Chapter 160

Chapter 160 - Blackout (2)

They were Orcs being unilaterally pushed back anyway. With even the tribe's best warriors and the Chief falling, they shattered like dominoes collapsing.

To make matters worse, even the Orcs guarding the Chief in the center had fallen into a state of collective panic.

"Geurueo!"

"Move aside! I said move aside!"

With the ones who fight the best terrified and blocking the path, the result was plain as day. The remaining Orcs were helplessly annihilated without even being able to flee.

"Open the path. Even a great army shall scatter."

Eugene muttered looking down at the corpse of the Chief split in half.

"Did opening the path mean something like this?"

The axe blade of hell was a sort of tool. One that unseals the body and drags out the soul inside.

"Sir Knight. Can I approach now?"

Rex asked chuckling.

"It's a not funny joke."

"It's a compliment, not a joke. You likely don't know how vicious you looked during the battle. It felt like a windmill with blades was turning."

"The taste of cutting is kick-ass, at least. It's also a weapon that perfectly suits me."

In battles of the cold weapon era, the culmination point of operation refers to the collapse of the battle line. Fatalities also occur most severely when striking the back of a routed army.

What's important for Eugene, the commander and vanguard, is 'how quickly he breaks the enemies' morale'.

If Eugene grinds up enemies at the forefront, even elite soldiers lost their fighting spirit and collapsed. And that is heavily influenced by what kind of weapon is used.

A task that required swinging a one-handed sword 10 times to be possible only took 5 times with the flail, and with this axe, 2 to 3 times seems to be sufficient.

"What on earth was the scream just now?"

Rex touched his long ears. The Dark Elves sensed a spiritual scream that spread across the battlefield. Befitting a race with excellent hearing and parts of their bodies being like spirits, they are sensitive towards such things.

"How should I explain it. Think of it as something akin to magic cast by a spirit."

"There was a reason our witches were looking at it as if possessed."

The gaze with which the tribe warriors looked at the Hell Axe was awe toward pure strength. However, the witches looked with gazes of excitement and craving.

Exploring and communicating with the other side of the world is their life. A spirit born in the abyss of the otherworld is effectively an angel. One that even came harboring a book written with the truth of a god.

"It will be incredibly useful in future battlefields. Didn't you see the Orc bastards trembling?"

"It doesn't activate just by cutting anyone. Just as small fish simply slip through a large net, I have to rip out a large and strong soul."

"Grond who challenged you, Sir Knight, was also a strong guy though. I guess that guy fell short of the mark?"

"Strength of the body isn't necessarily strength of the soul. I am satisfied. Because it is also flawlessly perfect as a weapon for tearing and cleaving enemies."

The axe, tempered by numerous deaths, changed compared to before the battle. It seems it likes the life of roaming the battlefields of the present world through its master.

'Its touch feels somewhat different.'

He feels it actively responding to Eugene grabbing the handle.

Just like a woman embracing her lover with her entire body during sex. As if invisible two arms and two legs were wrapping around Eugene's hand.

"So have you decided on a name for the weapon? Since it went through its initiation with such a great victory, that guy will likely be disappointed too if there is no name."

"A decent name came to mind just in time."

Eugene hoisted the massive axe up. The dark axe blade seeming to even suck in light is as sharp as a razor blade despite tearing through numerous bones and steel.

"Blackout. I don't know a name that suits it better than this."

Appearance, function, the place that guy was born. It was a name that connected everything into one.

Vooom.

The vicious axe blade trembled faintly. It is a resonance created by the spirit inside rejoicing. Because thanks to the name Eugene gave it, it took root even more strongly in the present world.

Knight, warhorse, weapon. It was the birth of a destroyer group intertwined by a bizarre sense of solidarity.

* * *

While treating the wounded and gathering and burning the Orc corpses, scouts returned.

"We found survivors."

They are carrying starving and exhausted people on the backs of their horses.

"Where did you find them?"

