Praise the Orc

Chapter 80: Willful Negligence (2)

Orcheim and Dejame were attacked at the same time. Warriors from the chiefdom and its lesser tribes ran into Mount Luclan to attack the orcs and dark elves. They were unstoppable as they swung their hammers and axes and stampeded across the mountain.

However, their raid was interrupted when one orc ran out from Orcheim and blocked their path. One of the chiefdom’s warriors charged forth to slash the orc, but he witnessed his own body being split in half instead.

“Ahhhhh!” the chiefdom warrior screamed.

The unknown orc stepped on the chiefdom warrior’s twitching head, crushing it until it burst open.

Who was this unfamiliar orc warrior who wore a red bandana, carried a greatsword, and had tattoos all over his body? It was Crockta, and he was now stronger than ever. Every movement from him dealt a fatal blow.

[Status Window

Title: ‘One Who Reached the North’ Crockta, Orc Warrior

Level: 57

Achievement Points: 245400

Assimilation: 85%

Skills:

World-Engulfing, Mountain Wrenching Strength (Pinnacle)

Indomitable Restoration (Pinnacle)

Leyteno’s Heart Swordsmanship (Pinnacle)

Extreme Fighting Spirit (Pinnacle)

Heart and Soul Penetrating Eye (Pinnacle)

Tattoos of War, Honor, and Indomitable Will (Pinnacle)

Army Crushing Roar of Madness (Pinnacle)

Monster Slayer (Essence)]

After defeating the Behemoth and opening up the north, all of the skills that Crockta had before were now of the Pinnacle tier. The system had rewarded him by upgrading all of the skills that had been on the edge of the Essence tier to the Pinnacle tier. Moreover, he had gained a new skill, Monster Slayer.

Because of all this, Crockta gained a new perspective. The difference between the Essence and Pinnacle tiers wasn’t just a one-level difference. It required greater growth than all of the level upgrades combined.

“Come at me all you want,” said Crockta.

He was confident that he wouldn’t lose to anyone anymore. Crockta dodged an axe that came flying at him and then moved to slash an enemy. His enemies’ movements almost felt tangible to him, like he could grasp their movements with his hand. He dodged their attacks with acrobatic movements and chopped off their heads one after another, sending a string of heads flying into the air.

“Who are you?!” shouted one of the enemy warriors.

Crockta smirked. ‘If you want to hear my name, I’ll give it to you.’

He swung his greatsword and shouted, “My name is...”

Then he activated his Pinnacle-tier skill, the Army Crushing Roar of Madness!

“Crocktaaaaaaaaa!” Crockta’s fighting spirit unleashed itself as a roar and struck the battlefield like a lightning bolt.

The earth shook as if it was being bombarded by artillery fire, and blood ran from the enemies’ eardrums.

“Crocktaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Crockta roared his name again and charged onward, splitting another orc’s head in half.

Skull fragments flew into the air, and gushes of blood sprayed out from the orc’s head.

Upon seeing that, the chiefdom warriors advancing to Orcheim stopped in their tracks. They could tell instinctually that the unfamiliar orc standing in front of them was a powerhouse who could overturn the battle’s outcome by himself. He was a one-man army.

“He’s like the chieftain,” muttered the orc commanding the chiefdom’s troops.

He shook his head in dismay. ‘To think that there’s a warrior like the chieftain.’

Nevertheless, the commanding orc shook off his foreboding thoughts and shouted at the army of warriors following him, “I’m warrior Akbahal, the one who received the title of Great Warrior from the chieftain!”

Akbahal raised his axe and said, “Follow me! Let’s kill that arrogant orc! For the chiefdom and the chieftain!”

His warriors felt a burst of morale and raised their weapons in unison. “For the chieftain! For the chiefdom!”

The orc warriors ran toward Crockta and unleashed a series of onslaughts on him with their spears. Meanwhile, the gnomes fired their crossbows, aiming to pierce every inch of Crockta’s body. However, Crockta swung his greatsword and blocked all of the attacks in a single movement.

