Orc Hero Story - Legend of Degree

Breaking through the third round of the Martial Arts Festival.

That is one of the most honorable things.

Fighters can prove their strength, blacksmiths can prove their own arms.

In the dovanga hole, that's what it is.

At least, I can be proud of it for a few years.

……

But Primera's heart was hard to say sunny.

Indeed, the aim was achieved.

Game three.

A fighter wearing his own made armor defeated a fighter wearing his sister's made armor.

See, I'm better up there.

I can't do it again. I won't let you tell me it's Misokas.

I thought you'd feel that way.

But it didn't happen at all.

……

After a day of fighting and returning to his workshop, Primera looked difficult.

In her hands is the sword Bash used in the game.

Sword that has been over three games.

That, naturally...... stretched straight and the cutting edge was dull and glowing.

It's not bent like before.

On the contrary, I haven't even spilled a blade.

You didn't bend because your arm improved, because it was a refined bottle?

No, it's not.

The primer rests on the workbench, eyes on the hand.

There was a bearded, gushing hand.

Hands to protect wrists and fists.

Naturally, it is made quite thick and sturdy to go with the bash.

In the qualifying round, none of the fittings ever came loose and were scratched.

But now the iron that made up the hand was shaken and torn.

It's like, something's hitting me at high speed. The way it broke.

(I punched him with my hand)

Bash didn't use his sword.

That was the proof that it was not the sword but the hand that fixed it even in the first round.

He beat the sword of Golgol with his bare hands and won.

(I told you to come up with something...)

Hit your opponent with armor.

It's limitless gray by the rules.

Now in the tournament, only swords are allowed for weapons.

The aim is to keep the strength constant by fixing the shape.

Naturally, dealing with another weapon during a game is against the rules. Using armor as a weapon is against the rule.

Nevertheless, if it can be a fierce twist, it can also come out if it's not just an attack with a sword.

There are also plenty of athletes out for elbow hitting, knee kicking, and head thrusting.

Dwarf militancy is not so delicate as to take a defiance on all of them.

I mean, hitting him with armor is fine in itself.

Of course, if it were armor in the shape of an obvious weapon, it would disqualify......

Primera's battered armor has a standard shape, so you don't have to worry about it.

Nevertheless, armor is armor.

I don't envisage using it like this. I can fix it, but it doesn't work perfectly.

Sooner or later it will reach its limits and it will break.

Swords are not used, and armor is used unexpectedly.

As a blacksmith, I've never been more humiliated.

Exactly, so proud to win this, Primera wasn't an idiot.

And, at that time, there was a knock on the door of the workshop.

Concon and reluctantly knocking on the door.

Bash and Zell are going to the liquor store to call it a celebration.

It's a little early to be back.

Like Dwarf, Oak should be a liquor lover, and he should be drinking until the day changes.

That's what I thought, Primera stiffened her body.

Top eight faces, which will win tomorrow's final tournament.

There was also the name of Barbaradbanga, the eldest son of the Dobanga clan.

No way, someone from the Dobanga clan sent in an assassin to let him win......

(No, then why don't you knock)

but Primera shook her head immediately.

If you obstruct, you'll do it more flashy.

He kicks through the door, destroys Primera's workshop, and leaves with a whim.

That's about as much to do.

That's what I thought, and Primera opened the door alertly.

……

Then there stood a person there who would not be expected.

No, it would be a lie to say you didn't expect it.

She was dreaming.

Go out to the Martial Arts Festival, show it to your eyes, and the guy who was making a fool of himself will cry, kneel down, and apologize.

"Sister......"

"Wow..."

There he was, Carmeladobanga.

It was my sister.

But she wasn't on her knees.

She stood with her arms in her arms with a look that seemed to linger.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well... what. I want to tell you something, but we got results."

Opponents of the Third World War.

Beast warrior Colo.

The person Bash beat down with one blow.

Carmela can't stay on the second day, Primela stays.

That's the result.

"Until now, I'm sorry. I think I was underestimating you."

Carmela said so and offered a bottle of liquor that she lowered to her waist to Primela.

Apologies and praises go with booze. It's Dwarf common sense.

If he accepts this booze, Primera will have accepted his apology.

……

But Primera couldn't reach for the booze.

"After all, don't you forgive me?

Carmela can pull alcohol in while she laughs bitterly.

The hand, Primera suppressed.

……

Primera's mood was complicated.

I certainly should have wanted this moment.

It should have been my dream to receive this bottle and say "Don't speak ill of my mother again".

