The Heavenly Demon Can’t Live A Normal Life [EN]: Chapter 338

Grakras knew it instinctively. He felt an overwhelming presence beyond the blizzard.

Ares, who he had just fought, was a strong enemy. But Grakras felt that if he used all his strength against Ares, he would be too weak to face the presence beyond the blizzard. Grakras was an Orc, a strong and fierce warrior from the land of Arcadia. So, he took a gamble.

Summoning Roman Dmitry was a gamble. Proving Roman Dmitry’s existence was the only way for the Orcs to win. Grakras thought Roman Dmitry might be impressed by his strength and join the Orcs. Or maybe he wanted to show Roman Dmitry to other Orcs to inspire them.

Grakras found it strange. Orcs were stronger than humans. Orcs had more soldiers. Humans should be easy to beat. But looking at Roman Dmitry, Grakras felt fear. Just one human made him feel this way. It was surprising and worrying.

“Hiss, I also promise,” Grakras said. “If I win, I will conquer Arcadia and trample over your country beyond the endless mountains.”

Words were unnecessary. Grakras gripped his axe tightly, exploding with aura, and charged forward.

He was fast. Despite his massive size, he moved like a lightning bolt, closing the distance in a heartbeat. His muscles bulged like rocks under his skin as he swung his axe fiercely at Roman Dmitry.

It was a terrifying sight to behold. The red aura swirling around the axe pulsed like a living flame, making it a terrifying sight that promised destruction.

Wham!

Rumble!

A powerful impact occurred. The attack was blocked. Grakras was taken aback by the easy block. He launched a series of follow-up attacks as if to maintain his momentum.

Wham!

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

It was the same tactic he had used to push back Ares. However, with each attack, cracks began to appear on Grakras’s face. When he fought Ares, he at least felt like he was pushing his opponent back, but in his exchanges with Roman Dmitry, he felt immense resistance.

It was certain. Roman Dmitry was incredibly strong, stronger than anyone he had ever met. Judging that he couldn’t be defeated with ordinary tactics, he suddenly changed direction mid-attack.

Swoosh.

He dug into the right side. And then, after inducing the opponent’s defense, he rotated his body backward and attacked in the opposite direction.

Wham-

Mana exploded from his body, a wave of raw power that distorted the air around him. Adding explosive power to the rotation, he didn’t give the opponent a chance to react.

It was then.

Flash.

Stagger.

The balance of his body wavered. He was sure he had caught the opponent off guard, but before he knew it, his arm was flung away, and a burning pain flared on his face. He narrowly avoided having his head sliced off.

But such was the speed and surprise of the attack that a red line, bleeding and deep, was drawn from Grakras’s eyebrow to the area around his mouth. It hurt a lot.

‘This is insane.’

Cracks appeared. He had expected Roman Dmitry to be strong. But what just happened was beyond comprehension. Even he, who considered himself the strongest in Arcadia, couldn’t properly grasp the attack, and he had to block Roman Dmitry’s attack without even having time to readjust his staggering body.

Wham!

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

His eyes spun. It was the same tactic. Roman Dmitry unleashed a series of downward strikes, just as Grakras had done, and Grakras was pushed back relentlessly.

It was an unfamiliar experience. Orcs were born with monstrous strength that humans could not dare to approach. From the moment he awakened his aura, thanks to his natural strength, Grakras had never been pushed back in terms of strength, but now he had no way to resist.

It was a simple clash. Grakras’s presence was crushed by the sword that was swung so plainly, as if daring him to block it.

Wham!

Rumble!

He was pushed back. Grakras gritted his teeth. Seeing Roman Dmitry slowly approaching, as if he hadn’t even used his full power yet, Grakras felt that things had gone wrong.

‘…At this rate, I will be defeated.’

Roman Dmitry was a monster. A type of human he had never experienced before. Just as he was a mutant among the Orcs, Roman Dmitry was an existence that could not be explained by the limits of humans.

He still found it hard to accept reality. He couldn’t understand how a human could become so strong by overcoming their physical limitations. But the fight had already begun.

Knowing that the fate of the Orc race rested on his shoulders, he had to defeat his opponent by any means possible.

“Hiss, Shaman! Cast a spell on me!” he strained his neck.

At Grakras’s cry, the shaman hurriedly stirred up his magic power. It was outside help. It was a foul. Even knowing that, Roman Dmitry’s soldiers showed no signs of agitation. Luna’s soldiers were stamping their feet, but they couldn’t intervene because the direct line soldiers were staying still.