"They saw us from a nearby hill and shouted. They said they had left the village in advance, then came running after seeing the battle break out."

The scouts listened to this and that in advance on their way and reported only the key points to Eugene.

"It seems the nearby villages were all on edge due to the war. Under those circumstances, woodcutters sensed suspicious presences from the mountain and suggested evacuating, but..."

"Opinions were likely divided?"

"Yes. Half left and half remained."

"Then are the survivors in a neighboring village?"

A scout nodded his head. The survivors were looking at the village that had turned to ashes with devastated expressions.

"Those people were returning to persuade the ones remaining in the village once again, saw the Orcs, and hid."

"A blessing in disguise. If they had come faster, they would have been caught by the bastards and died."

Sobs mixed with laments of the village people were heard.

"I told you to leave, so why were you stubborn!"

They collapsed and cried out the names of dead family members or friends.

'Let's evacuate because it's dangerous.'

Even though it seems obvious, it's an action burdensome for commoners to put into practice.

Since there is no bank to entrust wealth with like in cities, they have to carry everything of value.

But for commoners to possess high-value items like jewels or gold coins... Inevitably, the luggage became bulky and heavy.

Furthermore, leaving the village is identical to leaving the line in front of the distribution center.

Which family will release their livestock in an area where good grass grows? If they release them in turns, what will the order be?

How will they distribute fruits blooming on a tree situated between two houses?

Which family will sow what seeds in the communal farmland?

Even if they seem trivial, all sorts of rights are complicatedly intertwined.

- Now, dividing it like this is fair, right?

- Fair my ass. That place is right next to the water.

- Where did you sell your conscience? Since your land is good, just take 20%.

- No, 20% is too much! Let's go with 30%!

It is an equilibrium formed by adults of each family exchanging blows and pointing fingers at each other over several generations.

If they abandon the village even briefly and take refuge, this right gets shaken. Because rights and interests in the countryside of this era stem from occupation and neighbors' acknowledgment, not documents.

The reason for having many children is not simply because of the labor force. The members had to protect the territory where the family's rights and interests belong, as if standing guard.

"Aigoo, how are we supposed to live now!"

"Grandpa... Grandmaaa..."

Some wailed looking at the village that was finished, while others wailed thinking of family members who remained in the village and faced a disaster.

- How much longer would I realistically live if I survive, to abandon my hometown?

- My knees hurt so I don't have the confidence to go to the next village. Don't worry too much. My pretty grandchild, be careful.

The sight of them smiling benevolently and seeing them off feels like yesterday, yet seeing the empty village lacks a sense of reality.

At least a man in his 50s who had regained his composure prostrated in front of Eugene as a representative.

"Milord has saved our lives. How should we repay this favor."

"I only did what I should as a knight. Hey you there, fetch these people food and water."

At that sight, the armed priests made the sign of the cross with sad faces.

"They were Orcs who, if left alone, might have made who knows how many villages disappear."

"I am glad we were able to somehow sever the misfortune here."

At that time, a warrior searching the village shouted.

"There are more survivors over here!"

Haggard people emerged from a collapsed house under the guidance of heavy infantrymen.

"Grandpa! Grandma!"

A crying family ran in a group and hugged each other.

"Sam! Hurry and come out! We survived!"

At the old man's shout, dust-covered families managed to crawl out from a few other houses as well.

The best survival method for powerless commoners and serfs is concealment. Individuals with good preparation consciousness even made shelters in advance.

However, some survivors look as if they've exhausted their energy and have difficulty even being supported.

"Even if farmers busy with making a living build a shelter in a shabby house, the outcome is obvious."

"They must have been starving while trembling curled up in a place where they couldn't even stretch their legs..."

Wondering if they had seen such sights before, the mercenaries clicked their tongues.

"This will help."

Cassandra approached. She possessed a waterskin made by processing a beast's stomach in her hand.

"What is this?"

"Orcish Bitters. It is alcohol Orc shamans brew."

When Eugene opened the stopper, his expression instantly rotted. An indescribable bizarre smell rose.

