Episode 33 – Wild Instinct (3)
For ages beyond counting, there were those who had tended and protected a sacred ground—the orcs.
They had lived there so long they even rembered spirits lost to history. They had reason for their traditions, kept to themselves, and had never brought harm to outsiders.
Even intruders upon their holy ground were not slaughtered or ambushed without warning—they settled everything by duel.
Fair and square.
Compared to the Iron Kingdom’s capital, Cherville, where killing a trespasser on private land could still be ruled as “justified,” the orcs were arguably more rciful than humans.
Now then—here’s the problem:
On one side stood the orcs—keepers of their sacred land, ancient, justified, and fair. On the other side stood —a human who knowingly trespassed upon that sacred land, coveted their holy relic, and even threatened an innocent orc to guide him here.
Who, then, was the villain? Honestly, there was no need to ask. Anyone could see it—I was the villain this ti. Not just any villain, but a downright bastard who’d forgotten the basics of decency.
But luckily—“A duel!”
Orcs weren’t a race that cared about right or wrong.
“Draw your sword, human!”
For these simple, green-skinned folk, duel was the solution to all things.
Strength was their logic, and the victor was law—the creed of a people who revered battle itself.
I looked at the orc snorting heavily through his nose, gripping a brutal-looking axe.
‘Damn, he’s huge.’
This one was much bigger than the orc I fought earlier—towering over . The sheer size made hesitate for a mont, but Liam’s voice ca.
「This one’s different from before.」
“How so?”
「He’s no youngling. He’s a warrior—a true adult orc who’s completed his coming-of-age.」
A warrior. Yes, that word fit him perfectly.
The sword I drew this ti was the dwarven blade Daisy had gifted —sharp enough to cleave through most steel with ease.
「Be careful, my young descendant. A true orc warrior is never to be taken lightly.」
“……”
「Most beings on this continent call orcs a stupid, battle-obsessed race. But tell —if that were all they were, could they really have survived for so many ages?」
Thud!
The ground shook beneath the orc’s step.
“WAAARR—!”
A roar erupted as his green muscles bulged like coiled steel. That raw, barbaric power flowed straight into his axe.
As the massive blade ca crashing down, I exhaled. My second heart pulsed, flooding my body with superhuman strength. My sword moved to et the falling axe head-on.
At the sa ti, the Road unfolded. And through it—I saw his movents.
The near future, as clear as day.
Then—‘…What?’
The orc’s path split into two. It was as if his body had doubled.
In that mont of confusion, his movent broke out of my prediction.
Instead of slamming the axe down, the orc threw it.
“—!”
A feint.
I twisted my sword to deflect the flying axe—but the orc was already upon .
Mid-leap, he caught the spinning handle and swung again.
Clang!
tal clashed with a heavy shock that rattled my bones.
“Sword Walker, huh? Human. Chrrrk.”
Through the clash, I saw his eyes—wild, blazing blue flas full of ferocity.
He didn’t use technique. He simply pressed down, swelling his muscles to their limits, forcing raw strength into his attack.
Crude, yet courageous.
Utterly orcish.
If anyone saw our fight, they’d say, “That’s an orc for you.”
I couldn’t help but grin.
Always head-on, never back down—the orc way.
“A Sword Walker’s style—I know it well. Many of our warriors use it! But orcs don’t fight like that. Such style—not brave! Not cool!”
I gripped my sword tighter, drawing on Fetel’s mories.
Twilight. The knight’s swordsmanship that thrived in close binds unfolded—delicate footwork, shifting balance, refined precision.
The orc didn’t dodge—he t it with his thick hide, swinging his axe even as my blade cut into him.
Offering flesh to take bone.
A thrilling, reckless exchange.
That’s when Liam spoke again.
「Never let your guard down against a true orc warrior. You might read their movents, but you can’t read the movents of the ancestors dwelling in their bodies.」
“……”
「That’s why adult orcs are called ‘Knight Killers.’ Half-baked Sword Walkers fall helplessly before those masters of combat. So, my young descendant—don’t be blinded by what you see.」
I fixed my eyes on the charging orc.
「Don’t stop doing what you do best—doubt. Don’t rely only on what your Road shows you. See through the world with every sharpened sense. Question everything. Never be certain. That attitude toward the world itself will beco your steel.」
I stepped forward.
The orc roared and swung down.
I raised my sword, catching his axe at the very tip.
A tallic shriek split the air. The axe slid along my blade—I turned with the flow and slashed.
The orc twisted back, narrowly dodging.
His balance broke. I stomped his front foot, switched my grip, and thrust long.
