Chapter 169 – Crockta (2)

‘Now Crockta.’ The grey god said. ‘You are here. Elder Lord is a different world from Earth, but with my strength, I have torn the boundary and brought you here.’

She pushed her face against his. ‘If you die here, you will die forever. Your little sister and your precious people will never see the person called Jung Ian again. They will cry by your cold body.’

The fallen god, the grey god… The creator of Elder Lord, whose identity was unknown…

She had linked Jung Ian’s soul to this world. It led to his assimilation rate reaching 100%. At this point, Crockta and Ian, their deaths meant the same thing. If he died here, there was no place for his soul to return. He would die forever.

Crockta’s expression became dark. It was unknown if the look in his eyes was anger or sorrow.

The grey god asked, ‘Are you scared? No regrets? You can change your mind right now…’

“Kulkulkul.”

He laughed at her words. The grey god fell silent. Crockta was laughing, and his deep laugh rang out about him.

“Grey God. Even though you said it yourself, you don’t know what it really means.”

Crockta looked up at the sky. The blue expanse of Elder Lord stretched infinitely in front of him. Crockta didn’t need to be told. He could feel it the moment his assimilation reached 100%. His body might be in the capsule, but thanks to the power of the grey god, his soul was here.

The wind against his skin, the smell of dirt coming from the ground. The heart pumping blood in his body, the pulse of the earth under his feet. The bright sun. The grey god staring at him. He could truly feel it…

Ian was now Crockta. An orc warrior who had been born a warrior, someone who had been taught by Lenox and proved his honour in many fights… He was ‘Northern Conqueror’ Crockta, no one else.

“As you said, I am Crockta.”

He raised his greatsword.

“I am Lenox’s student and Hoyt’s friend, a warrior recognized by Tashaquil. I inherited the warriors’ laws from Orcrox, saved Arnin, defended Chesswood, and saved Quantes. Along with Shakan, I killed the behemoth and opened the north, killed the northern great chieftain, became the northern great chieftain, and now I’m the orc warrior who will destroy the empire.”

He stopped moving. The imperial army was camped under the hill. They would burn Katalu before tomorrow ended. Crockta raised his greatsword. The sunlight reflected off it, causing a brilliant light to shine. The imperial army soon discovered him.

The grey god didn’t say anything more.

Crockta burst out laughing. It was the perfect feeling. The feeling of unity with the world embraced him. His body entered the realm of the Pinnacle. The world slowed down as he felt the wings of the bird flying in the sky, as well as the winds shaking it. He stood in the midst of the reversing fate of the world.

He now truly belonged to this world. A splendid line penetrating the world entered his eyes. Crockta equipped the helmet held at his side. The red headband around his forehead loosened and blew away in the wind, as Lenox’s helmet was placed on his head.

His heart beat wildly. At this moment, the fate of this world changed completely. The convergence of all deaths was reversed. Instead, there was only one scheduled death. Crockta’s actions, which the world had never envisioned, took away the deaths floating on top of all their heads.

Now, he couldn’t see death. Death had lost its way.

Look.

Crockta saw the line which had been present in his battle against Adandator, a vivid streak of indescribable colour. It was shaking finely, urging Crockta on. The world was pushing at his back.

Crockta stepped forward. He took two steps.

Now, the troops of the imperial army were fully aware of Crockta’s presence. Crockta descended the gently slope of the hill and headed towards them. He could see the face of someone in the distance. It was the BJ, who followed the Heaven and Earth Clan.

Crockta shifted his gaze. He saw Rommel. Rommel’s face was stiff with a seemingly stunned expression. By his side was the person called Keynes, who was the leader of Thawing Balhae and the one who killed Lenox. The guy next to him was probably Grom, now called Luin. Then there were the Blue Dragon Lancers and White Lion Knights, as well as Adandator, whom Crockta had split ways with. The sight of the whole army entered Crockta’s eyes.

Then Crockta chuckled in a low voice. He faced the entire army. The presence of that overwhelming number crushed his body, but he felt good. All the deaths had been lost and were now circling around Crockta. Maybe today, those deaths would bite at Crockta.

However, it didn’t matter. With his head covered by the old steel helmet, he was able to confront the enemies with the eyes of an orc warrior facing death, just like Lenox had done.

Crockta puffed up his chest proudly in the face of his fate.

Bul’tar.

***

The imperial army arranged their camp. Then Rommel walked out. Rommel’s and Crockta’s gazes met. They stared into each other’s eyes, and that alone allowed them to read each other’s will.

Crockta hadn’t come to negotiate with Rommel, so they would do everything in their power to kill each other. This was a close to impossible war. Rommel simply couldn’t understand Crockta.

Rommel suddenly asked, “Do you think you can stop it alone?”

Crockta smiled instead of answering. Rommel spoke again, “Why are you blocking us?”

He would never be able to understand. It was just like how people who never had faith couldn’t understand the gods. Since Rommel had never rebelled against injustice, he took unrighteousness for granted. They were so different that they were looking at each other from different grounds.

However, Crockta wanted to ask him, “Why are you attacking them?”

Rommel’s face stiffened. He glanced back at the location of the people filming this. The world was watching them.