"They drink this kind of stuff?"

"They're a tribe that even eats their own kind if things go wrong. Never bathing their entire lives, they chew on grotty skin thinking it's good, so why wouldn't they be able to drink this?"

"I do know they're guys with strong stomachs."

"As the name Bitters implies, it's medicinal liquor. It bestows powerful vitality to the one who drinks it."

"No matter what, it's a bit much to offer them to drink this kind of stuff."

"Even if the taste is terrible, the efficacy is incredible. We also make sure to store it if we capture it while subjugating Orcs. Among the things those bastards make, it is one of the few items we acknowledge."

A few female warriors were already pouring Orcish Bitters into bowls and handing them to exhausted survivors.

The liquid is reddish. It's a color somewhere between beast's blood and povidone-iodine. Furthermore, it was even more unpleasant with high viscosity like blood right before coagulation.

"M, milord."

"I don't know what we did wrong, but please forgive us!"

When bowls giving off a foul smell were thrust at them, the survivors squeezed out their final energy and begged for mercy.

"It's not meant to torment you, it's medicine."

Eugene approached and said.

"P, poison?"

The survivors managed to swallow the words 'You mean it isn't poison?'.

"Medicine is inherently bitter and foul. Endure it and drink."

They were truly suspicious, but since their lifesaver and a Lord like the sky ordered it, they couldn't refuse either.

The survivors resigned themselves and pressed their lips to the bowls. The mercenaries, catching on, held their noses for them.

Gulp!

Wondering if the taste was more terrible than the smell, their lips trembled profusely.

"It's not like he's feeding you a death potion or something."

In front of Eugene, who felt sorry while helping, they somehow managed to swallow it down. And the reaction was immediate.

"Ooooh?"

"Heuk!"

The half-dying people stood up properly on their feet. Clenching and unclenching their fists, they looked around in all directions. Faces unable to believe the magically welling vitality.

Their pulses beat like battlefield drums, and their fatigue and pain disappeared like mirages.

However, just one thing. An unpleasant sensation as if a pitch-black bonfire was burning from inside their stomachs lingered.

"Even if it's unpleasant, it doesn't negatively impact your body, so rest assured."

At Cassandra's words, the survivors who had regained their strength prostrated themselves.

"Surprising. How is this made?"

When Eugene's eyes shone seeing the potential as military supplies, Cassandra smiled and shook her head.

"Only Orc shamans know the brewing method. All we know is that it's made using pig carcasses."

"That's possible? Isn't alcohol made by fermenting things like grain or honey?"

"Because it's so heterogeneous, we can't know the manufacturing method. It's un-Orc-like yet Orc-like, isn't it?"

"Hold on... if it's made using flesh and blood, couldn't there be parasites?"

"Orcs aren't idiots either. During the crafting process, they treat it so that all such things can be exterminated."

The Dark Elf warriors handled Orcish Bitters the most carefully among various spoils of war.

'I thought I traveled here and there for 1 year, but I'm still far off.'

The world was still vast and full of fascinating things.

While Eugene was also debating whether to taste a sip out of curiosity, the armed priests approached.

"Viscount. These lowly monks pray. Would you please take in this devastated village?"

"Shouldn't there be a Lord of this place?"

"He's a pirate bastard, not a Lord. He's one of the bosses who received this village as a reward from the former Count. When the Count was sent under escort, he got terrified, abandoned the village, and fled."

Hearing the story, it's said he couldn't abandon his pirate disposition and squeezed the village residents in various ways.

No matter how unsettled the surroundings were, that nearly half the personnel decided to flee partly involved being sick and tired of the Lord's exploitation.

"If neglected like this, this place will forever become a land of death."

"Please embrace it with a merciful heart."

"With all the Orcs eradicated too, the only one who can rebuild this ruin is Viscount."

The armed priests pleaded with one voice.

What Eugene was promised in exchange for the holy war was 3 cities. However, in cases like now, conventionally claiming ownership was possible.

