Argon, the Elephantman, refused to tell Charlot Mecklenburg why the Blood Ancestor had arrived but did not appear. This incident was a disgrace for the orcs; the vampires had completely mocked them, treating them like fools.
Choudrou also knew the inside story but was unwilling to speak of it to anyone, finding it deeply humiliating. Within the Orc Alliance at the time, not everyone had supported involvement in the war between the two great empires. For example, Tumisan had strongly opposed the orcs' involvement, but his objections were futile. As a mere elder leopardman, Tumisan did not hold much influence within the alliance.
Among the three Saint-ranked members of the Orc Alliance, Samson, the Minotaur, had the greatest strength and status. He had been the one to fully support the Orc Alliance's military action. This was why, after retreating to the Red Dragon Strait and establishing the orc camp there, Samson handed the camp over to Amisfida and left with his followers, burdened by guilt.
Choudrou was contemplating the future of the orcs when one of his subordinates reported, "Chief, we’ve reached Red Cliff City."
Choudrou had chosen Red Cliff City because it possessed the largest port among the cities on the northern bank of the Red Dragon Strait. In case of an emergency, retreating to the southern continent would be easier. However, he currently had no ships, and this issue still needed to be addressed.
Recalling Black Dragon’s earlier assurance of delivering a fleet of ships, Choudrou felt slightly relieved. Ever since Black Dragon’s suggestion to secretly execute the Fleshless Creed and personally leading the Lizardmen to carry out the task—only to encounter Samson and lose both the supplies and the Lizardmen—Black Dragon had become increasingly eccentric. He frequently offered various ingenious ideas.
Previously, Black Dragon had kept a low profile. Although everyone knew he was one of the few brilliant minds among the orcs, he rarely participated in tribal alliance affairs. He neither supported nor opposed military action, maintaining a cool silence. After retreating to the Red Dragon Strait, he continued to focus solely on his tribe and avoided meddling in other matters.
Thinking back, Choudrou believed he “understood.” Black Dragon, having lost his tribe, likely redirected his energy toward influencing other orc clans.
Under Choudrou’s command, a force of over 30,000 orcs entered Red Cliff City in an orderly fashion.
Red Cliff City was constructed atop a cliff, with many of its buildings carved directly from the rock face. Although it had suffered some damage from the orc army’s attacks, most of its structures remained intact, with over 90% of the houses still habitable.
After the entire orc army had entered the city, Choudrou was the last to enter. Standing atop Red Cliff City and looking out over the Red Dragon Strait, he was overjoyed to see a fleet of ships approaching, riding the waves. But his joy quickly turned into alarm as he exclaimed, “Something’s wrong!”
This fleet was not coming from the orc camp but from the opposite direction.
Choudrou thought to himself, “Could it be Dubrovnik’s fleet?”
He recalled that a tribe of over 10,000 orcs was supposed to arrive from that area, but there had been no news for a long time. “Are they trying to cross the Red Dragon Strait to the orc camp?” he wondered.
He quickly dismissed this idea, his face darkening. Orcs did not have magical alchemy warships, and the flagship of this fleet was clearly such a vessel. It could only belong to humans—either the Fars Empire or the Ingrima Empire.
Although Choudrou doubted that even a magical alchemy warship could attack a land-based city, he was still puzzled. Why would a human fleet appear here? He did not believe the human empires had the resources to launch an attack against the orcs, but the situation was perplexing.
As he pondered this, an even more shocking report arrived. One of his ape-like subordinates rushed over and breathlessly reported, “Someone has blocked Red Cliff City’s gate!”
Choudrou’s expression grew serious. “How many people?” he asked.
The subordinate hesitated and stammered, “Nine…”
Choudrou was momentarily speechless. “Just nine people? Why are you panicking?”
The subordinate, a rather inarticulate orc, struggled to explain, sweating profusely in his nervousness.
Curious about his subordinate’s reaction, Choudrou decided, “No need to panic. I’ll take a look myself.”
Striding to the city gate, Choudrou saw nine warriors standing there, blocking the entrance.
With a low growl, he pulled a pitch-black iron staff from his ear and attacked without a word.
Charlot, upon seeing the silverback Gorilla orc, felt a sense of fondness.
It couldn’t be helped. As a Chinese, he had an inherent affinity for monkeys.
