Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 496: The Spring of Ende (4)

At the Same Time, on the Outskirts of Ende

With his arms crossed, Lord Sapien waited, turning his head at the approaching presence. The bovine beastman he had sent to find Grull was returning, having fulfilled his duty.

The warriors of the Beast Faction were rough, their gazes sharp with hostility toward the Obelisk soldiers assigned to watch over them. At first, the Obelisk remained passive, but their patience was beginning to fray.

Even for someone as composed as Sapien, he was still a noble and a Duke of a vassal state. He had to exercise a great deal of patience to ignore the slurs thrown by ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) these beastman warriors.

Fortunately, before his patience ran dry, Grull arrived. Welcoming him, Sapien spoke.

“Great Chief Grull, welcome to Ende—before anything else, I must say, disappearing without notice is quite troubling.”

Grull, after glancing around to take in the atmosphere, answered indifferently.

“What’s the trouble? I arrived a little early and took a walk, that’s all.”

“A meeting time is set not just for arrival, but for us to meet at that time.”

“Sniff. You civilized folk love your roundabout ways of speaking. You just wanted to keep an eye on me in case I caused trouble, didn’t you?”

“If you choose to see it that way, I won’t deny it.”

“Sniff.”

Grull let out a heavy breath and stepped forward.

In an instant, it was as if space itself had folded—one step, and he was standing right in front of Sapien, growling low.

“Be careful. We are savages. If you treat us like troublemakers, we might actually cause trouble. You called us because you needed our help, so don’t make our fur stand on end.”

One’s comprehension of martial arts did not always equate to the mastery of their techniques. Some martial artists could grasp the principles without ever reaching true mastery.

But Grull was not one of them.

Trained under a master, he had honed the Way of Ascent, mastering Heaven (Gun), Earth (Gon), and Water (Gam). Even Sapien, who had reached the pinnacle of Qi techniques, could not find fault in Grull’s movements.

The difference between them was not overwhelming—but that was only because Grull had not yet revealed his full power.

A slight, unbidden sense of inferiority crept into Sapien as he faced the pig beastman.

“Let us not forget,” Sapien said carefully, “we are here to aid each other.”

“I should be the one saying that. You’ve fed us all these sweet words, but I hope you don’t just leave us to die.”

Their clash of wills was intense, but after this brief confrontation between their leaders, their subordinates managed to suppress their emotions.

Sapien led the way toward Obeli, inwardly relieved.

‘Good. It seems Orcma hasn’t gotten to Grull.’

Truthfully, the real reason Sapien had come to meet Grull personally, and why he had been so wary of his movements, was Orcma.

He had known that the pig beastmen had been causing trouble lately, but he hadn’t realized they had formed a secret organization operating in the shadows.

Then again, could anyone blame him? Pig beastmen were always causing problems—it was just their nature.

If a pig ate a little more than usual, was that really reason enough to start watching them closely?

‘I don’t know who did it, but I owe that magician a thank-you. If Orcma had allied with Grull, this negotiation would’ve been much harder.’

Silently expressing his gratitude to someone not even present, Sapien continued his march toward Obeli—unaware of the disaster that his absence had allowed to unfold.

At the Same Time, in a Prison in Obeli

Urukfang, the First Fang of the Orc Mercenaries, sat inside a prison cell, surrounded by other detainees.

Thanks to a magician’s meddling, several key figures of Orcma had been captured.

Urukfang, the First Fang.

Grandmother Halpana, the eldest among them.

Boncrak, the locksmith.

Gulta, the caravan master.

Not many were imprisoned, but every single one of them had played a vital role in keeping Orcma functional.

Though these captives weren’t the entirety of Orcma, their absence was why Orcma had resorted to protests instead of resistance.

With their organization crippled, protesting was the only option left.

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And that was how a bunch of mere pigs had ended up in Obeli’s luxurious prison.

“This is far too comfortable for a prison.”

Urukfang grumbled, swinging his arms.

The chains on his wrists rattled as his cuffs struck the wall, sending sparks flying.

If he used his full strength, he could break them.

But he’d break his wrists in the process.

And then the Obelisk soldiers outside would crack his skull open before chaining him up again.

A strong prison.

But considering Urukfang was a Qi practitioner, the fact that he could even attempt to break free meant that they were holding back.

Which meant they feared him, even now.

Realizing this, Urukfang scowled.

“The beds are soft, the food is good. Compared to life outside, this is heaven. Some orcs would want to stay locked up forever.”

“Tsk tsk, don’t talk nonsense... If it weren’t for Grull, do you really think they would’ve jailed us here? We’d be rotting in Ende’s underground dungeons by now.”

The oldest of the orcs, Grandmother Halpana, spoke in a voice that was still strong and unwavering.

Boncrak, the locksmith, grinned and replied.

“Sniff, sniff. Well, not entirely true. I overheard something when they were moving us—they were afraid the old hag might snap and go berserk if they put her underground. Ha! And as for us, you think they’d treat us well just because Grull’s around? They see us as nothing but filthy, useless pigs! Hehehe... Guess we’re lucky, thanks to you, Grandmother.”

Boncrak was the keykeeper of the pig vaults, responsible for maintaining their locks and security.

When he was captured, and a magician looted their vaults, the pig beastmen lost all faith in their own security.