A criminal Lord who failed to fulfill his duty of protection as a noble and fled. Subjugating the Orcs and rescuing the residents. Strong military force, financial power, and a title.

With Eugene possessing all of these, there would be no problem even if he announced 'I shall have it'.

Eugene, who pondered briefly looking at the ruined village, made a decision.

* * *

"Sir Matteo. Do you have any thoughts of becoming a Lord and ruling this village?"

"M, me?"

"Yeah. As my vassal."

Matteo stared at the destroyed village with a face where joy and bewilderment coexisted.

If it were another mercenary captain or noble, they would have accepted it right away out of the joy of 'I become a Lord anyway!'.

However, Matteo thought carefully. Eugene liked that appearance even more.

"As you can see, it's a completely ruined village. The residents scattered, the housing sites were destroyed, and food and supplies are insufficient too. Farmland is devastated, and not a single livestock remains without being slaughtered. What remains are only despairing residents and land."

"..."

It's the cold reality hidden inside the wrapping paper called a Lord.

"Becoming the Lord of this village will be a penance, not a right. Though I will support you in various ways, the one to taste the fruits as a Lord will likely be your successor at earliest."

"...That is enough. If it wasn't for Viscount in the first place, my fate was to become penniless and lonely return to the peninsula."

Matteo placed a fist on his chest and spoke with a resolute face.

"Rather, I will consider this an opportunity. I will properly revive this destroyed village and receive acknowledgment from Viscount."

"What a good attitude."

Eugene genuinely admired the rare mindset.

'It will be worth investing.'

If people return and there is money, the village is bound to resurrect eventually. Furthermore, to Eugene, the supplies and money needed for restoration were at an insignificant level as well.

If he gains a loyal subject who will dedicate his life passing down through generations with that, it's not a bad trade.

* * *

A post horse carrying an order for material support written in Eugene's hand departed for Catania.

"We will stay here for a while and engage in relief activities."

"May the gods be together on Viscount's path ahead. We pray you safely subjugate the longstanding threat of this island."

The armed priests prayed while seeing off Eugene's departing army.

"I feel somewhat tired."

Rex shrugged his shoulders. Originally, scouting whether Orcs appeared was all they intended to do. For the matter to escalate to the point of engaging in a large battle and even handling the aftermath.

"Wasn't it rewarding though?"

"You see, we are not as merciful as you, Sir Knight. If there's a headache-inducing matter, we just have to up and leave."

The method nomads solve problems is always 'movement'. Whether that is going to swing swords and shoot arrows, or merely fleeing to avoid danger.

"Don't speak as if it's someone else's story, I also plan to make you guys a settled ethnic group someday."

"You're joking, right?"

"It's the truth."

Eugene inspected the Dark Elves following from behind. Beautiful warriors equipped with horsemanship and powerful weapon skills no knight could emulate.

When their eyes meet, everyone bows their heads expressing respect and affection. Eugene's heart also swelled at that reliable yet warm sight.

Therefore, it is a task he must accomplish even more.

"The life of a nomad is free and intense. You can simply avoid any disaster, and when fighting, they themselves transform into a disaster."

"You know it well. Plus, the Moving Castle flashing in the east and flashing in the west is with us. So like this..."

Rex speaking with a smile shut his mouth when Eugene raised his hand.

"However, looking at history as a whole, it's a golden age with a time limit placed on it. They will eventually face an end when the settled ethnic groups you guys despise as weaklings, the trivial farmers, multiply to tens of millions."

"Tens of millions?"

"Is it a number you can't imagine? However, it will definitely arrive someday. A moment when even if you shoot arrows until your fingers all fester, the enemies' army doesn't decrease."

As the time he lived as the Lord of the Moving Castle and a Mage lengthened, spiritual power was loaded into Eugene's voice.

Plus, the gaze he occasionally showed, as if looking into the future transcending eras. Rex couldn't ignore it as a Minor Chief.

"The world is already ruled by various kingdoms. It's a difficult task to squeeze in between those who have taken up an axis."

