Chapter 1: Humanity Defeated

Chapter 1:
Humanity Defeated

THE ORCISH LEGIONS had taken their positions atop the hill. Each stalwart soldier brandished a spear several times his own height, and their close-knit formation that extended far over the long ridge filled the autumn sky with the gleam of pointed blades.

Following the beat of a drum, a number of strangely dressed orcs approached the front of the formation in a mad dance. Shamans, perhaps. Most likely, this was how they bestowed courage and blessings upon their soldiers.

It had been a mere week since I was summoned to this world, and I was already set to challenge the enemy army.

The orcs looked little different from those I’d seen in other worlds. They were small, about chest height to an average human, but solidly built. Their fearsome faces looked like some freakish cross between a monkey and a pig, with drool dribbling down the tusks that protruded from their lower jaws.

According to the priests who had summoned me, orcs were a foul race birthed into the world by an evil god. They told me, “An orc is about as intelligent as a dog and falls a little short of humans in speed and power. Duking it out one-on-one with sticks, even a common farmhand would come out the victor.”

And apparently that was it—just like other orcs I knew of. However, they reproduced at a fearsome speed, so they were slowly overwhelming humanity by sheer force of numbers.

Still, there are plenty of ways to deal with a foe that can boast of nothing but numbers. As a veteran who’d saved twelve worlds already, I was sure that this would be a cinch.

***

I hummed a merry tune as the black-clad army took its position across the field. They totaled around ten thousand, give or take. This didn’t trouble me; in fact, there were fewer of them than I had anticipated. Rather, the issue was that their movements were highly unified. They were clearly an army.

This was the opposite of what I’d been told to expect. We were supposed to be fighting a horde of beasts no smarter than dogs, whose only advantage was pure numbers—small fry easily dispersed with my hero’s powers. Could it be that they were unified under that so-called evil god? I’d gotten the impression that he was a myth, not an actual threat.

Still, it was a foreign world. There was nothing unusual about gods being real—I’d killed a few in my day. That said, if there was some mysterious entity out there who was able to manipulate so many individuals, no doubt they must boast fearsome power. It was starting to look like my duty in this world was to defeat that being. A harsh trial, yes, but not an impossible one. It’s actually easiest when my heroic duty is laid out plain and simple.

“Finally found you.” Sir Rigel, dressed head to toe in heavy plate armor, drew his horse near. He was captain of the dragon riders and boasted the title Lord of the Silver Blade, but today, of all days, he carried not his prized silver sword but an incredibly mundane piece of steel.

Once his horse was lined up next to mine, he apologized for the discourtesy of not lifting his visor to address me. “After all, it’s quite a pain to contain my beard.”

Sir Rigel was exceedingly religious. Ever since he lost his son, who was a fellow dragon rider, he had clung firmly to his god’s teachings, which forbade putting a razor to his face. It was due to his faith that he supported me, the supposed Hero sent by God, before anyone else did. He’d even taken on a sort of caretaker role. In fact, he was the one who had afforded me my equipment and horse for this campaign.

Gaining the support of someone so influential this early on was definitely a promising sign. In the worlds I’d been summoned to before, I’d met people who didn’t trust me in the slightest—even sometimes the very people who brought me there. I could hardly count how often I’d been sent off to fight some demon lord without proper backing.

“The battle will begin soon. Please return to camp.”

Sir Rigel urged me to turn to watch the allied forces of humanity taking shape. My first glance wasn’t entirely reassuring. They were making a huge ruckus about how someone was stationed a little farther ahead last time and about how someone couldn’t stand having certain other someones lined up right beside them. An argument over whether someone had bumped someone else with a shield was quickly escalating into a duel.

A plethora of different crests adorned the banners over their heads. There had to be over a hundred. Beneath them clamored the knights clad in lamellar armor, which is made of joined metal strips. The crests on their shields were even more varied than their flags.

Our forces boasted three thousand five hundred cavalry. Incidentally, the horses here were quite a lot larger, heavier, and firmer than the ones in my world, and each had a pair of sharp horns growing from its head. I thought they looked more like bulls. Protected by an apron-like piece of armor in front, they could make full use of their astounding leg strength to make a mighty charge.

Nearly all the knights straddling these steeds wore a helmet in the shape of the head of a beast. They resembled a devil’s legions more than an order of justice. Either way, they certainly looked impressively strong.

We had roughly an equal number of foot soldiers behind the cavalry. They remained on standby in uneven formations. Their armor consisted of whatever they could get their hands on, while their weapons ranged from halberds to spears, from axes to swords, from bows to crossbows, and even included some grass sickles and pot lids. They were a mishmash of attendants, mercenaries, and conscripted farmhands, likely not the most reliable people to have on your side in a fight. For what it was worth, they had at least been divided between those with projectiles and those without.

