Chapter 147: The Great Duel
“Claiming to be the emperor...in that case, it’s either one or the other,” muttered Tiyo as he lay in bed.
Crockta, who was trying to fall asleep, peered in to listen.
“Either the king is crazy, or the humans are crazy,” continued Tiyo.
“Why?”
“He wouldn’t aspire to be an emperor unless he were crazy, and unless the people were equally crazy, they wouldn’t tolerate him self-proclaiming as such.”
“Is that so?”
In the world of Elder Lord, the position of an emperor seemed to have special meaning.
Before harmony was attained among the species in the continent, an emperor was always involved whenever a big war occurred.
In the war between humans and orcs in which Leyteno Pacrinche took part, the humans had an emperor, and the war only came to an end through his death.
“Crockta.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you plan to participate in the proxy war?” asked Tiyo.
Crockta had already told Vigo, the knight of Alaste, that he needed to think about it first. Crockta bemoaned the request to join a dangerous battle from someone he had recently met, yet he could discern the urgency behind the plea.
“I’m not sure. I tried to refuse, but I thought I’d think about it first since the matter would affect everyone, not just Alaste.”
“You’re right. Considering what the humans are gravitating toward, the continent will soon fall into disarray.”
Emperors ruled by force. War among the various species could erupt sooner than anticipated in the continent that had long savored peace.
“Oh dear...there isn’t a single day of peace while traveling,” muttered Tiyo.
The chieftain had wreaked havoc in the north, and now the self-proclaimed emperor was stirring the pot in the continent. There was trouble everywhere they went.
“Crockta, I think there’s a meaning behind everything that happens to us,” said Tiyo.
“Sounds like a religious statement.”
“Hmph, attributing meaning to things is the trait of an intelligent species.”
Crockta laughed.
“Anyways, whether it’s dealing with the chieftain in the north or addressing matters here, it feels as if we’ve been given a mission to accomplish,” said Tiyo.
“A mission...”
Crockta closed his eyes and became lost in his thoughts.
He used to be a soldier who killed people. He killed to save people, but he wasn’t sure whether the world’s pain decreased thanks to him or whether he just intensified all of the suffering in the world.
It was hard to discern because things weren’t always black and white, and the scale of reality was complex.
In comparison, the missions given to him in the world of Elder Lord were straightforward. Thus, he couldn’t turn a blind eye to them.
“If it’s a mission, it must be completed,” said Crockta.
“Oh, are you confident?”
“Are you underestimating me?”
“Adantadore? I heard he’s quite something. Do you think you can beat him? I see you trembling in fear?” teased Tiyo.
“Not at all,” scoffed Crockta.
The moon cast its gentle glow through the open window above their heads.
The night in Reynolds was quiet. They occasionally heard the footsteps of drunkards, but after they left, everything was tranquil, and all they could hear was the breeze shaking the windows under the moonlight.
The soft sounds of the night included the rhythmic breaths of Anor in slumber, accompanied by the hushed whispers of Crockta and Tiyo, careful not to disturb his sleep.
The lulling embrace of sleep gently caressed their minds into slumber.
“Below Alaste lies an ocean with a beautiful resort city right next to it. The name is...” whispered Crockta.
Tiyo drowsily replied, “It’s Guiderid.”
“Yes, Guiderid...”
“Do you want to go...?”
“Once we finish our business in Alaste...it will be nice to visit.”
“Yeah, good idea. The ocean...It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it...”
“Do you know how to swim?” asked Crockta.
“I’m Tiyo, known as the seal of Quantes...”
“You always talk big.”
“Hehe...I will show you my swimming skills...”
Their voices gradually faded into the night.
“Perhaps my father is resting there...”
“That would be great.”
Then, they fell asleep.
Crockta dreamt of standing on a white, sandy beach. Someone tapped on his shoulder, and when he turned around to look, he realized it was Yi-Yoo.
She was with Han Yeo-Ri and Yoo Soo-Yeon as well.
Then, he got hit in the head with a beach ball. When he followed the sound of laughter, he saw Tiyo and Anor pointing at him and cracking up.
He took a stroll along the beach with them. It was a pleasant dream.
***
Tiyo, who always woke up early, prodded Crockta and Anor to hurry up and get ready.
With great effort, they opened their sleepy eyes and headed down to the restaurant on the inn's first floor.
With disheveled hair, Vigo was nodding off as he ate breakfast.
