Chapter 125. Wasteland and Mountain (4)

[The 4th Battalion deploys [Mounted Shooting].]

[The 2nd Infantry of Viscount Pewin's Army deploys [Square Formation].]

[The Imperial Spearman Squad deploys [Spear Wall].]

[The Nameless Knights deploy [Wedge Formation].]

[The Church Army deploys [Holy Charge].]

A flood of notification windows popped up.

The letters cluttered one side of my vision.

The notifications, which summarized the movements of the units, interlocked with the map in my head, creating the illusion that I was playing a game.

It wasn't a bad feeling.

Because in front of a monitor and keyboard, I was an excellent commander.

No, I was the best commander.

One who led impossible battles to victory and turned every crisis into an opportunity.

The difference from then was that my body and mind were both weaker than they were now.

My body, which had been hospitalized for a long time after being declared brain-dead, did not move as my mind wished, and I, who had been clicking a mouse in an empty house, did not have a trait like [Lord's Unyielding Mind].

Now it was different.

Since falling into this world, my mind was as clear and deep as a lake, and my once-ordinary body was growing stronger day by day by rolling around on the battlefield.

Of course, if there were good parts, there were also bad parts.

Unlike the days when I was clicking a mouse, now I was given one more task in addition to commanding.

That was to deal with the enemy's weapon falling towards the top of my head right in front of me.

An orc's axe.

"Sorcerer! Dieee-!"

Chlaang!

I knocked the axe aside.

An orc's strength was enough to crush a skull with its bare hands.

However, the same was true for me.

The eyes of the orc who swung the axe widened.

He probably didn't think that I, with my relatively small physique compared to his huge frame, would have [Orc's Muscles].

"Not a sorcerer! A triiick-!"

I thrust my sword into the center of the bastard's chest.

I felt the sensation of piercing tough leather from the tip of my sword.

I had pierced a heart.

But the bastard was still moving.

The orc, who had momentarily flinched in pain, swung its axe again.

I blocked it with a shield spell and infused my sword with aura.

I swung the sword blade, which was burning pure white with holy light, straight down.

[Deploying [Imperial Knight Swordsmanship].]

Hundreds of years ago.

With the heart of a knight who had faced orcs to protect the villagers in a time when the Empire had not yet laid its foundation.

"Guwooooooo-!!"

The bastard, whose second heart had been split, let out a single scream and collapsed.

After finally blowing off the head of the bastard whose eye level now matched mine, I surveyed the battle situation.

Everyone was fighting valiantly.

Screams, shouts, curses, encouragements, the sound of clashing weapons, and the piercing sound of projectiles echoed from all over.

Fortunately, it was not yet a melee.

The formation was being maintained, and our tactics were more systematic than the enemy's.

Our individual martial skills and the diversity of our troop types were also superior.

To be honest, they were fighting better than I had expected.

But the tide of battle did not easily turn in our favor.

There was one reason.

Because the orcs' bodies were superior to ours as humans.

Especially their stamina.

"Fight! Fiiiight!"

[Deploying [Fireball].]

I fed a fireball to the face of a charging orc, then stabbed its heart and sent an electric shock through the hole.

[Deploying [Lightning Brand].]

"Geowooooock!"

The bastard, whose second heart had been burned black, rolled his eyes back and collapsed.

That's right.

Orcs had two hearts.

One was in the center of the chest like a human's, and the other was below it, around the solar plexus.

A legendary soccer player from Korea was said to have the nickname 'Two Hearts'.

He was well-known for his tireless stamina, running a greater distance than other players in the same position for 90 minutes.

Orcs were the same.

They rarely got tired.

This was why the longer this fight dragged on, the more disadvantageous it was for us.

Therefore, in this battle in the wasteland, while it was important to hold on, it was also important to reduce the enemy's numbers as much as possible with our superior firepower while holding on.

Because the more their numbers decreased, the longer we could hold out until the battle in the mountain was concluded.