When Choudrou drew the black iron staff from his ear, Charlot’s fondness tripled. If he had been Cao Cao, he would have shouted, “Capture this monkey alive!”
Unfortunately, Charlot was no Cao Cao. Knowing that Herolf, the Golden Ram, would struggle to handle the silverback Gorilla orc, and given his deference to the other Saint ranks, Charlot could not afford to offend them. However, in a life-and-death situation, asking them to show mercy would be foolish.
Charlot refrained from making any thoughtless remarks, instead lamenting to himself, “If only I could capture this monkey alive. I’d offer him a magical contract. But with Antonio in the fight, the monkey will likely die within a few moves.”
The Leopardman Tumisan, recognizing the black staff, turned pale and warned in a low voice, “Be cautious, everyone. That’s the Dragon Hammer, one of the ten legendary orc weapons!”
Antonio, who had already been observing Choudrou, was startled upon hearing this. “The weapon used to discipline the descendants of the Eternal and Illusory Dragon?” he exclaimed.
“Yes!” Tumisan confirmed.
Above the Saint rank lay the Divine rank, and above extraordinary Saint-ranked weapons were the peerless Divine weapons.
In reality, humans could not possess genuine Divine artifacts. The ten legendary orc weapons were not truly Divine objects either; they merely carried traces of Divine energy or had mythical connections to the gods. Even so, most Saint-ranked individuals could only dream of possessing a high-grade extraordinary weapon. Few even had Saint-ranked equipment.
Charlot, having traversed this world, had only ever seen one Saint-ranked artifact—the Jade Scroll of Memory, crafted by Master Mony, which erased Zimourman’s memory.
He had also heard of two Saint-ranked artifacts: a short spear in the hands of Earl Bretagne and a Dragon Hammer allegedly owned by Argon. However, Charlot had never seen them personally.
Well, perhaps there was one exception…
He did own the “Blood Rhinoceros.”
Charlot had nearly forgotten about that particular "bracelet."
Antonio, more cautious than when fighting Amisfida, raised his knightly lance, shrouded himself in mist, and charged forward.
Though Choudrou did not know Antonio’s identity, he was unafraid. Wielding the Dragon Hammer, he had no fear of even Amisfida. Pointing his black staff forward, the weapon emitted the roars of countless beasts as the two Saints clashed in fierce combat.
Their first exchange alone caused the entire Red Cliff City to tremble, collapsing numerous buildings.
Charlot shouted from the sidelines, “What rules apply to orcs? We need to end this quickly and ensure Antonio doesn’t get injured. Everyone, attack together!”
The knights of the Bretagne family silently surged forward. At Charlot’s command, Herolf joined the fray, along with Grandma Saint Karen, who unleashed her dreamcrafting arts. Even Tumisan charged in, using his speed to distract Choudrou.
Although Antonio was confident he could defeat Choudrou in a one-on-one fight, he had no qualms about fighting as part of a group. After all, he had not hesitated to join others in besieging Zimourman in the past.
Choudrou, holding the Dragon Hammer, had assumed he was nearly invincible. Yet he now found himself besieged by eight Saint-ranked opponents. Worse still, the young knight leading them was no weaker than Amisfida. Even with the Dragon Hammer, Choudrou doubted he could win against such an opponent—let alone with the others aiding him.
Recognizing Tumisan, Choudrou growled, “Tumisan, you disgrace the Leopard God! You’ve betrayed the orcs to side with humans and attack your kin.”
Tumisan, feeling guilty, quickly replied, “Black Dragon and I haven’t betrayed the orcs. We’ve pledged allegiance to their future! I urge you to surrender so we can shape a brighter destiny together.”
Choudrou was stunned. “Black Dragon has surrendered? No wonder he tricked me into coming to Red Cliff City.”
Black Dragon, an orc with an unconventional demeanor, often acted more like Tumisan or Septimius, aligning with the ideology of the Orc Assassin Alliance. When the situation turned unfavorable, he surrendered, reasoning that he could always escape if Charlot’s side faltered. As a Saint rank, his freedom was virtually guaranteed.
Choudrou, however, was a traditional orc. He believed in survival of the fittest and natural selection, viewing both humans and orcs as fleeting lives. Since death was inevitable, he saw no reason to compromise his principles.
Determined to fight to the death, he engaged his enemies ferociously. Soon, all nine Saint-ranked combatants took to the skies, their battle shaking the heavens.
