Praise the Orc

Chapter 206: War of the Gods (4)

The orcs clashed fiercely against the expedition force's shield formation.

As Hoyt and Crockta led the charge, the formation crumbled pathetically easy under their assault, allowing them to penetrate deep inside.

Beyond the shields, the soldiers were crushed under their blades like soft tofu as if their tender underbelly was exposed underneath a shell.

“Is this all you’ve got?”

“Burnnn!”

Orc warriors followed, wreaking havoc inside. The swords and spears of the expedition soldiers clashed with the weapons of the orcs. Some killed and some were killed, a cycle of violence repeated. And in the end, the majority of those still standing were the orcs with fierce eyes.

“I’ll take this side.”

“I’ll handle the other.”

Hoyt and Crockta split up.

Crockta carved through the enemy lines like a drill, wielding the God Slayer with devastating efficiency, slaughtering anyone in his path as he made his way deeper into the enemy’s lines.

Just as he was about to start a proper and grand mass slaughter, someone charged at him.

“Crocktaaaaa!”

“Long time no see!”

A blade swung at him. Crockta raised his greatsword, blocking a storm of blows. Across the blade, a familiar face grinned back at him.

Crockta smirked back.

“Adantadore.”

Adantadore, the empire's greatest prodigy swordsman, had joined the expedition to kill Crockta.

“It’s been a while. You’ve come all this way?”

“If you were gonna die, I wanted to be the one to kill you.”

“Did you get dentures?”

“What?”

“Didn’t all your teeth get knocked out by my punch last time? I’m guessing you’re wearing dentures, seeing how they’re all there,” Crockta said as he pointed to his sturdy molars.

Adantadore’s face reddened with anger,

“You bastard...!”

“Ah, so they are dentures. Calm down, man.”

“Die!”

Adantadore, enraged, swung his sword wildly.

Back when they fought each other for the first time, it was an even match, with Adantadore’s relentless attacks occasionally pushing Crockta into a corner. But now, things were different.

Day by day.

Crockta only grew stronger.

He always fought with his life on the line. That meant that he had to improve every single day. When he came out victorious after fighting for his life against an enemy, another one came out the very next day. He had to fight alone against the great chief of the north and the empire's massive army.

There were no bounds to his strength.

“Take care of it properly. It’ll look ugly if it gets stained.”

“Arrgh!”

As Crockta continuously mocked his teeth, Adantadore lost his cool and jumped at Crockta with wild swings. In a duel between two skilled fighters, there was nothing that exposed one more than losing their composure. As Adantadore presented numerous openings out of anger, Crockta found himself almost regretting exploiting them.

They once shared good times.

‘You were just afraid of me. Don’t tell me that bullshit about wanting to reach the next level or your desire to understand the light.’

‘Nonsense...’

‘You and I are the same. I stagger when I’m punched or hit in the temple, just like you do. Don’t be scared.’

‘You’re talking nonsense...’

Adantadore, who had come to Crockta wanting to learn his skills after losing the big battle, was quite an endearing one.

Once foes, then friends, and now enemies again on the battlefield, Crockta didn’t expect to see Adantadore again. Yet, here he was, trying to kill him.

This could be the terminal stop of their relationship.

“Adantadore!”

Shaking off his reverie, Crockta swung the God Slayer.

The greatsword aimed straight at Adantadore's openings.

At that moment, the world slowed down. f(r)ee

At the peak of their confrontation, Crockta and Adantadore locked eyes.

Adantadore gritted his teeth as his body accelerated. He accelerated and accelerated, but it was never enough to evade the blade that was descending in judgment from the pinnacle of their duel.

Crockta’s sword glided down toward his body.

“...!”

Crockta’s strike landed cleanly.

Then, the world returned to its normal pace.

The eerie silence of the battlefield broke, returning the sound of the chaos that was surrounding them.

Adantadore looked up at Crockta in disbelief.

Crockta's greatsword had passed between his arm and torso.

Crockta had spared him.

Adantadore laughed emptily, realizing the vast gap between them had grown immeasurably.

He just couldn’t understand. How was Crockta becoming so powerful so quickly? It was one thing for a talented individual to rapidly improve when first handling a sword, but for a swordsman who had already surpassed the limits to leap further in such a short time seemed beyond reason.

"How were you able to become so strong?" Adantadore asked as he dropped his sword.

Crockta smirked.

"Are you asking because you really don’t know?"

"Tell me."

"You probably came to kill me, thinking with the gods' power and a massive army behind you, you couldn't possibly lose."

"That's right."

"If you want to get stronger, stand on a battlefield where you cannot win.”

Adantadore’s expression changed in an instant.

“Don’t go to a battlefield that you want to be on but go to where you're needed. Go where the predetermined outcome is the despair of the loser, not the victorious roar of the winner. Walk toward the guillotine, not a laurel wreath. Fight until you fall in the line of duty. Do that, and..."

Crockta grinned before continuing.

"If you manage to not die, you'll become stronger."

Adantadore closed his eyes, recalling the image of Crockta standing alone against the empire's army.

Now, Crockta was once again facing the gods in yet another impossible battle, following his own advice.

"We'll meet again."

With those words, Crockta walked past Adantadore, who collapsed, lying in the middle of the battlefield, looking up at the sky.