Because in the end, no matter how much they trusted their kin—money was more important than blood.

As their savings were slowly drained, Orcma’s entire logistics collapsed—leading to the imprisonment of Gulta, the caravan master, who had been caught committing fraud in a desperate attempt to secure funds.

Now, seeing Boncrak grinning so shamelessly, Gulta couldn’t hold back his anger.

“You’re laughing? What the hell is so funny when we’re locked up?!”

“Hehe. Well, at least I feel safe in here.”

“Do you have any idea what our people are going through right now?!”

“Maybe. But even if I was out there, what could I do? The magician destroys everything he touches.”

The moment the word ‘magician’ was spoken, the room fell silent.

Every single prisoner bristled, fur standing on end.

They weren’t the core of Orcma, but they had all played key roles.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

And they all had one thing in common.

They had all encountered the magician.

Some had met him.

Some had provoked him.

Some had tried to capture him.

Some had merely tried to avoid him.

Boncrak?

Boncrak had tried to hide from him.

“That man...” Boncrak muttered.

“...That man is someone you should never cross.”

Boncrak, once the master locksmith of the pig vaults, had hidden himself when things started going wrong. He was already someone who preferred to keep a low profile, but this time, he took it a step further—securing his hideout with dozens of locks, ensuring that no one could reach him.

But the magician laughed at his efforts.

Without hesitation, the magician found him.

He didn’t even bother concealing his footsteps as he approached.

One by one, he unlocked all six iron doors and all ninety locks—not with Qi, not with magic, but with sheer skill.

Click. Click.

Boncrak, an accomplished locksmith himself, had poured all his knowledge and effort into securing his hideout.

And yet, the magician bypassed every lock with ease.

With each step, Boncrak’s confidence crumbled. His pride shattered.

And fear seeped into the cracks.

If the magician had simply blown down the doors, if he had stormed in and crushed him, it might have been easier to accept.

Instead, Boncrak shook with terror, desperately hoping for it to be over—

And when he finally regained his senses...

He was already in Obeli, arrested for illegal key duplication.

Now in chains, Boncrak sighed with relief.

His mind was fractured, his expression almost joyful.

“Well... at least the magician won’t come in here.”

Gulta wanted to scold him.

But he couldn’t.

Because he, too, was a victim of the magician.

With Orcma’s funds drained, Gulta had turned to raiding for survival. He had targeted a clan of equine beastmen, planning a swift, decisive strike.

The attack had been easier than expected.

Too easy.

With a fellow raider at his side, he fled at full speed, making his escape through a pre-planned route. They had reached their safe house, celebrating their victory—

Until, in the flickering torchlight, he saw a stranger’s face.

A man.

Who introduced himself as the magician.

Gulta had seen the magician’s face.

But he never had a chance to describe it to anyone.

Because he had blacked out.

And when he woke up...

He was surrounded by enraged equine beastmen.

Now, sitting in a cell in Obeli, Gulta muttered bitterly.

“...Yeah. Now that we’re caught, at least the magician won’t have any reason to bother us.”

His voice echoed through the prison, caught between relief and despair.

And then.

A breeze swept through the room.

The pig beastmen stiffened.

No matter how luxurious Obeli’s prison was...

A prison was still a prison.

There weren’t any large windows for wind to come through.

The only time wind could enter was when a door was opened.

But no one had entered.

The door had opened on its own.

Boncrak, eyes narrowing, peeked through the bars.

“Oi. Who’s there?”

No answer.

Instead—

A single card fluttered into the hallway, carried by the wind.

A small key was attached to its back.

I did nothing.

I didn’t control anyone.

I didn’t kill or harm anyone.

All I did was rearrange the pieces.

“The pig beastmen long for spring.

They want to escape the past when they were eaten.

They want to move beyond the years when they wandered, searching for freedom.

They want a time when they are finally recognized.”

The wind had always been there.

It had already been blowing.

It had already been stirring something immense.

Even if I hadn’t pushed it forward—

Orcma would have done something eventually.

Whether they succeeded or failed.

“Even the other beastmen sympathize with them.

Even those who have found a place in society carry the scars of discrimination in their bones.

That’s why, even as the pig beastmen riot—

The other beastmen do not stop them.

They cheer them on.”

Because they understand.

Because this time, it’s not them.

Because this time, it’s someone else being the outcast.

“So, what do you think?

With this much wind, shouldn’t they at least try to fly?

Some people breed with pigs and produce beastmen.

So why shouldn’t pig beastmen rule a city?

Pigs and humans—aren’t they both just beasts in the end?”

The protest turned into chaos.

The pig beastmen charged forward, no longer holding their signs like banners—

But as weapons.

No longer marching for a dream—

But for war.

The peaceful demonstration had now become a riot, threatening to swallow the city whole.

The security forces retreated.

Duke Erectus fled, protected by his Obelisk soldiers.

And the furious pig beastmen chased after him—

Storming Obeli.

“I don’t care about their spring.

I only care about what they will do with it now that it has come.”

Obeli will not fall so easily.

It is fortified by high, unbreakable walls.

It is defended by the elite Obelisk soldiers.

A spontaneous riot will never become a true revolution.

Not unless they have—

Allies inside the city.

Or—

A powerful force to support them.

A dry spring wind blew through Ende.