Chapter 374: The Hunt in Darkness (2)

“How did things go in Elenost?”

“Very well. Valda was crowned elven queen and invited the chiefs to the Moving Castle. We formed cooperative agreements for material aid and monster suppression. The dragon’s bones are also displayed intact in the museum, and the response was excellent.”

“Since I left, you’ve been quite busy.”

Homi was particularly pleased that Valda had revived the old royal house. She treated Valda like an elder sister, just as she did Eugene.

“Minor matters like material distribution and monster hunts remain, but subordinates can handle those. The only truly important thing is this.”

Eugene pointed to the large tent where Ostyre was held.

Having raided elven villages for quality fabric, the tents were generally in excellent condition. Even the lowest-ranking orcs sleeping outdoors had warm blankets.

Winter meant cold weather. The vast quantities of meat left by the dragon were attractive, but this warmth was also why the orcs had gathered.

“Do you have a plan?”

“My original plan was to snipe Ostyre during a gap in movement. Even at night, it’s better than fighting through the camp.”

Orcs had a high threshold for functioning as a military force, but they weren’t exactly disciplined. If the goal was killing a hostage rather than a chieftain, an opportunity would inevitably arise during movement.

“You’ve been waiting, so I assume it didn’t work out.”

“The orc warrior chief is the problem. He’s the de facto leader of this coalition. But something seems to have gone wrong—he’s been stuck here without moving.”

“Health issues?”

“He just won’t come out, so there’s no way to know.”

“Yet the army maintains cohesion. He’s no ordinary leader.”

Binding instinct-driven orc tribes into one group was extremely difficult. To control this ragtag bunch, follow the dragon, and profit—it required exceptional charisma and command ability.

Even among monsters, such capabilities were enough to rank among heroes.

Eugene climbed a nearby leafy tree. He wanted to secure an escape route and check which areas the orcs were most concentrated.

“Tonight the clouds completely cover the moon. It’s pitch black on all sides—can you see anything?”

“Everything.”

Eugene focused on an orc warrior who had just woken. The creature needed to urinate and relieved himself at a convenient distance.

Homi in her water snake form had darkvision, but it wasn’t omnipotent. Detecting a small stream of liquid falling in darkness was impossible.

But for Eugene, it was perfectly visible.

“You said you can now see heat with your eyes?”

“Yes. A gift from the dragon hunt.”

From the yellow and red body, an even redder stream traced an arc downward.

“…Must have had a heavy stomach.”

From the orc warrior’s rear, dragon breath radiated outward. Through thermal vision, gas spewed like fierce flames.

“What’s wrong? What do you see?”

“Better you don’t know.”

Homi’s large eyes sparkled with curiosity. The concept of seeing heat with one’s eyes was utterly beyond her comprehension.

“Anyway, the more I use it, the more convenient it becomes. Whether as an individual or a commander.”

The orc warrior returned to his spot and lay down. But for Eugene, the fresh urine stains remained vividly clear.

Even warhounds with exceptional sense of smell or elf patrols with superior vision couldn’t detect such traces with a casual scan from this distance.

Eugene had thought this new vision useful for avoiding ambushes, but now it appeared equally valuable for tracking.

“If needed, we can break southeast. Few orcs around, and the guards keep nodding off.”

Eugene whistled softly into the darkness behind him, and Might approached.

“I’m counting on you.”

Grrr-.

The beast lay flat, belly to the ground. It would wait, and at Eugene’s signal, charge immediately.

“Shall we begin?”

If infiltrating a human camp, Eugene would have started fires first.

-Damn it! Everyone out of the tents!

-Horses! Get the horses first! They’re escaping, you idiots!

Flammable materials were abundant, and the panicked horses’ thrashing was also useful.

Each horse was worth more than a person, so fighting fires and catching horses would keep everyone busy.

But expecting such effects from orcs was difficult. Rather than lighting fires to wake everyone, moving silently through darkness was better.

“Use this.”

Homi handed him a green orc face mask.

“When did you prepare this?”

“They don’t pay much attention to headcounts. I eliminated them one by one while observing and made these.”

“Incredible.”

The work of skinning faces from ambushed victims. Enough to make most mercenaries vomit, but for Homi, who had been skinning since childhood, it was mere drudgery.

“Orc warriors are large and wear sturdy armor. It’s dark too, so just wearing the masks should prevent detection at reasonable distances. I cleaned them thoroughly, so hygiene isn’t a concern.”

Thus, the man and woman disguised as orc warriors melted into the darkness.