"Arcran..."

He murmured the name of a comrade who had traveled the long road with him, then chuckled.

"You’re screwed..."

* * *

Olympus, the dwelling of the gods.

There were as many gods as there were believers. They were so numerous that no one knew exactly how many different gods existed.

Nor could anyone say precisely who held the highest rank among them.

However, one thing that was crystal clear among them was the fact that the one deemed most dangerous was known as the ‘War God.'

He was the one who grew his power amidst warfare and slaughter. The battlefield's screams were his breath, and the final death throes were the beating of his heart.

"Oh, my god," Arcran grasped his sword and shield.

"Grant us victory."

The War God then responded.

A red aura flickered around him as if he was on fire.

The same divine power settled upon those walking with him, causing the air to tremble.

The battle was just beginning.

"It seems they are momentarily uplifted by their momentum, but in the face of the power of the gods, everything is feeble."

The orcs, initially high-spirited, were quieted down by a single Meteor Shower from the Goddess of Magic. Most of the orcs were annihilated in that one strike. Their side of the battlefield was still burning, and the ground was melting into chaos.

From the sky, the God of Radiance continued to bestow blessings upon them, while the Goddess of Mercy, even in direct combat with a female orc, boosted the expedition with her healing powers.

On top of that, countless other gods were also participating in this battle, aiding the expedition force.

The orcs' assault was nothing but a struggle, a final flail to escape this hellscape.

"Please fulfill your respective roles," Arcran said to those around him.

Suddenly, an orc warrior appeared from the front, walking toward Arcran.

Arcran smiled.

"That orc..."

Steel helmet. A giant greatsword. A belt resembling a demon. Tattoos covering his entire body.

A fierce face.

"I will kill him."

The eyes of the orc and Arcran met. The orc smiled. Arcran raised his shield and sword.

Though they met for the first time, at the moment their gazes crossed, they knew everything about each other.

One of them had to die today.

"Kaaaaaaaah!"

Arcran roared, and at that moment, a red light burst from his eyes.

Divine Possession.

War God.

At the same time, the paladins and priests who were with Arcran dispersed into the surroundings. Their mission was to assist the other gods and annihilate the resisting orc warriors.

Empowered by the gods, their movements disrupted the rhythm of the battlefield, injecting a new vigor.

And despite all these events, Crockta stood still, not taking his eyes off Arcran.

"Crockta... the Ashen God’s dog..."

Arcran's voice was no longer his own.

A horrific voice, like grinding together chunks of metal.

It was a message from the War God.

"Die."

At that moment, Crockta could see the War God approaching him. But his body wouldn't move.

He was fast. He was strong.

When the enemy had halved the distance between them, Crockta had only just managed to grasp his God Slayer.

When the War God got close enough to swing his sword, Crockta was barely lifting his greatsword.

As the sword of the War God sliced through his chest, Crockta's greatsword could only swing through the air.

"Kugh!"

He tried to counter the attack as blood spouted from him, but the War God had already distanced himself.

He was shielding his body with his sword and shield raised, and only his glaring eyes peering over his shield, glowing red. His eyes were in flames.

"You cannot win. I am the War God. The undefeated god."

Crockta touched his split chest and chuckled.

Then, he looked around.

All kinds of gods were exerting their powers. The orcs resisted but were gradually crumbling. The flames engulfing the battlefield grew fiercer.

They might not be able to win.

But his elevated spirit had long since cast such worries far behind. He was Crockta the warrior, the ‘Northern Conqueror,’ and the 'Empire Nemesis'.

Worrying about winning or losing, living or dying wasn't his expertise.

His body, his greatsword, and the ever-burning Bul’tar within him... That was all that concerned him.

"You said you were... the War God?"

Crockta slung his greatsword over his shoulder and grinned.

"You may start wars, but I end them."

Though it seemed like he was standing there rather recklessly, his body was continually accelerating. The enemy's face appeared so close as if it was right before him.

The outlines of the raging flames and the trails of dust floating in the air were clearly captured by his senses.

He was seeing everything.

The battlefield where orcs and soldiers were killing and being killed was filled with decisions of life and death, and lives flickered ceaselessly.

Numerous deaths crowded around him, drooling for his demise. It wouldn’t be strange if he died at any moment, surrounded by an overwhelming web of cause and effect.

"I like it."

It was just right—just the right amount of tension.

Crockta's eyes met with the War God's.

At that moment, their blades clashed.

"Burrrnnnnnnnnn————!"

Crockta's battle cry, filled with physical force, echoed.

The earth trembled.

Crockta swung down his greatsword at the War God several times. The War God's shield and blade blocked his attacks, but Crockta's straightforward assault did not stop.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Boom! Boom! Boommm!

Deafening sounds of impact erupted. With each clash, the War God's body shuddered as if he were being electrocuted.

Booommm!

The shield was warped.

Booooommm!

The War God's feet were pushed into the ground.

Boooooooooommm!

His feet sank into the earth.

"You orc son of a bitch---------!"

The enraged War God attempted to strike with his sword. However, the recoil from Crockta's sword strike caused him to be a beat too late.

An opening appeared.

Crockta grinned.

"Relax a bit."

Then, with all his strength, he brought down his greatsword again.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by