir!”

“Fan harder! You have surprisingly frail wrists for a knight of your stature.”

Crockta looked nothing like a warrior about to participate in a duel with not only his life but also the fate of a city on the line, but his composure was oddly reassuring.

He was none other than Crockta, the Conqueror of the North. He would definitely be able to put up a fight against Adantadore.

Even Galadin acknowledged that Crockta was stronger than him.

The lord felt at ease. The dice had been cast. He had given his best move.

“Vigo,” he called out.

“Yes, lord!”

“Fan harder. The fate of Alaste depends on your wrists.”

“Ah! Yes, sir!”

Tiyo and Anor didn’t seem to be worried at all. They were dozing off in a corner of the tent. They had been drinking all night.

They didn’t have an ounce of nervousness.

“Thank you again for coming to a dangerous place for our sake, Crockta.”

“Hehehe, there’s no need to thank me. I’m just carrying out the duty of a warrior.”

Crockta leisurely stretched as he enjoyed the breeze from the fan.

“So when is the duel?” asked Crockta.

“At noon.”

Crockta looked up at the sky through the gap in the tent.

It was almost noon.

***

The sound of the trumpet echoed throughout the plains.

Both sides tensed up.

The sun had risen above their heads. The duel was about to begin.

It was a fight that would decide their fate. So much was at stake.

Adantadore appeared first.

The king placed a hand on his shoulder and said something. Adantadore replied so loudly that his voice could even be heard in Alaste.

“I’m full of energy today.”

Adantadore was a young, handsome man with a well-balanced physique. Despite his age, he was a seasoned knight who had experienced many battles.

Now, it was time for Alaste to come forward.

Crockta walked forward.

“...!”

The kingdom’s party grew restless. Their loud murmurs gradually spread.

They had expected Alaste’s Great Warrior Galadin to come forward because it was common knowledge that he was the best knight in Alaste. There was no knight stronger than him.

The kingdom believed that Adantadore was stronger than Galadin, so they were certain of their victory.

But someone completely unexpected had come forward. An orc. A warrior with a sinister face with tattoos all over their body.

Everyone could see his giant physique and greatsword from a mile away.

At first, Adantadore didn’t know what to make of it. He then let out a hollow laugh like a spectator who thought he was about to watch a tragedy, but it turned out to be a comedy instead.

“I’m Adantadore Pacrinche. Who are you?”

He seemed uncertain about the orc standing in front of him.

“Are you really Alaste’s representative?”

Crockta nodded.

The plains fell quiet.

Crockta looked at Adantadore with an arrogant look in his eyes. “My name is Crockta. I came from Orcrox, and I am standing here today to protect Alaste.”

“...!”

Adantadoree opened his eyes wide in shock.

Crockta.

He recognized that name.

It was the name of the mysterious orc who had killed the chieftain and stopped the northern orcs from invading the continent.

The day the chieftain fell, all the gods whispered his name.

“Alaste had an ace up their sleeve.”

Then he regained his composure and raised his sword.

Unlike Crockta’s greatsword, Adantadore’s sword was a thin, elegant rapier.

Both practiced Leyteno Pacrinche’s swordsmanship, but their stance and energy were different.

“Do you know Leyteno Pacrinche?” asked Crockta.

“Ohh?” Adantadore laughed. “Do you mean the traitor Leyteno? You must be familiar with him since you are an orc. Yes, I know him. The coward who survived by sucking up to the orcs. The traitor who turned his sword on his own people. The black sheep who left a stain on the Pacrinche family’s legacy. He got what he deserved and died tragically.”

“A coward, traitor, and a stain...”

Crockta laughed out loud.

The Leyteno he had heard about was far from a coward or a traitor. Instead of a stain, he was a shining star.

He was a hero and a master of his sword.

If Leyteno had just turned a blind eye to justice and swung his sword toward the orcs, he could have gained wealth and honor.

Even though everyone condemned him, he gritted his teeth and turned the direction of his blade for what he believed in.

He was not a slave.

He was a master.

