Ainz Ooal Gown: Noble Knight

The Orc King also raised his hand, signaling his guards to step back.

Several lion-beastmen hesitated for a moment, but still obeyed the order and retreated to the edge of the tent wall.

The open space in the center of the tent was cleared out.

Bazel untied the two short axes from his waist and held them in his hands. The axe blades were sharp, and the cloth wrapped around the handles was soaked with sweat, its color several shades darker.

The Orc King stood up and took the battle sword that had been with him for many years from beside the stone chair.

The blade is wide, and the handle is inlaid with several faded gemstones, which still hint at its former glory.

The two stood in the center of the tent.

They were no more than five steps apart.

Looking at the Orc King's wrinkled lion face, Bazel suddenly felt that the other man was much older than he remembered.

The golden-brown mane was no longer thick, revealing the grayish-white skin beneath. The light in its amber eyes had also dimmed.

“Your Majesty,” Bazel began, “you are old.”

The Orc King slowly raised his battle sword.

The tip of the knife pointed at Bazel, its blade gleaming coldly.

"Then prove it to me."

Bazel did not speak again.

His figure suddenly lunged forward, two short axes spread out at his sides, like a tiger pouncing on its prey.

The Orc King's sword slashed down simultaneously.

"clang!"

The sound of metal clashing exploded inside the tent, causing the oil lamp flame to flicker violently.

Their figures crossed paths, then quickly separated.

Bazel glanced down at the short axe in his left hand; there was a chip the size of a grain of rice on the blade.

His pupils contracted slightly.

The Orc King's power was greater than he had anticipated.

Despite his advanced age, the surging brute force still overwhelmed him.

Bazel gritted his teeth and pounced again.

This time he didn't test the waters; he swung his two axes alternately, his attack as fierce as a storm.

The Orc King raised his sword to parry, and each collision of the axe blade and the sword produced dazzling sparks.

His steps were steady, and although his body was not as agile as it had been in his youth, he always managed to precisely block the trajectory of Bazel's attacks.

Bazeir grew increasingly alarmed as the fight progressed.

He had thought the Orc King was already past his prime, but the strength he displayed was still above his own.

Several times, the Orc King's sword nearly struck his vitals, but always at the last moment it deflected, merely grazing his leather armor.

Bazell, too, tacitly refrained from using his full strength.

His axe blade could clearly cut into the gaps in the orc king's defenses, but he always held back a bit of force at the last moment before making contact.

The two seemed to be putting on a tacit performance.

You slash, I swat.

The fight was intense, but they tacitly refrained from killing each other.

It was as if the two of them were tacitly waiting for something.

At the edge of the tent, warriors from both tribes watched the duel with bated breath.

The flame of the oil lamp swayed violently under the wind pressure generated by the two people, and almost went out several times.

Time flowed slowly amidst the clash of swords and the shadows of axes.

I don't know how much time passed...

The curtain was suddenly flung open.

A blood-soaked lion-orc stumbled in.

His golden fur was soaked in blood, making it almost impossible to see its original color.

An arm was severed cleanly at the shoulder, the cut wrapped in haphazard bandages, and blood was still seeping out.

His body trembled, and his eyes were lifeless.

"Your Majesty..." His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible, "...the mission...failed..."

Time seemed to freeze in that instant.

The Orc King's sword stopped in mid-air.

His body stiffened, and the light in his amber eyes gradually faded.

It was as if something was rapidly flowing away from his body.

The mission failed.

The human nobleman was not captured.

All his bets vanished in that instant.

The Orc King lowered his sword.

The tip of the knife pressed against the ground, supporting his swaying body.

The Orc King's gaze fell on a certain spot in the void, his lips moved slightly, but no sound came out.

Bazel gripped his double axes tightly.

This time, he didn't hold back.

The axe blade tore through the air with a resolute whistle, heading straight for the orc king's neck.

The Orc King did not dodge.

He just stood there, his eyes calmly watching the axe blade getting closer and closer.

All I see is the acceptance of the inevitable defeat.

The axe blade fell.

"Click"

The crisp sound of bones breaking echoed inside the tent.

The orc king's head flew off his shoulder, tumbled twice in the air, and then crashed heavily to the ground.

Blood gushed from his neck, staining the stone chair covered with human skin with a layer of animal blood.

The headless corpse swayed for a moment, then collapsed to the ground with a thud.

The orc king's head still had its eyes open, those amber eyes gleaming faintly in the darkness, as if still watching something.

Bazel stood there, gripping the axe handle with both hands, panting heavily.

He slowly squatted down, reached out his hand, and closed his amber eyes.

"His Majesty……"

"Take care."

Outside the tents, the night wind howled across the valley, carrying with it the cries of the remnants of the army and the groans of the wounded into the dark night sky.

Not far away, the embers of the campfire were still glowing red, like a half-closed eye slowly closing on this land soaked in blood.

The history of the Orc Kingdom has turned a new page.

Chapter 100 The Awkward Sebastian

In the end, Rune decided to take action.

Rune carried Leno's body and walked toward Sebastian and Tapimi.

The girl's body was very light. Her head was tilted back, and her messy golden hair hung down, covering most of her face.

The wound on the side of the neck had stopped bleeding, but the dark red bloodstains had soaked into a large patch on the light gray blanket, a shocking sight.

He walked a few steps away from the two of them and stopped.

Tacimi had been leaning against Sebastian's arm, his azure eyes still staring blankly into the void.

Hearing footsteps, he turned around abruptly, his gaze falling on the small figure in Rune's arms.

"Lenno!"

His voice was hoarse, as if it had been sanded.

Tapimi suddenly broke free from Sebastian's support and staggered toward Rune, who then laid the girl's body down.

The old butler was still kneeling on the ground, his hands slightly raised, maintaining the posture he had adopted when he supported Tapimy.

But his arms were empty; the boy who had just been in his arms had broken free.

Tapimi knelt beside the girl, his hands, stained with blood and dust, trembling as he reached out to carefully touch her cheek.

Her body was still warm.

A broken sob escaped from Tachimi's throat.

Memories flooded back without warning.

He recalled those nights when the flame of the oil lamp flickered inside the tent, casting the shadows of the two men on the canvas tent wall, one large and one small, like two trees standing very close together.

Every time she failed to escape and was caught by him, she would pose as if she were about to be slaughtered after finishing her meal.

Tapchimi initially thought it was her fear, a submissive response she had learned from prolonged abuse.

But now, kneeling beside her body, he suddenly understood everything, but the girl was gone.

The girl's messy golden hair was scattered haphazardly on the soil, and the last curve of her smile remained on her thin face, but her eyes were closed, her eyelashes drooping silently, life gone.