We were trotting through a gap in the formation when I asked Rigel, “The enemy is quite numerous. Will we be all right?”

“Our numbers are nothing to scoff at either. Normally, there would be nothing to be concerned about, but…” The old man fell silent for a moment, clearly worried.

I urged him to continue with a glance.

“I presume those are just a diversion. Their main forces must be concealed behind the hills.”

“The priests told me that orcs are just beasts without intellect.”

“They become incredibly shrewd when it comes to war, and war alone. Take care not to take the priests’ words to heart, lest they catch you off guard.”

I didn’t expect Sir Rigel to be critical of the temple. We hadn’t known each other long, but I had never seen him skip a prayer before a meal. Whenever a sacred word passed his lips, his expression was the epitome of seriousness.

“I didn’t expect to hear that from you,” I said.

“It is not the priests I pray to.”

I see.

Sending scouts would be our best bet to confirm his suspicions. However, there was forest to the right of the hill and wetlands to the left. That limited our chance of getting a good visual.

“We’d be able to immediately spot an ambush if we had our dragons,” Rigel mumbled, frustrated.

Apparently, not long before I was summoned, the dragons entered their breeding season, which came once every few decades. During that period, every able dragon would gather at the Dragon Peak. Right now, they were probably all doing their best to find a mate. And thanks to that, the dragon riders who Rigel was so proud of had been reduced to mere horsemen.

That said, they were not going to expend their valuable dragon riders as if they were the common cavalry. The dragon riders were stationed at the main camp to guard the priests who would carry out the rites of war.

“But after we’ve gathered all the lords and their armies, we’ll disgrace the princess if we return without engaging in a single battle.”

The princess he spoke of was Princess Liana, the supreme commander of this operation. She was also called the Princess Knight. While she was young and seemed popular among the lords, I’d learned that strained class relations were found in every world.

My thoughts were interrupted by the loud bellow of a horn.

“Looks like the preparations are complete.”

We spurred our horses the rest of the way.

***

From behind us came the voices of over a thousand priests. Their chanting carried a peculiar modulation, resounding far and wide across the battlefield like a hymn. In concert with the intensifying sound, the insignia at their feet began to give off a blue glow. According to Sir Rigel, this ceremony delivered mana to the charms fastened to the knights’ shields. Once activated, these would deploy a barrier against projectiles in a one-meter radius around us.

Eventually, the incantation shifted to a low murmur. The barriers were complete, and now a new chant was needed to maintain them. A horn blew loudly to announce that the preparations were ready, and a chorus of additional horns sounded in response.

Dividing into left flank, right flank, and center, the armies of allied lords began their advance, with the foot soldiers chaotically following behind.

The Knights Templar who I would be accompanying had yet to make a move. They were seen as one of the strongest forces in the kingdom, right up there with the dragon riders, and would charge in under the direct lead of Princess Liana once the opportunity presented itself.

As the air quivered with the earth-shattering pounding of hooves, the orcish legions made their move in kind. I saw the orcs positioned at the front of their forces holding gun-like objects.

No. They aren’t gun-like. They are guns.

One of them—perhaps fumbling, or perhaps driven by fear—fired before the order was given. A flash of light and a long column of white smoke vomited out from the muzzle. The spectacle sent shivers down my spine.

Something in front of one of our vanguard emitted a faint glow, then a shrill clang. The bullet had been deflected by the magic barrier. Incited by the first shot, the orcish guns began bursting to life, scattering shots here and there until finally, the entire front line was enveloped in billowing white smoke.

Yet the unorganized barrage failed to inflict any damage on the knights. From the gaps in the smoke, I could see the orcs fleeing behind their line of spears after they fired, quickly replaced by new troops with loaded guns.

The horn sounded again, and the knights picked up speed. The hoofbeats making the earth shudder grew louder still.

They were almost halfway up the hill when the orcs let off their second volley in unison. The guns rang out, followed by a shrill grating sound as bullet clashed with barrier. Light burst where the bullets struck, and in the midst of the spray, the barrier lit up in a ribbon from end to end.

In a few places where the light was strongest, several knights toppled from their horses. It looked like a burst of light was produced when the barrier crumbled. I could hear the chanting of the priests behind me becoming a little disjointed—some of them must have been forced to start over from the beginning to restore the broken spots. The knights pressed on regardless, with no hesitation in their steps. They were already reaching full speed.

An instant before the forces clashed, the orcs unleashed their third volley point-blank. A bright blue light flashed over the entire formation; the next instant, the knights disappeared from view in a cloud of black smoke.

