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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: FusionX
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Position makes the man.
Ironically, that saying was being applied in reverse. No one present thought Hans had actually dozed off.
After all, he was the Commander of the Royal Knights.
The man who, in just a year, rebuilt the fallen Royal Knights and repelled three True Demons. Of course, anyone could make mistakes, but there were limits.
A man who achieved such feats in a single year, dozing off because he couldnât overcome drowsiness? And during such an important meeting?
It was simply illogical.
What did that mean?
It meant he was feigning sleep.
And the reason was obvious.
The internal strife within the alliance. He must have been mocking their pathetic squabbling, their readiness to draw swords over trivial matters.
Even Lucy, the Vampire Lord, was impressed. It was a blatant display of mockery and disdain, devoid of any political pretense. But it was a valid reason.
At least, for someone with a certain level of intelligence.
Lucy glanced to the side. The Orc King, with his blazing glare, wasnât hiding his emotions at all.
âPathetic. Who? A mere human dares...? I will devour him.â
The orcsâ strength and weakness were their straightforwardness. They never schemed. But that honesty was also a flaw.
They always resorted to violence. There had been intelligent orcs in the past, but most of them betrayed their kin and joined the demons.
The orcs who remained in the alliance did so because they wanted to die in battle. It was natural for the more intelligent ones to betray them.
In other words, the orcs had endured hell through sheer strength. They might be weaker than vampires and dragons, but they were not to be underestimated.
âThis is unexpected... but quite entertaining.â
Her initial surprise quickly turned into amusement.
The green monster was reacting as expected. Now, what would Hans do?
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âIâm screwed, Iâm so screwed.â
He had given a reckless response, but he hadnât anticipated such an extreme reaction from the Orc King. Now he had to face him head-on, and his mind was racing.
Fortunately, Hans knew a thing or two about orcs. Unlike the vampires, about whom he knew nothing, there was at least some information available about orcs.
It wasnât much compared to other races, but at least he knew how to persuade them. The method itself was quite simple.
âThey say I just need to overpower them...â
Orcs enjoyed fighting strong opponents and only acknowledged strength. It was the absolute law of the jungle. That was why they didnât bother the dragons and vampires.
But could he really use that against them? The answer to that was ambiguous. One of the orcsâ strengths was their fearlessness of death.
Until now, he had managed to subdue them with threats, but if he pushed them too far, they might attack in a rage. And if that happened, it was over.
The dragon and vampire were about to fight again, but thankfully, they seemed to know their priorities. It didnât escalate further.
Then, Dezra spoke.
âThe Warriorâs Festival. Our peopleâs sacred festival. A spiritual arena where we bless our warriors and honor our ancestors.â
âI know.â
âBut a human participating? You will die. For sure.â
âWe wonât know until I try.â
He was a little afraid, but if he used Time Stop properly, he couldnât die.
Even so, after careful consideration, Hans came to a conclusion.
Fighting openly in front of everyone meant certain death. He might be able to behead Dezra in a one-on-one fight, but the aftermath would be a problem.
Would the other orcs just stand by and watch as he killed their leader? They might say it was fine, but there was no guarantee.
And besides, he didnât think he could actually behead the Orc King, a monster nicknamed the Rusty Tyrant, especially with his own skills.
On the other hand, escaping the forest on foot offered plenty of opportunities to use Time Stop. Time Stop was absolute. That was the rational conclusion Hans reached.
âA human challenging the Warriorâs Festival... itâs been a while,â Dezra thought.
Orcs were cruel and violent. That was half-true, half-false. To be precise, orcs worshipped strength. Even if it was another race, if they showed corresponding strength...
Or even if they were weak, if they showed admirable courage, orcs would readily acknowledge them and treat them as equals. But they didnât acknowledge everyone.
Just as a sheep couldnât hide its true nature even if it wore a lionâs skin, a coward couldnât completely hide their fear, even if they pretended to be brave.
And Dezra saw it. Hansâs unwavering gaze. Did he not know about the Warriorâs Festival? No, that was impossible. He understood.
And yet, there wasnât a trace of fear in his eyes. Such a gaze was rare, even among his own kind.
Was he confident he wouldnât die?
No, it wasnât something so trivial.
Dezra wasnât foolish enough to underestimate others. He might not show it, but he acknowledged Hansâs ability to rebuild the Royal Knights. He was a seasoned warrior.
In other words, he wasnât just a fool overflowing with confidence.
He was prepared to die.
Because he had seen enough death.
â...I see. Very well, Hans.â
Dezraâs tone softened considerably. It had been a while since he had met a warrior who didnât fear death. He had to show him the proper respect.
At that moment, Hans thought,
âTime Stop is invincible! Itâs godly!â
Yes, Hans wasnât afraid of death.
Because he was confident he wouldnât die.
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[Translator Notes]
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