Whoosh-

Mana spread out. The shaman raised both hands, rolling back his eyes.

“Aaaaaaaah-.”

It was a bizarre sound. The magic power flowing from him was absorbed into Grakras, and Grakras’s eyes turned bright red. It was a different type of spell than Berserker. It was a spell that granted power by permanently destroying the shaman’s magic power.

With the strongest spell, Grakras felt mana exploding from within.

Thud.

Rumble!

He kicked off the ground. It would be different from before. The blood vessels on Grakras’s face bulged prominently, and his eyes gleamed with murderous intent.

“Hiss, die!”

Rumble!

The wind split. The ground shook with his surging movement. Aura exploding in red. As if to cut down Roman Dmitry in one fell swoop, Grakras burned his life force and poured it into a single strike.

At that moment.

Splurt.

Blood splattered. People’s eyes widened. Grakras suddenly tilted his head back and fell backward. Roman Dmitry’s sword, parting the burning red aura, cleanly severed Grakras’s right arm.

It was over. An overwhelming victory. Seeing Grakras collapse, one of the Orcs watching from behind shouted.

“Hiss, protect Grakras-nim!”

“Hiss, attack!”

Tens of thousands of Orcs charged forward all at once. Some took care of Grakras, while the rest, with fire in their eyes, unleashed their murderous intent towards Roman Dmitry. It was a spectacle.

Dmitry’s soldiers also raised their weapons to respond.

“I will handle it,” Roman Dmitry said with a single command.

The soldiers lowered their weapons. Even as they watched the Orcs surging in like a wave, Roman Dmitry’s command was absolute to them. Roman Dmitry walked forward. Then, he extended his sword towards the Orcs.

‘First Form of the Middle Stage of the Demonic Heavenly Sword Technique.’

Flash.

Rumble!

Aura swept forward. The Orcs who had hurriedly raised their weapons to block were torn apart, and the result was no different for the Orc warriors who used aura. Roman Dmitry continued to advance. The corpses of the Orcs who had been alive just moments ago were trampled under his feet, but Roman Dmitry did not reveal any emotion.

It was a peaceful scene.

Facing the Orcs charging towards him, Roman simply swung his sword.

Scritch – the sound of his sword cutting through flesh.

Plop! – an Orc’s head falling to the ground.

The slaughter had begun.

He cut down the Orcs rushing at the forefront one after another. When necessary, he unleashed his aura to sweep through the space.

The enemies’ attacks were completely ineffective. Orc axes crashed against Roman’s sword, sparks flying, but he didn’t even move an inch. Their attacks were like hitting a wall.

It was like the Orcs were walking into death itself. Every Orc who came close to Roman died.

He killed them in many ways – some lost their heads, others were cut in half.

Not a single Orc managed to land a meaningful attack.

Whoosh. He evaded the attacks.

When he deflected the attacks coming in frantically, a merciless death invariably visited the Orcs. Blood splattered.

He continued to kill. His sword flashed like silver lightning, slicing through Orcish leather and flesh. Blood sprayed onto the muddy ground.

Corpses piled up like mountains in his path, and the Orcs’ faces were filled with terror. Their eyes widened in horror as they saw their friends fall. Some Orcs tried to run, but there was nowhere to go.

It was an unfamiliar situation for them.

Graksar didn’t believe Roman was real, because Orcs had never seen a human this strong before.

Hundreds of Orcs died in just a few seconds. The ground was already soaked red with Orc blood. The air smelled of iron and death. Orc bodies lay twisted and broken everywhere.

Usually, numbers overwhelmed the few, but no matter how much they charged, they couldn’t inflict a single wound.

But they didn’t stop charging. Seeing Graksar collapsing on the floor and spitting blood, they had to protect their leader.

“I told you. I would exterminate the Orcs as the price of defeat.”

It was not an empty boast. In this place, he intended to kill all the Orcs.

It was then.

“Screech, stop! Everyone, fall back!”

Graksar, collapsed on the floor, shouted, spitting blood.

Graksar’s appearance was wretched. His complexion was pale, and the way he kept spitting blood proved that his life was not long for this world. Graksar gasped for breath.

Barely managing to swallow a breath, he looked up at Roman Dmitry.

“Screech, that fellow was right. Beyond the endless mountains, there was a monster.”

His words were strange and hard to understand.

Gradually, his breathing began to stabilize. As if a dying ember was flaring up, Graksar continued to speak with a clear mind.