“Oh, hello, my brothers!” greeted Vigo. He grinned as he waved his hand. He struggled to keep his eyes open. “Alasteans highly value breakfast. Please grab a meal. It’s on me.”
“Ohh, really?” replied Tiyo.
“Yes, the food here is not bad. Excuse me.”
Vigo called out to the owner of the inn, who was dozing off at the counter.
Crockta, Anor, and Tiyo ordered breakfast according to their tastes.
Crockta had steak first thing in the morning, Anor had a salad, and Tiyo enjoyed a sandwich and soup.
“Well, one needs a hearty meal before setting off on a long journey. Isn’t that right?”
“...”
“Let’s go to Alaste!”
They were planning to go anyway, but Vigo’s overenthusiastic attitude was somehow off-putting. Sometimes it was better to remain silent.
Tiyo shook his head. “Let’s go to the kingdom instead of Alaste.”
“I had the same thought,” chimed in Crockta.
“There’s a lot to see in the kingdom. It’s a bustling place.”
“Let’s head out as soon as possible,” urged Crockta.
“No, gentlemen! No!” shouted Vigo.
“Ugh, so noisy. Please be quiet early in the morning,” said Anor. He scowled as he munched on his salad.
“Y-yes...”
Vigo dejectedly sat in his seat and continued finishing his breakfast.
The restaurant soon began to get crowded with the guests of the inn. Some, heavily laden with baggage, set out on their journeys as soon as they finished breakfast.
“Does Alaste have any knights who stand a chance against Adantadore?” asked Tiyo.
“There is one. He has reached the level of a Grandmaster like Adantadore.”
“Then, aren’t you all set?”
“He’s quite old...”
Andor, the Grandmaster of Alaste, was past middle age, and his hair had gone completely white. Although he had exceptional skills and experience, many believed he was too old to face Adantadore. He currently focused on training the next generation rather than participating in combat.
“I recommend meeting him when we go to Alaste. He is known for being an excellent teacher who assesses each knight’s unique abilities and trains them accordingly.”
“Ohh.”
“I’m a knight thanks to him. Hahaha,” laughed Vigo heartily. “Crockta is already super strong, but I’m certain he can become even stronger after meeting him. The same goes for everyone else.”
“But Anor is a necromancer...?” questioned Tiyo.
“There’s a saying that all streams eventually come together in the sea and become one. As I said before, Andor is extraordinary. Even sorcerers learn from him.”
Out of everything Vigo had told them, this piece of information piqued their interest the most.
“Then when should we get going?” asked Tiyo.
“Oh! I finally convinced you guys!”
Vigo jumped up from his seat.
Crockta laughed. “But I haven’t decided yet whether to fight or not. I will go and assess the situation and then decide.”
“Haha, that’s more than enough. When you arrive in Alaste, you will understand why I want to protect the city so much.”
Vigo then shouted, “Hey! Please bring us a pitcher of beer!”
“Drinking so early in the morning?!” exclaimed Tiyo.
“Riding on a horse drunk is the best feeling! We need to celebrate your journey to Alaste! Hahaha!”
The owner brought out a pitcher, and Vigo downed the deer.
Crockta, Tiyo, and Anor followed forth and shared drinks with Vigo.
Other guests saw them drinking and began ordering pitchers of beer as well.
A drinking party unfolded in the morning.
Thus, they ended up departing from the inn with the stench of alcohol.
***
“Ha! Ugh! Hngh!”
Rhythmic chanting and grunts reverberated through the air as ferocious roars shook the training grounds.
“Bul’taaaaaaaaaaaar!”
“How are the warriors these days?”
“They need a lot of work.”
“You sound like Lenox.”
They were in Orcrox, the cradle of orc warriors. Orcs aspiring to be warriors were receiving training.
After the great warrior Lenox died, a new warrior continued his legacy and became the instructor at Orcrox.
It was Hoyt, Lenox’s former student, the man who became one of the best warriors through relentless dedication. He mastered the art of the war hammer through countless battles.
He had been bedridden for a long time due to his injuries from the dungeon, but he now passionately taught orcs after recovery.
Now, orcs in the continent immediately thought of Hoyt instead of Lenox at the mention of Orcrox.
“Do your best!”
“Yes!”
“Don’t just use brute strength! Every time you swing! Every time you strike, do it as if it’s your ultimate blow!”
“Understood!”
"Is that your life's greatest attack? Is that all there is to your life?"
