I Alone Regress in a Hero Party That Was Annihilated - Chapter 4

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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#4. The Hunting Festival in the Blizzard (2)

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The cold of the Northern Snow Mountains is harsh.

In the blizzard that drops to minus 40 degrees, the world was completely dyed white due to the heavy snowfall.

Crunch— Crunch— Crunch— Crunch—

Featherback steps forward, cutting through the bitter wind.

“….”

When he concentrated mana in his eyes, the scenery ahead became clearly visible through the floating snow particles.

…Whoosh!

Though it was only a handful of weak mana, when he spun it frantically fast, a high-speed rotating Mana Ring was created.

The Mana Ring circulated through Featherback’s body, heating his blood.

Iron Blood pumped from his furnace-like heart circulated through blood vessels throughout his body, warming him and completely burning away waste products.

Despite the cold that cut flesh like a blade, hot heat and sweat poured out from within his white fur clothing.

‘I need to hurry if I’m going to cut all the Orcs’ throats on the Mountain Peak.’

Eventually, Featherback reached near the summit of the First Peak.

There were Orcs who had arrived before Featherback.

A Scout Unit that seemed to have come down from the Opposite Peak.

They were moving toward a messy wooden building that appeared to be a Temporary Outpost.

‘Thirteen of them?’

Featherback walked very slowly while almost lying flat in the Snow Field.

The appearance of the Orcs was somewhat different from those he had seen before his regression.

Bodies similar to humans but much larger.

Crushed noses and snouts, teeth protruding beyond their lips.

Small, murky pupils gleamed with murderous intent, and bumpy muscles could be seen beyond the crude fur pelts covering their bodies.

Seeing this, Featherback thought.

‘…What pale Scholars they are.’

The Orcs he had encountered before his regression were incomparably larger, stronger, and more hideous than these weaklings.

Having received the Demon King’s power to become stronger and more savagely twisted, they had thoroughly served as the vanguard and spearhead of the Demon Army.

But now, having not yet received the Demon King’s power, their limbs were far too thin and frail compared to his past memories, looking like corn stalks.

‘At that level, I could kill not just thirteen but even one hundred thirty.’

It felt like the night’s harvest would be quite abundant.

As the distance narrowed, Featherback moved his body very slowly and imperceptibly while completely prone.

…Whoosh!

He scooped up some of the snow piled around him and put it in his mouth.

This was to prevent his hot breath from rising white and catching the Orcs’ attention.

He had also removed the ice from near the scabbard in advance so the sword could be drawn smoothly.

The snow and icicles attached to the shield were also completely removed to reduce weight.

The Orc horde was now right in front of Featherback.

Thud— Thud— Thud— Thud—

The ankles of the Orcs came into view in front of Featherback, who lay flat on his stomach.

‘…Not yet.’

Featherback buried his body even deeper in the snow and waited.

With a White Sword in one hand and a White Shield in the other.

The Pure White Sword and shield were indistinguishable from the snow.

‘…Deeper.’

The distance between Featherback and the Orcs had closed to just a step or two.

Now he could even clearly see the breath the Orcs exhaled.

But even at that moment, Featherback waited without moving.

Like a landmine buried in the ground, waiting for enemies without any emotion.

‘…Just a little bit more.’

Featherback tightened his grip on the sword and shield.

The Orcs still hadn’t noticed Featherback’s presence at all.

Featherback’s hair was white as snow, he wore white fur clothing, and even the sword and shield in his hands were smelted from white White Iron.

‘…It’s almost time.’

At a distance where he could reach them just by extending his sword, the Orcs’ ankles passed by.

Featherback waited for the optimal timing while burying his body in the cold snow.

Suppressing his pounding heart, trapping his hot breath in his lungs.

In the tense atmosphere.

If even one of the nerve fibers like a detonator were to snap, he would immediately spring up and explode.

But despite that, Featherback waited.

He waited and waited again.

Thud—

The first one’s ankle passed in front of Featherback’s eyes.

Thud— Thud—

The second one’s ankle passed in front of Featherback’s eyes.

Thud—Thud—Thud—

The third one’s ankle passed in front of Featherback’s eyes….

‘…Now!’

That was precisely the moment Featherback initiated his action.

Crack—

Featherback extended his arm, breaking through the pile of snow accumulated on his body.

His muscles, coiled to their limit, released as the blade that had been loaded all this time shot forward.

…Slice!

The sound of a coldly forged blade cutting through a chunk of tough muscle fiber.

Just as an experienced fisherman instinctively knows what has caught on the hook at the end of his line, a skilled swordsman also senses what his sword tip has cut and how deeply.

‘There was a good feel to it. It went in properly.’

Featherback’s prediction was accurate.

[Graaaaahhh!?]

The third Orc clutched its ankle and collapsed to the ground, writhing.

Chaos began to spread through the formation lined up front and back.