"I suppose so. Since the arm bends inward."

There were Dark Elf tribes that occupied territories through military force in the past. Only that the rule didn't last long.

An external faction settling in humans' territory. That alone became sufficient justification for other Lords to extend greedy hands.

And using supplementary measures like marriage alliances was something the Dark Elves' aloof pride and their exclusivity of dividing even among themselves didn't tolerate.

"Do you remember the prophecy passed down to the Blackhand Tribe? The sole salvation in the cradle..."

"But we shall only be able to ascend as guests."

When Eugene brought it up, Rex received it immediately.

Since it's a prophecy about the annihilation of the clan, he endlessly mulled over it as the Minor Chief. Even now having obtained safety, he remembers it without missing a single particle.

"A cradle is comfortable, but you have to descend someday. No matter how wonderful the Moving Castle is, it's merely a process. To ultimately set you guys' clan down somewhere."

"...If setting us down, where do you mean?"

"I don't know either. But we will find it someday. The empty land for you guys to settle as a settled ethnic group, I mean."

Having gained abundant supplies and a stable residential environment, the Blackhand Tribe's birth rate has recently increased greatly. Giving birth twice as much as other tribes while the infant mortality rate decreased significantly.

The crying sounds of birth echoing occasionally while strolling through the Moving Castle.

Whenever he heard that, Eugene resolved to absolutely gift the life of a settled civilization to these lovely individuals.

He didn't want to leave them to face a miserable future like the Mongols in his memory.

* * *

"That must be the City of Water over there."

When the region where the Hydra was last discovered came into view, the mercenaries whistled.

Befitting a city bordering 3 lakes, a beautiful landscape delicately embroidered with transport waterways and various canals. Now it is the territory of the Apostle State ruled by the Bishop-Count.

"No wonder they said aged nobles frequently visit it as a resort."

"The nickname Garden of the Gods is not an exaggeration. Ah! Less than Catania, of course. Hehe."

The admiring mercenaries suddenly regained their senses and checked Eugene's mood. Because his expression had stiffened.

"Isn't that a trace of a Hydra over there?"

However, the reason Eugene stiffened his face was because of something else.

On the dirt field his finger pointed to, traces as if a snake had passed by were engraved. Even at a glance, it's on a level incomparable to Queen Lamia.

"If it's this much, couldn't it swallow a bull in one bite?"

To roughly estimate the size, one of the heavy cavalrymen spurred his horse and stood on top of the trace.

"Are bulls the problem?"

"It could just gulp you and your horse together whole?"

Perhaps not even the tribe warriors had encountered such a massive monster before, as everyone carefully inspected the traces.

"It seems a bout of fighting already happened."

Following the traces, there is a blood-soaked battle scene. The corpses seemed to have been recovered, but seeing the spilled blood, they could tell at a glance how terrible a battle it was.

At that time, a massive shriek was heard from across the city.

Neigh!

Snort!

"Whoa, whoa!"

"Calm down, calm down. It's a place far away from here."

While the riders were calming the startled warhorses, Eugene discovered some fragments on the ground.

"Eggshells?"

Getting off Might and picking them up, they resembled eggs at first glance. However, the texture isn't hard like bird eggs, but chewy like those of reptiles.

Aiming for the spilled contents, field mice, birds, and bugs flocked and were holding a feast. It wasn't just one or two smashed eggs.

"Rex. Do you know the breeding ecology of a Hydra?"

"I've seen paintings left by our ancestors. They do lay eggs, but instead of incubating them inside their bodies like Lamias, they attach an egg sac outside their bodies. Like spiders or frogs."

The Hydra didn't just come simply to fill its belly taking advantage of the island's confusion.

With its breeding season overlapping, it came down to replenish nutrients, but it seems its egg sac was robbed while fighting a subjugation squad.

Once again, a shriek was heard from across the city. It's not a simple monster's howl. It was a shout imbued with the anger of a mother who had lost her children.