If one pointed to the same place just because everyone’s fingers were pointing in that direction, then he was merely a slave.

But Leyteno had raised his head and pointed in the opposite direction.

He moved forward in the direction he believed in.

Thus, he was forever remembered in the Hall of Fame.

None of the warriors in the Hall of Fame were dead.

Leyteno Pacrinche had never died.

“My sword carries the will of Leyteno Pacrinche,” declared Crockta as he raised his sword.

Although Crockta had developed his own swordsmanship from reaching the Pinnacle, the essence of Leyteno’s swordsmanship lived within the Ogre Slayer.

“Experience it for yourself, Adantadore,” continued Crockta.

“An orc who wields the sword...” Adantadore smirked. “Your sword is just ridiculously large. You seem to have fun mimicking that traitor. We’ll see how it goes...”

Everyone on the plains was watching Crockta and Adantadoree.

“Let’s do this!” Adantadore leaped first.

Crockta’s eyes scanned him.

The world grew slower.

Adantadore’s face sparkled with arrogance and confidence. He burned with a competitive spirit.

Crockta swung his greatsword toward his face.

Claaaaang!

Adantadore was a genius swordsman who had reached the Pinnacle. He had been waiting for Crockta at the realm of the Pinnacle.

Their blades clashed over and over again.

An extraordinary duel, invisible to ordinary people, unfolded in front of their eyes.

The two exchanged strikes for a while.

With each clash of swords, shockwaves reverberated like explosions, and tiny wounds appeared on their bodies. Blood splattered on each other’s faces.

Each time the clash of swords raised a cloud of dust, cheers erupted from both sides.

It was a rare battle between the strongest powerhouses!

Suddenly, Crockta's battle cry shook the plains.

"Bul’taaaaaaar!”

The spectators' legs trembled at his roar as if an earthquake had occurred.

In the face of such force, Adantadore felt as if his heart had stopped.

Crockta's commanding presence bored down on him.

His eyes flashed with murderous intent, and the gigantic greatsword in his hand flew toward Adantadore in unpredictable ways.

Even when the knight thought he had blocked it, its enormous force sent him flying.

“Ahhhh!”

Crockta's fist struck Adantadore's abdomen. Adantadore flew through the air and tumbled on the ground.

"Wowwwww!”

Cheers erupted from Alaste.

On the other hand, the kingdom’s party fell silent.

“...”

Adantadore staggered to his feet, spewing blood as if the shock had shaken him to the core.

Crockta chuckled and flicked his finger. He was beckoning Adantadore to pull himself together.

"Haha, are you okay?"

"He wasn't all talk. Alright······."

Adantadore forced a smile as he spat out a mouthful of blood. Then, he assumed a stance with his sword.

His body began to transcend the Pinnacle. It soared until it reached a higher realm.

The world was deadly silent.

He leaped, swinging his sword down toward Crockta.

Crockta blocked it with the Ogre Slayer.

However, Adantadore succeeded in slashing Crockta’s shoulder, and blood poured out.

Crockta quickly stepped back. "······!"

This time, cheers erupted from the kingdom side.

Adantadore grinned, echoing Crockta's words. "Are you okay?"

Crockta smiled back in response. "You're not all talk either."

Crockta calmly raised his Ogre Slayer. They had referred to Andatadore as a genius. He believed it. He was a swordsman who had surpassed the Pinnacle.

He had also reached the realm of Heroes that Crockta had arrived at by transcending life and death.

If that was the case, he should be treated as an equal.

Crockta could hear the cheers and jeers from the spectators, and the harsh sunlight above them piercing his skin.

As they felt the weight of each sweat drop trickling down their cheeks, they gripped their weapons.

This was no easy opponent.

With the high level of swordsmanship involved, it wouldn't be strange no matter who won.

‘What an interesting opponent.’

Both shared the same thoughts as they moved, and their destinies began intertwining.

Like tentacles, the strings connecting cause and effect reached toward each other.

With each step, each stroke, and every slide of their feet and blade, the chances of life and death constantly fluctuated.