The roar of the guns reached my ears a moment later, then the sound of the horsemen smashing through the spears and the screams of beasts, both horse and orc. The priests’ incantation was becoming more and more unsynchronized. The tremor of hooves rose once more, and finally, the foot soldiers disappeared into the smoke.

At length, a strong gust of wind cleared the fumes away and I could see again. By then, the last of the horses had almost disappeared beyond the hills, where foot soldiers were taking on the remaining orcs. While the hill orcs still outnumbered their enemies, they had completely lost the will to fight. In a one-sided pursuit, the human infantry simply chased and slaughtered them as they screamed and ran. In no time at all, the hill was red with blood.

A horn echoed from beyond the hills, signaling the discovery of more enemy forces and a continuation of the charge. Princess Liana’s expression stiffened as she absorbed its message.

“Confirm the situation! Have the Templars advance to the hilltop! Hero, come with—”

Her face was turned halfway toward me when a thundering roar cut her off. Clearly different from the preceding gunshots, this sound had to mean that now they were firing cannons.

Liana’s complexion paled visibly, the color draining from her lips.

“I told them so many times…!” she murmured.

We’d already known it was going to be a trap; that was why the plan was to turn back if the enemy was too numerous. However, it wasn’t so simple to stop a group of horsemen after they initiated a charge. Once the riders’ bloodlust was riled up, they couldn’t be expected to make level-headed decisions—all the more when they were proud, prestigious warrior types. Their greatest fear was to be seen as cowards.

The next sound that rang out over the hills was a united chorus of guns, which was quickly followed by a second volley. The priests gave up on the barrier-maintaining chant as every defense was breached. With fatigue on their faces, their cohesion lost, each individually stumbled back into the chant required to re-erect the barriers from the ground up. Next came the roar of the third volley, and then, finally, the horrific sound of cavalry colliding with infantry.

The princess cried out “Hurry!” but we were already picking up the pace. I was the first to reach the hilltop, but there was too much smoke covering the battlefield below for me to make out the details. I could only tell from the cycle of guns and the horses’ brays that the combat still raged on.

The princess and her knights arrived shortly after me, and we watched as the smoke thinned bit by bit. First, I saw the forms of knights felled by gunfire, then orc soldiers crushed flat by the horses, with a few trampled knights among them. Then I fully took in the disastrous scene. Stretched across the valley at the base of the hills was a legion of orcs in a checkerboard formation. The knights had managed to cleave through some of the squadrons with their fierce charge. Unfortunately, that put them smack-dab in the center of enemy lines, and they were nearly surrounded.

A number of gunners were stationed around the orc legion, and they would eagerly rain gunfire upon any knight who tried to approach. As orcs were so short, they had to crane their necks to see soldiers on horseback, so they were at no risk of catching their brethren in the crossfire. What’s more, this caldera of gunfire sprouted countless sharp thorns as well as the orcs’ long spears. If a rider on the perimeter fell from his horse, these spears would rain down on him.

Had the allied army’s commander already fallen? Their forces seemed to spiral into chaos. Some men simply dawdled where they stood, while others recklessly sliced deeper and deeper into enemy formations. Others still, perhaps having lost their sense of direction in the smoke, wove through the gaps as they strayed into the enemy’s midst on their own.

Each time the guns roared, more of them would fall to the ground. Over half had already sunk into pools of blood, and it was only a matter of time for the rest.

“Blow the retreat horn!”

Immediately on the princess’s order, a shrill horn sounded. It was already too late. The orcs that the troops had smashed through to get there had already regrouped behind them and were on the verge of restoring their formations. Once those were complete, the riders would have nowhere to run.

“Start chanting!”

The princess’s words made me doubt my ears, but the faithful Knights Templar began their chant without a complaint. They readied themselves to attack.

I could no longer stay silent. “Your Highness,” I said. “It’s already too late.”

“I know. But even if only a handful can be saved, I must continue to fight.”

“And in exchange, you’ll lose your Knights Templar. That’s not a fair trade.”

“It will take over a decade to reconstruct the Knights Templar, yes. But if we abandon those men without shedding a single drop of our own blood, the royal family will lose all its credibility. That would mean losing the force unifying humanity. We would be dragged back to the days of fighting among ourselves, and should it come to that, we’ll have lost over a hundred years of progress. That is why my blood must be shed, here and now.”

She made her decision, staring far, far into the future. I guess that’s precisely why that young woman became the Princess Knight who tied the lords’ armies together. Far more than those foolhardy daredevils deserved, if you ask me.

Still, her decision was most likely the right one.

Then let me ride with you, is what I would have liked to say. But I still didn’t have a grasp on how much power I would be able to wield here. I only play the game once I know my own hand.

“Hero, please return to camp. Tell Rigel to take the priest and withdraw.”

