Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 527: The Hound That Caught the Wolf

Orcma had once conquered Obeli.

However, due to various failures in managing its power, the organization eventually collapsed. It seemed destined to dissolve entirely.

But Grull’s presence changed that.

By negotiating with Sapien, Grull absorbed what remained of Orcma’s structure, turning its forces toward the war against the King of Wolves.

Grull wasn’t just a warrior who had attained true understanding—he was also the pride of the pig beastmen. Not just among Orcma, but even among those who had never been involved with the organization. He was admired even by ordinary pig beastmen who saw him as a hero.

Even the authorities of Obeli and various powerful figures tolerated him as the only one who could protect the pig beastmen from total annihilation.

Thus, Orcma had no choice but to follow Grull.

Grull approached Urukfang.

The First Fang of Orcma had led his mercenaries alongside the Beast Faction warriors on the front lines. But after enduring a grueling march and battle, he was utterly exhausted.

Even in such a state, Grull didn’t hesitate. He strode up to Urukfang and spoke.

"Urukfang! You fought well against the wolves, but I need you to work a little longer!"

Urukfang, still catching his breath, straightened up and replied, "Huff... Huff... No, Sir Grull. It was... an honor to fight by your side!"

"You have some of the best martial skills of anyone I haven’t trained personally. No one must have taught you, so you must’ve developed it on your own. I feel fortunate to have an orc like you among us."

"Th-that’s... No! Sniff! Truly... it’s my honor...!"

Overcome with emotion, Urukfang sniffled and hurried off to clear more debris.

People saw Grull as a wild barbarian, but strength alone wasn’t enough to become the Beast Faction’s Great Chief.

He was a master at handling people as well.

Sometimes he praised, sometimes he threatened.

Sometimes he tightened the leash, sometimes he coaxed.

And under his control, the pig beastmen worked tirelessly.

A voice cried out amidst the ruins.

"There are survivors here! Everyone, gather!"

"One, two—lift!"

Pig beastmen were numerous.

And sheer numbers were a power in themselves.

With their brute strength, their keen sense of smell, and sheer determination, they tirelessly hauled away rubble, sniffed out survivors, and cleared the debris.

"We’re alive! Thank you for—"

"...Get out."

The Obeli guard hounds, trapped under the rubble for hours, were reluctant to accept their saviors.

Exactly as Grull had intended.

An external enemy united internal factions. Even if bitterness lingered, they would remember fighting side by side.

"I’ve mixed Orcma and the pig beastmen well enough. Now, no one will be able to tell them apart so easily."

Grull always analyzed the situation, always thought of the next move.

At this moment, he seemed less of a warrior and more of a businessman.

Still searching for things to improve, he noticed workers struggling with a massive boulder.

"Alright. Guess it’s time for me to show off a little too."

Cracking his knuckles, Grull stepped forward.

While working, he noticed a pig beastman boy.

He looked vaguely familiar.

Grull realized—he was the boy from the slums he had encountered when he first arrived in Ende.

He had allowed all willing volunteers to join the battle against the wolves. But he hadn’t expected someone so young and destitute to be among them.

Grull approached.

"Boy."

"Ah! Sir Grull...!"

The boy, struggling to roll a boulder, stiffened in fear.

Grull examined his attire.

A padded leather vest, a crude spear—he had definitely been conscripted as a soldier.

"Who sent you to the battlefield?"

This boy had been barely surviving in the slums.

There was no way he would have volunteered on his own.

Someone must have forced him.

Grull asked again, but the boy avoided his gaze.

"I—I volunteered."

Grull narrowed his eyes.

"I see. And who told you to say that?"

"It’s true! I went to enlist myself! Orcma said they needed pig beastmen to fight!"

"...Orcma?"

"Yes. They... gave me meat."

The boy's face flushed red, ashamed to admit it.

Grull remained silent, letting the boy continue.

"I had never eaten anything like that before... And they said... if things went well, my family could taste it too. So I joined."

"You turned down my offer, yet you risked your life for a mere scrap of meat? And you trusted Orcma’s word?"

"...Yes."

If the boy had been braver, he would have accepted Grull’s earlier proposal.

If he had been wiser, he would have never joined this war.

But he was neither.

He was a coward and a fool—easily tempted by a single meal, by a vague promise made by Orcma.

Still, could Grull blame him?

No.

Young pig beastmen, especially those from the slums, were bound to be foolish and impulsive.

They weren’t all like Grull.

They weren’t all strong.

They didn’t have the luxury to observe things from a distance.

But they didn’t need much reason to pick up a weapon.

"You’ll get what you want. That—I promise you."

