In the last six months or so, the subhuman tribes had stopped attacking the forts. Prior to that, dozens of them would regularly mount attempts once or twice a month.
Though these raiding parties numbered in the dozens and not hundreds or thousands, subhumans were physically superior to humans. And many of them had special powers. Even with relatively low numbers, it wouldn’t have been strange for such an attack to wipe out a whole garrison.
Consequently, during most of the attacks, Orlando or Pabel had been dispatched with their crew to reinforce the frontline troops.
“It’s not like I enjoy killing subhumans. What I like is fighting strong guys and getting stronger myself.”
“But you don’t care about the Mighty King?”
“Oh, that guy…”
“Not just him. Demon Claw, the Beast Emperor, the Ash Lord, Elementria, Screw-Spear…”
Pabel rattled off a list of notorious subhumans, but none of them inspired Orlando as much as the first.
The Mighty King…
He was the king of a race of subhumans, sometimes known as the Breaker Lord.
The name came from his skill with weapon-breaking arts and how his combat style centered around that unique ability. This nemesis of the Sacred Kingdom had defeated many a warrior. Orlando had fought him before in a battle that ended in the destruction of not only his sword but also his reserve dagger and hatchet, plus the ax he used to fell trees.
Though all of Orlando’s weapons had been destroyed, the fight came to an end when the Mighty King withdrew upon the arrival of reinforcements dispatched from the nearby fortress. In the sense that he had held out until help arrived, it was Orlando’s victory, and many praised his valor. But since he wasn’t an enemy worth the Mighty King taking on a risk to eliminate, Orlando himself had felt somewhat defeated.
“I do want to fight him again someday, but…I probably can’t beat him yet. You probably have to be what they call a hero to take down that guy. Which is why—oh, sir, you heard, right? That the great warrior Gazef Stronoff fell in battle?”
“So you heard that as well. The higher-ups are discussing how it will affect the countries in the region.”
The death of the strongest warrior in the Re-Estize Kingdom was a major topic among Sacred Kingdom soldiers and really anyone who was decent in combat.
“Do you know the details?”
“I’ve heard the gist. Apparently, a caster known as the King of Darkness defeated him in single combat. To be honest, I struggle to understand how a caster could fight solo.”
Orlando agreed.
But the term caster encompassed a wide range of people. If a faith caster boosted their strength with magic, they could easily be more than a match for a half-baked warrior. Plus, holy warriors in this country liberally used magic. In a broad sense, they could be considered casters, too. It wasn’t impossible to imagine a caster in single combat.
“…I heard this King of Darkness also wiped out an entire army and summoned giant goats or sheep or something.”
“That’s news to me. Giant goats…? Sounds like a weird guy.” Hearing about goats reawakened Orlando’s defeated feelings. He knew they couldn’t be regular goats if the caster had summoned them for battle. “Well, that weird guy is just another reason…”
“For what? I don’t follow.”
“Just like how when you beat me, sir—I always ignored projectiles and magic. I thought I could just force my opponents to their knees with my sword. So when I heard that the captain of the Royal Select was killed, I realized maybe I had underestimated those elements of combat.”
“So?”
“I want to retrain.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to challenge one of the people in our country you can’t defeat.”
“I won’t.”
The people Orlando couldn’t beat were a handful of the Nine Colors.
Deputy commander of the marines, Enrique Belsué the Blue.
Leader of the Paladin Order, Remedios Custodio the White.
Pabel Baraja the Black.
A merman of the sea, Ran Tsu An Lin the Green.
And though he wasn’t one of the Nine Colors, the elite priest Kelart Custodio.
In other words, they were all people of rank, so fighting them would cause a huge commotion. Even if sparring between members of the Nine Colors were somehow permissible, a bout with naked blades would never be allowed.
Unfortunately, that level of sparring wouldn’t be enough.
Fighting with practice swords was totally different from fighting with real weapons—so different that it might even affect the outcome of the duel. Many people did not perform the same in exams as they did in actual combat. And being strong meant being strong when it counted. If he couldn’t gain any useful experience, it wouldn’t count as training for him.
“Good…but then where are you planning to train?”
“We were just discussing the Nation of Darkness. I think I’ll try going there. By the sound of it, the place is home to some pretty powerful undead.”
The Nation of Darkness, Ainz Ooal Gown…
Appending his full name to the country seemed to show just how self-aggrandizing the king was, but Orlando wouldn’t dismiss the idea. Besides, it meant the king was influential enough to make it happen.
“I’ve heard the name from the merchants who travel between here and that kingdom.”
The teachings of the shrines had permeated Sacred Kingdom society, so most citizens felt only hatred and repulsion toward undead. Pabel was probably no exception. Then again… Orlando thought about it for a moment. Pabel doesn’t hate them as enemies of the Sacred Kingdom but as enemies of his wife.
But he didn’t bring that up. The commander wouldn’t lose his head quite as much as when he talked about his daughter, but it would still make the conversation much longer than it needed to be.
“The official stance is tacit acceptance, I think? It’s probably no problem if someone from the Sacred Kingdom wants to go there…right?”
No matter how one spun it, the Nation of Darkness, with its army of undead, was a foe the Sacred Kingdom couldn’t coexist with. After hearing about the plight of