After a moment, I said, “Godspeed.”

“I pray your good fortune carries on as well, dear hero. Please save humanity in my place.”

“I will, without fail.”

“And my brother too.”

My nod brought a relieved smile to her face. She turned back to the enemy, calling out another order.

“Charge!” she cried, a fearless smile on her face.

Knights clad in pure-white armor and wielding shields and spears of light raced down into a tempest of devastation, a whirlwind of iron and flames.

As I watched them go, I pondered: How am I going to save this world?

***

It started off as a rather unremarkable day. My high school entrance exams were approaching, and I was thinking pointless escapist thoughts as I stretched out in my chair. Won’t someone blast me off to another world, where I can be a hero? I thought. And that was exactly what happened.

One moment, I felt as if someone had answered in the affirmative. The next, I was plunged into water.

Luckily for me, the water was shallow, and as I sprang up, I came face-to-face with a naked young woman. She introduced herself as the water priestess and pleaded for me to save the world. I became a hero and, without any real grasp of the situation, spent my days fighting alongside her. After five years, I managed to defeat the demon lord, and thus the world was saved. It was a harsh but wonderful adventure.

Then, on the night I was supposed to be wed to the water priestess, I was returned to my original world. Thankfully, I was no Urashima Tarou returning to find that everyone I knew had died long ago. Only half a year had passed in my home world. All the wounds I had accumulated over five years had vanished, and my well-tempered body had turned back into the feeble one I had before being summoned. In addition, I missed my exam date by quite a while.

Over the next ten years, I would frequently be sent off to other worlds by an unknown entity of whom I could detect nothing but a presence. Each time, I would save the world.

This new world I’d found myself in was my thirteenth.

***

We proceeded north down the cobblestone highway. No—we were retreating, so it would be more accurate to say we were receding north. Both tired horses and tired men stared at the ground with weary expressions, dragging their feet. I couldn’t blame them. Ever since the defeat of the previous day, they had been marching without rest or sleep.

The only thing that kept them going was fear of the enemy’s pursuit. Humans captured by orcs were apparently flayed alive and had their flesh devoured right before their own eyes. Quite a bone-chilling thought.

The road had been abandoned for quite some time and the stones were worn, but it was still faster than riding through the plains. We’d covered some distance, but the enemy probably had as well. Luckily, the orcs had yet to catch up. A backward glance revealed at most the smoke of a burning water mill.

Sir Rigel was in a state of despair. Despite the fact that she had willingly sacrificed herself, he couldn’t bear the thought that he failed to protect the princess, whom he had served since she was young.

“If we are to count our blessings, we’re lucky that our army fell beyond the hill,” Rigel muttered in a self-deprecating tone.

“Yes, I guess so.”

What would have happened if that slaughter had taken place where our remaining forces could see it? I suspected the noncombatants would have scattered and fled from fear, to be shamefully captured not far from the battlefield.

Luckily, that wasn’t how it went off. We managed to make an orderly shift to retreat. This was likely thanks to Rigel’s level-headed command, and we were fortunate for it. After all, priests were, in a sense, more valuable than knights. Extracting them largely unscathed was a huge accomplishment, although we did end up abandoning a large portion of our food and supplies.

We also had the Knights Templar to thank for the enemy’s delayed pursuit. The survivors of the allied forces reported that the Templars fought magnificently. Brandishing their spears of light as they stampeded through enemy lines, only five hundred riders in three columns, they pressed on and on in an attempt to take out the orc’s strategic headquarters. Unfortunately, they were too greatly outnumbered and lost momentum with each corpse they trod over. Once they had lost two of their columns, they ran out of steam, their feeble remnants swallowed up by the enemy horde, flag and all.

The hundred surviving knights of the allied armies managed to make use of the confusion. With the help of the foot soldiers who had remained atop the hill to treat the injured, they managed to break away. Of course, that information only served to darken Rigel’s spirits further. He had been protected by the death of the person he was supposed to protect.

What were her final moments like? I’d heard that a horrid fate awaited women captured by orcs, different from how they treated the men. I found myself praying that she met a warrior’s end.

Now a warning rose behind us. I turned to see a pack of bizarre creatures leaping out of the forest we had just passed through. They were similar to wolves but boasted sharp, falcon-like beaks where their mouths should have been. And on their backs rode those irksome orcs. It looked like there were roughly a hundred of them. Their vanguard had finally caught up to us. I could see the forlorn survivors in our rear guard preparing to flee.

Perfect. This was just the chance I needed to test out my hero’s powers. An excellent opportunity to see how effective they were against my foes in this world.

“Rigel, I’m going to fight.”

“Be careful! They have short guns!”