“Screech, a few months ago, there was a fellow who came to me. That fellow knew about my plan to conquer Arcadia, and he offered to grant me the power to do so if I gave him everything I had. Screech, when I refused, that fellow said something interesting. Beyond the endless mountains, there is a monster. A monster that I cannot handle, a monster that would prevent the Orcs from daring to cross the endless mountains even if they were to conquer Arcadia in the future.”

Monster. That was Roman Dmitry. At first, he didn’t know, but facing Roman Dmitry, he felt he knew why that being had said that.

“Screech, I refused to the end. Knowing that that fellow was a demon, I couldn’t sell my existence.”

Stagger. He raised his body. Blood poured out. The area of his right arm was empty, and even though he raised his head, he couldn’t find the same spirit as before.

He laughed. Now, facing death, Graksar did not regret his choice.

“Screech, the conquest of Arcadia was a voluntary choice, and that thought has not changed even now. Roman Dmitry, you may say that what we have done is cruel, but for us, it was something we had to do.”

Bipedal like humans, using tools, and omnivorous, Orcs, who think and act for themselves, were clearly a race similar to humans, even if their origins were different.

But similar did not mean the same. Orcs and humans were different. They showed differences in many ways, such as being born with immense strength.

Among them, there was a problem that put the Orcs in a difficult situation. Orcs had a problem: they had too many babies. This is called ‘prolificacy’.

While humans carried a child in their womb for more than 8 months and gave birth to one child, Orcs gave birth to as many as four or five children in just 3 months, not just one. Just as humans occasionally gave birth to twins, there were also cases where they gave birth to more than twice as many children.

In the past, prolificacy was a blessing. However, as Arcadia became covered in cold, prolificacy became a curse that held back the Orc race.

The land froze. Animals died. As food became scarce, the food to feed the baby Orcs ran out. The Orcs needed change.

If they couldn’t prevent prolificacy by nature, they had to at least think about how to feed the future lives.

When Graksar was young, he learned a shocking truth. At that time, the Orc race had already adapted to the cold of Arcadia, and he heard that there was a tradition called burial.

At first, his parents said that it was a way to lead the sick and old Orcs to a peaceful death. By ending their lives and burying them in the ground, they were freed from the suffering of this world.

But the truth was different. In the past, Orcs had a tradition called ‘burial’. But it wasn’t what humans think of as burial. It was a way to get food. When Orcs got old or sick, they were killed and eaten by the others.

It was shocking. The Orcs’ survival method was too cruel. The sick and old Orcs despaired at their end and accepted burial with miserable faces, like livestock being dragged to the slaughterhouse. But there was no one who refused it.

Knowing that they had survived until now through burial, they hoped to help the race in this way.

It must have been from then on that desire seethed in Graksar’s heart. Far away, he heard that humans lived prosperously by creating storage.

They, who gave birth to few, lived happily with just that, but the Orcs could never be satisfied with reality and live. So he dreamed of conquest. Instead of eating the same race, how about subjugating other races and using them as food?

From some point on, that thought filled his head. Then one day, an incident occurred that ignited his desire.

He went home after hunting, and the mother who gave birth to Graksar was being torn apart by her young siblings.

“Screech, my baby. Don’t be angry. This is, our destiny.”

It was the mother’s choice. The cold worsened. The food was running out. In a situation where even burial could not handle it, the mother had no choice but to make an extreme choice, watching her children die of malnutrition.

The mother breastfed her children. Even though she was being torn apart and blood was splattering, she encouraged their actions, saying that it was the right thing to do for the children who were not yet thinking normally.

That day, the world collapsed. Graksar felt that something was seriously wrong. If there was a god, why did he make the Orcs like this? Due to the harsh cold and the curse of prolificacy, he had no choice but to watch his mother die with his own eyes.

He decided to wage war. He overthrew the existing rulers. He seized power. Not by anyone’s intention, but he himself wanted to do so.

He refused the demon’s contract. He did not want to defile the choice for the survival of the race with a dirty contract. And now, Graksar looked up at Roman Dmitry.

He, looking down with a face stained with blood, would surely keep his word to exterminate the Orcs. He was such a man. Just exchanging blows, he knew how cruel Roman Dmitry was.

“Screech, you damn demon.”

He looked at the sky. Even if it was the wrong choice, Graksar could not just watch the Orcs become extinct like this.

“…Take everything from me, but give me strength. Such a powerful force that can protect my race.”

At that moment, the space was distorted. As it twisted, a hole like an abyss appeared, and from there, a purple aura poured out. And, that aura covered Graksar’s body.