The Indomitable Martial King

Repenhardt screamed, glaring at Sillan. Sillan frowned back and shouted.

“Just bear with it, you old man! It’s going to hurt like hell!”

Sillan had his hand on Repenhardt’s utterly battered chest, casting a healing spell. As the pink holy light permeated his entire body, the torn skin and ruptured muscles healed at an astonishing speed. And in proportion to that speed, Repenhardt’s screams grew even louder.

“Ouch! Ow! Hey, when will this end?”

“It’ll be over soon. Geez.”

Calamity Horn and Thunder Drop.

The clash of their most powerful techniques ended in a draw. The concentrated destructive force from both sides repelled each other, resulting in a merciless explosion, and Repenhardt and Kalken were both flung to opposite sides by the vortex of aura.

Such was the strength of their techniques that even the residual destructive power, after most of it canceled out, left both of them in a tattered state. Stalla, who presided over the Ritual of Hotu, declared a draw in the traditional orcish expression.

“The skills of these two warriors are like twins born on the same day!”

Immediately after, Repenhardt and Kalken, who were lying around like rags, were hurriedly supported and taken away from both sides. Sillan was now healing Repenhardt…

“Ouch! Ugh!”

Watching Repenhardt groan continuously, Tilla muttered in disbelief.

“Is the holy healing of Philanence really that painful?”

When Tilla first met Repenhardt, he was in a severely injured state. Even then, he didn’t let out a single groan, enduring the pain. Honestly, compared to back then, this didn’t seem like such a serious injury. Yet, he was screaming like this?

“Ah, no? I’ve received healing from Sillan many times and it actually felt soothing…”

Siris replied with a puzzled expression. Sillan, still casting the healing spell, explained.

“That’s because there’s still some of the opponent’s residual aura in Repen’s body.”

Repenhardt began to explain despite his pain.

“Ugh, originally, aura, holy power, and magic have different properties. Aura doesn’t repel each other like magic and holy power do, but still, they don’t fully merge because of their different properties. Especially right now, the aura in my body isn’t mine, but Kalken’s. The foreign aura is resisting the holy power trying to heal my body. Ugh! This pain is killing me!”

Everyone looked at Repenhardt in awe. It wasn’t his knowledge that impressed them, but his tenacity to explain despite the pain. It was the quintessential trait of a mage who would rather die than miss a chance to elucidate.

“That’s why I suggested we wait a bit before treating you,” Sillan frowned as he continued to channel the holy light. As a priest, he didn’t enjoy feeling like he was torturing someone while performing a good deed like healing.

“The residual aura would have dissipated after a few hours anyway…”

Repenhardt gritted his teeth as he watched Sillan grumble.

“No matter what, the orcs aren’t fully on our side yet. We don’t know how the situation will unfold, so I couldn’t stay injured… Ugh! Maybe I should’ve waited after all?”

To be honest, Repenhardt regretted his rash decision. Judging by the expressions of the Blue Bear Tribe, it was clear they now recognized him and his comrades as trustworthy warriors. His worries about the situation worsening seemed unfounded.

Still, he had requested the healing out of his cautious mage instincts, considering even the slightest possibility…

‘Having endured all sorts of pain during my time as Gym Unbreakable, I thought I could handle this.’

Grinding his teeth, Repenhardt endured the pain. Eventually, the pain vanished, and a surge of vitality filled his body. The healing spell was finally complete.

“Ah, I thought I was going to die.”

“Is that something someone who just received a healing spell should say?”

Sillan quipped as he stood up, throwing a reproachful look at the now perfectly healed Repenhardt. Then, he looked over at the orcs and asked.

“Shall I treat you as well?”

Kalken was in much worse shape than Repenhardt. While the power of their techniques might have been equal, there was a significant difference in their physical durability. Kalken’s body was robust, but compared to Gym Unbreakable, who had dedicated his life to hardening his body, Kalken fell short. Honestly, from Sillan’s perspective, Kalken seemed more urgent than Repenhardt.

Kalken’s face turned pale at Sillan’s kind offer. He had already witnessed what that ‘healing spell’ had done to Repenhardt.

‘To think such a fearless warrior would scream like that!’

No matter how he saw it, it looked more like torture than healing.

“No, I’m fine, human. Just leave me be, I’ll heal on my own.”

With Stalla’s help, Kalken set a splint on his broken arm and bandaged his wounds. Struggling to his feet, he mustered his strength and shouted to Repenhardt.

“Human warrior! I recognize you as a trustworthy warrior!”

The orcs collectively let out a cheer. It was an act of celebrating the successful completion of the Ritual of Hotu.

Limping, Kalken approached Repenhardt and solemnly declared, “Human warriors, we are now brothers.”

Kalken spoke in the common language so that everyone in Repenhardt’s group could understand. Everyone’s expressions brightened. Repenhardt, delighted, began speaking in the orc language.

“This is joyous, Kalken of the Blue Bear Tribe. Now that we are brothers, there is something I wish to say to you…”

Just as Repenhardt was about to broach the subject, Kalken suddenly waved his hand, stopping him.

“Later.”

“Hmm?”

Kalken then grinned widely, baring his teeth, as he looked at the bewildered Repenhardt.

“First, let’s drink.”

“…”

“We’ve communicated with our blades, now we should resolve things with drink!”

At the mention of drinking, the orcs cheered again. The Ritual of Hotu was meant to strengthen ties between orc tribes, so it was only natural that a celebration would follow.

Kalken turned his attention to the rest of the group and exuberantly shouted in the common language, “Let’s go to my place! There’s plenty of drink there!”

