Chương 115: Orcs Apparently Didn't Believe in Eight Hours of Sleep

When night finally settled over the town, Sieghart thought he had earned the right to sleep. He had spent almost the entire day charging weapons, carving poison enchantments, carrying equipment, and listening to Vessa and Orin complain whenever their exhausted hands made mistakes.

The three of them had continued working long after most ordinary shops closed, stopping only when Vessa nearly engraved the wrong activation line into a spear and Orin managed to fall asleep for several seconds while sitting upright beside his workbench. Sieghart had taken that as sufficient evidence that continuing would probably create more explosions than weapons. Even Infinite Mana could not compensate for exhausted hands, tired eyes, and brains that had apparently decided consciousness was becoming optional.

They had converted rooms above the workshop into temporary sleeping quarters, which saved Sieghart from finding accommodations elsewhere while the town remained sealed. His room was small, containing little more than a bed, cabinet, window, and chair covered with someone else's forgotten clothes. None of that bothered him. The mattress existed. That was enough. Sieghart removed his boots, collapsed onto the bed, and barely remembered pulling the blanket over himself before sleep claimed him.

His body might possess growing supernatural parameters, but it was still the body of a ten-year-old that needed proper rest. He had become particularly careful about that during the previous years. Training endlessly sounded productive until he remembered that insufficient sleep, poor nutrition, or repeated injuries could interfere with his physical development in ways that magical parameters might not completely repair.

Becoming powerful while accidentally preventing himself from growing properly would be an embarrassing achievement. Sieghart intended to avoid it. Unfortunately, the orcs apparently possessed different opinions regarding healthy sleeping schedules. He had been asleep for approximately one hour when a distant explosion shook the window. Sieghart's eyes opened. Another explosion followed several seconds later, quieter but accompanied by a faint vibration passing through the building.

Somewhere farther north, shouting became audible beneath the growing noise spreading across the streets. Sieghart remained beneath the blanket. Perhaps it would stop. A third explosion answered that hope. Sieghart sighed.

"Of course." He pushed himself upright and remained sitting on the edge of the bed while his mind reluctantly transitioned from sleep toward awareness. His body felt heavy enough that every instinct advised simply lying down again and allowing somebody else to handle the war. Another impact echoed across the town. Sieghart walked toward the window. The streets below had transformed considerably since he went to sleep.

Groups of people were moving north carrying weapons, shields, lanterns, crates of ammunition, and whatever equipment they had managed to obtain during the day's preparations. Most were soldiers or guards, but Sieghart noticed civilians as well. Some wore mismatched armor while carrying enchanted weapons they clearly had not possessed long enough to become comfortable using, confirming Vessa's prediction that nearly everyone might eventually participate. Another explosion briefly illuminated the northern sky.

"So much for sleeping." Sieghart watched several more groups hurry through the streets before returning toward his bed. The walls had survived the field army's retreat, which meant they should theoretically withstand at least a few hours of ordinary attacks. He climbed beneath the blanket again. The defenders could handle things for a while. Probably. Sieghart closed his eyes and tried to ignore the distant shouting.

His body needed sleep, particularly if tomorrow involved another full day of runic work followed by whatever additional problems the siege decided to create. The explosions disagreed. One sounded every few minutes. Sometimes several occurred together. Occasional flashes penetrated even through his closed eyelids, while the walls and floor produced faint vibrations whenever something particularly powerful struck the northern defenses. Sieghart rolled onto his other side.

"This is irritating." Nobody answered. Vessa and Orin were apparently sleeping through everything. Sieghart had heard Orin snoring before entering his own room, and the rhythmic noise had somehow continued despite enough explosions occurring outside to make nearby furniture tremble occasionally. Vessa was probably equally exhausted.

According to several comments made during the week, both craftsmen had been sleeping around three hours per night recently while attempting to satisfy the rapidly increasing military demand. That explained why distant explosions failed to wake them. It also explained several things about the hand cannon. Sieghart stared at the ceiling. Perhaps he could simply wait until morning. The defenders knew what they were doing considerably better than he did.

Charging toward the wall because he was curious would be exactly the kind of reckless decision Mira repeatedly accused him of making. Sieghart considered that thought for several seconds. Then another explosion sounded. Curiosity won. He sat upright again. He had wanted an opportunity to study the battlefield anyway, and learning what kind of enemy surrounded the town seemed considerably more useful than lying awake while pretending he could somehow ignore them.