I spurred my horse and activated my shield of light. This was the same magic the Knights Templar used. I had the ability to instinctively pick up the flow of mana and understand how to apply it, which allowed me to replicate nearly any of a world’s spells after seeing them once. This was one of the graces bestowed upon me by the mysterious entity who sent me to this world.

At a full gallop, I leapt over the knights who were frantically forming a line opposite the orcs. A one-eyed orc at the front—presumably their leader—immediately fired on me. A metallic ping resonated as the bullet was deflected off the shield of light.

The orcs spread out around me, guns pointed. I deployed shields on both hands and waited for them to fire. The next instant, shots assailed me from all sides. A shrill shriek echoed in my ears and the shields glowed under the barrage with a light that dazzled my eyes.

I managed to endure it, and when they saw that I was unharmed, the orcs were clearly flustered. That was my chance. I dispelled the shield on my right hand, replacing it with a spear of light. Then I threw the spear at the orc closest to me, piercing its heart.

I quickly manifested another spear and searched out the orc with one eye. He had already turned his back and was retreating with the other orc riders who had used up their shots. Was he going to reload and reengage? Not on my watch, he isn’t. I locked my aim and lobbed the spear. It left a trail of light in its wake as it flew at my foe.

But the instant before it made contact, the one-eyed orc wrenched his body to the side. The blade grazed his flank as it flew past and, although thrown off balance, he managed to cling to the saddle. Apparently, he could evade a surprise attack from behind on pure instinct. What a monster!

Before I could go after him again, orc riders flooded into the space between us from both flanks to shie***ld him. I threw the spear that had already manifested in my hand at a different rider and manifested shields on both hands again. The spear grazed my target’s cheek, and half the orcs fired upon me in unison.

Under twice as many hits this time, the shield finally reached its breaking point. I could feel the sensation of vast quantities of mana draining from my body. So that was why the priests looked so depleted in battle. The greatest loss of mana is when the shield breaks.

The remaining orcs maintained their position, their guns fixed on me, but clearly more wary of the possibility of an attack coming from behind me. I see. I definitely do look like a decoy, judging by my actions. What splendid coordination.

Looking back, I saw that my allies were still quite a ways away. It was time to call it quits and rejoin them. I lowered my speed and fell farther back from the orcs. In my irritation, I manifested a spear and hurled it at One-Eye as he raced to the front once more. The light weakened as the spear flew, dissipating entirely before it reached him.

The orcs disappeared into the forest. I halted my horse and waited for my allies to catch up. I’ve driven the enemy off for the time being, but I didn’t do any significant damage. They’ll attack again soon.

***

I was welcomed back with jubilation.

“As expected of a hero! A wonderful sight to behold!”

“To think you could fight off so many alone!”

“You fight with the strength of many men.”

The knights surrounded me and showered me with praise. By the look on his face, I’d exceeded even Rigel’s expectations.

“I was watching. I didn’t think you were that powerful! I see why God chose you!”

“No need to make such a fuss. I only took out one of them.”

“Humility turns to cynicism at its extremes. Only a handful of the Knights Templar could use magic without any blessed equipment. Even with the equipment, I know of none who could withstand so many bullets with a shield. Additionally, it’s unprecedented to see a spear of light thrown like that. They normally disappear the moment they’ve been cut off from their power source.”

I see. As usual, my mana level is apparently far greater than what is normal here.

“I’m sure the Black Dog fled the moment he realized your strength. It was, admittedly, a modest victory. But you have allowed us to regain our hope.”

I could understand why they’d celebrate a small victory after such an enormous loss, but I didn’t have the slightest feeling that I’d won anything at all. On even the most generous interpretation, it was a draw.

“By the way, who’s the Black Dog?” I asked.

“Ah, you haven’t heard about him yet. He was the orc riding the black beak-dog.”

The one-eyed one, then. And the beasts are called beak-dogs.

Rigel went on. “He is the craftiest and most resourceful of the orcish generals. He and his riders have plagued us for the past seven or eight years. He appears without warning, taking out smaller units. Many brave and virtuous knights have fallen to him.”

A war hero of the orcs. A champion. No wonder he was so formidable. Wait, don’t tell me…

“Let me guess. The orcs began using guns around the same time he appeared.”

“No, the guns themselves have been around for a while now. But there weren’t so many of them when I was a lad, and they could not break through magic. They were only useful for making loud noises to spook the horses. But, as you can see, they are now quite a threat.”

My heart sank. That was even worse. The orcs had not been handed guns by some cheat-like entity. They had discovered and developed them themselves.

In all the worlds I’d saved thus far, humanity had been winning on its own merit. The world’s predicament was triggered by a particular entity—a demon lord with fearsome powers, the sudden mutation of a monster, an ancient weapon with enough power to end all life as we knew it—that sort of thing. As long as I could do something about that one problem, I could save the world. That was my job.

