Chapter 185


    Once a dungeon teeming with all sorts of monsters and demons, Chloe Dungeon had now been thoroughly cleansed. Since it was a vitalmunication hub for the White Kingdom of Antares, they couldn’t allow monsters to continue swarming the ce.


    The dpidated buildings forming the entrance to the dungeon had been restored to pristine condition by the dwarves. The passage leading to the spatial portal was now in an impable state of safety. All the surrounding monsters had been eradicated, securing the route to the White King’s Castle. Barracks and camps were established around the entrance building leading to the surface, and a high wall encircled the area. It was no longer a dungeon but a formidable fortress.


    Within this rugged fortress, named Chloe Guard, a thunderous roar echoed.


    “Raaah!”


    “Graaaah!”


    Hundreds of orcs, drenched in sweat, wielded their weapons on the expansive training ground. All the weapons were massive greatswords, axes, and hammers, overwhelming even to hold. The orcs, swinging these heavy weapons, gasped for breath, their arms trembling. Even for those who had spent their entire lives in battle and training, these weapons were toorge and heavy.


    A voice like thunder boomed over the struggling orcs.


    “Do you think you can be true warriors by whining like this?”


    The orcs red in resentment at the scar-covered orc standing on the podium, Talcata, who lifted the greatsword on his back high.


    “It is not impossible! I am no different from you.”


    He threw the greatsword into the air. The sword hummed through the air with a whooshing noise before it struck the ground with a loud crash, embedding itself forcefully. Extending his hand, Talcata shouted.


    “Come, Skandal!”


    The greatsword, Skandal, floated in the air and flew back into Talcata’s grasp. Raising his personal weapon, whichmunicated with his soul, Talcata encouraged everyone.


    “Behold! This is the true strength of an orc! You can do it too!”


    The orcs’ eyes changed. With renewed vigor, they began swinging their weapons again.


    “Uraaah!”


    “Graaaah!”


    These were orc diators who had escaped from various parts of the continent.


    Repenhart had organized the rescued orc diators into a single unit and ced them under Talcata’smand. Integrating them into the Blue Bear Tribe’s ranks from the beginning could lead to discord. However, Talcata was also a former diator, a venerable predecessor who had won over 80 battles and retired safely. The orc diators respected Talcata’s authority and obediently followed his orders.


    Talkata’s cries echoed repeatedly over the sweating orcs.


    “The weapon in your hand feels awkward and difficult to handle! It was the same for me! But what you hold now is your one truepanion! Forget all the weapons you’ve wielded until now!”


    “Yes!”


    “Understood, Captain Talkata!”


    When the orc diators first joined this ce, the very first task was to be given their own weapons from the Blue Bear Tribe.


    Orcs’ secret, the Spirits Weapon, could not be manifested with just any weapon. Only those infused with the focused thoughts of a weapon smith from the very beginning of its creation could be weapons thatmunicated with the soul. Every sword, axe, and hammer they wielded was a unique orc weapon, painstakingly forged by the Blue Bear Tribe’s weapon smiths, led by Gralta.


    These weapons were excessivelyrge and heavy, and the techniques required to wield them were entirely different from anything they had learned before.


    The orc diators, ustomed to human weapons, initially found them awkward. However, none of them resisted.


    They had all witnessed it clearly with their own eyes. Talkata, a former diator like them, had demonstrated the power of these weapons himself. Fueled by the desire to master the vision of their great ancestors, they continued to sweat profusely.


    An orc warrior wielding dual swords approached Talkata. Surveying the training ground, he sighed in admiration.


    “Their efforts are impressive. At this level of intensity, even our tribe’s warriors would find it challenging.”


    Talkata turned his head and replied.


    “They have always trained this hard in the arena, Jalkato, my brother. Above all, now they have hope, the hope of freedom.”


    Jalkato bared his tusks in a smile.


    “With such passion, it’s rewarding to teach them, ha ha.”


    Jalkato, along with several other warriors from the Blue Bear Tribe, had been dispatched here to serve as instructors for the orc diators in the use of Spirits Weapons. Although Talkata had mastered the Spirits Weapon, his training period was still too short, and his skill level was not high enough. Proper instruction required seasoned experts.


    Cries from instructors erupted across the training ground.


    “Trust in thepanion of your soul!”


    “Listen to the resonance of your spirit!”


    “Realize that the sword in your hand is none other than yourself!”


    Feeling the fervor filling the training ground, Talkata murmured with emotion.


    “We will be strong.”


    During the grueling training sessions, a brief respite was granted. The orcs, sprawled across the training ground, panted heavily. Walking among them, Talkata asked.


    “Is it tough?”


    One young orc, still holding his weapon, responded.


    “Honestly, it’s tough.”


    Even though he had undergone all kinds of training in the arena, the intensity here was beyond imagination. Without the dream of bing a true warrior, he would have copsed long ago.


    Talkata chuckled softly.


    “This is nothing. If you had trained under the Great Mother, you would have all been shitting blood.”


    Talkata shuddered involuntarily as memories of the ‘ordeals’ under Sta resurfaced. The young orc tilted his head, curious about what that terrifying Great Mother had done to instill such fear in the face of this brave old diator.


    “Ah, that was true hell. Yes, hell indeed.”


    Even Jalkato and the other instructors nodded solemnly.


    “Well, thanks to that, we were able to connect with ourpanions and souls so quickly.”


    Talkata, who had been wearing a distressed expression, suddenly looked at the other orcs.


    “Don’t even think about cking off. The Great Mother said that those who progress slowly would be personally taken care of by her.”