Despite Repenhardt’s understanding of orc language, Kalken chose to speak in the common language, showing his thoughtful nature beneath his rugged exterior. Though it sounded humorous, everyone appreciated Kalken’s consideration and began to gather their horses. The orcs mounted their direwolves and prepared to leave.

As time passed, evening arrived, and the twilight sun cast deep shadows over the wasteland. The orcs and Repenhardt’s group set off together, side by side.

* * *

A large bonfire lit up the darkened wasteland. The Blue Bear Tribe was holding a welcoming festival for Repenhardt’s group.

All the orcs sat gathered in the clearing, and Repenhardt’s group joined them. As orcs had no concept of chairs, everyone just sat on the ground, but Repenhardt’s group was treated as honored guests, each given a beast skin to sit on.

Standing before the bonfire, Kalken raised a horn-made cup and shouted, “It is truly joyous to meet new brothers! Let us all raise our cups in celebration!”

“Waah!”

The orcs directed their cheers and warm gazes at Repenhardt’s group, welcoming them heartily. Of course, from the perspective of the group, the orcs’ glistening eyes and loud shouts seemed more like they were about to devour them. Sillan and Russ, who did not understand orc language, awkwardly raised their cups.

“I know it’s meant to be a good thing, but…”

“It’s so intense, I can barely drink…”

In any case, it was true that the orcs sincerely welcomed the group. Even though their fellow orcs, who had gone out to guard against human intruders, unexpectedly brought back humans and called them brothers, no one showed any signs of suspicion. Among them were even the orc scouts who had been affected by Repenhardt’s magic, and even they seemed convinced. It was as if they thought, “If the great warriors recognize them, we will too.”

‘They haven’t changed at all. That’s why they used to suffer a lot back in the day…’

Repenhardt scratched his cheek, recalling old records. The orcs’ tendency to treat any strong opponent like a brother, regardless of their race, had often been exploited by humans. Before humans dominated the continent, it wasn’t uncommon for orcs to be deceived and betrayed by humans.

As a result, for a while, there was a prevalent narrow-mindedness among the orcs, where they wouldn’t recognize any warrior outside their own kin, no matter how strong. However, as time passed and most orcs were pushed to the outskirts, and humans no longer needed to use schemes to deal with them, the orcs seemed to have returned to their former, simpler state.

‘Should I say it’s good that they’ve regained their original nature… or bad that they’ve become naive again…?’

Orcs were strong because they were simple.

When faced with human schemes, they had once become cunning, but it had been a detriment to them. As they grew more cunning, the orcs became weaker. They began to fear death as their thoughts multiplied, and they lost their visions, their Spirits Weapons, and their beast taming techniques. Combined with their excessively weak resistance to magic, they eventually lost their territory to humans and fell into slavery.

But now, the orcs of the Blue Bear Tribe surely retained the primitive strength of their ancestors.

Suddenly, Kalken called out to Repenhardt.

“Brother! Take my drink!”

Kalken filled his cup to the brim and handed it to Repenhardt. True to his large stature, Kalken’s horn cup was big enough for Sillan to use as a hat.

Taking the cup, Repenhardt felt a moment of unease.

‘Ugh, it’s that stuff.’

He remembered. The pungent liquid made from fermented goat or mare’s milk that orcs commonly drank. He had tasted it in his previous life as the Emperor of the Antares Empire.

‘It was incredibly strong and incredibly awful.’

But he couldn’t frown at the hospitality. Repenhardt forced a smile as he accepted the cup. In the past, drinking just one cup had knocked him out, earning him the ridicule of the orcs…

“Oh? It’s good!”

Sure enough, it seemed that his taste buds had changed along with his body. After all, he had experienced all sorts of terrible food under his master Gerard. He had even chewed on basilisk meat at the Grand Forge, finding it tasty. His sense of taste was so damaged (?) that almost anything in the world seemed delicious to him.

“Does it suit your taste? I was a bit worried it might not be to a human’s liking.”

Kalken beamed with joy at the praise of their drink. Well, judging by Russ and Sillan taking a sip and tearing up, it didn’t seem to suit human taste. From the expressions of Siris and Tilla, it appeared to be the same for elves and dwarves.

Kalken turned to Stalla and shouted loudly.

“My brother enjoys our drink! Isn’t that wonderful? Wife, bring out the barrels! Tonight, we’ll empty them with our brother!”

“You’re always quick to find an excuse to drink.”

Throwing a retort, Stalla entered the tent and soon returned with a barrel under each arm. These massive barrels could have fit Sillan inside with room to spare. Taking them, Kalken placed one in front of each of them and said to Repenhardt.

“Let’s drink!”

He then opened the lid and began to gulp down the contents straight from the barrel. Finishing it in one go, Kalken patted his bulging belly and let out a loud burp.

“Burp! Indeed, drinking from the barrel tastes the best!”

Siris, Tilla, Russ, and Sillan all gaped in astonishment. They had heard that orcs were reckless, but this was beyond their expectations. Who on earth drinks a whole barrel in one go?

Meanwhile, Repenhardt maintained a calm expression.

‘Brings back memories.’

There was a time under his master when he lived with even larger death traps attached to his mouth daily. What was a mere barrel of drink compared to that?

Remembering his days as Gym Unbreakable, Repenhardt grabbed the barrel and began to chug. For a long while, he tipped the barrel back, pouring the liquid down his throat. The orcs’ faces showed growing amazement.

After a moment, Repenhardt set the emptied barrel down heavily. The orcs erupted into cheers.

“Oooooooh!”

“Amazing!”

“Truly a warrior!”

Orcs believed that those who could hold their liquor were strong and virile. Seeing Repenhardt’s impressive feat, they felt an even greater sense of camaraderie with him.