The only question was how to leave without creating complications. Sieghart briefly considered producing a Phantom Image resembling himself asleep beneath the blankets. If Vessa or Orin woke and checked the room, they might assume he remained there rather than wandering toward an active battlefield. He dismissed the idea. That felt unnecessarily elaborate. He was not escaping from Lunar Arc. He was not avoiding Mira.

He did not actually require permission from the two craftsmen to look outside, even if they would probably complain after learning what he intended to inspect. Sieghart walked toward the window again and opened it. Cold night air entered immediately. The room was on the second floor, but the distance to the street was insignificant compared with everything Sieghart had practiced during the previous years. He climbed onto the frame without bothering to search for stairs.

Before jumping, however, he activated Phantom Image. His ordinary disguise changed. Dark-brown hair remained, but got much longer, his face lengthened slightly while his body appeared several years older. The illusion added enough apparent height that anyone glancing toward him would probably assume he was a teenager rather than a ten-year-old traveling alone. The trick did not actually make him taller.

That occasionally created problems if anyone stood close enough to notice where his real shoulders or head should have been, but the darkness made precise observation unlikely. Sieghart changed his clothing as well, replacing the appearance of his simple sleeping clothes with a dark coat and trousers suitable for someone moving around during an emergency. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Better." He stepped through the window. Wind gathered beneath his feet before he landed, reducing the impact enough that his bare movement produced almost no sound. Sieghart immediately moved into the darker portion of the street before anyone passing nearby could notice where he had come from. The northern section of town was considerably busier. Sieghart traveled through narrower streets rather than following the main road, avoiding groups of soldiers and civilians whenever possible.

Nobody had time to stop every unfamiliar person while explosions continued beyond the walls. He should probably have brought a weapon. Sieghart realized that approximately halfway there. The thought bothered him for only several seconds. He already possessed Mana Sword. He could create Fireballs faster than most people could draw conventional weapons. Telekinesis offered additional options. A physical sword would mostly serve as decoration unless he wanted to preserve his disguise.

Sieghart looked down at his illusory older body. Actually, someone his apparent age approaching a battlefield without any visible weapon might attract more suspicion than carrying one.

"Too late." The northern wall gradually came into view between buildings. Sieghart had considered the fortifications respectable when he first arrived, particularly compared with smaller towns and villages. The stone structure surrounded the settlement completely and reached roughly ten meters above the surrounding ground. Tonight, it looked considerably less impressive.

Ten meters was enormous by the standards of his previous world, where scaling such a wall without equipment would have required specialized training, tools, or enough time for defenders to make the attempt suicidal. This world contained Aura users. It contained monsters capable of smashing stone. It contained people who could leap distances that would have broken every bone in an ordinary human body.

Any well-trained Aura warrior specializing in physical enhancement could probably reach the top of a ten-meter wall with a sufficiently strong jump, especially if they possessed another ability supporting movement. That meant the wall was not truly designed to prevent powerful individuals from crossing. It existed to slow armies. Sieghart reached the base and looked upward.

Defenders covered most visible sections, carrying bows, enchanted weapons, spears, shields, and buckets containing substances Sieghart decided he did not want poured over his head while climbing. He needed somewhere quieter. Sieghart followed the wall east until the number of defenders thinned slightly. The battle appeared concentrated farther northwest, where explosions and shouting occurred almost continuously.

Several people still occupied this section, but enough distance separated them that Sieghart doubted anyone would immediately care about one additional supposed teenager appearing nearby. He gathered Wind Magic beneath himself. A concentrated gust launched him upward. Sieghart reduced his weight at the same moment, allowing momentum to carry him nearly the entire height of the wall before his feet approached the stone surface. He used another burst of wind. The final push carried him over the battlement.

Sieghart landed lightly. Several nearby defenders immediately turned toward him. One middle-aged man wearing leather armor and holding a short bow frowned when he noticed someone arriving from the wrong direction instead of climbing the stairs.

"Who are you?" Sieghart ignored him. He approached the outer edge of the wall. Another guard stepped closer.

"Hey." Sieghart still ignored him. The defenders apparently decided that anyone capable of jumping ten meters onto the wall during an active siege was probably more useful facing outward than answering questions, because neither immediately attempted to stop him. Sieghart reached the battlement. Then he saw the battlefield. For several seconds, he forgot about the guards completely. Orcs filled the darkness. Not dozens. Not hundreds. Thousands.

