Another World Reincarnation Chronicle

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It goes without saying, but just because I was moving with an armored Orc didn’t mean I could waltz right into the city.

The Orc in full plate armor entered without any fuss, while I had to explain my purpose for visiting the city and leave a signature on a document agreeing to follow the Orcs’ rules should any issues arise.

“Umm…”

As I finally stepped into the city and looked around, I noticed that the level of development here was not all that different from that of the humans, just as I had expected from the Orcs I first encountered.

One notable difference was the abundance of decorations made from monster byproducts.

Some buildings were stacked with pure white bones for walls, while others bore monster hides spread wide with red markings on them.

“Wow…”

It goes without saying, but the food sold on the streets didn’t seem all that different from what humans eat either—aside from the sheer quantity and the fact that most dishes were meat-based, that is.

As I was taking in the street food, a sudden fight broke out not too far from where I was standing.

A bare-fisted duel.

Heavy fists flew towards each other’s faces, striking hard.

Blood splattered, teeth broke, and it was quite the spectacle, yet the other Orcs merely crossed their arms, watching with familiar indifference.

Even the guards tasked with maintaining order in the city merely stood by and watched.

This was the barbaric land of Greenfall.

I finally understood why this country had the title of barbaric land.

Anyone watching the Orcs fight would naturally think of them as being primitive.

Their muscles, inflated with excitement, were a brutal form of attack and the best defense for protecting their own bodies.

The thick necks of the Orcs held steady, even as their massive fists crashed against their opponents’ faces.

In the midst of the brawling, a victor emerged. The slightly smaller Orc dodged a blow by bending low and then landed a heavy punch squarely on his opponent’s face.

It was a powerful strike fueled by rotational force starting from the waist and channeled through the entire body.

The defeated Orc’s legs seemed to give way as he dropped to his knees.

The victorious Orc huffed, trying to calm his racing heart. His massive upper body muscles heaved up and down.

At that moment, the fallen Orc began to rise.

I thought perhaps he was going to fight again, but after shaking himself off, he slightly bowed his head to the Orc who had won and turned to leave.

Blood from the fight soaked into the ground, and broken teeth scattered about, yet nobody seemed to care in the least.

It appeared that this was simply part of the Orcs’ culture.

I approached a fellow adventurer standing nearby who, like me, was watching the Orcs.

He too was a human.

“Excuse me.”

“Uh, uh?”

“Do you know why those Orcs were fighting?”

The female adventurer turned her head to look at me.

She nodded slowly and answered.

“Oh, is this your first time here?”

“Yes.”

“When there’s a disagreement, they settle it by determining right and wrong through combat.”

“That’s a bit barbaric…”

“It might seem that way.”

The adventurer woman who had shared this brief explanation seemed accustomed to life here, lightly chuckling before walking away.

I stood there in dazed thought, realizing that I needed to learn more about Orc culture.

I headed to the general store, leading my Nightmare, and bought a small booklet about Orc culture and a souvenir necklace made from monster claws.

Then, I found a cozy inn, rented a room, and began reading.

Orc Culture: Makutus

The culture named after the Orc war god Makura, when opinions clash, a sacred one-on-one duel known as Makutus is held to resolve conflicts.

Orcs engaging in such duels must be equally armed, and the fight continues until one of them loses their life.

Through the outcome of these duels, Makutus unveils the Orcs’ instinct for battle.

However, even this Makutus has evolved over time; nowadays, it has become a contest using only pure physical ability without weapons, and the method of killing the defeated has faded away.

Some Orc tribes still refer to this method as ‘abbreviated Makutus’ while maintain a stubbornness for the traditional form of Makutus.

*

The next morning.

I stepped out of the inn and wandered the city alone.

Unlike the first day, I noticed something peculiar today: the atmosphere of the city was strangely subdued.

In this tranquil environment flowed a subtle tension. The Orcs’ eyes sparkled as if anticipating something.

As I continued to tour the city, I was surprisingly confronted by a familiar figure.

Someone embodying both human and Orc characteristics.

It was Agul.

“Hey.”

“Uh…”

This was the third time we had crossed paths.

He spotted me and gave an awkward smile, and I awkwardly smiled back.

They said he was half-Orc; was this his hometown?

“It’s been a while, Agul.”

“What a coincidence.”

“Is this your hometown?”

“You could say that.”

I had been frustrated by my inability to communicate with the Orcs, but now I had found someone I could talk to.

