Kwang!
It was the thunderous crash from Enoch's outstretched fist colliding with the halberd's shaft.
The sound was even louder than when the ramparts crumbled, yet it didn't reach the Safety Room, protected by its sturdy structure and layers of magic.
However, Jevella... and everyone else inside the Safety Room with her could hear it.
Through the crystal orb installed to monitor the situation outside.
Enoch had dressed in formal attire for what was supposed to be his first proper meal, but it had long since been soaked in blood and turned ragged.
Covered in blood and chunks of flesh, Enoch pressed his ferocious assault like a man possessed.
And facing him, the orc leader laughed savagely as he effortlessly parried.
At the sight, Jevella murmured blankly.
"...Laila. That can't be the Orc Warlord, can it?"
"...Yes. That's what it looks like to me too, miss."
Laila, Jevella's personal maid who stuck to her side just as Karen did to Enoch, nodded gravely.
Dungeons provided humans with injuries, trauma, and scant honor along with some byproducts, no matter their exploits inside.
But for monsters, they were places of opportunity, allowing them to surpass their species' limits by borrowing the lingering power of the God of Tragedy.
Thus, unique specimens unseen in the outside world were often born within dungeons...
The Orc Warlord was one such special entity.
Orcs were cruel, but they prided themselves as warriors. The more they gathered, the stronger they became, yet even a slight increase in numbers often led to infighting over pride or bids for leadership.
To lead orcs not as a tribe, but as an army, what kind of leader was needed?
One overwhelmingly stronger than other orcs, honorable enough for all to bow willingly... and sometimes cruel enough to make even kin tremble.
Only such an orc could become a Warlord.
Naturally, it wasn't an opponent one could face alone. It required expert knights, along with skilled wizards and priests of comparable prowess, fighting in formation.
Yet Enoch was facing this Orc Warlord single-handedly. Bare-handed, without any proper weapon or artifact.
"Is this... even possible? Enoch is just a little over twenty, isn't he?"
"..."
Laila had no answer. And Jevella didn't blame her maid for it.
Part of it was because she was one of the few Jevella trusted enough to allow bathing her...
But the biggest reason was that Jevella knew it too. It was generally impossible.
It was a level of martial prowess even the now-deceased Cain had only shown in his prime, before succumbing to his own poison.
No matter how diluted House Zahav's blood had become, and even if Enoch had inherited the Bloodline Ability most strongly among them, there were limits.
Jevella felt shock mingled with relief.
'It's a good thing the poison didn't work on him.'
It wasn't a poison that killed instantly... but it inevitably led to slow, steady debilitation.
If it had affected Enoch, he'd have crumbled helplessly to warped senses by now.
Just like some of her siblings.
As Jevella inwardly sighed in relief, Aaron, who had been silently watching the scene beyond the crystal orb, spoke up.
"Perhaps it's because the sun is still up."
"The sun? What does that have to do with anything, Head Butler?"
Aaron was the longest-serving butler of House Zahav. At his words, Jevella snapped out of her thoughts.
"The Bloodline Ability flowing through Zahav blood is, strictly speaking, just one: the mana of the sun. All other abilities are mere derivatives."
"No way..."
"Yes. Like some of our ancestors, Young Master Enoch may have been born with an ability that strengthens him while the sun is up."
At those words, Karen—who had been glaring at the crystal orb with a face stiffer than usual—quickly manipulated the magic device.
After several shifts in view, the orb now showed a sky dyed red by the sunset.
The appointment with Jevella had been for dinner, so even in the season when the sun set late, night was approaching.
If the sun set, this tense standoff would likely end.
...Though in truth, it was all a misunderstanding.
Enoch's mana was merely warped from ingesting random elixirs and human experiments; it neither strengthened in sunlight nor weakened in darkness.
But to those unaware, it would sound like thunder from a clear sky.
Not only was the territory in peril, but they risked losing their one and only successor.
A proper one, at that.
"Grandfather! Young Master Enoch is in danger!"
"Karen. Calm yourself first."
"We have to help him before the sun sets! The ramparts side... seems to have some breathing room thanks to him."
"It might be so. However, we have no authority to issue such orders."
"But we can't just watch Young Master Enoch die!"
"Conversely, a wrong judgment could put Lady Jevella in danger."
Aaron sternly countered his rarely agitated granddaughter, then looked to Jevella as if seeking her verdict.
Jevella, receiving his gaze, nodded immediately.
