“Don’t get cocky!” the knight yelled, preparing to eliminate the two fallen skeletons once and for all. Rage filled his face as he channeled the red glow of his combat art into his bardiche. His grip tightened, readying for a wide, sweeping Holy Light attack—a move that would drain him significantly but might turn the tide. It was a desperate gamble, a last-ditch effort to survive.
“Woooaaahhh!” he roared, his battle cry echoing across the battlefield.
With that cry of resolve, the knight’s entire body emanated a surge of magic that enveloped his bardiche, swirling into a vortex. This energy soon transformed into a radiant white light, making the weapon shine like a miniature sun; the skeletons illuminated by it noticeably slowed down.
Amused by their panicked attempt to stop him, the knight prepared to unleash his combat art, swinging the bardiche downward with determination.
“This will end it—”
Before he could complete his attack, a massive black ogre surged toward him from the side. Moving with a speed unexpected for its colossal frame, it seemed almost graceful, its presence barely perceptible until it was too late.
This brief lapse in awareness proved fatal. The ogre’s enormous hand gripped the knight’s, crushing it along with the bardiche’s hilt in an instant. The knight barely had time to register the pain before the ogre’s massive fist drove into his abdomen.
“Guh—!”
The blow shattered the knight’s armor, which could deflect crossbow bolts, and inflicted excruciating pain as if a sledgehammer had pulverized his insides. Overwhelmed, the knight collapsed to his knees, vomiting profusely and struggling for breath. As he lay on the ground, writhing in agony, the ogre’s foot came down on his head with terrifying force.
The knight’s skull could not withstand the immense weight and power of the ogre’s stomp, and it burst open, scattering brain matter. His body twitched in a final spasm before going still, leaving behind a decapitated corpse. The ogre gazed down at the lifeless body with indifference, then scanned its surroundings.
For the ogre, this was an insignificant act, but the knights and soldiers who met the ogre’s gaze reacted with paralyzing fear. Some broke out in cold sweat and turned pale, while others trembled uncontrollably and froze; a few even screamed out in incoherent terror. The pressure and presence emanating from the ogre were beyond anything anyone had encountered from such a typically brutish species.
The allied knights managed to hold their ground, albeit with great difficulty, while the regular soldiers fled in desperation.
“Seems the Black Skeletons are taking heavier losses than expected. Can’t be helped,” the ogre muttered, producing a halberd from seemingly nowhere.
For a moment, the humans were distracted, wondering where the weapon had come from, and that brief distraction proved fatal.
“Impossible…”
“Are you kidding me?”
The whispers came from various directions, perhaps from the trembling knights of the allied forces or the soldiers trying to flee. What was certain was that these fear-filled voices belonged to those opposing the ogre.
“Black Skeletons, assist the others. I’ll handle things here,” the ogre commanded, swinging its halberd in a swift motion. The speed was such that even the afterimage was indiscernible, and the blade cleaved through five fleeing soldiers, cutting them cleanly in half. Their upper and lower halves dropped away, their deaths instantaneous, leaving those who witnessed it stunned and instinctively readying themselves for battle.
It was too late. Another swing of the halberd sent a watery blade from its axe head, claiming six more lives. In less than ten seconds, the ogre had killed twelve soldiers from the allied forces. The keenness of its blade, which cut through armor as if it didn’t exist, and the water attack that was nearly impossible to defend against, sent shivers down the spines of the humans.
“U… Uoooaaahhh!” one knight roared, trying to muster courage. He raised his longsword and kite shield, charging at the ogre in a desperate attempt to fight back. Was it a reckless charge fueled by fear or a calculated move seeking an opening? Perhaps it was both, or maybe neither. Either way, the ogre crushed his attempt with a single step as the earth trembled and collapsed around its foot, causing a quake so severe that it made it impossible to stand.
“What… What the hell is this?” the charging knight faltered, his movement halted by the tremor. It was a feat in itself that he didn’t fall, but he was left in a daze, staring blankly at the sight before him.
