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Chapter 111: The Great Northern War (7)

He was floating above the canopy of Calmahart’s tent. The surroundings were teeming with liveliness. Orcs were carrying food inside Calmahart’s tent, including enormous amounts of meat. If Calmahart overate, it would serve as an advantage to Crockta. ‘The digestive system requires more energy the more you eat and makes the brain sleepy. Calmahart’s movements will slow down, and he will have more openings during battle.’

“Not bad,” muttered Crockta. He was planning to get down from the pumpkin coach and strike Calmahart once all of the orcs went to sleep, but there was still a lot of time left before the night grew dark. He could take his time until the pumpkin coach’s next teleportation time at midnight.

Crockta caressed the surface of the pumpkin coach. It was a real pumpkin pulled by a Pegasus made up of translucent light. The Pegasus was summoned by the Pumpkin Without Borders artifact that he had received from Jamero.

Once he activated the skill, a pumpkin coach suddenly appeared. It was a coach that was only visible in Crockta’s eyes and could infiltrate wherever he wanted without a sound. If it didn’t have the restriction that only one person could use it, it could have been used for a large-scale infiltration.

Crockta carefully surveyed the campsite of the large army. The sight of numerous orcs setting up camp and spending the night was a spectacle. Where had all of these orcs come from? It seemed impossible for the dark elves in the north to take them on.

Crockta reminded himself what an important opportunity this was. If he captured Calmahart here, the war could end smoothly since Calmahart was the root of all these problems.

“One, two, three.” He counted the number of guards protecting Calmahart’s tent. There were only a few. Was it because Calmahart was confident? There were orcs who made rounds at the campsite, but the overall defense was lax. They didn’t seem to even consider the prospect of an infiltration.

Of course, they were right to think so. Crockta wouldn’t have been able to come here if it hadn’t been for the magical artifact, and even with the artifact, he was only able to target a single orc.

Finally, the clouds covered the moon, and complete darkness fell on the plains. Crockta began descending on the pumpkin coach, and the orcs’ camp grew closer. It was extremely quiet. He could only hear the occasional footsteps of the orc soldiers who were monitoring the campsite. Crockta discreetly approached them. An orc soldier was right in front of him, with his back facing Crockta.

Crockta took a step forward, and the orc soldier looked back. With a crack, the orc’s head swirled and flew in the air as it spilled blood. Crockta caught the head with his hands to prevent making more noise, and as he squeezed it, it spilled yet another mass of blood. Then, silence ensued.

Crockta continued to quietly approach the other guards. There were three guards circling the area; Crockta took advantage of the darkness and slipped behind them.

“How tiring,” said one of the guards with a yawn. He was carrying a halberd on his back. He failed to notice Crockta’s presence as he continued to creep up behind the guard.

[You have gained the skill Infiltration (Common).]

[You seem accustomed to infiltrating. Your infiltration skill leveled up.]

[You have gained Shadow Infiltration (Rare).]

He closed the message window. He then slashed the guard’s neck in an instant, in the same manner as he had done with the other guard.

“...!” The orc had felt something behind him and turned around, but his head was still almost cut off because he wasn’t able to dodge the attack completely.

“Ahhh...” He was unable to scream because of the gash in his throat, and he collapsed to the ground. He looked up at Crockta with shock in his gaze for a moment, then he foamed blood at the mouth and his eyes grew faint.

Crockta thrust his greatsword downward and completely severed the orc’s dangling head, leaving it there with a blank look in its eyes.

Now, there was only one guard left. Crockta found the remaining orc dozing off by himself. Instead of using his greatsword, Crockta wrapped his hand around the guard’s neck and twisted it with a crack. And just like that, the last guard was dead. He looked like he was still sleeping. He probably hadn’t felt any pain.

“Now, things are just getting started,” whispered Crockta. He stood in front of Calmahart’s tent. He used a tent big enough for a whole unit all by himself. Its size was comparable to a multi-floor building.

Calmahart wouldn’t be an easy opponent, but Crockta wasn’t a regular orc either. His greatsword cried out. He smiled, then brought out a scroll and ripped it into pieces.

[Expansive Silence Scroll (Essence) has been used.]

It was a rare scroll that he had managed to acquire with difficulty. An invisible film covered the area. With this, the sound wouldn’t leak outside. Crockta opened the tent.

***

It was bright inside. There was a fireplace burning in the center of the tent. Frightening weapons like axes, hammers, and halberds were lined up in a corner, and there was a tactical map with the orcs’ progression mapped out in the other corner. Crockta skimmed over it. There wasn’t a big difference between the map and what the dark elves had gauged.

On the opposite side of the room, Crockta saw a huge body lying down on a bed. It was Calmahart. He was lying down next to a huge throne decorated with various bones. Even from a distance, Crockta could get a sense of how large he was.

Crockta suddenly grew wary of this whole situation even before the big event was about to occur. Was Calmahart really an orc? How could an orc be that big? He was over a head taller than Crockta. A double-headed axe, his main weapon, was under the bed.

Crockta drew closer to him. Calmahart breathed calmly in his sleep as if he didn’t know what was going on. Most creatures looked peaceful while sleeping, but Calmahart’s face was distorted as if he was doing something horrendous in his dreams.

Crockta raised his greatsword. He hadn’t come here to participate in a great battle or a close match; this was a matter-of-fact assassination. He thrust his sword downward.

Right then, Calmahart raised his arm and blocked Crockta’s greatsword with his metal vambrace. He looked up at Crockta with bloodshot eyes and grinned.