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Grull clapped the boy firmly on the shoulder before standing up.

His resolve, already as solid as stone, only hardened further.

At that moment, Sapien approached him.

His face was serious.

"Grull. We need to talk."

"Go on."

"It’s about Orcma. You seem determined to erase their crimes by rewarding them for their service."

"So what?"

Grull didn’t deny it.

Sapien sighed and spoke directly.

"That’s impossible. They broke Ende’s laws—no, they even violated Duchy law. Just because they fulfilled their ‘duty’ now, we can’t pretend nothing happened."

"And me?"

"You? You’re an outsider. You don’t fall under the same rules. Plus, you’re the one who took down the King of Wolves."

"Then exile them. I’ll take them in."

Sapien shook his head.

"The world isn’t that naive. Everyone knows that’s just an excuse. If you want to resolve this smoothly, you need to pick a few members from Orcma’s leadership."

"For execution?"

"I’ll... try to avoid that."

"You plan to hand them over to the Duchy?"

"..."

Try to avoid it—

That meant even Sapien couldn’t guarantee their safety.

In other words, the Duchy would demand their lives.

Grull chuckled.

"Then tell them you tried to catch them. The Duchy isn’t foolish enough to force you to do the impossible."

"We collaborated with you. Words won’t be enough to resolve this."

Politics was a game of justifications.

Grull understood that.

But he had already decided—he would bear the weight of his people.

Stretching his muscles, he stood tall.

"Then let’s solve it physically. Fight me. I won’t kill you, but I’ll beat you up just enough."

Sapien staggered back, sensing the killing intent radiating from Grull.

"You’d go against the Duchy? You’re throwing away your achievements!"

"This isn’t for nothing."

"Then what is it?!"

Grull smirked.

"It’s proof."

"...Proof?"

Grull recalled his past.

Once, he was just another starving orc in the Ende slums.

But unlike the others—

He fought to escape his fate.

And now, he had only one goal.

"I’ll be the opportunity that my people never had."

Sapien’s expression darkened.

"Grull. Have you ever failed before?"

"Nothing comes to mind."

"I thought so."

Sapien sighed.

"But remember this—fate doesn’t always smile upon you."

Because unfairness could come at any time.

"Five Tiger Generals? Who?"

The foundation of the Patron Trading Companies was trust. The head of a trading company never lied.

While deception was a fundamental part of commerce, those who relied too heavily on tricks burned brightly for a moment and then vanished. Only the Seven Trading Companies, steadfast as the Big Dipper in the night sky, had endured.

"The Black Tiger General, Marquis Raphaeno of the Blazing Rapier. He leads the Black Tiger Army and a mercenary corps on royal commission. The exact number of troops and their strength are classified and cannot be disclosed due to contractual obligations."

"Raphaeno...? The one who fights with a rapier? Why is he coming here?"

"I cannot reveal military objectives as per contract."

Moore, the head of the Purple Trading Company, responded briefly.

But saying he couldn't reveal it meant he knew the answer.

That was enough for the Regressor to make an educated guess.

"It must be because of the King of Wolves. From the Duchy's perspective, there's no guarantee that Ende can handle the situation on its own. If they've summoned the royal mercenary corps, they must be in quite a rush."

"Last time, when there was an uprising, they didn't even glance at Ende. But since this is happening before a rebellion, they seem to have more time on their hands. Even though we already took down the King of Wolves ourselves."

If the King of Wolves had won, he could have threatened the Duchy.

In that case, sending an army before Ende was completely overrun to eliminate the King of Wolves made perfect sense.

A logical and rational strategy.

Yet Moore remained silent.

The world was rarely logical or rational.

"The Purple Trading Company guarantees your identity. However, depending on the Five Tiger General's judgment, the fulfillment of our contract may be delayed."

"I understand. But is that all you came to say?"

Moore did not answer.

Instead, he twisted the bracelet on his wrist.

The moment he did, a gust of wind blew from nowhere, billowing his cloak like a sail.

With the wind at his back, Moore moved like a swallow, gliding away from the ground as if he were flying.

"A Wind Sail... That's some expensive equipment."

"He's the head of the Purple Trading Company. He must have plenty of things far more expensive than that. But more importantly... Marquis Raphaeno..."

"You know him?"

"He's one of the Enlightened Masters. Of course, I know him. Raphaeno of the Blazing Rapier—he won the Hundred Duels at the Colosseum, earned the title of Duel Master, and mastered all twenty-four forms of the Vulcan Battle Codex."

"A remarkable man, no doubt. Reaching enlightenment while being one of the Five Tiger Generals of the Duchy? Everyone knows how strong he is."

