Chapter 14 : A True Monster

Who is the Strongest Warrior Within the Orc Tribe?

Leadership and combat prowess are distinct, so one might assume it’s the warleader.
That’s incorrect.

The strongest warrior in the orc tribe is the chieftain.
The warleader is merely the most likely successor to the chieftain’s position.
The title of the orcs’ greatest warrior refers to the chieftain.

The orcs, a self-proclaimed and widely recognized warrior race, equate combat ability with leadership. That’s why the skull chair Lena had brazenly claimed was so significant. Traditionally, the skull chair was crafted from the bones of adversaries defeated by the current chieftain. It deserved to be called a throne, not merely a chair. It held immense importance, both to the chieftain and the tribe as a whole.

Watching Lena lounge on that skull throne, the warleader felt breathless. Whether she realized it or not, her actions transcended a simple power struggle. It was an outright provocation—a declaration of war.

Crack!

As expected, the chieftain didn’t let it slide. It was unthinkable for the orcs’ greatest warrior to shrug off such an insult. Even if he had invited Lena to enlist her aid, failing to avenge the provocation would cast doubt on his worthiness as chieftain.

Veins bulged on the chieftain’s clenched fist. His fist—without exaggeration—was the size of Lena’s torso. A single punch could likely split a frail human like her into upper and lower halves. Logically, there was no way Lena’s small frame could withstand the chieftain.

The warleader tried to stop the fight—an overstepping intervention.

…

Time seemed to freeze. Amid the silence, only the sound of a rapidly beating heart echoed in his ears. He couldn’t move a finger.

Those eyes—those strange, vertically slit pupils, like a reptile’s. The moment he met her gaze, a ripple surged through the warleader’s mind. Black insects swarmed from his feet, engulfing his entire body. They burrowed into every pore, filled every crevice, and painted his organs black. It was an irresistible torrent of emotion.

Fear. His breath hitched, and the world tilted.

[Exposed to Dragon Fear!]
[Status Ailments Inflicted: Confusion, Fear, Anxiety, Powerlessness…]

This being couldn’t be dismissed as a mere monster. It was a force of nature, an agent of death descended upon the Great Forest. To it, a wretch like him was no more than a speck of dust.

A horrifying future flashed before his eyes like a panorama: crushed and shattered flesh, blood moistening sharp teeth as he was devoured, screams trapped and echoing in his throat…

“What are you all doing?”

A bewildered voice yanked the warleader’s mind back from the abyss. His vision blurred, as if he were surfacing from deep water. He blinked several times before his eyes focused.

Breath—only when he consciously willed it did he gasp for air.

“Weren’t you gonna fight? What’s with the staring?”

Lena made whooshing sounds with her mouth as she threw a mock punch. The warleader couldn’t respond to her playful taunts. A broken body can heal, but a broken spirit is incurable.

The image of a winged reptile superimposed over her slender frame was seared into his mind. Was this the presence of a ruler-class monster, known only through tales?

The warleader glanced sideways, wondering if the chieftain was alright. As expected, the chieftain was trembling. What had begun as fury over his stolen skull throne had morphed into dread before a calamity. His fist remained clenched not out of resolve, but because his muscles had locked in fear.

The warleader didn’t find him pathetic. That the chieftain hadn’t collapsed to his knees was proof of his extraordinary resilience. The warleader’s own legs were already buckling. If Lena hadn’t snapped him out of it, he would have fallen.

“If you’re not gonna attack, hurry up and answer. I’ve been waiting a while. If you take any longer, my patience might run out.”

Lena’s prodding carried an eerie edge. They’d called her a monster and feared her, but they’d utterly misjudged her power. She was a true monster.

Cooperation? How had they dared propose something so arrogant? They should have begged for her mercy. In hindsight, kneeling before her had been the turning point in their fate. Their outward respect—groveling so readily—had likely piqued her curiosity rather than discomforted her.