I pushed aside my thoughts and raised my sword.

"Artillery, attention!"

[Deploying [Commander’s Roar].]

Among the swarm of wild Vampiric Bats waiting for the banquet to begin after the battle, a few of my own Vampiric Bats were flying mixed in.

They provided me with the battle situation as well as appropriate artillery coordinates.

"1st Artillery! Front right. Where the Nameless Knights passed. 2nd Artillery! Follow-up incendiary shells!"

[The 1st Artillery deploys [Suppressive Fire].]

[The 1st Artillery deploys [Incendiary Shell Fire].]

Shweeeee-!

With a sound that tore through the air, cannonballs fell on the enemy's heads.

At that moment, something flashed from the enemy camp.

Blurry trajectories flew towards the sky at high speed.

With the dynamic visual acuity I had honed by facing Randal's axe countless times, I barely managed to identify them.

Stones.

The size of a human fist.

Kwaaaaaang!!

The stones, flying like buckshot, shattered half of the cannonballs in mid-air.

The remaining half also lost their force in the explosion and fell somewhere other than their original impact point.

[Vi-Viscount.]

William's flustered voice came through the communication crystal.

"I'll take care of what's above! Chaaarge!"

It was the Orc Great Chieftain.

He was beginning to step to the forefront.

* * *

"Duke Meister. Now that's a name I haven't heard in a long time."

The key fit well.

The dwarf guard, who had confirmed my identity through the communication rune Balkan had given me, soon opened the door and greeted me.

While the several-meter-thick steel door slowly closed, the dwarf kept an eye on the outside and glanced at me.

Half success.

Because entering with my face changed to William's was the first step of the plan.

Of course, the persuasion and negotiation were not with the guard standing next to me, but with the dwarf I would meet after the door was closed.

Kugugugugung…….

"......"

This was really taking a while.

Of course, there were no orcs outside.

All that remained on the Hold's surface was the orcs' empty encampment and the filth they had left behind.

Because all the orcs who had been occupying the Hold had gone out to the wasteland to fight.

In other words, the house was empty.

However, the dwarves didn't know that.

Because this massive door that separated the surface and underground parts of the Hold literally blocked everything.

It couldn't be pierced by blades, arrows, bullets, or explosives, and it didn't even let in sound or light.

It should be assumed that spells also didn't work, except for a few runes like the one Balkan had given.

This was why dwarf holds were called impregnable fortresses.

However, the cutoff of information made it difficult to deal with situations like the present one flexibly.

The wasteland battle absolutely required the dwarves' support.

I came to let them know that.

Of course, not to a mere guard.

But to someone higher up.

"It's a pity he passed away. Our Hold did him a terrible wrong. It wouldn't be strange if he held a grudge against us."

"He did not hold a grudge. He only felt it was a pity."

"...That's a relief, at least."

While the iron door was closing, the dwarf guard stroked his beard and asked a few more questions.

They were questions that felt more like curiosity than suspicion.

I had heard about Duke Bukrum from William beforehand, so I could play along moderately.

"The Hold wanted to welcome Duke Meister back, but unfortunately, we couldn't find any trace of him."

"Why is that?"

"As you know, we are weak on news from outside the Hold. If we had known he was in the City-State Alliance, we would have visited."

What I felt in the process was the respect the dwarves had for Duke Bukrum.

I had felt it from Balkan before, but he was relatively young among the dwarves.

Generational conflict existed even among dwarves.

It meant that no matter how much of a royal Balkan was, he could not represent the position of the older generation that was the actual backbone of the Hold.

"He was a genius who comes once in a thousand years. We are truly sorry."

But the guard, who looked quite old, was saying something similar.

It seemed that the fact that the entire Hold respected Duke Bukrum was true.

It meant that his skills as a young Meister were second to none.

It was worth placing expectations on his top disciple, William.

Finally, the door closed.

The dwarf lowered his axe and shield.

"Come in. My colleague has already passed on the news inside, so you should be able to see him right away."