*

The de facto leader of the orc coalition—the orc warrior chief—had held power for a remarkable tenure, one of the longest in the entire Great Forest.

His own abilities were considerable, but his success in managing his direct subordinates, the bodyguard unit, was also significant.

The bodyguard unit, always provided with good food and equipment, proved its worth. In a world of monsters where repaying kindness with treachery was the norm, this was quite unusual.

This was possible because the chief wasn’t a warrior but a summoner.

Each tribe had a shaman, but in truth, they were merely knowledgeable in herbalism and medicine—essentially smart alecks. Their main duty was brewing and distributing quality Orcish Bitters.

But this chief was the real thing. As a summoner, he used spirits to make prophecies and occasionally turned rebellious subordinates into charcoal on the spot.

To the orcs, he appeared almost semi-divine, and no one dared challenge him. But this relationship was now beginning to crack.

“The subordinates’ dissatisfaction is growing. We need to move quickly. The surrounding prey has been hunted to extinction.”

“Kill the complainers. Fewer problems, more meat—perfect.”

“Then the chief wouldn’t be king of orcs, but king of meat.”

Inside the large tent, the chief’s bodyguard unit and the chief’s wife argued heatedly. The cause lay with the chief, who lay on a lavish bed.

As monsters, they wouldn’t hesitate to use pregnant women as sacrifices or catalytic substances that grew only deep in the Great Forest.

Unscrupulous in their methods, they could perform exceptionally powerful summoning magic.

This allowed them to build a massive force in a short time, but it was a double-edged sword. The chief, lacking restraint, sought greater power through summoning and contracted with a high-ranking spirit beyond his control.

The chief’s body now lay as a quiet battlefield—the spirit desperately trying to break free, the chief desperately suppressing it.

“Just wake the chief. Isn’t that what the wife and shaman are for?”

Unaware of these circumstances, the bodyguard unit only berated the chief’s wife.

While the chief wielded genuine magical power, his wife was a traditional shaman skilled in herbalism and healing.

“Don’t order me around. I’m the mistress of this great den. Go out and watch the underlings.”

“You don’t give orders to us. Great orc warriors don’t follow women’s commands.”

Monster organizations weren’t maintained by bloodline. When the leader fell, the next strongest took the position. Being the chief’s wife held little meaning in such situations.

Moreover, the bodyguard unit disregarded the wife for another reason: the chief had shared everything with them—tents, equipment, alcohol, and even his wife.

In orc society where promiscuity was common, this was often done as a reward for subordinates.

Every bodyguard had been with the wife, so her already limited authority had evaporated completely.

“You’ve been hiding in the tent—you don’t know what’s happening outside. If we’re not careful, we could end up in the stew pot.”

The bodyguard captain’s warning wasn’t a joke. They had relied on the chief’s power to maintain oppressive, cruel control.

But with the chief fallen, suppressed anger arrows were slowly approaching the bodyguard.

“If the chief doesn’t wake by tomorrow, we’re leaving.”

“Aren’t you afraid of the ancestral spirits? You swore loyalty!”

“Shut up! Being eaten alive by Groobee like that is absolutely out of the question!”

Just then, the tent entrance opened.

“You! Who gave you permission to open the door?!”

“Tear off one of the gatekeepers’ limbs. We’ll have it for a late-night snack.”

The chief’s wife and bodyguard captain shouted simultaneously. The chief’s condition must not reach the outside.

But seeing the two who entered, their voices subsided. The bodyguard sensed danger through warrior’s instinct, the wife through shaman’s perception, recognizing the threat posed by Eugene and Homi.

Though wearing orc warrior face masks, their subtly different builds, smells, and the glimpse of top-grade armor beneath their cloaks stood out sharply in the brightly lit tent.

“Who are you?”

“…”

Eugene and Homi scanned the interior, their gazes stopping at one spot.

‘There’s Ostyre.’

‘Target acquired.’

Ostyre, unconscious, was trapped in a cage woven from branches. Reduced both physically and physiologically from the harsh prisoner conditions, his appearance was wretched.

‘Where did they sell his legs?’

He had even attempted escape, only to have his legs below the knees severed upon recapture.

If captured by orc warriors, it would have been fortunate in its misfortune. But unfortunately, it was ordinary orcs who caught Ostyre—creatures with no self-control, slaves to their desires.

-What kind of suffering is this?!

-Just kill him.

-No! The chief said absolutely not to kill him!

-Then how about just taking his legs? Less food needed, can’t escape, and we get fed. Sounds great?

-Hmm.

-The chief will praise our intelligence too!

