Ainz Ooal Gown: Noble Knight

“My lord…” Barzel began instinctively.

A fist loomed infinitely large in his field of vision.

The fist tore through the air, carrying enough power to crush steel, heading straight for his face.

Bazel's tiger eyes suddenly contracted. He didn't even have time to think. His body instinctively wanted to dodge, but the fist was too fast. It was so fast that he didn't even have time to feel fear.

Thankfully, the punch stopped.

It was less than an inch from the tip of his nose.

The force of the punch grazed his cheek, blowing the orange-black tiger skin tightly against his bones, and even flipping up his eyelids.

The tent frame behind me groaned under the strain, the canvas was torn open by the force of the punch, and the entire temporary tent collapsed with a crash.

Dust flew everywhere.

Bazel knelt on the ground, panting heavily, his ears ringing, his eyes filled with terror.

Several seconds passed before he realized he was still alive.

"M-My lord..." His voice trembled.

Sebastian stood in front of him, his fist still hanging in mid-air.

Anger burned in the old steward's eyes, but he was trying to suppress it, because he remembered what Bazel had said earlier about opposing the Orc King.

"The Orc King sent you to draw attention away from us," Sebastian's voice was as cold as if it had been pulled from an ice cellar, "and then sent men to ambush Lord Rune, is that it?"

Bazel shook his head frantically. His tiger tail trembled between his legs, and he was no longer the imposing figure of a tribal chief.

"No! Absolutely not!" His voice was hoarse. "My lord, it was the Orc King who forced me to come here for peace talks! I really don't know anything."

As he spoke, he slapped his chest with his tiger paws, the fleshy pads of his palms making a loud thumping sound.

"My lord, everything I just said is true! I have long harbored resentment towards the Orc King, how could I possibly come here to die willingly!"

Sebastian stared at him for a few seconds.

Those light gray eyes were like two knives, cutting Bazel apart from top to bottom, scrutinizing his expression.

Then Sebastian withdrew his fist.

He turned away, not giving Bazel another glance, and disappeared outside the collapsed tent.

Bazel slumped in the ruins, gasping for breath.

His chest heaved violently, and his heart felt like it was going to jump out of his throat.

After a long time, he slowly got up from the ground. In his tiger-like eyes, the fear gradually faded, replaced by an uncontrollable rage.

The anger of being used as a pawn by the Orc King, and the humiliation of being outmaneuvered.

"Orc King..." he spat out the words through gritted teeth, his canine fangs gleaming coldly in the twilight, "You want me dead?"

He stood up and dusted himself off.

The tiger's tail was still trembling slightly, but its eyes had regained their usual expression, and the fear within them was swallowed down by the tiger.

The tiger's face no longer held the obsequious look it had shown before Sebastian.

The coldness and sternness unique to tribal chiefs permeated the entire piece.

"Guards!" he ordered in a deep voice.

Several tiger-headed beastmen ran over from nearby and knelt on one knee in front of him.

"Chief, are you alright?" One of them cautiously looked up at the collapsed tent, then quickly looked down again.

"It's alright." Bazel moved his jaw, which was numb from the force of the punch. "Gather all the tribesmen who can still fight, and come with me."

"Where?"

Bazel's gaze was fixed on the direction where the remnants of the orcish army were stationed, his tiger eyes burning with undisguised killing intent.

"Go and see His Majesty."

When he said "Your Majesty," Bazel emphasized it.

The Orc King's remnant army camped on a relatively flat valley.

Compared to the grand spectacle of 100,000 troops just a few days ago, the camp now appears much more shabby.

The tents were scattered haphazardly, some even lying on the ground before they could be properly set up again.

The campfires were sparse, and their light reflected off the dejected faces of the orcs, casting a gray and somber glow.

The groans of wounded soldiers came from all corners, rising and falling, mingling with the howling of the night wind, echoing in the empty valley.

"Your Majesty! Chieftain Bazel has returned!"

The sentry's shout broke the silence of the camp.

The Orc King was sitting in his largest tent, his golden lion mane appearing somewhat dull.

Upon hearing the sentry's shout, his ears twitched slightly, and a barely perceptible look of surprise flashed in his eyes.