Campfires and torches stretched across the plains north of the town, forming scattered lines of orange light that disappeared into the distance. Large silhouettes moved constantly between them while banners fluttered above temporary positions. Only a fraction of the army was currently attacking. Those fighters approached the walls in several organized groups, carrying shields, crude ladders, heavy axes, bows, and weapons Sieghart could not identify clearly from his position.

Human defenders concentrated their attacks against those advancing forces. Arrows descended. Magic flashed. Explosions tore holes through several formations. Sieghart watched one enormous Fireball strike a cluster of orcs several hundred meters away, sending burning figures scattering while another group immediately advanced through the opening. The attack was serious. It was not the real attack. Sieghart realized that almost immediately. Most of the orc army remained behind.

Thousands simply stood beyond effective range, watching the battle while producing enough noise that the sound rolled constantly across the plains. Weapons struck shields. Orcs shouted. Drums sounded periodically. Roars rose from different portions of the army whenever something happened near the walls. Sieghart narrowed his eyes.

"They're taking turns." The man with the bow heard him.

"What?" Sieghart did not answer. The strategy was obvious enough once he considered it. The attacking groups were keeping the defenders awake. That was probably the entire purpose. If the orcs rotated their forces throughout the night, each individual warrior could rest while another group maintained pressure against the town. The humans could not. Every explosion forced defenders to remain alert. Every ladder required soldiers. Every arrow demanded shields.

Every approaching formation might suddenly become the beginning of a full assault. The people on the walls could not safely decide that an attack was insignificant and go to sleep. Sieghart finally understood why Vessa and Orin had been surviving on three-hour nights. This probably had not started tonight. The orcs had been exhausting the defenders even before the field army collapsed.

"They're breaking morale." The nearby guard gave him another suspicious look.

"No shit." Sieghart decided the man was tired enough to deserve the response. He looked farther across the plains. The numbers remained difficult to estimate because darkness concealed most of the army, but every torch revealed additional silhouettes beyond it. Even his newly improved Perception struggled at that distance without visual enhancement. Sieghart wished he had learned the eyesight spell first. Then he remembered the nosebleed. Perhaps not. Still, he could see enough.

If every orc visible beyond the active battle suddenly advanced together, the wall would face attacks along almost its entire northern length. Archers would run out of arrows. Mages would exhaust their mana. Defenders would become overwhelmed by simultaneous climbing attempts. Strong Aura users might simply leap directly onto the battlements. Sieghart looked toward the nearby defenders. Many were already exhausted. Some leaned against the stone between attacks. One man had his arm wrapped in blood-soaked cloth.

Another woman looked old enough that Sieghart doubted she had expected to fight another war during her lifetime. The field army had already lost. These were the people left. Sieghart turned his attention back toward the plains. A new group of orcs started advancing while the previous attackers retreated. The transition happened smoothly enough that pressure against the wall barely decreased. Another roar spread through the army. Thousands of voices answered. The sound felt heavier than any individual attack.

Sieghart understood the purpose. The orcs wanted everyone inside the town hearing exactly how many enemies waited outside. They wanted exhausted defenders looking over the wall and realizing that every fighter they killed could be replaced by several more. They wanted people imagining what would happen when the entire army finally moved. Sieghart rested both hands against the stone battlement. If all those orcs attacked simultaneously, the town probably would fall. Not eventually. Quickly.

The ten-meter walls might delay them, but they would not stop enough powerful warriors at once. Once several sections were breached, civilians and exhausted soldiers would be forced into street fighting without anywhere meaningful to retreat. That changed Sieghart's calculations. He had originally intended to observe the battle and test several progression theories while avoiding unnecessary attention. That might not be enough. He needed to understand why the orcs had not launched the full assault already.

Perhaps they wanted surrender. Perhaps they were waiting for siege equipment. Perhaps the Orc King enjoyed exhausting enemies before crushing them. Or perhaps something else prevented them from attacking. Sieghart looked toward the center of the distant army, where several larger fires surrounded silhouettes far bigger than ordinary tents. Somewhere out there was probably the Orc King. The same Orc King powerful enough to break the northern army and force thousands of defenders behind these walls.

Sieghart's interest sharpened. He had wanted to confirm something during this siege. Now he was beginning to suspect he would receive considerably more opportunities than expected. Unfortunately, one thing had become obvious before Sieghart cast even a single spell. If the entire army moved at once, there might not be enough town left afterward for him to return to the workshop.