Boss? What, what the hell are you talking about!
Now you have to take over the role of the one you followed.
Ivan gestured towards the headless orc shaman. The orc trembled as he glanced at the shamans corpse.
What what do I, what do I need to do?
Capture it.
With the tip of his foot, he pushed the artifact rolling on the floor.
The rolling staff touched the orcs foot. Suddenly, the orcs gaze shifted to the staff.
Even amidst fear, there was an unmistakable sense of greed.
Looks like its definitely sothing valuable.
Ivan squinted at the orc. The orc cautiously picked up the staff, glancing around.
Ugh!!
Do you see sothing?
Although not entirely trusting the words of future foresight, there seed to be so eerie spell cast on it, nonetheless.
The orc shuddered, staring at the obsidian sphere hanging from the staff for a long ti.
Ivan slowly placed his hand on his hip. The axe handle felt cold between his fingers.
What do you see?
*
The orc blinked his small eyes.
Dont move.
A strange voice echoed in his mind. A low voice, like a growling beast. From so corner of his instinct, a voice that hamred overwhelming fear and despair into his mind.
Dont move.
The orc stiffened. He couldnt tear his eyes away from the staff. He didnt know what it was, what magic it held, but if there was one thing he could understand.
It was whispering about the future.
An illusion covered his eyes. A chilling glare was aid at his throat.
Kwak!!
Ugh, ack!?
The orc gasped, stroking his throat in terror. It was the sensation of the axe blade severing his neck and disappearing.
He quickly grasped his neck, but there was no wound.
Its an illusion. The orc groped in fear and raised his head.
He instinctively understood that if he had moved just now, he would have died like that.
And before his gaze, death was looking down on him.
What do you see? Ivan asked.
The sa posture as before grabbing the staff. Relaxed arms, blue eyes gazing indifferently, contours of a motionless body that seed doubtful if it was even breathing.
The sa as before, but a completely different being.
Death stood before him. Embodied death was looking down on him. Overwhelming gap.
Now he understood. Thanks to realizing the future shown by the Eye of the Demon King.
No matter what he tried, no matter what he did, no matter what choice he made among the countless possibilities of the future. The mont the presence before him made up its mind, he would die.
The orc had seen such beings in the distant past. Beings clad in mortal flesh but exuding the aura of immortals.
The demons worship power. Survival alone is the demons commandnt. Therefore, the orc finally nodded willingly.
From the demons abode to this place, Krasilov, he was a strong warrior who had advanced believing only in the prophecy shown by the Eye of the Demon King.
However, or rather because of it.
Having acquired the skill to recognize the strong and forcibly raised to the level of the strong through artifacts.
His heart shattered. In the face of a being whose status was beyond reach through any effort or coincidence.
The orc slowly bowed his head, politely bending his waist while pressing the staff to his chest.
Please, spare please.
Alright.
Under the shadows of the forest, the sound of death laughing was heard. However, even in that mont, the blue eyes between the shadows stared at his hand without any emotion.
Dont move.
The staff warned once again. If he showed even the slightest suspicious behavior, he would surely die. The orc cowered in fear.
It seems certain that you can see the future.
Ivan returned the axe he had half-drawn back into its scabbard.
*
Ecdysis is a student full of creativity. In fact, if there wasnt a fair amount of creativity, one couldnt beco a bard in Drovian.
Her creativity often led to gossip and delusion, but in special monts, it also beca a factor that exhibited remarkable learning ability.
This is one such point.
Guard the places that seem safest the most.
This was Uncle Ivans teaching. Except for very minor flaws, Uncle Ivan always spoke the truth, so Ecdysis tried to morize all of his teachings without omitting a single word.
Therefore.
Savvvee e!!
It is relatively easy to counteract the traps set up by Ivan and the Counterintelligence Command throughout this forest after thoroughly understanding their locations and types.
Uncle Ivan kindly wrote down [teachings] near all the traps, so the learning efficiency doubled, they say.
There are no straight lines in nature.
From basic rope traps to sowhat complex net traps, and even cleverly hidden floor traps beside them.
Ecdysis silently watched over the orcs sacrificed to the traps while wearing a camouflage bush on her head.
As she once reminisced, Ecdysis is a master of stealth. During her ti in the Drovian palace, no one could penetrate her concealnt. (The Huscals adore Ecdysis.)
Perhaps I have the qualities of a spy.
Not only is guerrilla warfare not the skill of a spy, but the sad truth is that spies dont actually engage in hiding and stealth, a fact not taught in schools.
The only spy Ecdysis has ever seen in her life is Ivan, and since shes imitating what Ivan does, perhaps shes more of a successor to the worlds greatest spy.
Proudly, Ecdysis grinned and raised the Command Batons 2nd generation (batons, 2 months).
Its ti to tidy them up and finish the reconnaissance.
Six days of distress.