I began to follow Agul, asking him all the questions I had been curious about.

He kindly answered every question I posed to him.

What kinds of food were good, which tribes were friendly to humans, and so on.

During our chat, one particular question popped into my mind.

It might be a bit rude, but it was something I had been wondering since arriving in this city.

“Agul.”

“Why?”

“Um… I haven’t seen any other half-breeds besides you. Why is that?”

“Ah…”

Agul looked around awkwardly before giving a sheepish smile.

“The Orcs’ standards of beauty are different from humans.”

“Really different?”

“Humans don’t fall in love with dogs, right?”

“Is it really that extreme…?”

“That’s just the way it is. My mother has a special preference.”

“Which side is more Orc-like?”

“My mother’s side.”

“Whoa…”

Agul seemed to be a rather unusual figure even among Orcs.

The Orcs passing by occasionally glanced at Agul, but surprisingly, none looked down on him or gazed with disgust.

They merely cast a fleeting glance his way.

“So there wasn’t any discrimination?”

“There was at first. But now it’s gone.”

Agul answered my question with a light laugh.

His smile was refreshing, but when paired with the massive axe slung across his back, it created a rather intimidating aura.

I took a step back from Agul and smiled awkwardly.

That’s when Agul shifted his gaze to the distance and spoke.

“I need to head out now. You’d better leave the city soon too.”

“Why is that?”

“Looks like a war is brewing.”

“Is that true? When?”

A war? Surely, he didn’t mean between races?

Agul shook his head, indicating he didn’t know the exact date.

He also sprinkled some optimistic remarks, suggesting that perhaps a war wouldn’t even happen, but those felt more like his wishes than anything.

I had thought about resting a few more days in this city, but it seemed I didn’t have the luxury for that.

I bought plenty of food and headed back to the inn to find Nightmare.

He seemed to enjoy the rare break, flat on the ground, protesting that he didn’t want to go again.

“Let’s go!”

No sooner had I said that than he let out a reluctant sound.

“I’m sorry, Nightmare, but we can’t stay.”

I hopped on his back, shaking the bridle vigorously.

After a moment of remaining stubbornly still, he reluctantly trudged out of the stable.

“Let’s go!”

With a labored, plodding run, Nightmare left the city.

He seemed quite displeased with this tight travel schedule.

“I’ll let you rest more next time.”

“Oh, really?”

With a gentle pat on his neck, Nightmare seemed to loosen up, letting out a small chuckle.

It was then that he finally picked up speed.

As he trotted over the cracked ground, a cloud of red dust billowed up behind him.

*

The aspiring paladin from the Kingdom of Oblain, Foldrin, worked and worked again.

Due to the side effects of a highly addictive substance, his hands shook and his focus was off, preventing him from showcasing his former skills; yet, he continued to suppress his impulses.

In the past, he would have seized the opportunity when the monster hunting squad was resting to take the drug.

But Foldrin resisted.

Before leaving the city, a girl’s words firmly lodged in his mind.

“If you keep doing that, you’ll ruin yourself.”

The girl he had held dear had expressed her concern for him. Remembering Seris, Foldrin suppressed his desires.

With the mindset of a monk in deep contemplation, he remained silent, focusing solely on wielding his sword.

A multitude of monsters charged at him, but Foldrin always led the way into battle.

He had to do so, to forget even a little bit about his longing for the substance.

Seris—

The echo of the boy, Foldrin’s heart, grew stronger with time.

The craving for the drug transformed into a yearning to see the girl’s face.

This yearning became an opportunity for introspection.

As his inner contemplation began, Foldrin’s divine power deepened, and the soft glow radiated into a brilliant light.

His fellow paladins congratulated him on achieving a higher state, but Foldrin had no interest in any of that.

Only one girl’s smile lingered in his heart.

Seris—

The monster hunting expedition lasted about two weeks.

Adventurers and paladins returned to the city, blessed, and celebrated for their great deeds.

However, Foldrin was indifferent to all of it.

The return ceremony completed, Foldrin dashed straight down an alley.

His heartbeat quickened as he ventured deeper into the maze-like backstreets.

This was once a place he came to for the substance, but that meaning had changed.

Arriving in a wide plaza, Foldrin waited for Seris.

Basking in the gentle moonlight, he waited for hours.

Yet, she never appeared.

The following day.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

Foldrin shed tears.

With his tears, he wielded his sword.