[Gruk? Gruruk?]

[Squeak! Squeeeeeeak?]

The other Orcs seemed not to have realized yet what had happened.

Of course, Featherback didn’t wait for the Orcs to grasp reality.

Flash!

Featherback’s sword scattered sword flashes in succession.

Mörsolt Swordsmanship First Form. Blood Drawing.

The surrounding snow flakes all turned red at once.

Thud— Thud!

The second and fourth Orcs, who had been closest, also collapsed with their ankles half-severed.

The first and fifth Orcs, who had been rushing over hastily, had to crumble while clutching their blood-stained groins and foaming at the mouth.

The heavy snow that brushed past the blood-colored dance steps turned crimson red.

[Squeak! Squeeeeak!]

[Graaaaaaaaaaahhh!]

The Orcs in the back didn’t even know where or what was happening.

That was understandable, since Featherback was still crawling low through the snow field, cutting only the lower bodies of the Orcs.

…Spurt! …Spurt! …Spurt! …Spurt!

Blood from wounds cut by Mörsolt’s sword does not easily stop flowing.

The blizzard obscuring vision, the sky and ground dyed completely white, and Featherback thoroughly camouflaged in protective coloring.

Featherback handled his sword more easily than his own fingers.

…Crack! …Crack! …Crack! …Craaack!

The Orcs’ ankles and groins were cut off like chunks of rotten radish.

Some Orcs blindly swung their clubs downward toward the floor, striking Featherback.

Clang―!

Featherback blocked them with the shield firmly secured to his left forearm.

…Thunk!

As Featherback rose to his feet, he simultaneously pierced the throat of an Orc in front with his sword.

No matter how large and muscular they were, once their throat was pierced by a sword, they couldn’t exert any strength.

Featherback grabbed the back of the Orc’s neck with his free hand and pulled it forcefully inward.

Crunch!

The sword penetrated through the tough muscle, embedding even deeper.

The struggling Orc died instantly, collapsing limply.

‘This brings back memories. Those were good times.’

Featherback moved his body exactly as he had when he ran wild before his regression.

Though his mana was limited, his body was correspondingly smaller, more flexible, and much lighter.

For situations requiring surprise attacks, now felt far more advantageous than before his regression.

How should he put it—a body optimized for killing something quickly and stealthily.

‘…Children are truly terrifying beings indeed.’

Featherback eliminated the Orcs one by one.

Every shot hit its mark, every strike was fatal—with each swing, exactly one life was extinguished.

Random blind attacks that happened to connect were blocked with his shield, then repaid with sharp sword thrusts.

[…]

[… …]

[… … …]

The Orcs’ chatter grew quieter.

In their roughened breathing, a different emotion could now be felt instead of anger.

Fear.

Fear of an invisible enemy, to be precise.

Swish― Swoosh― Swish― Slash!

Beyond the blood-stained blizzard, a white ghost danced.

Those touched by its dance steps invariably had to offer chunks of flesh from their vital points, and if they were unlucky enough to be dragged along, they would only die brutally.

The crude and rough weapons of the Orcs were useless.

In a world dyed entirely white, the pure white sword and shield wielded by the rampaging ghost felt like phantoms.

The experience of being toyed with by an invisible enemy in heavy snow and cutting winds, dying coldly.

That turned the brave Orc Warriors into frightened children.

…Flash!

Featherback’s sword gleamed with sword light once more.

[Squeak!?]

With a scream, one of the orc’s heads flew up into midair.

The blood spurting from the severed neck immediately froze like sharp ruby crystals.

‘It really is cold.’

Feeling the blood freeze, Featherback changed his strategy.

Slash―

Now he didn’t bother aiming for the orcs’ vital points.

Just cutting deep into their thighs or lower abdomen was enough.

As hot blood poured out, it dragged body heat along with it, and in the process of freezing into sharp spikes, the skin would necrotize and their movements became unnatural.

The orcs stood bewildered, holding their organs with both hands as they threatened to spill out through their torn belly hide.

Needless to say, even those organs froze, causing tremendous pain.

For such creatures, there was no need to swing his sword again.

The orcs slowly died of hypothermia in the blizzard.

The falling snow turned crimson red and the entire ground froze red and spiky.

Just a few minutes later, only Featherback stood alive on the vast snowy field.

‘…I’m used to surviving alone.’

Featherback left the traces of the fierce battle as they were.

The corpses and bloodstains were soon buried under the continuing snowfall and became invisible.

The fishy smell of blood was also completely erased, swept away by the cutting wind.

The snow mountain played innocent, as if asking when anything had happened.

“This area is finished.”

Featherback wiped the blood from his blade with snow and walked on.

Gone was any trace of the scholarly young master who couldn’t even kill a bug just yesterday.

Who could look at this figure and think of Featherback as the good-for-nothing of House Mörsolt?

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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