But Primera's hands don't move.

"Whatever it is, congratulations on the top eight"

"Yeah......"

"Oh, I thought you'd be happier, but you have a shitty face"

Sure, Bash beat Colo... my sister's fighter.

So, that could be a Primera victory?

There's no way I can tell you.

The sword bends, the armor shakes.

If you look at Bash's fast forward, you'll see.

Bash is on the loose.

Aiming to win, to the best of my ability, not to hurt my weapons, I am adding and subtracting my powers and defeating my enemies.

A weapon is something you're supposed to wear to avoid hurting yourself.

Primera thinks it's embarrassing.

Where is a blacksmith who cares about the armor he has struck?

"Go already..."

"... Ha, are you being unfaithful? That's why I say it's immature. Well, it's hard to make weapons for a first-rate warrior. I don't know how famous that bash is for a warrior, but I know it's top notch when you watch a game. As my father was not satisfied with other Dwarves' weapons, a first-class warrior would rather be satisfied with the same weapons..."

"Just go!

Pushed by Primera, Carmela took about a few steps.

"That's why you...!

Carmela, who tried to blame her out of anger, took a breath.

Tears were spilling out of Primera's eyes.

Think of it, Primera was a kid who didn't cry much.

Whatever they said, they just ate their teeth and got angry or vain, and they never cried.

"... ok. I'm going now."

Carmela said so, turning her heel back.

But I took a few steps and stopped.

"But, Primera. You, it's time to admit it, it won't work..."

At the end of the day, she left.

Primera didn't even drop it off, went back to the workshop and stood up.

In front of you is a broken right hand and a left hand with dark marks of repair.

And perhaps if the bash shook, it would bend, with a wide range of swords.

"What am I supposed to do?"

Primera sipped her nose and squeaked so.

◆ ◆ ◆

Back then, Bash was in the tavern.

Having successfully passed the first day of the main battle, he was raising a whispering toast with Zell.

For a warrior, a drink after a battle victory is of paramount importance.

Victory is a joy, so if you're not happy, it's a lie.

In the case of an orc, it would have included committing as many crimes as I think of a woman there...

That should be taken after the second day of victory.

Anyway, if you win tomorrow, you get your wife legally, and every day you can fuck all you want is waiting for you.

"That's where my husband comes in! When my husband arrived, he stared around... his falling companion, a wretched enemy soldier. There's no way my husband's keeping his mouth shut! Barking husband! Play, flying enemy soldiers! Heat enough to burn out!

"Ooh!"

In Bash's seat, Zell was doing the theatre.

Zell with a table knife in both hands cuts a chunk of beef thigh to the right and sticks the knife up to the smoked pig to the left.

Look at that, the men around you are raising their minds.

Most of all, the men's gaze is more directed at the content of Zell's story than at Zell's, and at Bash's, pulling.

There are a few war heroes, and Bash is special. It is no exaggeration to say that it is a living legend.

It's rare to be able to share a booze seat with someone like that.

There were various races around the bash.

Dwarves can be seen as well as humans and beasts.

Auga's Gorgol, defeated by Bash at the Martial Arts Festival, as well as Beast's Colo, naturally listened to Zell's talk of martial arts.

Bash's martial arts, the enemy soldiers who come out, are the ones who may have been in their own bodies, but those who care are not on this occasion.

Because enemies that appear in these martial arts traditions are always just 'enemy soldiers'.

Those who are so inseparable will not try to approach the bash in the first place.

……

Bash drinks his booze and drinks, but he keeps getting stuck with a difficult face.

I'm not angry.

My heart is sweating cold.

I am wary of when women will be asked about their universal history.

If it's an oak feast, it's a must hear item.

By the way, not so many people care about that in other races.

Well, as much as it is a sacubus, no one bothers to ask such a carefree thing on this rare occasion.

And those around them see such a bash attitude as something truly rigid.

When it comes to war heroes, they are just bragging even though they have not achieved much.

Of course, some of them have achieved a great deal, but most of those here are tired of hearing such stories.

For as much as I have a better track record.

In front of me is someone who has accomplished something obviously more amazing than himself.

It's obvious from today's game that it's not fake.

Even so, I don't talk a lot.

Sometimes they shake it from Zell: "When was that a battle?" or "Surely, there were more than five hundred enemies then! On the question," It's a battle in the Aarogen Wetlands "or" Not so much. It was about fifty people, "to the extent that he answered.