Charlot initially intended to observe the fight but was forced to act when swarms of orcs poured out from the city. Realizing he had to hold the Red Cliff City’s gates, he lamented his lack of support. With Sabastine commanding the fleet and the others preoccupied with Choudrou, Charlot was left to face the orc horde alone.
He momentarily thought he might be cursed to “always be abandoned by allies.”
Armed with a knightly lance, Charlot planted it into the ground and drew the Withered Rose, firing round after round. Though the weapon lacked sufficient power against high-ranking foes, it was devastating against ordinary orcs. Moreover, the Withered Rose replenished its ammunition with every kill, ensuring he never ran out of bullets.
For the first time since his promotion to high rank, Charlot engaged in combat, wielding his keen insight and unparalleled marksmanship. Positioned advantageously, he managed to hold the gate for half an hour.
As he battled, he heard a soft laugh. A magical feathered arrow fell from above, killing an advancing orc and giving Charlot a moment of respite. He shouted, “Sabastine, thank you! Help me subdue these orcs and transport them to Dubrovnik.”
Charlot had left Strasbourg with only a handful of Maze Guards and 5,000 knights of the West Wind Knight Order. His forces were not sufficient for large-scale battles. However, the captured orcs, once converted into Maze Guards, would bolster his army significantly, ensuring they were ready for the next great conflict.
Sabastine shook her head and said, "These orcs are fearless and seem unwilling to surrender."
Charlot Mecklenburg sighed helplessly. He had already called for their surrender earlier, but the orcs under Choudrou's command charged forward relentlessly, completely disregarding their own lives.
Charlot shouted, "Send a wave of soldiers to block the gates of Red Cliff City with me. Then use the magical alchemical warship to attack!"
Sabastine responded, "Understood!"
She had initially been worried that Charlot wouldn't hold out. However, after witnessing his high efficiency in combat, as though he were effortlessly toying with the enemy, she felt reassured and returned to the fleet. First, she sent a wave of reinforcements to assist Charlot, then began directing the magical alchemical warship's assault on Red Cliff City.
...
This battle left Charlot no room for strategic thought. In most of his previous battles, he had been able to fight while simultaneously devising clever strategies. Yet this brutal slaughter transformed him into a killing machine, focused solely on executing the coldest and most efficient means of eliminating his enemies.
Who knew how much time had passed when the Stardust Battle Energy within Charlot suddenly surged, ascending from the thirteenth rank to the fourteenth. The increase in strength slightly eased the crushing pressure he had been under. Gazing at the endless tide of orcs, he sighed inwardly, "Why does everyone love war so much? So many wars are completely unnecessary."
"Orcs only need better systems and the development of agriculture and livestock. Why must they turn to war?"
Charlot forcibly suppressed his exhaustion, both physical and mental, and threw himself back into the slaughter. Unconsciously, his once-clumsy gunplay, archery, and occasional swordsmanship had shed their amateurishness, revealing the cruel and icy precision of the Arsilo Swordsmanship.
When Charlot casually struck down a Transcendent orc who had broken through the Withered Rose bullets, then drew Blood Rose to fire six precise shots, killing six orcs, he noticed that the soldiers Sabastine had sent had all perished.
Sabastine’s reinforcements were her own soldiers, not Charlot’s Labyrinth Guards, and lacked Transcendents. They were ordinary elite soldiers, unable to withstand such relentless slaughter.
Charlot sighed and was about to dive back into the battle when a resounding voice came from above. It was Antonio, shouting, "Choudrou is here! If you don't surrender, you will all die today!"
In Antonio's hand was Choudrou, the Silverback Gorilla. The once-mighty Saint-ranked orc now hung limp, either dead or grievously injured, looking like a broken sack.
Charlot felt the pressure lift. The previously suicidal orc warriors stopped their charges. Their faces were laden with grief. The Orc Alliance had mobilized in force for this campaign, yet all they had reaped was one heartbreaking defeat after another, leaving them completely demoralized.
With the fall of a great leader like Choudrou, their will to fight evaporated. When Charlot once again called for their surrender, the orcs—who had been fiercely battling moments ago—collapsed mentally. Many dropped their weapons, and some even wept bitterly, knowing that falling into human hands meant they would never return to their homeland.