“Die!” shouted Akbahal.

Thinking they could catch Crockta off guard at this moment, Akbahal and the chieftain’s orcs swarmed him and rained down attacks from their dozens of weapons. Then there was a clang as Crockta blocked all of the attacks once again with his greatsword. The battle of strength between Akbahal’s warriors and Crockta continued.

The orc warriors’ eyes widened in surprise when they realized that they were the ones getting pushed back, forced to take a step back each time Crockta took a step forward. Crockta then activated his skill World-Engulfing, Mountain Wrenching Strength and swung his greatsword. All of the warriors fighting against him were flung back and sent rolling across the ground. Then the ridiculously huge Ogre Slayer plunged into their heads.

Pieces of flesh and bones flew into the air, but Great Warrior Akbahal quickly pulled himself together.

‘He is unbelievably strong,’ he thought as he gritted his teeth and stood up.

The orc named Crockta was walking toward him. Right when Akbahal raised his weapon and glared back at Crockta, his field of vision turned pitch black.

Akbahal’s head was sent flying into the air.

“Oh, heavens,” said a warrior.

With exquisite technique, Crockta had beheaded the Great Warrior Akbahal in a single blow!

As Akbahal’s body fell to the ground, the morale of the chiefdom’s troops plummeted. Each time Crockta moved, their frontlines were destroyed. The chiefdom’s army began to retreat, but Crockta suddenly stopped in his tracks. Seeing this, the chiefdom warriors breathed sighs of relief. However, Crockta smiled. The battle wasn’t over yet.

Orcheim’s orc warriors came running out from behind Crockta. Their morale had soared after witnessing Crockta’s strength.

“Ahhhhhhhhh!” The battle cry of Orcheim’s warriors rang throughout Mount Luclan.

After watching Orcheim’s warriors break through the enemies’ frontlines, Crockta turned away. Orcheim was all set. Next was Dejame.

Crockta started running. After gaining the skills World-Engulfing, Mountain Wrenching Strength and Indomitable Restoration, his physical abilities greatly exceeded those of regular orcs. His stamina seemed limitless as he charged into the mountainous terrain, running as if he were flying.

He arrived at the mountain ridge in an instant. From there, he could see Dejame, the dark elves’ village, down below. Countless orcs surrounded the village’s defensive walls. It was a madhouse of the orcs trying to climb over those walls and the dark elves trying to block them. A rain of the dark elves’ arrows poured down and toppled the orcs, but the walls were beginning to shake because of the orcs’ onslaught.

Crockta took a deep breath. He sucked in all the air around him and put pressure on his abdomen, making his diaphragm as hard as steel.

Then he let out a thunderous roar that shook the mountain, “Bul’taaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!”

His roar made the attacking orcs and the dark elves stop what they were doing; it sent those on the battlefield into a state of panic.

Crockta grinned and stooped down in the direction of Dejame. His thighs swelled as if they were about to burst. Then he lunged forward. Each time his feet touched the earth, his surroundings changed. He passed by trees, rocks, trees, rocks, trees, trees, and more trees before finally arriving at the enemy forces’ frontline. Crockta used the Ogre Slayer to split the bodies of the enemy orcs, spraying blood everywhere.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” they screamed.

“Wh-What is happening?!” someone muttered.

The chiefdom’s orcs, confused by what was going on, screamed as they yielded to Crockta.

Crockta kindly explained, “I’m warrior Crockta! All of you who tried to invade Mount Luclan will...”

Two orcs came over to him, but before they could even swing their weapons, Crockta slew them with the Ogre Slayer. Chunks of limbs were scattered everywhere.

“...Die by my hands!” Crockta concluded.

The dark elves of Dejame murmured noisily in confusion at Crockta’s unexpected appearance.

However, Dejame’s commander quickly understood what was going on and ordered the dark elves to attack. “He came to support us from Orcheim, so don’t hesitate and keep firing your arrows!”

