Chapter 197: Like a King, Like a Slave (1)

Crockta and his group left the Great Sea.

They were nearing the territory of the orcs. They were still traveling in a dense forest, but it was not as perilous as the Great Sea area.

As they passed through the forest, animals like deer and rabbits gazed at them curiously.

“This landscape feels nostalgic,” Crockta murmured.

The familiar landscape reminded him of the time when he received his first mission from Orcrox’s instructor Lenox, which was to eliminate mutant wolves along with Grant. The scenery back then looked just like this.

Continuing northward, they would soon reach Orcrox.

“I’m getting quite excited. I also haven’t been to Orcrox in a while,” Zankus commented.

Crockta laughed.

“You’re excited even though we’re going there for war?”

“That’s what excites me even more.”

“Keke, indeed. It is exhilarating!”

The two orcs laughed, expressing their confidence in the upcoming battles.

“There’s going to be a lot of enemies waiting for us.”

“It doesn’t matter. If ten thousand come, we hunt ten thousand; if a million come, we hunt a million.”

“And if a god comes?” Zankus smirked.

“Then we get to hunt a god.”

Such outrageous statements!

Yet, they were Zankus, the hunter who could pierce and kill the sun, and Crockta, the warrior who had conquered the north and stood against the empire. No words sounded too arrogant for them.

Crockta and Zankus were busy boasting about their ambitions for the war ahead when a member of their group saw something.

“Look, there’s something there,” Tiyo shouted.

Indeed, something was there. Beyond the bushes, something resembling a human figure flickered.

As they approached closer, the figure became clearer.

“Is that...?”

It was an elf, but not an ordinary elf.

“What is he?” Tiyo asked.

“Not your average elf, for sure.”

“He looks a bit... no, not a bit, he looks extremely odd.”

The elf, dressed in dazzling clothes, sat on a rock, deep in thought.

Even as Crockta and his group approached him, the elf seemed not to notice, continuing to furrow his brows in contemplation.

His pose was reminiscent of none other than Rodin’s The Thinker!

However, unlike the naked statue, his attire was lavish and ornate. His silk and gold-threaded garb was as luxurious as that of an emperor. His appearance was an odd sight to see in the middle of the forest.

“Excuse me,” Crockta called out gently.

But there was no response.

“Hey!”

Tiyo yelled, but the elf remained unfazed by the sudden outburst. As if he were aware of their presence, he raised his hand with the palm facing them. He was signaling them to stop.

Yet, Tiyo was relentless.

“What are you doing?”

“...”

“Hey? Can’t you hear us?”

The elf, who had his eyes closed, sighed softly and stood up. His clothes flowed elegantly.

“There are two kinds of people in the world: those who interrupt others’ thoughts and those who leave them be,” the elf spoke.

“Are you saying we interrupted you?” Tiyo retorted.

“I didn’t say that. But you certainly didn’t leave me be.”

His voice was calm, and his manner was dignified. He seemed quite unusual for someone encountered in the heart of the forest.

“What’s going on?”

Suddenly, the bushes rustled, and another figure appeared.

It was an orc warrior. Seeing Crockta and his group, he opened his mouth in surprise.

“Who are you people?” He asked.

“That’s what we should be asking!” Tiyo snapped back.

The orc cautiously stepped next to the elf.

The pairing of the extravagantly dressed elf and the armed orc warrior was odd. It almost looked like a noble and his bodyguard.

The orc introduced himself.

“I am a warrior named Arakunta. I am accompanying this gentleman.”

“And the elf?”

The elf remained silent. The orc explained instead.

“We met in the forest. I do not know his name either.”

“What’s your relationship? An elf and an orc, quite the unusual combo.”

“You seem to be quite unusual enough yourselves.”

The orc shrugged.

“To clarify, I am heading to Orcrox. It seems you might be doing the same. Recently, an absurd oracle has stirred the races of the continent to attack orcs.”

Crockta nodded.

“That’s right. We're all heading to Orcrox to face the enemies.”

“I, too, am on my way there. I may be inexperienced, but I am still a warrior whose worthiness was recognized by Hoyt and Tashaquil! I couldn’t just stand by.”

After Lenox, Hoyt became the instructor for the warriors. This meant that Arakunta was a junior warrior to Crockta.

Crockta smiled warmly.

“How brave! You are a true orc warrior, Arakunta!”

“Keke, you are too kind, senior!”

Arakunta had already sensed that Crockta was a warrior far superior to him.

“Anyway, I was heading to Orcrox when I was surrounded by ogres in the Great Sea. Alone, I could have managed one, but not a whole group of them.”

Ogres were among the most dangerous monsters. Those more powerful than ogres were rare and few, making ogres top predators.

The fact that he could face an ogre alone already proved him a formidable warrior.

Of course, Crockta and Zankus, along with the other two members of their group were an exception as they had long surpassed the average standard of power.

“That’s when this elf gentleman saved me.”