The ogre extended its silver palm, and the blood that had soaked into the earth and the underground water seemed to be drawn to it. The liquid writhed as if it were acting of its own accord, rapidly gathering and being absorbed into its hand, compressing into a fist-sized sphere. It was a collection of blood and fluid from over two hundred fallen comrades, compressed under such high pressure that it formed a dark red gem-like orb, mesmerizing in its uncanny allure.
“Haha… What the hell is that?” the knight muttered in disbelief. The knight stared blankly at the blood sphere, a strained smile on his face. He couldn’t even bring himself to ready his weapon; he was unable to move as he watched it being unleashed.
It’s like a comet, he thought vaguely, and in the next moment, the sphere pierced through the center of his chest, ending his life.
Having pierced through the knight and created large holes in several other bodies, the sphere was then released from its compressed state. The enormous quantity of blood and water, mixed with the loosened earth from the ogre’s stomp, transformed into a massive, swirling torrent that, seemingly possessing a will of its own, swept away everything in its path: knights, human corpses piled up on the battlefield, heavy armor, abandoned weapons, and even the surviving skeletons and humans.
“Whoa! What the hell is this!”
“Glub! I can’t swim, someone help me!”
Only the humans suffered, though, swallowed by the torrent, struggling to breathe and drowning in the mix of blood and mud. Some lost their footing, disoriented in the turbulent waters, only to be pierced by weapons or battered by heavy armor carried along by the current. The skeletons didn’t need to breathe, and their hard, bony bodies sustained no damage from colliding with weapons and armor—not to mention they were coated in shock-absorbing slime.
After the torrent passed, the ground was littered with muddy, bloody bodies, humans grimacing in pain. Severed limbs protruded from the blood-soaked earth, and the air was thick with the stench of blood. The literal mountain of corpses and river of blood painted a gruesome picture. Those who had barely survived remained silent, trying desperately not to draw the ogre’s attention, holding their breath to avoid being noticed.
“This should do it,” the ogre muttered nonchalantly, even in the face of such a horrific scene. It picked up a nearby corpse—a knight clad in a once-majestic, now dirt-covered set of white-silver armor adorned with intricate decorations. The faint insignia on his chest hinted at his high rank.
After a brief inspection, the ogre opened its massive mouth and devoured the knight, armor and all. It chewed through the tough armor and thick flesh with ease, savoring every bite. In the distance, the sounds of battle continued, roars and screams filling the air. The ogre, however, seemed to be taking a break, as if this were no more than a calm interlude.
Despite appearing to have its guard down, the ogre was fully aware of its surroundings, relaxed yet ready to react. If anyone were to attack, it would respond immediately, cutting down the attacker with its halberd. The humans around it instinctively understood this; they knew that trying to run or even being noticed at all would lead to their deaths.
Then, as they quivered in despair, on the brink of giving up, a small, clear voice rang out.
“Hey, Mr. Ogre, Mr. Ogre. If you’re free, how about facing me?”
The speaker was a boy in a green coat who seemed to be squinting. He looked to be in his early teens and was around 150 centimeters tall, a full meter shorter than the ogre. His green hair, which reached his shoulders, had one peculiar strand that resembled an antenna and swayed as he moved.
Despite his youthful appearance—he seemed far too young for a battlefield—the way he handled his wavy-bladed dagger showed he was a seasoned warrior. The ogre swallowed the remaining meat in its mouth and fixed its gaze on the boy. The boy met the ogre’s stare with an unbroken smile and a cute tilt of his head.
“You are… if I remember correctly, part of the Imperial Eight Great Knight Corps, Rugald Orden. You’re the Bone Bug Brave, named something like Phillippo, right?” the ogre said after a moment of thought.
The boy—Phillippo—looked genuinely astonished.
“Wow. I’m shocked you know about me, Mr. Ogre,” Phillippo said. “Say, who told you who I was? I don’t really like that nickname. I mean, it makes people think of pests, you know? Sure, it’s my official title and not entirely inaccurate, but when someone below me says it, it ticks me off. Really ticks me off.”