The [Ogre] village.
Located in the southeastern part of the Jura Great Forest, it was home to only around three hundred [Ogre], making it quite small for a settlement of a higher race. But its actual fighting strength was far greater than its numbers suggested.
After all, aside from the [Tengu] of the sacred mountain and the [Gozu] and [Mezu] who lived across the river, there were almost no races that could defeat an [Ogre] in a one-on-one fight.
Even the [Dryad]s, guardians of the great forest, acknowledged the strength of the [Ogre]. There was hardly anything more that needed to be said.
And yet—
—the pride born from that strength could sometimes become a shackle around their own ankles.
At the same time, however, it was also the source of the best possible circumstances for them.
**
Slide...
"......"
The chieftain's manor at the very center of the village.
In this place, guarded more heavily than anywhere else in the village, only three people of the current generation were allowed to come and go freely.
The current [Ogre] chieftain who owned the manor, and his two children.
"Hohoho!"
...At least, that had been true until this very moment, when a majin in a [clown] mask broke in.
"...Who are you?"
Long hair and a beard burning red, armor twice as massive as anyone else's, and two horns just like his children's.
The current [Ogre] chieftain glared at the intruder before him and swallowed a groan inwardly.
'What monstrous magic power... To think a majin like this was in the great forest...'
He had fought powerful [Gozu] and [Mezu] warriors from across the river before, but the sheer scale of the [clown]'s magic power was unlike anything he had felt in his entire life. He had already abandoned any thought of fighting.
Because even the strongest [Ogre] in three hundred years, [Sword Demon], instinctively understood that he would not be able to defeat that [clown].
"...What exactly did you come here for?"
Still, there was one fortunate thing...
...his opponent happened to be Footman, the least intelligent member of the clowns.
"Hohoho! What I want is the lives of you [Ogre]. If you had quietly accepted Lord Gelmud's offer, I would not have had to kill you with my own hands... but now that your chance is gone, you have no value left. So you'll have to die."
"...Gelmud...? You mean that arrogant majin who said he would give us names if we became his subordinates...?"
The chieftain took advantage of the fact that the [clown] was not killing him immediately and tried to buy as much time as possible.
He had no idea that two hundred thousand [Orc] were attacking outside. So he believed that if he could just stall long enough for the other [Ogre], including [Sword Demon], to notice something was wrong and arrive here, they might still be able to win.
And whether by coincidence or fate, that choice was the one closest to the right answer.
"Hohoho! In any case... as of today, the [Ogre] of the Jura Great Forest will be wiped out. Not a single one will be left ali—"
Tap...
"—?"
Tap... tap...
Footsteps.
In the manor, where only Footman and the chieftain should have been, the sound of light footsteps began to ring out.
Fwoooosh...!
Together with a violently surging golden magic power.
"Ho... hoh...? This magic power...?!"
He knew this magic power. Footman did.
This was the first time he had seen it with his own eyes, but it was exactly the same as the magic power of the person his superior had repeatedly warned him to be careful of if they ever met.
Tap.
"......"
The guardian of the West, called humanity's strongest force—
"...[Sword of Spirit]...?!"
—the magic power of an ancient [Hero].
**
'......'
[Report. Stress levels have risen suddenly.]
'......You really don't need to tell me that.'
Adelio, who had fortunately arrived before Footman and the [Ogre] chieftain at just the right moment, frowned even more deeply than he already had before coming here.
Outwardly, he was relieved, but the title Footman had just used was making irritation rise inside him.
Because it was [Sword of Spirit]—that painfully cringeworthy nickname he had been glad not to hear lately.
'...If only that hadn't happened at Walpurgis... those [Demon Lord]s never would have saddled me with that title...'
Before long, the irritation aimed at the nickname began to turn into disgust aimed at Footman.
And Adelio made no effort to hide it.
Rooooar!!
There was not even the slightest possibility that he could lose to something like a mere [Deathmen], whether he tried to hide his feelings or not.
'I don't intend to kill him right away... but it should be fine if I go a little rough on him...'
With a thought bordering on self-hypnosis—He's a [Deathmen], so it's not like he'll die easily—Adelio temporarily switched off the part of his reason that held him back.
"Ho... hoh...? Why... why are you he—"
Shing...
At last, he drew [Overlord Black Star] from his waist.
His eyes were cold—very much like the look his lover wore when she was angry.
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