But it looked like this world ran on different rules. Without relying on any special powers, the enemy was overwhelming humanity, solely with their own might. And it wasn’t just numbers—they had the technological advantage as well.

There was a good chance we were losing to them as a civilization. I mean, they had managed to gather so many guns and soldiers on a single battlefield. This had gone beyond the point where I could do anything simply by being peerless. What’s more, considering the fight I put up today, I highly doubted I could even call myself peerless.

In that case, why not use my knowledge to improve the human’s weaponry in this world? Rejected. I’d tried that before, and the result had been a mess. Sure, a matchlock looks simple, but it is the culmination of the art of metallurgy and requires the understanding of many other technologies. Just knowing the basic structure didn’t get me anywhere. It was fundamentally pointless unless the world had already developed the necessary basic skills. And bringing those fundamental techniques to another world would be even more difficult.

Remember, in the real world, I was little more than a useless bum who’d barely graduated junior high. I was never going to forget how a gun based on my vague recollections blew off the arm of a young blacksmith apprentice when he tried to test fire.

Ultimately, all I could do was use the powers given to me by some unknown being to swing a sword around. In most cases, it was far quicker to take the enemy’s head than it was to reform political affairs. That had been enough to save every world so far. In fact, I’d saved twelve worlds that way. There was only one thing I was capable of: fight, fight, and fight to the death. Yes, to the death. I was confident I wouldn’t lose to anyone.

I suddenly felt the proud and expectant presence of that unknown entity behind me. It seemed to say, “Don’t worry. You can do it.”

How irresponsible. Goddammit, don’t egg me on.

A question crossed my mind. What happens if I die in another world? Strangely, this was rarely more than a passing thought. I always had the vague impression that I couldn’t die. It would be all right. I was the hero, after all. It was scary, but in the same way that riding a roller coaster was scary.

So why was this world suddenly filling me with existential dread?

Oh well, thinking about it wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I had no idea what would happen after I croaked in my own world either. It was no different here.

***

After the skirmish, in the forest near Dragonjaw Gate, the orc whom the hairless monkeys called the Black Dog staggered as he dismounted his aquilup. Even with the help of his subordinates, he could barely stay upright. He had lost more blood than he had expected, and he grimaced at the dull pain that raced down his flank.

A perfect semicircle had been gouged out of his side, armor and all. It was pure luck that the attack had missed his organs. Had he not coincidentally turned to check on a subordinate toppling from his mount, that spear of light would have pierced straight through his heart. He had to admit that he had let his guard down. The major clash had dealt a vital blow to the enemy. He had been convinced they would no longer have any will to fight.

Something had definitely felt a little off. He should have noticed it sooner. How had they managed to retreat so quickly after such a massive loss? When that hairless monkey rushed to the front alone, he had simply appeared to be someone with a death wish. But what was the truth of the matter? Neither the Black Dog nor his men had ever come across a monkey who fought like that.

They had encountered men who wielded those glowing spears and shields before—they had taken down a number of them in just the last battle. But the one in white armor was so strong, there was no comparison. The monkey had repelled their volley. He threw the spear. He could switch between weapons in an instant. What else could he be but a monster?

However, a number of his men reported seeing the monkey’s shield break from the last barrage. Perhaps they would have been able to take him out if the battle had continued. The Black Dog shook the thought out of his head.

Witnessing that battle had revived the enemy cavalry’s fighting spirit. They were reconstructing their formation. If there was another clash, both sides would face significant casualties. While it might provide a chance for them to kill the powerful monkey, it was not worth sacrificing the lives of his comrades.

Aquilup riders were valuable, as aquilups only bonded with the first creature they saw after hatching from their eggs. What’s more, they only produced eggs in the wild. The art of taking those rare eggs from the nest and then incubating, hatching, and raising them was a secret passed down only to the warriors of his tribe.

But more than that, he loved his subordinates.

Perhaps he would have made a different decision if he were uninjured. However, when he was badly wounded, unable to give level-headed orders, he couldn’t possibly subject his men to an unknown threat. Or perhaps things would have been different if he had taken a battery of foot soldiers with him.

We’d have the foot soldiers if that margrave’s no-good son hadn’t opened his mouth. He cursed. But it was too late to do anything about the matter.

Before long, a recon party returned with the orc who had died in battle. The Black Dog recognized him as his sister’s husband. He was a splendid young man, the best or second-best rider in the village. The couple got along well; they had been blessed with their first child right before he embarked on this campaign. His heart sank even further as he considered the letter he would need to write home.

