Yuri clenched the red gem tightly in his hand.
He had guessed it wasn’t an ordinary trinket, given its power to drive orcs into a frenzy—but he never imagined it would be connected to this ruin.
The gem pulsed, its inner light growing brighter.
Through it, Yuri could see the room the hunter had reached in greater detail.
There were human bones scattered about, just like those he’d seen from outside.
All appeared to have died by their own hands.
Amid the pile of corpses stood a staff embedded with a magical stone.
The gem’s glow intensified.
Yuri wasn’t sure if he was moving on his own or if the staff was compelling him forward.
Still clutching the red gem, he placed his other hand on the magical stone atop the staff.
Suddenly, his vision whitened.
Images began to form.
First, a clear blue sky, then an endless expanse of grassland.
Yuri soon realized he was seeing everything through someone else’s eyes.
The memories within the staff were old and faded.
Some parts were torn and patched awkwardly, making them hard to understand at first, but the overall story was clear.
This building had been a refuge for hunters.
They stayed here, carrying out the king’s orders to exterminate dangerous creatures.
Orcs.
The memory’s owner had earned the title of hunter from the kingdom and traveled to the far edge of the grasslands, where he was trained by a master.
They hunted orcs relentlessly.
But the orcs never seemed to dwindle. At the sight of hunters, they fled immediately, yet their tenacious vitality allowed their numbers to grow.
So the hunters used magical artifacts.
The memory’s owner received one from his master.
“This is the mark of an orc hunter.”
The object he held was the same red gem necklace Yuri now possessed.
All hunters carried one.
“It can lure the orcs.”
Yuri understood now—the red gem was a tool used by the ancient grassland hunters.
“Ugly, pitiful creatures,” the master always said.
“Show them no mercy. Death is the only salvation you can offer.”
They hunted orcs with swords, bows, and sometimes magic-infused weapons. No matter their age—adult or child—if they were orcs, they were to be killed.
The hunter once asked a question.
“Why do orcs hate humans so much?”
The master said nothing.
Eventually, the hunter grew skilled, and his master aged, ready to retire.
When the time came, the master passed on his final knowledge.
That night, after slaughtering a group of orcs, they sat by a campfire amid the corpses.
“Do you know how orcs came to be?”
“Um?”
It was a question the hunter had never considered.
“They came from the far east, pushed into the grasslands, right?”
“No.”
The master told an old tale.
“There was a nobleman who delighted in murder. He released slaves and hunted them for sport. When the king heard of this, he forbade the slaughter, and the nobleman was deeply upset. Then a sorcerer approached him with an offer.”
The sorcerer taught the nobleman a dark magic that allowed him to kill without restraint. He created beings that were human, yet not human.
“That dark, filthy magic corrupted humans.”
The hunter was shocked.
“Could it be that…?”
The master looked at him with faded eyes.
“Orcs are humans corrupted by black magic.”
The nobleman used humans to create orcs. He gave them grotesque appearances fit for hunting and modified them to reproduce easily, increasing their numbers.
The orcs were bred in stables within the noble’s domain, supplying a constant stream of prey.
“They were human, but not human. No one dared blame the nobleman. On the contrary, those unaware of the orcs’ true nature praised him for ridding the land of terrible beasts.”
But the truth came to light.
The nobleman was executed, and the sorcerer who created the orcs vanished without a trace.
Meanwhile, orcs that escaped the stables formed packs beyond the kingdom’s borders.
Thus, the monsters created by humans became cursed marauders, hating humans and feeding on their flesh.
“The dark magic no longer exists, but the orcs began breeding on their own. Their numbers have grown beyond control. Orcs are humans altered by black magic.”
“Black magic…”
The hunter shuddered.
In the old grassland kingdom, black magic was clearly a source of terror.
“That’s why orcs instinctively hate untainted humans and attack with fierce aggression. Whether it’s nature or jealousy, no one knows.”
“So, what we’ve been killing all this time were originally humans.”
The master smiled, wrinkles forming around his mouth.