"I never thought you'd make it this far...”

Adantadore grew uneasy.

He was confident he could win if he had been up against Galadin.

But this orc who had appeared out of nowhere was stronger than Galadin.

His entire being warned him that the orc was at the very least, on the same level as him, if not higher.

This orc was also a swordsman who had surpassed the Pinnacle.

He could really die today.

Adantadore swallowed hard as he saw the chains that transcended the laws of causality emerge from Crockta and surround him.

The heat was oppressive, with the sun scorching above them, but Adantadore forced himself to keep his eyes open.

If he let his guard down, this orc might deliver his death in an instant.

In their endlessly slowed-down world, Adantadore and Crockta clashed against each other.

Sweat dripped down Adantadore's eyelids, but he never closed his eyes.

The plains were quiet. The audience sensed that a fight on a level beyond their comprehension was unfolding.

Adantadore moved first. He unleashed his full power to seize the chance to victory before the fight dragged on.

A powerful aura emanated from his body.

His powers, which had been holding back, joined in on reversing the law of causality, and they relentlessly propelled toward Crockta’s demise.

Crockta hastily retreated as the waves of energy rushed toward him.

He barely managed to avoid the numerous blades soaring toward his throat.

The forces chased Crockta toward his death.

But in turn, Crockta grafted forces that would drive Adantadore toward his death on them to counteract the attack.

However, Adantadore’s blades jabbed toward Crockta at unavoidable angles, simultaneously slashing Crockta’s shoulders, sides, and thighs.

Crockta slumped down as blood gushed from his limbs.

“Argh!”

"Hiyaaaaaaaaaa!" shouted Adantadore as he rushed forward, unleashing a strike fueled by all of his might.

A massive wave surged toward Crockta.

Death seemed like an unstoppable tide.

People died from trifling things like a breath of wind, a tiny bubble, or a fingernail-sized mass.

Compared to such, a sword designed to kill others was like a huge army on its way to slaughter.

There were dozens, no hundreds, of swords raining down on Crockta.

The probabilities of survival and death were reversed. Life itself inevitably led to death.

But...

"Bul’tar," Crockta whispered.

A tidal wave of death woven by the interconnected causality of the world was flying toward him.

It was dangerous. Crockta thought about death for the first time since his fight with the chieftain.

Adantadore was mustering all his strength to bet on this single strike.

Crockta raised his greatsword. He had to counter with an attack risking his life as well.

But at this moment. Crockta suddenly saw something.

'Are you alive?’

What it was, he didn’t know.

But instinctively, Crockta leaned against that one line that penetrated the world. It was floating in an inexplicable color that didn’t exist.

That line penetrated the world visible to the eye, the profound world of the Pinnacle, and the realm of Heroes that reversed the law of causality.

Even death couldn't put it to sleep.

'Honor.'

What was that line?

What was that color?

What made them so radiant?

The moment he entrusted his body to that line, the entire world pushed Crockta forward. It was a touch that swept away everything that was sinking.

Crockta became a single dot and rushed toward the endless tidal wave of death.

From the abyss, he soared toward the infinite sky and into the light.

“Bul’taaaaaar!”

***

It was a long fight.

Crockta and Adantadoree entered a realm of battle that ordinary men could not understand.

Only a few high-ranking knights felt its level and were in utter awe.

The two repeatedly exchanged wins and losses. Blood scattered everywhere, but no one retreated.

The king, who had been staring blankly, dropped his wine glass without realizing it. But neither the king nor the knights by his side minded the shattered glass.

It was a fight they might never be able to see again in their lifetimes.

“I can’t believe it...”

Before they knew it, Adantadoree began running like crazy. It was an all-out attack.

Suddenly, countless attacks spilled from him as if his body was a storm.

Crockta raised his greatsword to block the attack, but Adantadoree managed to slash his limbs, causing him to drop to one knee.

Adantadoree didn’t miss the opening and pursued him.

Everyone could sense that it was the final blow.

A wave of energy swept through the battlefield like a tsunami.