Ostyre screamed at the terrifying conversation. Moments later, that scream escalated into a ripping shriek accompanied by a squelching sound.

-You maggot-like bastards?!

The orc band returned with a lighter Ostyre on their backs and were slaughtered by the enraged chief. All of them had already been digested in their own kind’s stomachs, scattered somewhere in the forest as fertilizer.

Eugene and Homi’s gazes turned to another elf before Ostyre—bound with both hands, equipment confiscated, and beaten severely. The blood on his body suggested recent capture.

‘Is that King’s Counsel Lasrandir?’

Despite his aged face, his extremely trained physique, eyes maintaining sharp spirit, a posture shielding Ostyre, and crucially, the sword scar on his cheek.

Everything matched what the elven chiefs had described.

Sniff sniff.

“What’s that smell?”

“Not human flesh? No, something different. Much hotter…”

The bodyguard twitched his ugly nose. They had applied deodorant, but it apparently wasn’t enough to fool their senses.

Eugene threw a glass bottle from inside his robe to the ground. An artifact offered by one of his subordinate summoners.

The shattered bottle released a translucent, faintly white figure that rose like a phantom. A wind spirit.

[Doki doki…]

A sound that could have been wind or someone’s song filled the tent. Simultaneously, Eugene and Homi removed their face masks, revealing their true forms.

‘Intruders!’

The bodyguard tried to shout, but only his mouth moved—no sound emerged.

“???”

“???”

The wind spirit had seized control of air circulation within the tent. The crackling of campfire wood and insect chirps outside all ceased.

Even the sound of Eugene drawing his swords and Homi transforming into a water snake was completely suppressed.

“Outstanding performance. I’ll need to grant additional rewards when we return.”

But Eugene’s voice was heard clearly. The dragon’s breath imbued in his vocal cords was something no mere spirit could restrain.

Eugene struck first, and the orc warriors drew their weapons to counter.

‘Do you know where you are?! I’ll chew your guts alive!’

The bodyguard captain’s valiant shout was reduced to a goldfish’s gaping mouth.

Silver-white flashes from the two swords sent three-part corpses spilling to the ground.

‘C-captain!’

‘Kill them!’

Sound was blocked, but scent remained. The smell of blood flooded the tent, and the orc warriors’ eyes glazed with ferocity. Fighting instincts surged through their endocrine glands.

They were all torn apart by Eugene’s blades and Homi’s grasp.

‘We must attack all at once!’

‘Rear! Flank them from behind!’

Under normal circumstances, they would have exploited numerical superiority to find weaknesses, but with sound blocked, communication was impossible. Not a single clank of weapons or footstep was heard.

Though the chief’s subordinates possessed excellent physiques and equipment, none could withstand a single blow. Split shields and swords accompanied corpses falling everywhere.

‘Damn it!’

The few remaining orc warriors tried to sneak away. Eugene’s head immediately turned toward them.

What emerged from his mouth was neither mockery nor warning. A growl beyond human vocal capability washed over the orc warriors.

The dragon’s roar.

“Die quietly.”

As Eugene commanded, the orc warrior was split in half, unable to flee or resist—his soul shaken to its core by the dragon’s roar.

But in the time bought by the bodyguard’s annihilation, the chief had risen.

[Kaaaaaa-!]

In that instant, the wind spirit dominating the tent was expelled, and silence was lifted. A more powerful spirit had appeared, seizing control.

“Intruders! Kill them!”

Backed by a divine spirit, the chief was stronger than anyone. The wife, ecstatic, pointed at Eugene.

“Keh!”

But the chief’s massive hand closed around her throat.

[Doki doki…]

Red smoke flowed from the chief’s eyes.

He had attempted to dominate a high-ranking spirit beyond his capacity through forbidden methods, only to be conquered in reverse. The fire spirit possessing the summoner’s body licked its lips as it surveyed the surroundings.

Thwack!

The bloodletting dagger Eugene threw lodged in the chief’s neck without producing a single groan or drop of blood.

When the chief pulled the dagger out, the wound healed instantly, sealing itself shut.

The bloodletting poison Carlach had injected, designed to prevent clotting, was also shattered—like an immune system raising a fever to sterilize invaders.

The chief’s long tongue emerged and licked the blade of the bloodletting dagger.

Hisss.

The desiccated tongue, without a drop of saliva, blazed with fire energy. Sparks of flame scattered from the defiled blade.

The spirit cackled mockingly and discarded the bloodletting dagger like trash.

[Pick me. Up. Stab me. Again. You. Rude one.]

From the trembling dagger on the ground came a furious voice. The evil deity’s pride had been severely wounded.