The group arrived at the Ogre village.
Raging flames engulfed the entire settlement—every corner scorched by fire, leaving behind nothing but blackened ruins and searing devastation.
Yet, what was even more horrifying was the sight of the Orc race. They were frantically devouring the corpses of the fallen Ogres, even turning on their own kind without the slightest hesitation.
The scene was grotesque and brutal, like a descent into the deepest pits of hell.
"You damned Orcs!"
The red-haired Great Goblin's eyes widened in fury, burning with hatred as intense as the flames around them. His gaze fixed upon the monstrous figures, watching them feast on their kin with savage abandon.
Even the small pink goblin standing beside him couldn't bear the sight. He closed his eyes tightly, his heart weighed down with sorrow and grief.
Granstar stood quietly, observing the carnage before him. His brow furrowed, a trace of concern surfacing on his otherwise calm face.
"As I feared… it's the Orc Lord's unique skill—[Starving One]. This complicates things."
He took a deep breath.
"It seems the worst has come to pass. I need to inform Rimuru immediately. The village must be prepared."
Focusing his mind, Granstar extended his magical sense, probing the surroundings for signs of the perpetrators.
But to his dismay, the two murderers responsible for the Ogre chieftain's death had vanished without a trace.
He clicked his tongue in regret.
Had he caught the mastermind, he could've warned the demon backing them—to keep his hands off the affairs of the Jura Forest. And if diplomacy failed, he wouldn't hesitate to resort to force. In this world, after all, strength often spoke louder than justice.
But there was one thing Granstar wouldn't allow: the desecration of the Ogre's bodies.
So, he took action.
A wave of ice-blue magic surged outward from beneath his feet. Wherever it spread, the inferno was instantly quenched—fire turning to frost, ashes buried beneath a blanket of crystalline cold.
The Orcs, still consumed by madness, didn't even notice.
A few snapped out of their frenzy and charged at Granstar with weapons drawn. But before they got far, ice thorns coiled around their legs like hungry serpents. The magic spread upward, rapidly encasing them in jagged, gleaming ice—trapping them in their final, desperate poses.
Crack. Crack.
The sound of freezing echoed across the field. Not a single scream broke the silence as the flames of life in thousands of Orc soldiers were extinguished.
"Successfully hunted Orc ✘ N.
Raider activated! Gained: [Charge Attack], [Fur Enhancement]...
Material Extraction: Obtained C-grade material [Tusk] ✘ N..."
"Hmph. The synergy with [Dominator] is more useful than expected."
Granstar surveyed the frozen battlefield, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.
These C-grade monsters weren't worth drawing his sword. They were perfect for testing his newly forged skill.
A slight smile curved his lips.
This devastating technique was his own creation—a fusion of [Extreme Cold Domain] and [Ice Thorns], empowered further by the influence of [Dominator].
He called it—[Ice Thorns Hell].
With a single cast, he had annihilated thousands. The area had transformed into a lifeless, frozen purgatory—chilling and eerily beautiful.
Gulp… gulp…
Six sounds of swallowing echoed from behind.
The six Ogres who had accompanied him stood frozen, staring at Granstar's back—the slight upward curl of his lips etched into their minds.
Was this what it meant to be a true powerhouse?
The icy wasteland before them, born from a single spell, struck them with awe and dread. Just looking at Granstar's back made them feel as though they were staring at a demon king—cold, terrifying, and utterly beyond reach.
"Th-Thank you, Lord, for helping us defeat all those Orc people. On behalf of the Great Goblin race, I offer our deepest gratitude."
The red-haired young master stepped forward, bowed respectfully to Granstar, and was soon followed by the others. Their expressions were noticeably more reverent now—clearly shaken by what they had just witnessed.
If they had known that Granstar had merely been testing a new skill, they would've been even more stunned.
"You can all rise. I'm not fond of all this bowing and kneeling. Just call me Granstar," he said calmly, eyeing the group before him.
At his words, the red-haired young master and the others exchanged brief glances before slowly getting to their feet and stepping to the side.
"But it's a shame I didn't encounter the Orc Lord... or the demon pulling the strings behind him," Granstar added, his voice trailing off with a flicker of regret in his eyes.
"Lord Granstar, do you mean the legendary Orc Lord—the one said to be born only once every few centuries? And the masked demon rumored to be orchestrating everything behind the scenes?" the red-haired young master asked, his face a mix of awe and concern.
Granstar gave a slow nod, his tone serious.
"Exactly. According to the information I have, that masked demon is likely a subordinate of a powerful Demon Lord. And dealing with a Demon Lord... is no easy task."
The mood shifted as the group digested his words, the weight of the threat sinking in. They understood clearly now—avenging their fallen kin was far beyond their own strength.
The red-haired young master glanced at Granstar, hesitant at first, then spoke after confirming the truth in the man's eyes.
"Only a Orc Lord could unite so many of their kind... But what's even more terrifying is The Starving One..."
At that moment, a white-haired elder among the Ogres, clearly more experienced, finally spoke up—his voice tinged with both wisdom and despair.
Yet what he truly wanted to say was that with so few of them left, revenge was out of reach.
"But you don't need to worry," Granstar said firmly, noticing their grim expressions. "As long as I'm here, I won't let anything happen to you."
He had already decided to take these people under his wing—and protecting them was now part of his plan.
The red-haired young master and the others seemed to relax slightly at his words, the tension in their shoulders easing.
"I promised I'd help you take revenge, and I haven't fulfilled that promise yet. So I won't ask anything from you now," Granstar added, his tone softening. "What are your plans from here?"
The red-haired young master turned to the others. Confusion flickered in their eyes as they looked at one another.
"Thank you, Lord... but truthfully, we don't know what to do now," he admitted quietly, his gaze dropping, eyes dim with uncertainty.
Granstar wasn't surprised. In fact, this was exactly what he had expected.
Visit patreon.com/shirokendama for more chapters