The dark elves were dubious.

“Only one orc came to support us?”

“Even if he’s an orc—!”

In spite of the dark elves’ doubts, the tide of war was overturned as this one orc crushed their enemies. He decimated many of the enemy orcs surrounding Dejame, killing them swiftly like a wild beast devouring prey as he moved clockwise.

Dejame’s commander, who had been watching everything from the highest point, almost laughed at the ludicrousness of it all. “It’s an unbelievable sight...”

Crockta slew every single orc that he encountered—the orcs climbing the defense walls, the orcs who charged at him, and all other orcs—with his greatsword. It was a bloodbath everywhere he went.

The war had resumed, but the dark elves now greatly outnumbered the attacking orcs. The dark elves ran out from behind the defensive walls and gallantly swung their rapiers and fired their arrows to eradicate the remaining enemy orcs.

After decimating all of the orcs surrounding the defensive walls, Crockta wheezed as he struggled to catch his breath. The battlefield was littered with corpses everywhere he passed by. He looked up at the sky and thought about all of the battles he had experienced. He had turned his back away from wars in real life because he had grown tired of the merciless battlefield, yet he was standing on the battlefield once again.

“If you don’t kill, you die,” he muttered to himself.

As Crockta walked through the battlefield, his foot got caught on a dark elf’s corpse. The dark elf’s eyes were still open. Crockta closed his eyes for him.

Every time he had been on a battlefield, he had always asked himself the same question, but there was never a clear answer. ‘Is this right?’ He didn’t know. ‘Is this fair?’ He didn’t know. He just carried out what he believed in.

“I... I’m Gehereuk who received the title of Great Warrior from the chieftain,” said the orc who was facing Crockta now.

“So?” asked Crockta.

“If you kill me, you will die a ruthless death. The chiefdom and the chieftain won’t let you be. If you let me go, I will let this slide...”

Crockta raised his head and looked at the orc facing him. Gehereuk’s hands were trembling as he held his weapon, and his eyes were filled with fear. Crockta couldn’t help but laugh at the pitiful sight of this orc warrior begging for his life by mentioning the chieftain instead of maintaining his dignity.

“If you kill me, the chieftain will be out to get you,” said Gehereuk.

“Is that so?” asked Crockta.

“Yes, so—!”

Crockta used the Ogre Slayer to cut off Gehereuk’s words as well as his head, sending it flying into the air. Gehereuk had been the last of the attackers still standing.

“Then, there’s nothing I can do about that,” stated Crockta.

***

At the Colosseum, another victim was flung to the ground. There was a total of five orcs, four dark elves, two humans, and one gnome. They were carrying weapons, but they didn’t have any fighting spirit in their eyes.

He gestured at his subordinates, who then pushed in several more orcs and dark elves into the Colosseum. The orcs and dark elves fell and rolled across the dirt, staggering as they struggled to get up. With fear-filled eyes, they clumsily grasped their weapons and retreated.

He wondered inwardly, ‘Was it still not enough?’

He tossed his axe to them. Now he was bare-handed.

“If you guys win, you can go free,” he said.

It was only then that their eyes gleamed with hope. He grinned. The eyes of his prey, who had been thrown into the Colosseum for his entertainment, shone with hope as they raised their weapons at him. However, it didn't make a difference whether he was bare-handed or not; he would still tear them apart.

The prey exchanged looks and took up their positions in preparation for battle. The orcs stood at the front, the humans and the gnomes in the middle, and the dark elves in the back.

He felt amused, but he also pitied them. Petty tricks like that were useless when there was a vast difference in strength. Nevertheless, they began running toward him.

“Ahhhhhh!” cried out the orcs.

He smirked and stomped his feet, causing the earth to shake. The orcs' charge was forced into an abrupt stop when they found themselves tripping over their own feet.

He then opened his mouth and roared, “Kiyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak!”

It was a terrible scream that sounded otherworldly and sent chills down their spines, like a piercing cry from a ghost that had just ripped a soul to shreds.