The Black Dog made his resolution. He would settle this score if it was the last thing he did. No matter how preposterous that man was, he couldn’t be immortal. Surely he could be taken out with proper preparations. More importantly, I can tell that monkey will be the biggest obstacle—no, a stepping stone—to my ambitions.

Whatever the case, he would kill that man in the next bout. Such ambitions were the reason he led his comrades into battle, were they not?

***

As we left the forest, the voices of the troops began to rise in celebration. Each and every one of them forgot their fatigue as they frolicked and rejoiced. Ahead of us, a massive mountain range towered, blocking our way like a wall. Even though it was still quite a distance away, I had to crane my neck to see its summit. It would not be feasible to cross these mountains on foot.

Of course, these cliffs were not the reason for the jubilation. Hands, waving gaily, pointed out the gate built into a narrow valley between the mountains. Commonly called Dragonjaw Gate, it was the sole passage through Dragonbone Ridge, the boundary between the worlds of orc and humanity. Our goal was finally in sight.

“Hear me, hear me! Keep your guard up! Those dogs are still hot on our scent!” Rigel tried to rein them in, but even he was unable to conceal the hint of relief in his voice.

As luck would have it, we managed to reach the gate without facing another attack. Dragonjaw Gate was more like a massive dam than a fortress. The Dragonbone Ridge was so huge by comparison that the gate’s true size was impossible to grasp from afar. Up close, it overwhelmed the senses with its sheer height and bulk. Rigel told me that the walls were approximately 1.2 kilometers across, forty meters thick at the thickest point, and a towering two hundred meters high. While the walls looked like slabs of concrete, they were actually constructed from stone, but one would have to go right up to them and peer closely to see the joints between the piled-up stones.

Snowmelt from the mountains pooled on the other side of the gate’s protective walls. If needed, the floodgates—carved with a massive water dragon, thus the name—could be opened, and the narrow pass would fill with enough water to wash away any encroaching army.

According to legend, back in the times when humanity ruled much of this world, a great magician employed giants to build this gate. While I couldn’t know the truth of the matter, it would certainly be a trial and a half to construct such a thing without magic. Maybe, just maybe, the magician had been an otherworlder like me—although one with skills that I most definitely lacked.

The strongest fortification of Dragonjaw Gate actually lay beneath it: a massive magic circle laid by that same great magician. Using the mana flowing through the earth, it covered the entirety of the protective walls with a barrier that blocked any and all projectiles. As a matter of fact, I was summoned here on top of that very circle.

This gate was probably the reason this world’s humans showed so little concern about the orcs. Protected by such a peerless fortress, they felt little danger. However, the fact that I had been summoned surely meant there was some crisis threatening humanity itself. Things were definitely not as peaceful as they seemed.

***

The head of Dragonjaw Gate’s defensive garrison came out to greet us. His name was Herbert, as I recalled. Cordial and trusted by the guards, he was a living rags-to-riches story, a poor farmer who’d risen to success via his accomplishments in the military. I’d met him when I was summoned, and I found him to be a cheerful, sociable old man. I was surprised to see that his expression now was stiff.

“You’ve returned early… Where might Her Highness be?” he asked timidly after letting us in.

Herbert had looked after the princess with Rigel when she was young and was still one of her most ardent devotees. When we set out, he’d pleaded with me to protect her. I remember him saying something like “Her Highness has been blessed with a rare knack for strategy, but she can at times be oblivious to danger. A show of courage from the general may pep up the soldiers, but that mustn’t be taken too far… Oh, Hero! Please, protect Her Highness! Surely that is why God sent us his chosen. Please help her.”

Rigel remained silent. The reduced forces that had staggered back, the wagons full of the injured, the ragged priests, and, more than anything, the look on his face should have made it obvious what had happened. Still, Herbert needed to hear it to be sure.

He spoke in as cheery a voice as he could muster. “I see it now. Her Highness sent the priests home so she could take command of the pursuit. You can’t move fast with priests, after all! She’ll be back soon, won’t she? Shall I keep the door open for her? Once the gate is shut, it’s quite troublesome to—”

“Her Highness isn’t coming back.” Rigel cut him off, his voice tight. “They’ll catch up soon. Close the gate.”

“Then the princess is…”

“I’m ashamed to say.”

The two old men fell silent.

***

We stayed in Dragonjaw Gate for a full day to recover the strength we would need for the trek to the capital. Three days of marching without rest was harsh on the priests and attendants, and the soldiers and dragon riders needed the rest as well.

A room with a roof, and warm meals. Pretty simple, yet it felt like the finest luxury.

I awoke the next morning to the sound of garrison soldiers racing around the barracks. I arbitrarily nabbed someone and asked what was going on, only to find out the orcs had appeared at the entrance to the valley. An emergency order had been issued. I gave the soldier my thanks, got my appearance in order, and made for the watch tower where the head of the garrison was supposed to be.