“No, sir!”
“Then swing again!”
“Bul’taaaaaaaaaar!”
Each time Hoyt shouted, the orcs’ momentum changed, and they squeezed out every last bit of strength to surpass their limits.
Hoyt had always been a diligent warrior, but he also became an instructor just as strict as Lenox in Orcrox.
“What brings you all the way here, Tashaquil?”
Tashaquil, the teacher of the Basque village and the great sorcerer who lit up the paths of orc warriors was visiting them.
“I had a dream.”
“A dream.”
If an ordinary orc had come to talk about dreams, Hoyt wouldn’t have thought much of it, but it was different when it came to Tashaquil.
Dreams of powerful sorcerers were prophecies, and they could be clues to navigating the future.
The fact that he came all the way here meant that it wasn’t just an ordinary dream.
“What kind of dream was it?” asked Hoyt.
“I saw a warrior,” replied Tashaquil with a smile. “He was about to face a battle toward becoming a great warrior.”
“Who was it?”
“It’s bad luck to reveal the exact details of a prophecy to others.”
“I have an idea of who it could be.”
“Well, let’s go with your guess then.”
The two laughed.
“A battle toward becoming a great warrior...”
Hoyt set his hammer on the ground.
It was a masterpiece created by the Golden Anvil tribe called the Mountain Slasher. True to its name, there was not a single person who remained unscathed after facing the force of his hammer.
“Must be very dangerous,” said Hoyt.
“To either die or become great, that’s the life of a warrior...” replied Tashaquil chuckling. “So I came here. Give that to me.”
He pointed at something.
Hoyt’s expression changed. It was something that he couldn’t hand off to anyone, even Tashaquil. It was an old steel combat helmet that Lenox used to wear.
It hung from a metal rod on the training grounds and looked over the orcs like Lenox did when he was alive.
“Not that...that was Lenox’s.”
“He’s gone now. If you give it to me, I will deliver it to someone who deserves it.”
“But still...can you take something else instead?”
“No.”
“I can't help but be reluctant to give away Lenox’s keepsake...”
As Hoyt was about to firmly refuse, a strong blast of wind blew toward them and scattered the sand on the training grounds.
Hoyt and Tashaquil covered their faces.
“...!”
Something astonishing happened.
Lenox’s helmet securely hung from the rod, which had never left the training grounds after his death, had fallen to the ground.
The steel helmet rolled toward them.
It was uncommon for a heavy steel helmet to be blown away by the wind.
Tashaquil grinned. “Lenox seems to think he is needed as well.”
“...”
Hoyt couldn’t speak. This peculiar occurrence seemed as if Lenox was responding to Tashaquil’s plea.
“Hoyt, may I send this to the warrior who needs it?”
“Do you plan to deliver it yourself?”
“I have to remain in Basque village.”
“Then...”
Tashaquil whistled.
A huge shadow appeared and stirred up the training grounds.
Hoyt couldn’t help but laugh. “The king of the forest.”
“Yes, he will deliver the helmet.”
“Now I know who you are speaking of.”
The shadow belonged to a tiger, one that was twice the size of an average tiger. It ruled over the forest of Orcrox, the terror that devoured formidable monsters.
It was Simba, the tiger who earned the title of king of the mountain.
Simba grew stronger after defeating the mutant werewolf with Crockta and now reigned as the king of the mountain.
He became a friend to orcs through Crockta and was summoned to Orcrox by Tashaquil.
“Simba,” said Tashaquil.
“Grrr...”
“Please give him this.”
Tashaquil placed Lenox’s helmet in a sack and wrapped it around Simba’s neck. Simba shook his neck as he stretched like a cat.
“Will you be able to find him?”
“Raaa!”
“Yes, quickly go. There’s no time.”
“Raaaaaa!”
With a roar, Simba turned around and began running outside the training grounds. The orcs, startled by the sudden appearance of a tiger, quickly backed away.
“A tiger and Lenox’s helmet...I wonder what you saw in your dreams...” muttered Hoyt.
Tashaquil smiled. He shook his staff and bestowed blessings on the warriors on the training grounds.
Some of the warriors would give up, and some would continue their paths and become true warriors, and perhaps a few of them could even turn into great warriors.
“I heard the human king is proclaiming himself as an emperor.”
“Yes, humans always repeat the same mistakes.”
Tashaquil looked at the sky and said, “He will soon meet a warrior.”
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