Then he went forward. His superior physique and size stood out even more as he stood in front of the orcs who were looking up at him. He gazed down at them and grinned before swinging his fist. The orcs tried to fight back with their weapons, but his fist destroyed their weapons and crushed their skulls. Blood and brain matter splattered onto the ground.

He then stepped on the sprawled corpses and took another step forward. Once again, he

had succeeded in instilling fear in his opponents. He beheld his favorite sight. It was the moment when the eyes of his prey filled with fear upon realizing there was no escape. Some made a last-ditch effort to do so anyway, while others were caught in the stage between yielding to fatigue and continuing to fight.

It was at this moment that the dark elves shot their arrows at him. Feeling annoyed, he casually swept his hand through the air, and the arrows struck his arm without causing damage and clattered down to the ground. He grabbed the head of the orc in front of him and lifted him. The orc swung his axe in desperation, but the axe couldn’t pierce his tough skin. He strengthened his grip on the orc's head, cutting off his circulation. The orc’s head turned red at first and then blue. He tightened his grip further until the orc’s head exploded.

“How boring,” he muttered.

Now, there was only fear in the eyes of his prey. Between giving in to fatigue and continuing to fight, they had chosen utter despair. He began to lose interest and decided to finish them off quickly.

He charged. His prey thrashed around, stricken with fear. None of their arrows or axes could inflict harm on him. He tore apart their limbs and then punctured their stomachs with his fist. He crushed the orcs one after another. He then turned to those in waiting and grinned at them as he loudly chewed on a heart.

After he finished them off, there were twenty corpses sprawled on the ground of the Colosseum. It was a gruesome sight with their intestines exposed and limbs entangled. You couldn’t tell what belonged to whom.

His subordinates approached him.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” they asked.

“It’s not enough,” he said.

With a powerful physique that was twice the width of a regular orc and three heads taller, he was the head of the chiefdom that ruled over the northern orcs. He was the chieftain, Calmahart.

“Is it time for war yet?” Calmahart asked his direct subordinate.

His subordinate offered Calmahart the axe that he had retrieved from the Colosseum and said, “It will begin soon. All of the orcs have gathered under the chiefdom, and Mount Luclan will also be taken care of soon.”

“Has Hammerchwi returned?” asked Calmahart.

“That is...”

Calmahart looked at his subordinate who tensed up.

The subordinate continued, “He has returned, but he and his warriors are all injured.”

“...”

“According to Hammerchwi, they ran into an orc from the continent...”

Calmahart caressed the blade of his axe. “Continent?”

“Yes.”

“From below the boundary?” asked Calmahart.

“Yes.”

“Haha...” Calmahart laughed. “Interesting. Where is Hammerchwi right now?”

“He is being treated by a sorcerer.”

“Let’s go,” said Calmahart.

“Yes,” his subordinate replied as he followed behind Calmahart.

Calmahart’s subordinate was also large for an orc, but he looked like a child next to the chieftain.

“What should we do with the other slaves?” asked the subordinate.

Calmahart stopped walking. There were still slaves lined up, waiting for their turn. They had been gathered to quench Calmahart’s thirst for blood. Like their predecessors, they were fated to face Calmahart on the Colosseum. The slaves all looked up at Calmart with eyes filled with fear and hope.

“I have lost interest,” said Calmahart.

“Then...”

“Let them go.”

“Understood.”

The slaves’ faces brightened at Calmahart’s words. However, Calmahart threw his axe right then. It ripped through the air and charged toward them, tearing and crushing the orcs, gnomes, dark elves, and humans who were waiting in a straight line. In a single blow, Calmahart massacred a total of ten orcs, gnomes, dark elves, and humans.

It was a feast of blood and intestines spilling everywhere.

Calmahart added, “That's if there’s anyone left.”

Then he turned away.

The gnome who had been standing at the very end of the line clutched his severed hair. He was deathly pale with all of his blood seemingly drained from his face.