Sir Rigel was one step ahead of me, deep in discussion as he and Herbert glared out at the orcs. Noticing I’d arrived, they bowed to me briefly and then turned back to the enemy again. Herbert’s eyes were so sharp, I could hardly recognize him as the same despondent old man I’d seen only yesterday.

“I never thought I’d see the day when orcs would advance on these walls,” Herbert said with a groan.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m not chastising you, Rigel. But with those numbers… I didn’t doubt your report, but I didn’t truly believe it until I saw it for myself.”

The orcish legions were gushing forth from the forest near the mouth of the valley. Their front line was already in formation at the entrance, and there they seemed to come to a halt.

“Are they blocking off the pass? If they came up to us, we’d flood them out,” Herbert said.

“That will make it difficult for our other expeditions to return.”

“Hmph, a fitting end for those impudent fools who ignored Her Majesty’s summons and went off to line their own pockets.”

“But that will leave this year’s harvest at a terrible low. Her Majesty would not have wanted the people to starve.” Rigel spoke calmly. Still… What were they talking about? I thought I got the general idea but needed to be sure.

“Sir Rigel, there were expeditions besides ours? Also, what is this harvest you speak of?”

“You weren’t informed? Then let me explain.”

“If you would.”

“To start with, the orcs are a foul race that was created by the False God when the world was first formed. Therefore, it stands to reason that vanquishing them is the duty of every knight. For fame and virtue, the feudal lords have each formed subjugation forces in their own territories.”

“I see. Then the other expeditions would be those detached units.”

“Indeed. Once upon a time, the orcs resided in the distant wasteland of the south. However, in the past hundred years they’ve migrated north. Now they’ve built settlements only a few days from the mountains. We must push their territory south again. As I said, it’s a knight’s duty to subjugate them.”

“And what about the harvest?”

“Truth be told, fame and virtue aren’t enough to move anyone. Even amassing an army takes money.”

“That’s the feudal lords’ main objective,” Herbert cut in. “Alongside defeating orcs, they also take the food and goods they find at their settlements. It’s an outrageously profitable enterprise. That’s how I made a name for myself.”

Pretty much what I expected.

Rigel went on, “As you might imagine, the orcs don’t always submit. They will, at times, gather numbers and resist. In those cases, it is the duty of the monarchy to unite our forces and fight them off. On this campaign, when we heard the orcs had amassed a great army in response to our invasion, we sent a summons to the subjugation parties that were already on that side of the gate.” He sighed. “But only half of them gathered. Worse yet, our dragons chose that time to go to the peaks.”

It seemed that I had been summoned as this unit was coming together. Meaning that the folks of this world called me with the intention of having me aid their pillaging. Hey, I’ve been summoned for stupid reasons before. If I’m remembering right, I ended up in my fourth world when someone tried to summon a “helper demon” to find a lost item.

The intent of the summoner notwithstanding, whenever I’d been summoned, there was always some crisis putting the world at risk. Whether I fulfilled the goal of the summoner or not, I couldn’t return until the world was saved. Right, I never did end up finding what they lost.

I just wanted to finish things quickly and go home. This would be my thirteenth disappearance. My mother probably wouldn’t be too worried at this point, but some…troublesome things might happen if I took too long. Who’s to say my mother wouldn’t finally give up on me while I was gone and leave my room an empty shell? If that room goes away, I’ll have nowhere left to go. That would be troublesome indeed.

Now, back on topic.

“You’re saying that the subjugation forces that didn’t answer Her Highness’s summons are stranded on the other side of that orc army.”

“That they are. But they get what they deserve. Had they marched with Her Highness, perhaps the war would have turned out differently,” Herbert said with disgust.

But I had to wonder. Even if we’d had double the troops, I doubted we would have been able to win in those circumstances.

Small firearms echoed at the mouth of the valley. I focused my eyes but couldn’t see where they had been fired from. Most likely a blind spot from here. Would those stranded armies try to return, oblivious, only to run into the orcish legions? Perhaps they would try to force their way through.

“There’s nothing we can do,” Rigel said. “Time is of the essence. We must return to the capital and report the gravity of the situation.”

With Rigel urging me on, I turned to the stairs. I needed to get ready to go.

Our arrival at Dragonjaw Gate marked the dissolution of the allied armies, who had united for the sole purpose of combating the orcs. The few survivors were offered meager travel fees and food—little reward for their efforts and losses. But they took it with lips shut and set off to their homelands. Modest as the rewards were, they were lucky that they even had their wounds treated. The title-less mercenaries were not provided even that.

Taking along a few of the major priests, Rigel and I hurried down the road to the capital.