“This elf did?” Tiyo commented with an attitude.

“Yes. He’s reticent and contemplative but possesses incredible strength. He dealt with the ogres effortlessly. He offered to follow me, so we’ve been heading to Orcrox together. I was just returning from my hunt when you arrived.”

Crockta and his group looked at the elf.

As unique as his appearance was, it seemed like there was something more.

Yet, Crockta sensed something from the elf that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He saw something familiar in the elf’s gaze. It was as though those eyes could see through to his very soul, which was a sensation he had definitely felt before.

But that elf was a stranger, Crockta pondered.

“Anyway, it's nice to meet you. What’s your name? I am Crockta, an orc warrior, as you can see.”

The response came from the side of the elf.

“Crockta...!”

Arakunta’s eyes widened.

Crockta was a figure of admiration among the novice warriors. He had witnessed the last moments of the legendary orc instructor Lenox, rapidly growing from an apprentice warrior to being ranked among the strongest warriors in no time. His name echoed throughout the continent.

Especially, the story of him standing alone against the Imperial Army, enduring their attacks, and eventually annihilating them with his friends, was a tale so often told it became ear-grating.

"Are you really Crockta, 'The Northern Conqueror' and ‘The Empire’s Nemesis?’" Arakunta asked.

"I’ve never been called ‘The Empire’s Nemesis’ before, but if you're asking about the orc who's been to the north, then yes, that's me."

"Oh, Sir Crockta! It's an honor to meet you like this!"

Arakunta approached Crockta with the same energy someone about to give a hug has, extending a hand for a handshake. Crockta returned his gesture with a smile.

"And that must mean that these men are..."

Arakunta glanced and pointed at Tiyo and Anor.

"The famous duo that accompanies Crockta...! No wonder the combination seemed unusual!"

Tiyo and Anor perked up their ears.

Pointing at Anor, Arakunta shrugged, then exclaimed, "Then this Dark Elf must be none other than the sovereign of the dead, the 'Necromancer Overlord' Anor!"

“...!”

Anor wore a baffled expression.

He hadn't used his necromantic powers much since coming to the continent. Yet, as he traveled with Crockta, his fame soared, and he was bestowed with such a grand title before he knew it.

"And this stout gnome here!"

"Hehe, yes, that's me!"

Tiyo boasted.

"'The Magic Bullet Sprayer'!"

"Wait, what?"

"The one who charges headlong into battle, unleashing a barrage of magic bullet shots without looking back, 'The Magic Bullet Sprayer' Tiyo!"

Tiyo's mouth twisted, seemingly displeased with the ‘Sprayer’ part of his title.

"Hmm, well, rather than ‘spray’, I'd prefer... a ‘one-shot-one-kill cold-blooded sniper'... or 'storm striker'..." Tiyo said clearing his throat.

But Arakunta had already turned away.

“I know who these two are, but what might your name be, fellow orc? You seem like a hunter.”

He quickly scanned Zankus. After noting Zankus's enormous steel bow, Arakunta treated him with formal respect, realizing he was no ordinary figure.

"May I know your name...?"

Zankus shrugged as he looked at Arakunta.

"It’s Zankus."

"Z-Z-Z-Zankus!"

Arakunta looked back at Crockta and his friends with an expression full of awe.

"First, Crockta and his friends, and now the legendary hunter who is said to shoot down the sun, 'The Sun Slayer' Zankus! Seeing this incredible arrow, I know that is true! I could die happy today!"

He grabbed and shook Zankus's massive spear-like arrow.

"Calm down. I'm not such a grand orc as all that."

"What do you mean? You and Crockta are legends among orcs. I have met living legends today!" Arakunta's excitement continued.

"Hmm..."

Crockta turned his gaze from Arakunta to the Elf.

They haven’t heard the Elf's name yet.

"Anyway, so, what's your name?"

"My name... I have none to give you."

Crockta raised his eyebrows.

"Quite the high-and-mighty, aren't you?"

"There's no need for formal introductions when we won't be together long."

"Understood. So, you're heading to Orcrox too?"

"No."

"Then, where?"

"It's not a question of 'where'."

His way of speaking was enigmatic.

"Then what am I supposed to say?"

"It should be ‘until when'. I'll accompany you until I find my answer."

“Hmm...”

“If you are headed toward Orcrox, I shall accompany you there.”

Before they realized it, the elf had grouped both Crockta's group and Arakunta together.

This elf might be slightly odd. Maybe something was wrong with his head.

Given his attire, he wasn't a warrior but had defeated several Ogres, which suggested he might be a mage. It was said that among mages, some became deranged from prolonged magical research. He seemed to fit that category.

"Crockta, may I accompany you to Orcrox?"

Arakunta's eyes sparkled as he asked.

Crockta looked at his companions, who all shrugged nonchalantly.

"Well... There's no reason to refuse."

"It's fine by me."

"Hehe, I can show you that I'm not just about ‘spraying’!"