But fortune wouldn’t favor them twice. The glint of interest in her eyes felt like a candle’s wick. When it burned out, their lives would be snuffed with it.

The chieftain gestured frantically and began explaining, his hands and feet trembling like aspen leaves, steeped in terror.

Ah, my neck hurts.

Lena massaged her stiff neck. The chieftain’s towering height forced her to crane upward. After she exaggerated her discomfort, he quickly sat on the floor. Even then, his eyes remained above hers due to their size difference. She couldn’t complain further, though—that would mean asking him to hunch awkwardly.

…Should I have told him to?

He looked so terrified he’d have crawled if she’d asked. The chieftain had lost all spirit since their staring contest. For a chieftain, he lacked backbone.

Come to think of it, the warleader was no different. He could have resisted, but he avoided conflict and yielded. Did the orcs of this world dislike fighting?

“Um, uh, did you say everything you wanted to?”

Lost in thought, Lena hadn’t caught the chieftain’s explanation. For someone brimming with curiosity, she’d been remarkably distracted, but she had her reasons. The chieftain was a terrible storyteller—like those people who ramble endlessly without reaching the point. Her wandering mind was her defense against dozing off.

“Let’s start by summarizing. If I get anything wrong, raise your hand and correct me.”

The chieftain’s explanation had been too long for a modern soul accustomed to three-line summaries. Lena distilled it to the essentials as she understood them:

“The reason it’s been so noisy lately is that enemies have invaded your territory, making fighting unavoidable.”
Nod!

“You tried resolving it through talk, but the enemies were inflexible, leaving you no choice but to keep fighting.”
Nod!

“In the end, you decided to settle it, so you called me to bolster your forces before the final battle?”
Nod…!

The chieftain’s slightly delayed nod unsettled her, but Lena brushed it off. They’re just beasts. His hesitation was likely due to struggling with a summary longer than three lines.

“Okay.”

She’d only half-listened, so she wondered if she’d missed something critical. Fortunately, she seemed to have caught the gist.

Whew, I feel so refreshed.

How long and convoluted would he have made it when it could be summed up so simply?

“So, that’s what happened.”

Lena pondered. Could she trust the orcs’ words? They might be sincerely telling her everything. But deciding based on one side’s story risked bias. The orcs could, for all she knew, be the aggressors.

That’s why judges were professionals with authority and high pay—tasked with weighing all sides for a fair ruling.

“Alright, I’ll help.”

Lena, no legal expert, agreed readily. What use was discerning good from evil among beasts? It was a waste of time. Resolving it quickly was more efficient.

But the chieftain couldn’t trust her easy acceptance.

“Huh? You mean it? Of course I mean it.”

His doubts were reasonable. Lena’s summary was accurate but omitted key details. The Cold Wind Orc Tribe’s foes were the Silverscale Lizardmen Tribe—bipedal lizards, simply put. They weren’t as widespread in the Great Forest as the orcs, but they were formidable: tough scales like armor, weapon-wielding intellect, and potent venom.

Dangerous, yes, but the Great Forest teemed with stranger monsters. The real threat was their backing. The Silverscale Lizardmen were pawns of a ruler-class monster in the Great Forest!

A ruler-class monster wouldn’t meddle lightly in petty squabbles, but natural disasters defy prediction. They were living calamities. This mercenary contract with the orcs was a perilous gamble, with the wildcard of a ruler-class monster’s involvement.

That was the chieftain’s true motive for recruiting Lena: shared burdens are lighter. If it went wrong, failing together beat failing alone.

“On the other hand, is this really that dangerous?”

Lena asked casually. It wasn’t blind confidence that a ruler-class monster wouldn’t appear—she simply didn’t care if one did. If things turned grim, she’d run.

Running was a fine strategy. A scar on the back as a mark of shame? To Lena, that was the whining of a sheltered fool ignorant of the wild. Survival trumped pride.

Above all, she had no cause for shame. She shared no fated bond with the orcs.