The tent flap was lifted, and Bazel strode in with a dozen or so tiger-headed orcs.

His steps were steady, and his aura was much stronger than when he set off, a stark contrast to the way he had knelt on the ground trembling in fear after being frightened by Sebastian's fist.

The Orc King's heart skipped a beat when he saw his appearance.

But the expression on his face did not change at all.

“Chief Balzer,” the Orc King rose from his stone chair, spreading his arms in a welcoming gesture, “I am relieved to see you back safe and sound.”

Bazel stopped in front of him, without responding to the embrace.

He simply stood there, looking down at the orc king, his tiger eyes filled with coldness.

"Your Majesty," his voice was heavy, "don't you have anything to say to me?"

The Orc King froze for a moment.

He lowered his outstretched arms, his smile unchanged, but the curve of his lips was noticeably stiffer than before.

“Chief Balzer,” his tone softened, “I know you’re angry. But you must believe me, everything I’ve done is for the sake of the Orcish Kingdom.”

His gaze met Bazel's, his amber eyes filled with sincerity.

“You’ve witnessed the dragon’s power. We’re no match for it in a head-on fight. But if we can capture that human nobleman, we can use him to blackmail the dragon…” The orc king paused, his tone full of certainty, “Everything will be different.”

Bazel didn't say anything, just stared at him coldly.

The Orc King felt a little uneasy when he saw that the Orc King did not respond, but his expression remained calm.

“I know that sending you to negotiate is putting you in danger. But who else can I trust besides you?” His voice was tinged with weariness, as if he were confiding in an old friend. “You are the person I trust most. I can only entrust this matter of life and death of the Orc Kingdom to you.”

He took half a step forward, reached out, and tried to pat Bazel on the shoulder.

Bazel took a half step back.

The lion's paw hovered in mid-air, stuck in an awkward position.

The atmosphere inside the tent suddenly became heavy. The flame of the oil lamp flickered slightly, casting long and distorted shadows of the two people on the canvas tent wall.

Several followers stood in the corner, not daring to breathe, their eyes darting back and forth between the orc king and Bazel. Some of them quietly placed their hands on the hilts of their swords, but dared not actually draw them.

“Your Majesty,” Bazel said, his voice filled with murderous intent, “what I hate most is apologizing afterward.”

He uttered each word slowly and deliberately, his canine teeth gleaming coldly in the lamplight.

"You didn't tell me any of this when you sent me to my death."

The Orc King's expression finally changed.

On that lion's face, the smile at the corner of his mouth gradually faded, revealing a dangerous chill.

Chapter 99 Duel

The air inside the tent was as still as a stagnant pool.

Bazel's hand was already on the axe handle at his waist, his tiger-like eyes fixed on the orc king.

The Orc King withdrew his hand that had been hanging in mid-air.

He took half a step back and sat back down on the stone chair covered with human skin.

Golden lion mane cascaded down his shoulders, obscuring half his face, revealing only a pair of amber eyes.

His eyes were full of weariness, and something else indescribable.

“Bazaar,” his voice was hoarse, “how do you intend to resolve this?”

Bazel released his hand from the axe handle, his tiger eyes narrowing slightly.

"One-on-one."

Bazel's lips curled up into a triumphant smile.

"Your Majesty, this is a tradition of the Orcish Kingdom. Since Your Majesty believes your decision is correct, then let's prove it with strength. If I lose, I will plead guilty. If I win..."

The Orc King remained silent for a moment, his gaze sweeping across Bazel's face.

His forces have an overwhelming advantage.

There were still more than 20,000 remnants outside, and the number of warriors in Bazel's Steel Fang tribe was far less than the number of soldiers he could command.

He could have refused, or even directly ordered Bazeir to be taken down.

But

"it is good."

The Orc King agreed.

Even Bazel was slightly taken aback.

He had thought it would take some time before the Orc King made a decision, but the Orc King's decisiveness exceeded his expectations.

“Your Majesty is indeed decisive.” Bazel released the axe handle and waved to the attendants behind him, “Step back.”

The tiger-headed beastmen retreated, making way for an open space.