WeTried Translations x Flame Comics
Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B
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Chapter 104: 15. Real Combat Is Standard for Academy Summer Vacation Events (9)
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* * *
“Boss...? What, what do you mean?”
“It means you need to take over the role of the one you followed.”
Ivan nodded toward the headless orc shaman. The orc glanced at the shaman’s corpse and trembled.
“W-what, what do I need to do?”
“Pick it up.”
Ivan nudged the artifact across the ground with his toe.
The staff spun over the dirt and came to a stop at the orc’s feet. The orc’s gaze immediately fell on it.
Greed still showing through all that fear.
So it really is something special.
Ivan narrowed his eyes as he watched. The orc cautiously picked up the staff, gauging Ivan’s reaction.
“Uuurgh...!!”
“Can you see something?”
He did not fully trust the claim that it could predict the future, but some strange spell did seem to be placed on it.
The orc twitched as they stared at the obsidian sphere hanging from the staff’s tip for a long while.
Ivan slowly rested a hand on his waist. The axe handle felt cold between his fingers.
“What do you see?”
* * *
The orc blinked their small eyes.
-Do not move.
An unfamiliar voice echoed through their mind. Low, like the growl of a beast. A voice that seemed to hone overwhelming fear and despair from somewhere deep in their instincts, then drive them straight into their brain.
-Do not move.
The orc stiffened. They could not look away from the staff. They did not know what this was or what magic it held, but there was one thing they understood.
It was whispering of the future.
An illusion covered their sight. A chilling flash raced toward their throat.
-CRUNCH!!
“Ughk!?”
The orc cried out and clutched their neck. They had vividly felt an axe blade sever their head, then vanish.
They hurriedly gripped the back of their neck, but there was no wound.
It was an illusion. The orc raised their head in terror.
They instinctively understood that if they had moved just then, they would have died like that.
And before their eyes, death was looking down at them.
“I asked what you saw.”
Ivan stood in exactly the same posture as before.
His arms hung loosely at his sides. His blue eyes looked down without emotion. Even the still outline of his body made it hard to tell whether he was breathing at all.
He was the same as before, yet something entirely different.
Death stood there. Death given form, looking down at the orc. Something they could neither resist nor oppose.
An overwhelming gap.
Only now did they understand. Thanks to the future shown by this artifact, the Eye of the Demon King, they finally realized.
No matter what they did, no matter which choice they made among countless possibilities, the moment the being before them made up his mind, they would die.
Long ago, the orc had seen beings like this. Those who wore mortal flesh while carrying the presence of immortals.
Demonfolk revered strength. Survival alone was the essence of demonfolk. So, at last, the orc willingly bowed their head.
They had been a strong warrior, who had traveled the long distance from the demonfolk settlement to Krasilov with faith in nothing but the revelation shown by the Eye of the Demon King.
But no, rather because of that.
Because they possessed enough skill to recognize strength, and because the artifact had forcibly opened their eyes to the perspective of the strong.
Their spirit broke before a being they could never reach through any effort or stroke of luck.
The orc slowly lowered their head, pressing the staff tightly to their chest as they bowed politely.
“P-please... spare me.”
“Fine.”
Beneath the forest shadows, Death seemed to laugh. Yet even then, the blue eyes within those shadows watched the orc’s hands without the slightest emotion.
-Do not move.
The staff warned them once more. If they made even the slightest suspicious move, they would certainly die. The orc shrank back in fear.
“So it really can see the future.”
Ivan slid the axe he had half drawn back into his sword belt.
* * *
Aesidis was a highly creative student. After all, it took a certain level of creativity for a music department student to emerge from Droan.
Most of her creativity led to excessive fangirling and wild fantasies, but at certain moments, it also gave her an astonishing capacity for learning.
Like this.
-Be most wary of the place you think is safe.
That was Uncle Ivan’s teaching. Aside from one tiny flaw, Uncle Ivan always said the right thing, so Aesidis tried to memorize every one of his teachings without missing a word.
Therefore.
“Guaaaargh!!”
It was easy enough to identify every trap Ivan and the Counterintelligence Command had set throughout this forest, including their locations and types, then turn them against the enemy.
Uncle Ivan had kindly written [Lessons] near every trap. That had to double her learning efficiency.
-There are no straight lines in nature.
Basic rope traps, somewhat complicated net traps, and even pitfall traps cleverly hidden beyond them.
With a camouflage bush resting on her head, Aesidis quietly watched the orcs fall victim to them.
As she had reflected once before, Aesidis was a master of concealment. During her time at the Droan court, no one had ever seen through her hiding places. (The Huscarls thought Aesidis was adorable.)
‘Maybe I have talent as an intelligence agent.’
The sad truth that skirmishing through a forest had nothing to do with being an intelligence agent, and that intelligence agents did not actually hide or lie in wait, was not taught at school.
The only intelligence agent Aesidis had ever seen was Ivan. Since she was copying everything he did, perhaps that made her something like the heir to the world’s greatest intelligence agent.
Aesidis smiled proudly and raised Bang-Bang II, a conductor’s baton two months old.
It was time to clear out those orcs and finish her reconnaissance.