“It’s not murder—it’s salvation. Our duty is to send those cursed by black magic to rest.”
The dark power of the orc shaman’s black magic, the human sacrifices mentioned by Moyongchan, and the black magic Ragna spoke of all tangled in Yuri’s mind.
Perhaps it was connected to the tragedy of his past life.
The memory shifted.
The master had passed on, and the hunter continued to hunt orcs.
He had become the leader of the hunters.
Though much time passed, the orcs never diminished.
They even banded together to raid the kingdom’s borders directly. The kingdom sent troops in response, but to no avail.
Then tragedy struck.
A disaster of unknown cause befell the kingdom.
As the kingdom faltered, the orcs ran rampant.
The hunters’ refuge, cut off from support, was soon under threat.
The orcs had no intention of leaving the hunters alive. They would torture and humiliate them until they begged for death.
The kingdom fell, and the hunters were surrounded.
A sorcerer who stayed with the hunters proposed a plan.
“We’ll seal this place with magic. Completely isolate it until reinforcements arrive.”
“Will it work?”
“It’ll take time… but yes.”
Would help really come?
Still, they couldn’t give up.
The orcs were already attacking the building. The doors burst open, and orcs poured in.
“I’ll buy us time.”
The hunter drew his sword and stepped outside the iron gate.
He stood firm at the entrance.
“Salvation.”
The master had called their work salvation.
Now, the hunter believed it too.
He gripped his sword, glaring at the hideous monsters advancing on him.
They were humans corrupted by a curse—filled with instinctive hatred for humans and craving human flesh.
“May they find salvation someday.”
He sacrificed his life to buy time.
After killing countless orcs, he leaned against the wall and met his end.
His vision darkened.
…
And then, a face appeared again.
The sorcerer who sealed the iron gate.
His complexion was haggard.
“No one came. Outside is still filled with orcs. We’ve decided to die here.”
He spoke.
“We used flawed methods, but we’ve left behind the memory of the greatest hunter in history. Someday, someone will see this, and may our deaths not be in vain. May those cursed creatures be wiped from this land. And…”
He spoke his final words.
Somewhat unexpected.
“Beware the demon’s grimoire.”
Yuri awoke.
His head throbbed.
He bowed his head briefly, steadying his breath.
It wasn’t just the overload of absorbing another’s memory. A dark energy had taken root in his mind.
But from his core, the spirit of the Soul Slash stirred, pushing out the evil energy.
Only after a long struggle did his mind clear.
“Damn it…”
This was no ordinary magic.
Yuri realized that the magic used to hold the dead’s memories was itself a form of black magic.
Had black magic been so common in the old grassland kingdom?
Yuri looked down at the red gem in his hand. Now revealed as an ancient hunting tool.
He tucked it back into his chest.
Then he removed his hand from the magical stone on the staff.
The stone at the staff’s tip shattered.
It crumbled to dust, scattering over the pile of corpses, and the staff toppled over.
The magical energy sealing the underground space vanished completely.
A faint voice echoed.
“Prrrinceee…”
It was likely a spell allowing only those with the red gem to enter.
As the magic faded, the seal disappeared.
Yuri approached the entrance and pulled the door handle.
The door opened easily.
Laurent’s face appeared.
“Huh?”
“You’re out!”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Yuri threw the door wide open, revealing the rest of the knights.
They peered inside.
“There are bodies in here too…”
“They must have hidden from the orcs but eventually all died.”
“I see.”
Laurent looked down at the skeletons on the floor.
“So it seems this man held off the orcs alone until the end.”
“Looks like it.”
Yuri silently gazed at the corpse slumped before the iron gate.
The sorcerer had called him the greatest hunter in history.
But in his own memory, the hunter saw himself as just an ordinary man.
Looking down at the remains of a man unaware of his own greatness, Yuri returned the rusty sword lying on the ground to his chest.
“This must have been a building from the old grassland kingdom. It was destroyed by orc attacks.”
After a quick sweep of the interior with the knights and finding nothing else of note, Yuri stepped back outside.
