Tale of the Red Dragon Without Dragon's Might-Chapter 36 - Orc

After circling in the sky briefly and observing the abandoned fortress, Leon flapped his wings and dove onto the watchtower, bent down, and stretched his neck to peek inside the watchtower, only to see an Orc sentinel looking around aimlessly, having completely forgotten to look up into the sky.

“Ring the alarm bell, summon your kin.”

Leon didn’t intend to scare the Orc sentinel, but upon hearing the voice coming from behind and turning to see a giant dragon head, the Orc sentinel was startled and almost fell off the watchtower.

The parapet of the watchtower helped him.

After speaking, Leon didn’t care what happened to the Orc sentinel in the end, withdrew his head, and looked around, thinking that this ruined fortress had too many hiding places.

If the Orcs hid in the towers or battlements, his Flying Sword would require visibility, and his massive body size was really inconvenient to chase inside, possibly difficult to handle.

Leon waited, but the alarm bell never sounded, perhaps the Orc sentinel was scared stiff, so he simply roared loudly.

Orc sentinel, who initially doubted if he had seen or heard wrong, was startled by the roar coming from above, came back to his senses, and hastily rang the alarm bell.

Dong Dong Dong—

Dong Dong Dong—

As the bell sounds echoed, it reverberated throughout the ruined fortress, startling all the Orcs in the abandoned fortress.

“Why is the bell ringing?”

Dekka was the leader of the group of Orcs stationed in the ruined fortress, with a low forehead and a face resembling that of a pig, his lower jaw had long upward-curving tusk, one of which was missing, the remaining one fitted with an iron ring, and he had a strong body, arms as thick as thighs.

“The bell sounds wrong.” Different bell sounds meant different situations, it could be nightfall or enemy attack.

Hearing a clearly unusual bell sound compared to usual, Dekka grabbed his serrated long knife and stood up, “I’m going to check it out.”

“I’ll check it out too.” Lorug had a noticeably different appearance from Dekka, not because of his older age seemingly much more aged than Dekka, but because he looked significantly less barbaric, as he was not an Orc, but a Half-Orc.

Human bloodline had not been a disadvantage for him; he was as strong, resilient, and bloodthirsty as any Pure-blooded Orc.

In fact, his Human heritage endowed him with just the right amount of cunning, ambition, and self-discipline to become a respected Priest.

When it really came to a dispute, his words might even carry more weight than Dekka’s.

Orcs and Half-Orcs, one after the other, stepped out of the temporary command post, the Chapel of the abandoned fortress.

In the central courtyard stood numerous Beastman Warriors, each pointing and discussing as they looked toward the watchtower.

“That is—” In line with everyone’s gaze, Dekka looked and noticed a creature covered in red scales standing atop the watchtower.

“Red Dragon,” Lorug declared.

“That is a Red Dragon.”

“Why so small?” Dekka remembered dragons from stories as huge creatures that could darken the skies and crush a small house with a single slap, but the Red Dragon before him now, upon closer examination, wasn’t even as big as the Two-legged Flying Dragon he had slain.

“Because that’s a Young Dragon.” Lorug, having lived for many years, possessed the rich knowledge afforded by age.

The age of a dragon could often be gauged by disproportionate features like its head, the horns on top of its head, among other aspects.

At the same time, Leon was perched on the watchtower, watching more and more Orcs gather in the central courtyard—a good few dozen, including an Ogre.

Finally, two distinctive Orcs emerged—he couldn’t quite tell Orcs from Half-Orcs—at that moment he roared loudly, “Orcs, submit to me.”

Orcs were not Kobolds or goblins, not that easily intimidated.

Leon waited a long time, but not a single Orc showed any sign of submission; all armed and ready, spewing obscenities, or looking towards their leaders and Priest.

Seeing no response from the Orcs, Leon suddenly didn’t know what to do; he stuck out his tongue and licked his teeth and the air, tasting a foul smell.

He then decisively threatened, “No response?

I will count to ten, and if you do not submit by then, don’t blame me for being rude.”

Leon ignored the ordinary Orcs’ ruckus, his gaze settling on the last two Orcs who had come out, he started to count.

Although he felt it wasn’t much use before he showed his power.

“A mature giant dragon might be one thing, but a dragon whelp thinking we would submit?” Dekka sneered, showing teeth, utterly disdainful of the Red Dragon’s threats.

“Wait… Let me talk to it.” Orcs did not care about treaties, trade negotiations, or diplomacy.

They only cared about their insatiable desire for battle, crushing enemies, and pleasing the Divine.

However, as a Half-Orc Priest, Lorug had a clearer mind.

“Wait for what?

Watch me chop off its head, take it off and kick it around like a ball, and tonight everyone will feast on dragon meat.” Dekka waved his knife.

“That Young Dragon—” Lorug pointed towards the battlements, “We might be able to use it to deal with that thing.”

“No need.” Dekka gazed at the battlements, “I will kill that creature myself.”

“If you just want to be a warrior,” Lorug paused, “As an officer, aside from using blood to maintain your authority, you also need to learn to use your brain.”

Dekka fell silent.

On the other side, Leon deliberately slowed down his counting because, if possible, he really did not want to engage in battle.

What if the fight escalated, what about his kin?

Finally, in the last second, he saw one of the two Orc leaders step forward.