"But what about his personality?"

The Regressor rested his chin on his hand, thinking for a moment.

"Uh... Arrogant? But then again, that's a common trait among Masters."

"So, among arrogant Masters, he's especially arrogant?"

"Something like that? Still, he's a general. His personality shouldn’t cause any major issues... Right?"

The Regressor himself sounded uncertain.

Likely because he had seen too many people ruin things because of their personalities.

Including himself.

"Hmm. That sounds... suspicious."

"...Yeah, doesn't it?"

The Regressor had an animal-like instinct for sensing danger.

Not the brightest at times, but he trusted intuition over logic.

Something felt off—

The unexpected visit from the trading company head,

The awkward timing of Raphaeno's march to Ende...

It left a bad taste in his mouth.

And his intuition was right.

From what he read in Moore's thoughts, Raphaeno hadn't come to aid Ende...

The age of wars fought through sheer numbers was over.

A single Enlightened Master could wipe out a hundred warriors below their level.

But tossing one Master into a battlefield of hundreds was idiocy.

Modern warfare required:

ScoutsMobilitySupply chainsEncirclement tacticsInstead of overwhelming numbers, fast, specialized units supported core powerhouses.

Marquis Raphaeno’s army followed these doctrines perfectly.

Their cavalry, all trained in martial energy, could ride for three days straight without exhaustion.

The commissioned mage division handled logistics and maintenance flawlessly, even with a small number of personnel.

And by attaching a single mage and a single Master to a unit, even a small force became a strategic-level asset.

Though hastily assembled, Raphaeno's army was undeniably powerful.

They reached Ende faster than expected.

They arrived too late to fight the wolves—

But that hardly mattered.

"Hmmm. So this is Ende?"

A middle-aged man with a grand mustache entered the city.

Even with hundreds of armed soldiers marching in, there was little commotion.

Most civilians had already evacuated due to the battle against the wolves.

Marquis Raphaeno twirled the ends of his curled mustache and muttered:

"It’s as filthy as the rumors say, but not as loud. Hah! At least I should find someone competent in this shithole."

Fortunately, news of Raphaeno's arrival reached Obeli.

And in Obeli, the civil authorities had barely regained control.

The one who came to greet him was Lord ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ Electus, one of Ende’s officials.

Bringing only a few attendants, he personally met the Marquis at the city gates.

"It is an honor to meet Marquis Raphaeno of the Five Tiger Generals, the shield of the Duchy. As the representative of all citizens of Ende, I, Lord Electus, extend our warmest welcome."

"Ahem. Hmm."

Raphaeno cleared his throat, then tapped his adjutant on the arm.

"Who is this man? I’m not well-versed in border politics."

A general’s aide was expected to brief him on key figures so he wouldn't act inappropriately.

The adjutant, who had studied Ende’s leadership, quickly answered:

"That is Lord Electus."

"Lord? A Duke in a tiny city like this?"

"Technically speaking, his title is different from a standard Duke. When Saint Enger ascended with three descendants, the Empire designated Enger Plains as a frontier duchy in his honor. About two hundred years later, when part of Enger Plains was ceded to the Duchy of Lilac, Ende remained an independent frontier duchy. So—"

"Hrmph. That’s enough. So he’s just a fake Duke? Hah. This is why I hate the frontier. Any dog or cow can call themselves a Duke."

The adjutant had not studied all this just to hear him say that.

Especially not in front of Lord Electus.

And worse—he used the phrase 'any dog or cow.'

In Ende.

The aide quietly whispered a warning.

"This land bears Saint Enger’s banner. Please watch your words."

"Aha. Right, right."

But their entire conversation had been clearly audible to Lord Electus.

They could have used sound transmission magic, yet they spoke out loud—

An outright declaration that they had no respect for him.

It was practically a declaration of war.

Yet who could stop him?

Marquis Raphaeno cared little for his rudeness.

"I heard the news on my way here. So, you defeated the King of Wolves, yes?"

"According to reports, yes."

"Hrmph. Well, it would be a disgrace for humanity to lose to mere beasts! Oh, right—this city is full of beastfolk, isn’t it? Hah! Well, they did well! I suppose I should praise them!"

"It was an effort by everyone."

"Ah, yes! Praising beastfolk? My mistake! The real credit goes to their masters! Hahaha!"

He laughed as if he had made a hilarious joke.

Then, waving dismissively, he got to the point.

"Well, whatever. The wolves are gone, so let’s move to the real business."

"The real business, my Lord?"

Finally, Raphaeno grinned.

"Where is Grull?"