And every now and then, whenever someone who knows Bash's battle says, "Me, I've been watching that battle" or "I know, that story," Zell's theatrical credibility goes on.

They are convinced that Bash is a legendary man.

We're having a drink with an amazing man right now.

"Whoa, this is already the time. Sir, it's time to go home. My husband doesn't have to sleep for a year or so, but he still has a game tomorrow. We need to be in perfect physical condition."

"Right."

Bash stood up at Zell's word.

I don't hate to be flabbergasted, but I'm here for a purpose.

Unless you're talking about one or two beautiful women on this occasion, but now I want to focus on the game.

Can we win or not?

There is as much difference between heaven and earth.

Bash's challenge is a complete zero-sum game.

Never before have I been defeated due to lack of sleep, etc., but I wanted to eliminate the reason I was likely to lose at all.

"Hey, Mr. Bash is coming home!

"I'll take care of the account here!

"Idiot! I'll luxury Mr. Bash!

"No, I...!

Bash stepped out of the store as the men fought to earn the honor of being heroes.

It's too late for the night.

Even so, it was just a festival, and the streets were full of people.

Bash started walking to Primera's workshop as he sewed the crowd.

I feel good.

Victory booze boosts my mood and lightens my footsteps.

Most of all, the real victory is not now.

Tomorrow.

If you win, Bash gets his wife.

Thinking about this time tomorrow, Bash's footsteps don't just climb to heaven.

Nevertheless, it is forbidden to be alarmed.

Bash squeezed his mind and hurried home......

Second, they took my arm.

I am instantly dragged into the alley.

Nevertheless, the opponent is a bash.

Despite being abruptly pulled, he became royal in front of the killer without upsetting his balance.

"Who!

It was the man with the hood in his eyes who was grabbing Bash's arm.

Bash nursed that he was a warrior in the war, just because of his standing behavior.

Its arms are thick, equal to or more than the bash.

The center of gravity is low and falls so easily.

But that's not the only thing that caught my eye.

It is an iron ball that would have about the head of a human, connected to the chain on his feet, and to the tip of the chain.

He's a slave, he is.

"I didn't think so when I saw it at the opening ceremony, but I knew it, bash!

That's what the man in the hood said, he slowly raised his hood.

The face that appeared beneath it.

That was very similar to Bash's.

Green skin, bumpy fangs.

Oak.

Common green oak.

The shade is slightly darker than the bash, but the burn marks are more pronounced on the face.

If you look closely, the left hand grabbing the bash has no pharmacopoeia and pinky fingers.

On its face, on its hands... No, before that, Bash was familiar with the voice as well.

Definitely.

"No way, Donzoi?

"Oh, it's Master Donzoi!

"No way, I thought you were dead!

"Dear Hate, you're alive, all the time!

Donzoi died at the Battle of the Dobanga Hole.

Even so, I didn't confirm the body.

At that time, the Seven Nations continued their losing streak, and the Bashes continued to lose several times.

At that time, one of his companions was gone again.

It was certainly then that Donzoi disappeared.

The absence of companions on the battlefield is synonymous with death.

Because there's no way a brave Orc warrior can escape the battlefield and not come back.

"Isn't that Donzoi's husband?" Long time no see!

"Ha ha, is Zell with you!

But orcs are a cluttered species.

Assuming you can join another clan, even if you are detached from the unit, you may be integrated into another unit of that clan.

And at a later date, I met a buddy of mine from the original unit, and I said, "You're alive, Wallet!" and rejoice in reuniting.

"You guys look good, too, eh, it's Bash. What do they call you now," Hero "? It's perfect for you, Oi!

"Oh, no, um..."

Bash looked there at the chain on Donzoi's leg.

If you look closely, Donzoi also has a thick iron ring around his neck.

I'm a slave.

Orc runs away, gets caught doing evil in a foreign country, and becomes a slave.

It's like an oak fighting in the arena the other day...... no, now I think it's Donzoi too.

Bash saw Donzoi fighting in the arena and said he was fit as the end of a broken oak.

The feeling remains the same.

But Donzoi shouldn't have been such an oak.

A man who doesn't fail in his ingenuity with all his readiness, but must be a brave warrior, a man who is proud to throw himself into battle.

I shouldn't have been foolish enough to defy Oak King's life.

"... why is that happening?

"Oh, this... this is pity, but this is ours... no, this is my lack of power"

What Donzoi showed in response to Bash's query was a look of regret and regret.

But the look quickly disappeared.