"Doesn't anyone need to guard here?"

"The door is closed. This is a door that no one can break through. You can rest assured."

I followed the guard inside.

The wide passage led downwards along a gentle slope.

Before long, a scene completely different from what I had seen outside unfolded.

The underground part of the Hold.

If the surface part was like a palace, this place was reminiscent of a temple.

To be precise, it felt like a mixture of a temple, a mine, and a factory.

A corridor comparable to a 16-lane highway.

Magnificent stone pillars supporting the ceiling.

Scenes depicting the history of the dwarves carved along the walls.

And the countless large and small mine entrances bored on both sides.

"A human...?"

"An outsider. Is the door open?"

"The orcs?"

Dwarves in work clothes covered in dust and soot were walking around in the corridor.

With their whispers behind me, I followed the guard dwarf to a deeper place.

The further we went, the more clearly I heard the sound of pickaxes, the creaking noise of machinery, and the sound of explosives detonating, rather than whispers.

The guard turned a few times and then stopped in front of another large door.

The size was much smaller than the door that defended the underground part of the Hold, but the armor and weapons of the guards standing in front of it were incomparably more splendid.

The guard over there raised his hand.

He was a dwarf with an impressive brown beard braided with golden ornaments.

"Halt."

The guard with me replied.

"Rokbrum should have passed on the message beforehand."

"He said it was the Meister's disciple. Is that right?"

"Yes, he had a communication rune. He said he got it from Balkan. I questioned him, and it's not a lie."

"Heh heh... What should I do about this. The King of Kings has stepped away for a moment. If you want to see him, you'll have to wait."

The brown-bearded guard let out a hearty laugh and scratched the back of his head.

I interjected appropriately at this point.

"I don't think that will be necessary."

"Hmm?"

"King of Kings, I apologize, but the matter is urgent."

I looked straight at him.

The brown-bearded guard.

To be precise, at Ungol, the lord of the Everlasting Mountains Hold, disguised as a guard.

I heard the sound of someone swallowing saliva next to me.

The dwarf king, who had been wearing a good-natured smile, wiped the smile from his face.

"You know me?"

"Balkan told me your description... ahem, my apologies. He described your appearance."

I momentarily stuttered.

It was because the clone body fighting in the wasteland was stabbed by an orc's spear.

It wasn't a major injury, but it was time to drive the wedge in.

"At the request of Balkan, son of the King of Kings Ungol, Viscount Ash Wolfskrig and Viscount Pewin of the Empire have sent reinforcements."

"Reinforcements?"

"Yes, most of the orcs occupying the Hold have gone out to fight the reinforcements. That is why I was able to come this far."

Ungol, after a moment of thought, nodded his head.

"We must support them. It is only right. That is the spirit of the dwarves. Finli, tell all the dwarves to equip their axes, shields, and armor. We will retake the Hold with our own hands."

"With all due respect, that will not be helpful."

An axe was laid on my neck.

It happened before I could even perceive it.

Ungol, his eyes glaring fiercely, asked.

"What is the meaning of this? Is this an insult?"

"It is not. It is reality. And also hope."

[Deploying [Lord’s Unyielding Mind].]

I took a breath, feeling the touch of the cool blade.

In fact, this was the main point.

The reason I had broken through the middle of a dangerous enemy camp while leaving the battle to my clone.

"King of Kings, all your dwarves are excellent warriors. But you could not handle the hundred thousand orcs led by the Great Chieftain, and so you locked yourselves in here, did you not?"

"......"

"But the weapons made by your hands can. Now that the horde has left is the chance. Retake the Hold's defense facilities and reactivate the weapons."

"Impossible."

The axe was lowered.

I asked what he meant.

The dwarf king, who had maintained his dignity all along, answered with a voice that was faint but tinged with gloom.

"The weapons have lost their power. The Ratmen have occupied the Steamforge."

"Ratmen...."

"The Technopriest Council."

This was the worst-case scenario.

As I had expected.