    The orcs gulped. Though they didn’t fully understand, the atmosphere alone made them realize that they must avoid meeting this ‘Great Mother’ at all costs. Despite their trembling legs, they began picking up their weapons and standing up one by one.


    It was at that moment.


    Amotion was heard from the entrance of Dungeon Chloe. The orcs simultaneously turned their heads. Through the entrance, Tassid, Sin, and a group of orc diators appeared.


    “You’vee, Karuga Tassid!”


    Delighted, Talkata ran to greet them. Although Tassid was much younger than him, Talkata genuinely respected this young orc blessed with the spirit of Debata.


    Tassid, with a yful expression, gestured behind him.


    “Here, take in the rookies.”


    The orc diators following Tassid looked around curiously. The orcs who had been sitting on the training ground started smiling and weing them one by one.


    “Oh! Are these the new recruits?”


    “Wee to thend of freedom, brothers.”


    Despite their initial awkwardness, the orc diators’ faces lit up with joy. Seeing the free orcs they had only heard about filled them with excitement. Jalkato gestured for them toe over.


    “Come here, brothers. There is something you must know.”


    With that, Jalkato led the orc diators beyond the training grounds. Sin asked the remaining Tarcata.


    “Is Mr. Repen at White Castle? Or did he go off to rescue elves with Sirius again?”


    “No, the White King is on the battlefield right now.”


    “What? Battlefield? Is there a war with somewhere in Antares?”


    “No, that’s not it….”


    After scratching his head, Tarcata answered with a puzzled expression.


    “He just went to lend a hand?”


    * * *


    A cold winter wind blew across the barrennd, with ck smoke billowing from various parts of the small rural vige. Vigers, terrified, fled from the burning houses, chased by about a hundred heavily armed mercenaries.


    Screams echoed from all directions.


    “Ahhhh!”


    “Oh God!”


    A giant bastard sword deeply embedded itself in the back of an elderly man who had been crying out. The middle-aged mercenary with a rough appearance who retrieved his sword from the dead elder shouted.


    “This is an order from Baron Chetas! Erase everything alive from the map!”


    “Leave it to us, Captain Recolt!”


    “This is our specialty, isn’t it? Hahahaha!”


    The mercenaries roamed the vige, wreaking havoc. These men, who turned the rural vige into a scene from hell, were the Locust Mercenaries, notorious in the southern Crovence Kingdom and northern Basili Kingdom.


    They were so excessively violent and brutal that even fellow mercenaries shunned them. Their name came from the fact that nothing was left in their wake, just like a swarm of locusts. Despite the derogatory nature of the name, they proudly adopted it as their unit’s moniker.


    “Hahaha!”


    “Kill all the men!”


    “Rape the women and then kill them!”


    “Children are useless! Kill them all!”


    The fierce mercenaries, eyes glinting with murderous intent, chased after the vigers. Among them was a young couple holding their daughter. With their escape route blocked, the husband begged the mercenaries for their lives.


    “P-Please spare us….”


    Before he could finish his plea, a de shed deeply into his chest. The wife wept at the sight of her husband copsing in a scream.


    “Dear!”


    “Daddy!”


    “These dying men are noisy!”


    A mercenary struck the woman, knocking her down. Another mercenary looked at the fallen woman and clicked his tongue. As he untied his waistband, his eyes gleamed.


    “For a country bumpkin, she’s got quite a pretty face.”


    “She’s lucky.”


    “Hehehe…”


    Killing the men and raping the women had always been what the Locust Mercenaries did. Naturally, none of them felt any guilt. The woman trembled as she saw the lust-filled eyes.


    “Ah… please, have mercy…”


    “Mercy isn’t in my vocabry!”


    The mercenary jeered and shouted yfully.


    “Hey, girl. Do you want to get hit and undress, or undress and get hit?”


    “That perverted bastard is at it again.”


    “Keeheehee…”


    Just when the woman had given up all hope, thinking of the hell about toe.


    Whiing…


    A soft breeze blew.


    The woman blinked. She closed her eyes for a moment as the wind tickled them, but when she opened them, the scene before her had changed.


    “…Huh?”


    With eyes wide open, she saw all the mercenaries’ necks twisted grotesquely. No, upon closer inspection, they weren’t twisted; they were half-severed, making them appear that way.


    St!


    Blood sprayed like a fountain, and the mercenaries fell backward. A clear voice came from behind the bewildered woman.


    “Take the child and run.”


    The woman turned her head. A beautiful elf girl with tinum blonde hair was looking down at her.


    “You are…”


    The elf girl gestured at the dazed woman. Regaining her senses, the woman quickly picked up her daughter and fled. The mercenaries, who weremitting ughter and rape elsewhere, noticed theirrades’ deaths and looked over.


    “What the hell?”


    “Who the hell dares?”


    “An elf bitch with swords? Could she be a yer?”


    The elf girl shook both hands. Red blood sttered everywhere from the two scimitars she held. A cold voice flowed from her lips.


    “People unworthy of living…”


    The mercenaries’ faces hardened. The girl’s appearance was anything but ordinary. She was certainly not just a simple yer.


    “tinum blonde hair with brown skin…”


    “Silver scimitars…”


    “No way…”


    The girl resembled a swordswoman who had be very famous after the Crovence Civil War.


    The Sword of the New Moon, a tinum blonde elf swordswoman who wielded scimitars as cold as ice.


    One of the mercenaries screamed.


    “The Sword of the New Moon!”


    “Siris Valencia!”