Just then, the allied forces were approaching nearby.
Ragna appeared, leading a squadron of knights clad in black armor.
With a sly smile, he asked Yuri, “How was it?”
“Just ruins,” Yuri replied, carefully avoiding any mention of what he had seen in his memories.
“Looks like remnants of an ancient steppe kingdom. Seems the orcs wiped them all out.”
“Orcs have always been a problem, haven’t they? I wonder how such creatures even came to exist in this world…”
“Indeed,” Ragna clicked his tongue. “Our alliance is basically settling their grudges for them.”
“And protecting the people who might suffer in the future.”
“Exactly.” Ragna grinned.
Ragna ordered them to camp for the night beside the ruins.
The allied forces pitched tents and set up guards to protect the supplies.
Dusk settled in.
Yuri sat in the Briol camp, eating dinner, surrounded by his close aides.
“How strong do you think Okua is?”
“Incredibly strong, no doubt.”
“But we have Moyongchan on our side…”
Jarred seemed noticeably more relaxed knowing Moyongchan was with them.
“Don’t be so sure. Okua commands those brutal orcs. I’d say he’s at least on par with the Ten Strong.”
Raymond challenged that view.
Yuri was a bit surprised—he hadn’t realized Raymond regarded Okua with such caution.
“Come on, orcs? You really think they’re as strong as the Ten Strong?”
“I do.”
“Seriously?”
“Orcs aren’t fools.”
“True. They’re cowardly and cunning.”
“And yet, they keep charging at us, even knowing they’ll die.”
“What you’re saying is…”
“That Okua is an absolute force.”
“Makes sense.”
“The orcs never united before because of their nature. For someone to impose that kind of fear to keep them in line—that means he’s incredibly powerful.”
“Now that you mention it…”
Yuri nodded thoughtfully.
“I agree with Raymond.”
“Really?”
Though it was based on knowledge from his past life, Yuri’s conclusion matched Raymond’s.
Okua was a monster who personally killed Moyongchan and rose to the Ten Strong. Until Yuri’s death, Okua reigned as the terror of the steppe.
“So everyone, stay alert.”
Suddenly, the sound of bells rang out.
It was a warning they’d heard once or twice a day.
The knights instinctively set down their trays and stood.
An orc raid.
“The bells are louder than usual today.”
“Jarred, do you know the alarm signals?”
“Huh?”
“This rhythm means there are many enemies.”
“Oh, yes, of course I know.”
Yuri gave him a pointed look.
The bell’s rhythm indicated the number of enemies and the level of danger. This persistent ringing meant the situation was serious.
“Let’s move.”
Yuri stepped out immediately.
As he activated his mana mode, he sensed the orcs’ presence.
Suddenly, memories overlapped.
Ancient orc hunters were dispatched to the steppe solely to kill orcs.
They knew orcs intimately—skilled butchers, in a way.
Without realizing it, Yuri found himself mimicking the hunter’s purposeful stride as he approached the orcs.
It felt strange.
“Something…”
It was as if a long-buried, ancient memory was surfacing from his subconscious.
“That’s what it was.”
The mage hadn’t left the hunter’s memories in the staff just for Yuri to experience the past.
He had passed on the hunter’s lethal techniques to the discoverer.
Yuri felt the old hunter’s methods blending with his own swordsmanship and magic.
It wasn’t confusing.
The memories that came to him were calm and cooperative.
Yuri spoke to a soldier fighting nearby.
“I’ll handle this. Fall back.”
“Y-yes!”
The soldier retreated.
An orc tried to pursue, but Yuri blocked its path. The orc bared its teeth and raised its axe.
Yuri lowered his stance.
He could see it all clearly—how the orc would move, and how he should respond—like watching the future unfold.
With a brief exchange, the orc’s head flew skyward.
Too easy.
Yuri smirked.
“Seems living a good life has its rewards.”
At least when it came to killing orcs, he had become the ultimate expert.
He bowed his head in respect to the greatest orc hunter of ancient times.