Thus, Crockta and his group were joined by the novice warrior Arakunta and the mysterious Elf.

* * *

Arcran's expedition was progressing smoothly. Despite facing unexpected rejections in some places, overall, they were moving in a positive direction. The number of volunteers increased, and clerics and followers of various temples continued to join. Nobles and knight orders seeking to gain honor were also supplied. The expedition grew so large that divisions had to be created for it to be managed.

"Blacksmith has refused to trade with us," Arcran mentioned as he marched alongside Adantadore.

They were going to reach Arnin soon.

"For what reason?" Adantadore asked back.

"He told me that it’s a decision made by their leadership; I'm not entirely sure why."

"Must be a matter of trust. With the orcs."

Arcran scratched his head.

"Well, it's not a big deal. We just have to find another trading company before the battle. We have time. We'll approach the Thompson Trading Company. Their headquarters are conveniently located in Anail, right before Orcrox."

"Look into more options," Adantadore suggested, slashing the air with his sword.

"Everything that we’ve encountered so far, we did not expect. Anything could happen next. Who knows? Even Thompson might have ties with Crockta."

“...”

Arcran imagined the possibility. It seemed plausible.

Throughout organizing the expedition and traversing the continent, Arcran constantly encountered traces of Crockta.

Arcran didn't know much about Crockta. Before Crockta appeared in the south, he was known as the 'Northern Conqueror' whispered by the gods, and after his battle against the empire, he was also given the title 'Empire Nemesis.' That was about all Arcran knew.

But Crockta had left his mark across the continent, far beyond the south, wherever he could reach. And the deeds that he has done were indeed worthy of praise. It was hard to see him as someone who conspired with the Ashen God to plunge the world into chaos.

"If that's the case..."

"If that’s what you’re concerned about, then don’t worry about it," someone shouted from behind them.

One of the nobles who joined the expedition spoke up. He was a minor lord from the eastern part of the continent. He had joined the expedition more out of his interest in gaining fame and profit from it rather than out of devout faith. It was the most typical case among the nobles in the expedition.

"Lord Phelos."

"There is a very dangerous man in Anail."

"A dangerous man?"

"A man who rules the underworld of Anail, wielding influence across the continent. Like a king of the back alleys," the noble said with a smirk.

"Even Thompson cannot oppose him since he too comes from Anail. And I happen to know the King of Anail quite well. I've done him a favor in the past, and he's meticulous about repaying debts. I'll cash in my favor and make sure Thompson cannot refuse to trade with us."

"The underworld... doesn’t that mean he is a criminal?"

"Of course, he is the worst kind of villain and a cold-blooded killer. But at times like these, a villain is the most reliable ally. Thompson won't be able to oppose him."

Arcran was speechless.

It would be more than ideal if the deal with Thompson was successful, but he was reluctant to ally with a criminal just to achieve that.

"What's his name?" Adantadore asked instead of Arcran.

"It’s Derek."

"I think I've heard that name before. Then, please proceed."

"Leave it to me. I'll send my messenger on a swift horse."

In the blink of an eye, the expedition seemed to be holding hands with Derek.

Arcran spoke up to express his concern,

"But we are an expedition following the will of the gods. Partnering with a man like Derek..."

"You are quite a stubborn one."

Phelos frowned. Adantadore signaled to let it go with a gesture.

"Do you..."

Arcran sighed deeply.

"Do you all agree with this?"

Turning around, Arcran saw numerous eyes upon him.

Those were the expedition's unspoken commanders—the knights and nobles led by Arcran and Adantadore.

Everyone who had been listening nodded.

"Where there is light, there must be shadow. Please, let us handle it this time."

"We must prepare for everything. The orcs are not an easy opponent."

"There's a way of the secular world. Let us handle it."

Even the clerics of other temples quietly closed their eyes. It was a silent agreement.

Faced with the overwhelming consensus, Arcran felt the same discomfort he had since the beginning of the expedition. That piercing sensation in his gut, an unsettling anxiety that kept snagging at him.

It was the sensation he felt for the first time at Maillard.

‘Yes, they all admire Crockta and perform good deeds.’

And in Chesswood.

‘Listen up, Crockta is our hero!’

He sighed deeply once more.

"... Alright."

Phelos gave the order to his adjutant, who then moved to the back. Soon, a messenger on a swift horse broke away from the column and galloped off.

Watching the departing figure, Arcran felt a heaviness in his steps.

He wanted to stop, to cease moving forward.

But the march did not halt.

Behind Arcran, countless volunteers followed his steps. It was too late for him to stop now.

He moved forward as if he was being pushed. Adantadore, Phelos, and many nobles walked beside him, shoulder to shoulder. Caught in their flow, or perhaps pushed by it, Arcran took the next step.

The expedition, now carrying momentum, was not going to stop.

Arcran was now unsure if he was the one leading them, or if he was actually being swept away by them instead.