Needle.
The orc, still leaning backward, let go of his axe and planted a palm into the dirt, flipping over to evade.
But that wasn’t enough.
I drove my heel deeper into his foot, dropped my sword, and drew a Fang from my thigh. The blade bit into his knee joint, then his thigh, his ribs, his chest—moving like a serpent devouring prey.
Pinning his leg down, I reached out, seized his neck, and pressed the Fang’s tip beneath his throat.
The assassin’s art—perfectly blended into my body now.
The subdued orc froze, then turned his head toward and grinned.
“I lost.”
“Yeah. You—”
“If I lost, I must go to my ancestors.”
Then, without hesitation, he leaned into the blade himself.
The Fang pierced his throat.
Warm blood spattered out, and the orc collapsed—lifeless in an instant.
‘What the…’
I froze.
I’d ant only to subdue him—to find a way to reach the relic afterward.
But he had killed himself the mont he accepted defeat.
No fear, no hesitation.
Just… as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Before I could even move, a roar erupted from the countless orcs beyond.
“Ooooh!”
But it wasn’t anger. It wasn’t hatred for their fallen kin.
“Brave human!”
Their voices rang with mad excitent.
Covered in the dead warrior’s blood, I stood there as the sea of orcs cheered. And in that mont, I understood them a little better.
In simple terms—‘They’re completely insane.’
***
I had trespassed into their sacred ground, disrupted their coming-of-age rites, and slain one of their warriors.
And what did I get in return?
“Orc beer! Drink deep, human, and speak!”
Incredibly, I now sat face-to-face with the Orc Elder—the highest-ranked among them—being treated to food and drink.
A situation that defied all common sense.
“Yes, thank you.”
But I was beginning to learn: Common sense didn’t apply to orcs.
For these green-skinned muscle-brains, this was common sense.
I gulped down a mug of murky yellow beer. Without exaggeration, it was the worst thing I’d ever tasted. If soone boiled together scraps from a garbage heap, it would still be better.
‘Disgusting.’
It might as well have been poison.
But seeing every orc around chugging the sa sludge, I decided their taste buds were simply broken.
I set my mug down with a heavy thud and looked at the Elder, who was laughing heartily.
He wore a necklace made of bones, earrings dangling thickly from both ears, and skull-shaped ornants covering his eyelids and lips.
「A shaman. Likely the high priest overseeing the orcs’ Ancestral Inheritance. His spiritual power is… impressive.」
A shaman—In other words, the orcs’ equivalent of a magician. A wielder of mysteries through ritual, not logic.
Liam muttered,
「That one could banish you from the physical realm with a flick of his fingers. If he challenges you, just surrender an arm and flee.」
“……”
「Tsk. What a sha. If you had even a spark of spiritual talent, I could help you. But you’re utterly talentless—in body and spirit…」
I ignored his grumbling and looked back at the Elder.
“So! Why have you co here, human?!”
His voice was thunder itself.
He might have sounded brutish, but he was no fool. Just as Liam said, his presence was overwhelming.
My sharpened Sword Walker senses told plainly—This was not soone I could ever defeat.
He could crush like an insect.
The only reason he treated amicably now was the orcs’ code: I had won a duel and proven my strength.
Their tradition demanded that I be granted an audience.
If they’d been human—or elf—I’d already be dead.
“If your reason is foolish, you’ll duel every warrior here, one by one! So speak, human!”
Orcs were simple-minded.
Which also ant they didn’t lie.
I could tell—he ant every word.
If I said sothing stupid, I’d end up fighting every single orc in this place.
They’d grant fair duels, rest breaks, and all that, of course—but still, one by one.
‘Terrifying.’
Such simplicity was terrifying in its own way.
Which ant—I had to choose my words carefully.
My master, being a born warrior, would’ve gladly fought them all. But I wasn’t him.
So I had to do what I did best.
“Long ago, one of my ancestors left a family heirloom here, in the orcs’ sacred ground.”
Now then.
“That blade—our family treasure—is as precious to as my own life. It bears our honor and the belief we’ve upheld for centuries. I heard that orcs recover their comrades’ bodies to honor their spirits. Likewise, I must recover my family’s treasure, to honor my ancestor’s unfulfilled wish. That is why I braved this perilous mountain—alone.”
Let’s see if I could talk my way past these innocent greenskins with a silver tongue.
***
『Na: Orc (Orc)』
『One of the seven races of the continent.』
『A wandering race spread across various regions. Rather than living in peace, they thrive on endless conflict, ever fighting to claim what they desire.』
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