(The) hero party has now beco a complete reconnaissance team.
It was fortunate to et a good teacher.
*
The Demon King is not just a simple title of a ruler.
In a world where one must prove their worth through strength, among kin who consider only strife as their creed, yet if they can extend their blades towards each other for a single purpose.
That is the faith of the Demon King. A beacon for a better land, a better life, a better world, a crucifix warding off darkness, a cradle for the weak, a sanctuary for warriors.
So.
Though you may wander through the valley of death, fear not. For I will shelter you.
There is a stereotype that orcs are generally dim-witted. In most cases, its true. They expend their entire learning capacity on strife.
However, even such beings, if they can recite anything, it would be prayers for the Demon King.
The surviving orcs, each with a devout expression, tightly clutching their weapons, were whispering.
I am the crucifix of the darkest night.
I am the lighthouse in the stormy sea.
I am your cradle, your fortress.
Fear not. For I will shelter you.
Even the glorious past history as the [2nd Battalion, 103rd Infantry Regint, 23rd Strike Division] and the current disgrace as the [Northwestern Plains of Kadaron Prison, Third Quadrant Demon Residential Area] are not sufficient to explain their present.
Now, they were simply demons praying as one.
After finishing their prayers, the orcs rose from their seats.
Filthy human scum.
One orc grumbled as he sharpened his weapon. The remaining orcs responded in kind, shouting.
How did they know in advance and lay all sorts of traps on the land directly decreed by the Demon King?
During their march, they were suddenly ambushed, and the high shamans and champions were all kidnapped.
Avoiding traps, warriors would suddenly vanish from two to three, or even up to five.
After searching for them, only four remained.
And crucially, not a single leader remained to lead them. In a situation where even the Eye of the Demon King had disappeared, the orcs were staggering in despair.
Rustle.
At that mont, beyond the gathering place, a sound of bushes parting was heard.
The orcs, each clutching their weapons tightly, stood up abruptly and gazed towards the bushes.
Is this the end? But at least it would be a satisfactory end in the eyes of Tumor.
With such a warriors mindset, they prepared for the final battle.
You, are you the only one left?
Eignak?! Are you, are you alive?
Yeah.
With a tap, tap, an orc appeared, gripping the staff. It was one of the vanished champions, Eignak.
The orcs shed tears as they looked at the artifact clenched in his hand.
How on earth?! What happened to Lord Lotzrog?
I was the only one who could make it back alive.
Eignak shook the staff with a dark expression.
Lord Lotzrog handed this to in his final monts and bought so ti. Human scum are surrounding this forest now.
It seems itll be the final battle. May Tumor protect us.
Its too early to give up.
Pardon?
Eignak scanned the orcs with determined eyes.
They say human noble brats are camping here for relaxation. So of our warriors fell victim to their hobby of hunting. So, do we have any reason not to do the sa?
If little ones who havent experienced war gather for childs play
Then, why not capture those young ones as prisoners and escape from this hellish forest, he thought.
Eignak clenched the Demon Kings Eye tightly and declared.
I too can foresee. Brothers. Though it may be impossible to see distant futures like Lotzrog, lets live and return to our holand together.
But Eignak, what about the prophecy Lotzrog saw?
We must return to our holand and find another shaman. Among us, isnt there anyone who can directly interpret the Demon Kings prophecy?
This operation has failed. From the mont they lost the shaman, no one remained who could confirm the prophecy of the Demon King that the shaman saw.
However, its not a task that can be gallantly abandoned. If they couldnt convey this fact to their compatriots back ho, their compatriots would simply wait for them endlessly and slowly perish.
So, at least one person had to survive and return.
Convinced by Eignaks words, the orcs nodded their heads.
*
In the night forest, flas beco an incredibly poetic target.
Tap, tap. Bonfires scattered red sparks and dense white smoke rose above, swaying in the middle of the forest.
A group of orcs was walking in that direction. They held their gleaming spear knives high, with determined expressions, fearless.
-Target acquired.
Elpheira closed one eye, whispering with her index and thumb forming a circle in front of her remaining eye.
A situation where she mixed the Circle Sight spell and the Dark Vision spell on the spot to recreate a new magic.
The darkness of the forest was no longer a problem for her. She stood on the tree, maintaining the spell between her fingers, watching the orcs below.
Hearing her voice, Ecdysis waved her hand swiftly.
-Rustle!
A fist erged from the bushes across the bonfire, then went back down.
Confird. Ready. That was the aning.
In the night forest, flas beco a poetic target. This was the common sense taught by Ivan.
Like all of Ivans usual advice, this too could be interpreted in two ways.
Being poetic ant a high risk of being detected by predators.
On the other hand, it also ant that bait should lure prey from a visible spot.
Now, the pretender forest scouts (in their 20s, college students), who had beco skilled hunters, stared at the approaching orc group with cold eyes.
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