She hated House Zahav. All her life, she'd seen depravity forgiven solely due to strength, and she herself had suffered under the Zahav name.
But that didn't mean she lacked noble awareness.
She had acted because she believed the southern families united could manage the dungeon even without the waning sun that was House Zahav.
Yet the dungeon's threat had come far too swiftly, and failing to handle it now would cost countless lives.
Uniting the south's power was a secondary issue.
One misstep, and the south might wage prolonged war against the orcs—and if another overflow occurred in the interim...
The empire's south would become one vast dungeon.
Having finished her calculations, Jevella's response was swift.
"Send the knights. But the distance to the ramparts is too great; it'll take too long for them to arrive. ...Karen, Aaron. You two go ahead first."
"Miss! Even so, that's...!"
Laila, who had been quietly guarding from behind, widened her eyes and tried to stop Jevella. It wasn't surprise at sending knight reinforcements.
It was shock at sending out Karen and Aaron, the final bastions of defense.
This wasn't merely about losing two escorts.
The Safety Room allowed entry only to those with Zahav blood. Its safety stemmed from that inviolability; once the door opened mid-crisis, reactivating the wards required at least three days of maintenance.
Knowing this full well and still sending them out meant disregarding the rear—and in the worst case, dying together.
As the sole confidante aware of how much Jevella despised House Zahav's bloodline, Laila couldn't help but be stunned.
But Jevella had no time to mind Laila's reaction. Her mind was filled with Enoch right now.
'Enoch fighting the Orc Warlord on equal terms is undoubtedly amazing. But...'
The question racing ceaselessly through her mind wasn't how he could be so strong.
It was why he was fighting covered in blood like that.
'Why on earth...?'
While everyone else hid behind the ramparts, barely holding off the assault, Enoch had charged deepest into enemy lines, rampaging with overwhelming force.
Thanks to him, the tide turned from defense to counterattack, surely minimizing casualties.
But that wasn't the end.
When victory was nearly in hand, Enoch suddenly roared as if struck by a thought and whirled around, charging back madly.
Puzzlement at him abandoning victory's glory was brief.
The ramparts suddenly shattered, and the Orc Warlord burst forth.
An orc who loved the battlefield had bypassed it alone to infiltrate enemy lines.
Left unchecked, countless territory folk would die, formations would collapse from within, endangering those fighting outside.
Enoch must have foreseen it.
Though thoroughly exhausted, he clenched his fist without hesitation against the Orc Warlord's threat to slaughter the people.
'He's a Zahav, isn't he?'
A precious kin valuable only to themselves. Ones crushed in Jevella's hands.
Yet the stark gap between the common sense she'd known all her life and the reality before her eyes unsettled her.
With the sunset as her deadline, she reached her own conclusion.
Jevella still hated House Zahav. But Enoch mustn't die like this.
Having decided, Jevella flashed a benevolent smile, as always.
"Hehe. My little brother is staking his life like this; as his big sister, I can't just sit comfortably. Aaron, Karen. I'll be fine, so go."
With that, Jevella rose and let a drop of her blood fall before the door.
Kiiiek...
The door, unmoved even by high magic, opened limply.
"Oh, Laila, if you're worried, you can hide somewhere else."
"Sigh, where would I go leaving you behind, Miss Jevella?"
Laila stood by Jevella's side with a voice mixing resignation and resolve.
Aaron, silently watching, stood before the open door and asked quietly.
"Will you be alright, Lady Jevella?"
"Of course. Have you forgotten already? As Enoch said, I'm a Zahav too."
Declaring the name she loathed for herself, Jevella lifted her head proudly. It oddly resembled Enoch's posture.
Aaron, gazing at her quietly, bowed politely.
"Thank you, Lady Jevella."
With those final words, Aaron and Karen left the Safety Room with his granddaughter.
Watching their backs, Jevella fixed her gaze on the crystal orb again and spoke.
"Laila."
"Yes, miss."
"Did I make the wrong choice?"
"You've never made a wrong choice, miss. You merely made your choice."
"Ahaha! You sure know how to talk. If things get dicey, I'll count on you as my meat shield."
"Sometimes I wish you'd act a bit more ladylike with me too..."
Laila sighed deeply, lowering her head but drawing slightly closer to Jevella.
To throw herself in the way if needed, and to share her lady's fate.
In the crystal orb, Enoch was smashing one of the Orc Warlord's weapons.