Crockta retreated. It had been a close call. How had Calmahart noticed him?

“It’s my first time seeing someone like you. An orc covered in tattoos.” Calmahart got up.

His huge stature dwarfed Crockta, and his head almost touched the ceiling. He picked up his double-headed axe, which was as huge as Crockta’s Ogre Slayer.

Calmahart looked down on Crockta with an amused expression. His hand flinched and trembled with excitement because he wanted to swing his double-headed axe.

Crockta calmly took a deep breath. Given the situation, the only option was to fight. He raised his Ogre Slayer. He had secretly been looking forward to a battle anyway.

He grinned.

The two orcs stood face-to-face. Their world grew slower, and their senses heightened to the maximum. Within the slowed-down time of the Pinnacle Realm, they finally attacked. The Ogre Slayer and the double-headed axe clashed.

Clang!

“Hahaha...”

“Hahaha...”

The two looked at each other and laughed. They could gauge each other’s level based on that single strike, and they were both thinking the same thing: ‘He’s strong.’

Crockta immediately charged at Calmahart and swung his greatsword at his opponent’s lower body. Calmahart’s axe swung downward at the same time. Crockta dodged the axe by twisting his body and shifted the trajectory of his greatsword. His blade went for Calmahart’s stomach.

“Hehehe...” Calmahart smirked. He was wearing armor made of steel underneath. “Let’s do this properly.”

He straightened his back and walked toward Crockta.

Crockta nodded. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Their auras erupted at the same time. A storm of aura raged inside the tent. They looked at each other and grinned and then clashed again. They swung their blades at each other’s throats and hearts at a speed that made them invisible to the naked eye.

A deafening, ear-splitting noise roared like thunder. Crockta and Calmahart had both managed to injure each other, and Calmahart dripped blood. Then, the two weapons clashed again, and a battle of strength ensued.

Crockta kicked Calmahart.

“Ugh!”

The tent shook as Calmahart fell. Crockta leaped up and thrust his greatsword downward. Calmahart blocked the greatsword with his axe and clasped Crockta’s throat with his other hand.

“Argh...” Crockta flailed as Calmahart’s hand squeezed his throat with immense force. Calmahart smirked and put even more strength into his grip. Crockta grabbed his wrist and tried to shake off his hand, but it didn’t budge. With a demon-like expression on his face, Crockta could only resort to biting Calmahart’s hand.

“Aaaccckkk!” Calmahart screamed and dropped Crockta. A loose finger now dangled from his hand. “You...!”

Crockta grinned and spat out blood. “Tastes like shit.”

Calmahart’s eyes burned fiercely with rage, but then he began laughing again. “Hahahaha, hahahaha! You’re the real deal. You really know how to fight!”

Calmahart’s lips curved upward. To his surprise, he found that this orc was someone like him—a fellow warrior who knew what it meant to risk their life in a deathmatch.

“What’s your name?” asked Calmahart.

Crockta placed his greatsword on his shoulder and replied, “Crockta.”

“Is that so? You are...” Calmahart recalled what had happened earlier in the day. The orc from Orcheim had called the orc in front of Calmahart a ‘true orc.’ The orc had said that a true warrior would appear and cut his throat.

He grinned as he carefully looked over Crockta. He was larger than a regular orc, but he wasn’t huge. His eyes were sharp, and he wore a red bandana and a steel belt around his waist. He used a huge greatsword as his weapon and had a strong aura. He had reached the ‘pinnacle’ like him. And...that was it.

“Someone like you is a true orc...?” asked Calmahart.

Crockta smirked as he recalled what had happened earlier. “What is a true orc, Calmahart?”

Calmahart raised his axe. “Strength.”

His axe exuded frightening energy as his muscles swelled. His huge body appeared even larger than before.

“Stronger than anyone, that’s a true orc.” He approached Crockta, who drew his greatsword.

“And I am the strongest,” declared Calmahart as he swung his axe downward and sliced through space.

Crockta’s expression changed. That attack was concerning. Crockta immediately dodged and retreated instead of striking back with his Ogre Slayer. The axe missed him by a narrow margin and struck the demon’s skull that jutted out from the center of his belt. Crockta lost his balance from the shock and dropped to one knee. He quickly rolled away, avoiding yet another strike.

“...!” Crockta noticed a scratch on the Belt of Despair. He was in shock because this had never happened before.

Calmahart grabbed his axe from the ground and swung it at Crockta over and over again. Crockta lowered his head and dodged, charging forward instead of retreating. The axe went over his head as he leaned forward, and he thrust his greatsword at Calmahart’s abdomen. His opponent’s large stature was open and vulnerable, and Crockta shoved the blade right into his gut.

“Argh!”

Blood spewed from Calmahart’s mouth.

Crockta tried to twist his greatsword, but it didn’t move. Calmahart’s abdominal muscles were holding onto the blade!

Crockta couldn’t believe his eyes. He raised his head and saw that Calmahart was smiling as he looked down at him.

“Gotcha.” Calmahart tossed his axe to the side and grabbed Crockta’s throat with both hands. Crockta desperately swung his greatsword, but it didn’t move an inch—his opponent’s body was simply monstrous. Calmahart grinned widely.

Crockta looked up at Calmahart’s face as his vision grew blurry, but Calmahart’s grip only tightened. He began to lose consciousness. He thought he was seeing something flicker on Calmahart’s forehead, but a moment later, his mind drifted to a distant place.