"But I can handle this year. Don't worry, I won't tarnish Orc's pride any more. In the name of the Oak King."

……

Bash didn't know what that word meant.

But I even gave him the name of Oak King.

I must have regretted that Donzoi was also detached, became a slave, to be made such an embarrassing battle like a spectacle, and I could presume that he reflected.

Then Bash was going to forgive me.

As a comrade who lived and died in the same platoon, we have saved each other's lives more than once.

Because I could go back to the country and pretend to be an oak king.

"I don't know why you're here like that... I don't even have to ask. Sorry to bother you."

"No, not annoying or anything..."

"I thought you'd say that, after all, you're so proud of us Booders Squadron!

He was a donzoi who let go of Bash and praised him, but there again, he looked sorry.

"But bash. Sorry you're here... Tomorrow's game, we're gonna hit the finals."

"Really? But what happened to it?

"It's hard to say..."

Donzoi had a lost look as to whether he should say it or not.

But when I saw the bash to make up my mind, I said away.

"Tomorrow's game, will you lose?

"What?"

"No, I can't let you, the Orc hero, lose something to me. Just don't come to the venue."

"... why? Why would you do that?

"Why? Come on, you're gonna make me say that from my mouth. Give me a break. I have a pride, don't I? Compared to you, it might be a little something."

Donzoi said that with a bitter smile. He's not willing to answer me.

Lose intentionally.

I don't go out of my way to the game.

If you want to, there's nothing you can't do.

I don't think it would hurt my honor to think I was cowardly.

But if it's just a favor of a former comrade, there's just enough weight in the bash to tolerate it.

But I'm here for a purpose, too.

"Oh, don't tell everyone, I know. Never let anyone tell you you got away with cowardice. We'll all protect your pride, and thank you later. Oh, yeah, what, shall we do my woman?

"... wait. You're a slave, but you're being given a woman?

"Oh, oh, this is another slave woman, though. With the name Ellindy......... well, she's a good woman. My body is healthy and I've already had three... I was going to be my wife if I could make it home safely, but I wouldn't be spared if I were to do it to you"

I think Bash did the Buddha top.

Bash and oak.

Sometimes, though heroes, they are jealous of the crowd.

Though I am reflecting, I have a daughter-in-law in a man who breaks the Oak King code and falls into slavery, and why am I still not there?

"... hmm"

But it was not a bad suggestion.

Orcs never lie.

If Donzoi is to say she is a good woman, I guess that's enough of a woman.

If you don't have to go out of your way to win a martial arts festival to make sure you get a good woman, you've never been over it.

Donzoi accomplishes his purpose and Bash can also get a woman.

Exactly what WINWIN has to do with it.

I don't know what Donzoi is up to, but from what I hear, Bash has nothing to lose.

Primera seems to have accomplished her purpose, too, and abstaining would be problematic.

But......

"My disrespect for having you come and ask me to do this is above my knowledge. But... please. At the end of the day, I'll do it myself."

Donzoi disappeared into the back of the alley when he said so in a truly sorry way.

Only the sound of dragging the iron ball lingered in the alley for a long time.

"Sir, what are you going to do?

……

Bash doesn't answer.

I just stood up with a difficult face and kept seeing Donzoi disappear.

◆ ◆ ◆

Late at night.

Primera was in the workshop even after Bash slept when he returned.

Dwarves are the least sleep-needy of all races.

Especially in the midst of blacksmithing, I can stand the task of not sleeping for seven days and seven nights in order to gain strength from the Spirit of Fire and Soil.

Although Primera is also a half-human, she had no problem staying up all night.

What is in front of her is the finished hand of repair, and the sword.

I still don't think it's going to work as it is, and I've been rebuilding my sword for a long time.

"Damn... not this. Here it is..."

Another bottle.

Primera threw a sword like an iron mass.

Rolling into the corner of the workshop with Galan.

Had I ever been, I would have been content with that sword.

Nothing, there's nothing wrong with that.

Excellent sharpness and durability.

At least that's what Primera thinks.

But to let Bash use it, to win the final tournament, it's not good with that sword.

Just like before, it would break bent or pocky in the middle of a fight.

It's easy to call it Bash's fault, but where you get along, victory doesn't come in.

It is even more fierce than ever to fight in the final tournament.

Fighters are also at regular martial arts festivals.

He should be the only one who knows how to fight through the Martial Arts Festival.

If so, it is also likely enough to realize, for example, that Bash is not able to handle the weaponry well, and is focused on the weapon or brought into a long battle to destroy the weapon and suffer defeat.