“That…”

He hesitated. It was an obvious question, but he couldn’t answer. What was the reason for raising an army to multiply the pain and tragedy in this world?

At this moment, Crockta felt that not just Earth but the entire world of Elder Lord was watching them. The vanished grey god, the many gods of Elder Lord, the sky and the earth were watching them.

Rommel opened his mouth. “They are our enemies.”

“Why?”

“If you block us any further, then you will also become our enemy.”

“Didn’t you come to this place to betray their faith, and slaughter the innocents, just to gain money and equipment?” That excuse was so crude that Crockta laughed. “Human who does not know honour.”

“I am an elf. Are you perhaps a user?”

However, Crockta raised his gaze. He wasn’t looking at Rommel anymore. Instead, he was looking at the flag of the empire and the army beneath it.

Ian was currently Crockta, an orc warrior who understood this world. To him, this was an inevitable battlefield and one that needed to take place. However, the gods of this world wouldn’t understand it.

Not just Rommel but the emperor and those on Earth who were fixed to the screen… none of them would understand.

He was a one-man army. It was a reckless fight. Why was he standing here? Why did he want to fight ahead of the scheduled destruction?

They wondered why he was on this impossible battlefield. Then he would let them know.

So, listen carefully.

***

“I am an orc, a warrior.”

Crockta was part of the orcs who kept traces of the forgotten god; he was a warrior who vowed to prove that honour was more important than death.

Lenox wasn’t dead. The orc that the troops of the imperial army were looking at right now was Crockta, Lenox, Gulda, Kinjur and all the warriors they thought they had killed. However, none of them were dead.

“A warrior doesn’t forsake faith.”

Hoyt had taught Crockta this. In this finite world where life and death flickered, they hoped that their lives weren’t in vain and believed that life was meaningful. The faith that connected people couldn’t be dismissed, and a warrior couldn’t tolerate the tragedies.

“A warrior doesn’t persecute the weak.”

Warriors didn’t kill those who surrendered. The logic of power was just an excuse for the unrighteous. Those who persecuted the weak were submissive to those who were stronger, and this wasn’t allowed for warriors.

“A warrior doesn’t attack unarmed people.”

A person who killed an enemy after they abandoned their weapon didn’t have the right to fight. A warrior fought to protect. It was because they understood the weight of death, despite being warriors of death.

“A warrior doesn’t yield to injustice.”

Everyone died. Submitting to unrighteousness to avoid dying was like insulting the journey from life to death. The warriors had to prove that death wasn’t the end. They believed that they weren’t just dust in the universe, so they went forward filled with faith, not the fear of death.

“A warrior doesn’t shame the gods.”

He came in as a voice or a pair of eyes.

Someone who always watched over the warriors. He was the only who always touched them so that their will wouldn’t be broken and so that the lonely wouldn’t be pushed down. They had to be wary so that his hand didn’t leave them.

“A warrior pays back any favours or vengeance.”

Even if people forgot, a warrior always had to remember. They didn’t forget any grace given to them. There was a price for everything, and retribution would come back. The net of the heavens was wide and didn’t miss a sinner, so a warrior should never turn away from any helpers or enemies.

“A warrior protects the powerless.”

The world was harsh and sometimes unfair. People often called the world a product of chance. However, a warrior didn’t agree with that and never gave up. The universe wasn’t a coincidence, this world wasn’t dust, and time and space were clearly meaningful. In order to prove it, warriors had to raise their weapons and protect those unjustly persecuted.

The world wasn’t just about life and death. A warrior believed there was something precious in between. The struggle to prevent injustice made them more than dust. So, the warriors swore…

“I swear to the gods, I will abide by these laws as a warrior.”

Crockta raised Ogre Slayer. This sword had always fought together with him. He didn’t need a brilliant sword or a great artifact. He wanted this friend who never changed, whose handle always fit in his grip.

Crockta already had it.

“Prove your honour.”

Now, the defense was over. No one would question why he stood here, why he was bothering to fight, and why he chose to raise the sword instead of running away.

Of course, they didn’t really know. He told them everything, but there were those who would never understand. So, it was now time for his sword.

Crockta looked at them. The imperial army couldn’t believe the sight before them. They were facing one enemy, but the huge force coming from him caused them to feel frightened. Fear rose as they gripped their weapons.

Crockta smiled. It didn’t matter what the enemy was. Strong or weak, it didn’t matter now. His concern was the greatsword in his hand and his own body.

The sense of unity with the world heightened his mood. He was now Crockta, and Elder Lord was his reality. The weapons were raised before him, while the lost deaths showed up for their prey. All possibilities pointed again towards his death, but Crockta shook his head.

Lenox’s death had changed everything. Now that Crockta stood fully in the world of Elder Lord, he was able to understand why the orcs had laughed in the face of death on that day.

The wind blew past. Crockta could hear the whispers of the old warriors. Their question was always the same.

‘Are you alive?’

He hadn’t known back then. There was no way he could have known. However, he had an answer now.

The corners of his mouth rose. Crockta smiled. He let out a chuckle. Then he raised his head, puffed out his chest, and lifted his blade.

Crockta declared towards Rommel… And towards the army surrounding him. He declared to the world.

“Come, human.”

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