Antonio descended to the ground and tossed Choudrou to Charlot, saying, "He's still breathing. Do you want to kill him to make a point?"
Charlot was overjoyed and exclaimed, "Killing him would be a waste!"
A Saint-ranked knight from the Bretagne family interjected, "This guy is strong and fiercely determined. There's no way he'll surrender. If you intend to subdue him, it’s bound to be difficult."
"He's not like Tumnisan or the Black Dragon," the knight added, showing some admiration. Choudrou had, after all, managed to hold his ground against eight Saint-rank opponents, including top-tier experts like Antonio. His tenacity was extraordinary.
If it had been one-on-one combat, even without his Dragon Hammer, no one apart from Antonio might have been able to defeat him.
Charlot quickly replied, "No problem at all—I have my own special methods for persuasion."
He carried Choudrou into a nearby house, where he pulled out a pre-signed magical contract scroll, smeared Choudrou's blood on it, and had the Saint-ranked orc’s name inscribed.
Charlot waited eagerly... but nothing happened. Disappointed, he muttered to himself, "Did I mess up the process? Or has this magical contract scroll expired?"
"Or maybe that old goat tricked me, and there’s something I missed?"
Just as he began contemplating the issue, a boyish laugh echoed, and the magical contract scroll transformed into a stream of light, disappearing into the void.
Charlot let out a huge sigh of relief. Activating Blood Glory, he stimulated Choudrou’s recovery—not healing him, but rousing him from unconsciousness.
The blood energy within Choudrou reacted violently, jolting Charlot backward. Luckily, his mastery of Swiftstep Technique allowed him to recover mid-air, stabilize himself against the wall, and land gracefully on his feet.
Looking at the awakening Choudrou, Charlot asked with a smile, "Feeling better, Mr. Choudrou?"
Choudrou groggily realized that a rune had imprinted itself deep in his mind, restricting his actions. A Saint-ranked orc like him instantly understood: he had been tricked into signing a master-slave magical contract. Enraged, he roared, but his body, still broken and battered, seized up in pain.
"Bastard! Undo the contract! I’ll kill you!"
"I’ll find a thousand ways to end you!"
"Release me! Orcs will never be slaves!"
Charlot responded cheerfully, "Silverback Gorillas are an exception."
...
Choudrou had never feared defeat or death. He only wanted to fight gloriously, to die and either return to the embrace of the Dragon God or dissolve into the soil. But he had never imagined being tricked, forced into a humiliating magical contract in his weakened state. His roars shook the room, but nothing could change the reality.
Antonio, concerned, stepped into the room. Seeing that Choudrou wasn’t retaliating, he was puzzled. "Why isn’t he fighting to the death?" he wondered aloud.
Choudrou, noticing Tumnisan, the old Leopardman, burst into tears. "I misunderstood you. I didn’t catch the hints you gave me."
"Tumnisan, I had no idea you were also bound by a master-slave magical contract!"
The Leopardman looked at him strangely. He hadn’t signed any such contract.
Recalling the Black Dragon, Choudrou wailed again, "So even the Black Dragon was captured and forced into a magical contract. I thought he betrayed the orcs..."
Charlot mused, "The Black Dragon joined me willingly for the greater good. And where would I get so many magical contract scrolls?"
When Herolf, the Golden Ram, entered, he overheard Choudrou’s lament and nearly teared up himself. Of all the Saints, Herolf was the only one actually tricked into signing a contract by Charlot.
And that contract? He had supplied it himself!
Seeing Choudrou’s despair, Herolf hesitated, then felt a strange sense of relief: "Finally, I’m not the only one duped into signing a contract."
Antonio, realizing Charlot’s unique persuasive techniques, chuckled, "Looks like the Mecklenburg family now has a Saint-ranked butler."
Herolf’s expression shifted. "What? Even this position has competition now?"
"Not only am I beneath the Black Dragon in rank, but now I’m also losing to this monkey? At least he’s bound by the same type of contract as me."
Herolf’s thoughts wandered. Could two Saints under the same master challenge each other in private duels? Reflecting on all he had lost—the ancient magical warship, the magical alchemical warship, Saint Michael Island—he felt a strange kinship with Choudrou.
Even if Herolf had suffered greatly, Choudrou had also lost his Dragon Hammer. Surely, in terms of both strength and misfortune, Herolf wouldn’t come out worse.