Defeat due to weapon destruction.

That is not Bash's defeat.

Primera's defeat.

"... hu"

Primera exhales in a frustrating cage.

I don't know how I can strike a sword that won't bend even if Bash uses it.

Primera, like a dwarf, has been doing blacksmiths since she was a little girl.

All the basic techniques were tapped in, and I was praised for being muscular.

I developed a number of proprietary methods.

I've used innovative materials that other dwarves don't even look at, and I've made martial arts.

If you're a blacksmith, you're not going to lose. To no one.

But I still don't know.

How can I strike a sword that can withstand the bash......

Primera rests her hands and looks at the flames.

The sound of flaming patches and burning and the snoring of bashes heard from the warehouse dominate the field.

(What used to happen at times like this...)

Primera thought, thought, and remembered.

That's right.

Back in the day, you looked at an example and said you were referring to it.

There were some masterpieces in the house where they were born, left by Doradobanga.

"Ah."

So, Primera realized there was.

Why didn't you notice such an easy thing?

That's right.

There is. There.

- An example.

She stood up, flirting and aiming for a place as if possessed by something.

It's a warehouse.

There, Bash and Zell are sleeping.

When I opened the door quietly with the candle in one hand, there was an oak in the small warehouse, lying cramped.

I'm not snoring. Quiet stuff.

Primera snuck up and lifted the sole to make sure she had what she wanted right next to the bash and not to pull it off, find out.

It was tightly heavy.

Primera sneaked away from the bash again and went back to the workshop.

At the furnace light, I take a serious look at the sole I brought.

A sword.

A boneless sword that seems to be everywhere, of iron metal, with no embellishments.

Does the size assume to be used by a slightly larger race, such as oak, or is it excessive in Primera's hands?

The weight is much heavier than the sword struck by Primera.

But it was easy to lift and set up wonders.

The center of gravity is incredibly neat.

Primera, moreover, shined the light and looked seriously at herself.

My throat rattled.

"Beautiful..."

Oh, my God, I wondered if it was a beautiful body, Primera thought.

It doesn't have a special blade print.

It's not even sparkling.

If you don't see what you see, it may also look the same against the sword of casting.

But no.

This is a repeated forge, carefully over and over again.

Fidelity struck with overwhelming precision and sophistication, faithful to the basics, just foolish and faithful.

Nevertheless, I'm sure the sharpness is a big deal.

But the iron looked proud.

I even felt confident that we would never break.

Apparently, there's an indestructible enchant on it, but that's just an aside.

This sword doesn't bend.

Or beyond the battlefield of hundreds, may finally finish the role, but at least not turn on the battlefield once or twice

I don't care what kind of hex you use or what kind of possessor of power you use......

……

Primera returned the sword to the sheath.

And I threw earlier, picking up my own made sword.

Compare, with Bash's sword.

It's obvious which is better.

I don't even have to compare it.

In addition, Primera took the sword bent by Bash a few days ago.

See how the sword bends again, often.

The torso is as opposed as a knife.

It is beginning to bend from the ground up and the opposite is getting bigger with me to get to the tip of my sword.

The curvature reaches to the pattern, and the whole sword is like the Three Moons.

Beautiful bend.

If there is such a bend...

Primera frowns.

Nature and power in the face.

My eyeballs get jittery hot.

I thought it might be thin.

If the sword I struck were to bend, I believed so, having nothing but immature hands.

But... no.

No, it's not.

This way of turning, there is no imposition on the sword.

Power is distributed evenly without waste throughout the sword.

The blade muscle also stands. Power is transmitted vertically, not horizontally.

So it's not bent at all on the side.

I'm sure if you're a famous swordsman, you can't use it like this.

Rather, this may reduce the sharpness.

I mean, this swordsman, he labored his sword.

Not to break, not to bend, just with the power to defeat the opponent.

He carefully slaughtered the enemy.

"That's what I'm gonna do."

A bent man's voice stuck behind his brain.

Using the sword without waste, stand firmly on the blade muscle and, despite this, bend.

I mean, that's...

……

I knew it.

The truth is, from the beginning, I knew it.

My brother or sister told me you were still early, immature, and I've denied it, but I was aware.

I'm just telling myself.

I've just been fooling myself.

But I had to admit it already.

Take the famous sword and compare your own wasted sword......

Being stuck with reality.

"I'm immature."

From Primera's cheek, the polarity and tears spilled.