Right then, the kingdom was convinced that Adantadore had won.

It was a strike with all his might. There was no way Crockta could survive after taking such a hit.

But a glimmer of light flashed.

It was a brief moment, but the light covered the entire plain.

It was an indescribable color they had never seen before.

That flash of light extinguished and obliterated Adantadore’s sword aura.

After the light went out, and the dust had settled, they could see Adantadore’s broken sword and Crockta’s Ogre Slayer at his throat.

Silence fell on the plains.

Neither the winner nor the loser moved.

The earth was still.

Even the clouds drifting through the sky stopped.

But a gnome standing on Alaste’s side broke the silence.

“Hahahaha! We won!”

It was a voice without a hint of nervousness.

Finally catching on, the citizens of Alaste then erupted in cheers. They threw their weapons and helmets and shouted.

Everyone hugged each other and screamed.

“Waaaaaaaah!”

“We won!”

“Long live Alaste! Alaste!”

“Long live Crockta!”

“Alaste! Alaste!”

But the kingdom was silent.

The young king, his knights, and all of the leaders from the Heaven and Earth clan processed what was going on with frozen faces. None of them had expected Adantadore to lose, but the orc called Crockta thwarted their ambitions.

“Dammit...did that woman know all along?” muttered Kainz, the former master of the Haedong Balhae clan and the current second-in-command in the Heaven and Earth clan.

That dude named Crockta was continuously disrupting his plans.

He was the one who had decimated the Haedong Balhae clan, and he had even chased him to the Heaven and Earth clan and was interfering in their affairs.

Kainz gritted his teeth. He had to get rid of him no matter what.

Rommel maintained his silence with a stern expression.

With Adantadore dropping his sword and admitting defeat, the duel finally came to an end.

The lord of Alaste approached the king.

With their victory decided, the lord of Alaste dismounted from his horse and bowed to the king respectfully.

“Please accept the results, Your Majesty.”

“...”

Instead of replying, the king quietly nodded.

The lord of Alaste retreated with a bitter smile on his face. He could tell they had ruffled the king’s feathers.

But it didn’t matter. It was time to return to Alaste and celebrate.

***

For four days, Alaste held a festival celebrating Crockta and his friends.

They received praise as the heroes who saved Alaste.

Crockta and his friends roamed the streets and shared food and drinks with the citizens.

Now, he was a knight to the children of Alaste, not just a brotherly orc.

Everywhere he went, children clung to him, and Crockta called each of them by their name.

There was a proposal to erect a statue of Crockta to celebrate his victory.

All of the sculptors of Alaste eagerly volunteered, but Crockta shook his head. However, he couldn’t help but heed their proposal because they were so determined.

Some ladies confessed their love to Anor.

This time, Anor didn’t avoid their eyes and politely declined while looking them straight in the eye. They smiled and thanked Anor for being such a gentleman.

Tiyo slapped Anor’s butt approvingly.

Yellow approached Crockta and showered kisses all over him in an embrace. Crockta flailed in her arms, but he couldn’t hold her back in her impassioned state. She praised Crockta and said she would become his devoted fan for saving Alaste.

People were stunned by her inebriated state because they had never seen her drunk before.

Tiyo came to accept Galadin’s advice.

Crockta didn’t know the details, but he saw Galadin contentedly patting Tiyo’s head and Tiyo begrudgingly accepting it. Although Tiyo’s expression was bitter, Crockta and Anor teased him because they had never seen Tiyo tacitly accept such treatment before. Tiyo closed his eyes and silently endured it.

After enjoying the festival, Crockta, Tiyo, and Anor finally left Alaste.

Alasteans promised them that, as the heroes of Alaste, they would be welcomed as VIPs as long as the city remained in existence.

As Crockta’s party walked out of the gates, all citizens were blessed with their future.

Now Crockta and his friends were headed to Guiderid as their vacation spot.

However, after Crockta’s party left, the kingdom violated the treaty and invaded Alaste, turning Alaste into ruins.

The kingdom became an empire, and the king became an emperor.