Day six of being stranded.
The new Hero Party had now become a full-fledged scouting team.
It was all thanks to having a good teacher.
* * *
The Demon King was not simply a title for a monarch.
In a world where one had to prove worth through strength, among kin who believed struggle alone was the essence of their being, the faith of the Demon King was that they could lower the blades turned against one another, even briefly, for a single purpose. A beacon for better land, better lives, and a better world. A cross of stars that dispelled darkness, a cradle for the weak, and a fortress for warriors.
Therefore.
“Though you wander through the valley of death.
“Do not fear. For I shall comfort you.”
There was a prejudice that orcs were generally stupid. In most cases, it was true. They devoted all their capacity for learning to struggle.
Yet if there was one thing even they could recite, it was a prayer to the Demon King.
The surviving orcs wore solemn expressions as they gripped their weapons and whispered.
“I am the cross of stars in the darkest night.
“I am the beacon upon the storm-tossed sea.
“I am your cradle, and I am your fortress.”
“Do not fear. For I shall comfort you.”
Their glorious former record, [2nd Dragon General’s 103rd Infantry Battalion, 23rd Strike Company].
Their present shame, [Third Sector Demonfolk Settlement, Northwestern Kadarone Plains Internment Camp].
No title or record could fully explain what they were now.
At this moment, each was merely a single demonfolk at prayer.
After finishing their prayer, the orcs rose.
“Filthy humans.”
One orc ground their teeth and muttered. The few surviving orcs shouted in agreement.
How had the humans known to set every kind of trap in advance in the land the Demon King had personally revealed to them?
They had abducted every great shaman and great warrior in a sudden ambush during the march.
Whenever they avoided a trap, two or three warriors, sometimes as many as five, would disappear before they knew it.
After wandering around in search of them, only four remained.
Most importantly, not a single leader remained to guide them. With even the Eye of the Demon King gone, the orcs were drowning in despair.
-Rustle.
Then the bushes beyond the clearing where they had gathered parted.
The orcs gripped their weapons and sprang to their feet, staring at the bushes.
Was this the end? At least they would meet an end that pleased Tumor.
As they prepared for their final battle with a warrior’s resolve, a voice came from the bushes.
“Are you, are you all that’s left?”
“Ignak?! You’re, you’re alive?”
“Yes.”
Tap, tap. The orc who appeared while leaning on a staff was Ignak, one of the great warriors who had disappeared. He had been the lowest-ranking among them.
The orcs looked at the artifact in his hand and shed tears.
“How?! What happened to Lord Lotsrog?”
“Only I was able to return alive.”
Ignak shook the staff with a dark expression.
“Lord Lotsrog gave me this at the last moment and bought me time. The humans have surrounded this forest.”
“Then this will be our final battle. May Tumor bless us.”
“It’s too early to give up.”
“...What?”
Ignak swept his steady gaze over the orcs.
“I heard human noble brats are enjoying ‘camping’ in this forest as a vacation. Some of our warriors were ‘hunted’ for the children’s amusement. If that’s so, why can’t we do the same?”
Ignak reasoned that if brats who had never experienced war were gathered in little groups, playing at make-believe, they could capture those children as prisoners and escape this hellish forest.
Ignak gripped the Eye of the Demon King tightly and declared.
“I can see the revelations as well, brothers. I cannot see as far into the future as Lotsrog, but follow me. Let us survive and return home.”
“But Ignak, what about the ‘revelation’ Lotsrog saw?”
“We must return home, find another shaman, and come back. None of us can directly interpret the Demon King’s revelation.”
This operation had failed. From the moment they lost the shaman, no one remained who could confirm the Demon King’s revelation the shaman had supposedly seen.
Still, they could not make their final stand here and fight to annihilation. If no one returned to tell their kin, their people would wait for them endlessly and slowly waste away.
So at least one of them had to return alive.
Convinced by Ignak’s words, the orcs nodded.
* * *
In a forest at night, fire made for an exceptionally visible target.
Crackle, crackle. A campfire scattered red sparks as it burned, while thick white smoke rose above it and drifted through the heart of the forest.
A group of orcs walked toward it, their shining spears and blades raised high. Their expressions were resolute, without fear.
* * *
-Target spotted.
Elphihara closed one eye and touched her index finger to her thumb, forming a circle before her other eye as she whispered.
She had combined a far-sight spell and a darkvision spell on the spot, recreating them as a new spell.
The darkness of the forest no longer posed a problem for her. Perched in a tree, she maintained the spell between her fingers and looked down at the orcs.
Hearing her voice, Aesidis waved her hand.
-Rustle!
A fist rose from the bushes on the opposite side of the campfire, then lowered again.
Confirmed. Ready. That was what it meant.
In a forest at night, fire made for an easy-to-spot target. This was common sense Ivan had taught them.
Like all of Ivan’s usual advice, it could be understood in two ways.
Being easy to spot also meant there was a greater chance of being discovered by predators.
On the other hand, bait had to be placed somewhere visible to lure in prey.
The scout trainees, now proper hunters in their own right, all university students in their twenties, coldly watched the approaching orcs.
* * *
Footnotes:
None for this chapter.
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