The Time-Stop Breeding Uncle Want’s to Retire

Translator: FusionX

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Position makes the man.

Ironically, that saying was being applied in reverse. No one present thought Hans had actually dozed off.

After all, he was the Commander of the Royal Knights.

The man who, in just a year, rebuilt the fallen Royal Knights and repelled three True Demons. Of course, anyone could make mistakes, but there were limits.

A man who achieved such feats in a single year, dozing off because he couldn’t overcome drowsiness? And during such an important meeting?

It was simply illogical.

What did that mean?

It meant he was feigning sleep.

And the reason was obvious.

The internal strife within the alliance. He must have been mocking their pathetic squabbling, their readiness to draw swords over trivial matters.

Even Lucy, the Vampire Lord, was impressed. It was a blatant display of mockery and disdain, devoid of any political pretense. But it was a valid reason.

At least, for someone with a certain level of intelligence.

Lucy glanced to the side. The Orc King, with his blazing glare, wasn’t hiding his emotions at all.

“Pathetic. Who? A mere human dares…? I will devour him.”

The orcs’ strength and weakness were their straightforwardness. They never schemed. But that honesty was also a flaw.

They always resorted to violence. There had been intelligent orcs in the past, but most of them betrayed their kin and joined the demons.

The orcs who remained in the alliance did so because they wanted to die in battle. It was natural for the more intelligent ones to betray them.

In other words, the orcs had endured hell through sheer strength. They might be weaker than vampires and dragons, but they were not to be underestimated.

‘This is unexpected… but quite entertaining.’

Her initial surprise quickly turned into amusement.

The green monster was reacting as expected. Now, what would Hans do?

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“I’m screwed, I’m so screwed.”

He had given a reckless response, but he hadn’t anticipated such an extreme reaction from the Orc King. Now he had to face him head-on, and his mind was racing.

Fortunately, Hans knew a thing or two about orcs. Unlike the vampires, about whom he knew nothing, there was at least some information available about orcs.

It wasn’t much compared to other races, but at least he knew how to persuade them. The method itself was quite simple.

“They say I just need to overpower them…”

Orcs enjoyed fighting strong opponents and only acknowledged strength. It was the absolute law of the jungle. That was why they didn’t bother the dragons and vampires.

But could he really use that against them? The answer to that was ambiguous. One of the orcs’ strengths was their fearlessness of death.

Until now, he had managed to subdue them with threats, but if he pushed them too far, they might attack in a rage. And if that happened, it was over.

[The Commander is so weak? Disappointing.]

[He doesn’t seem fit to be Commander.]

[Teacher, I’m sorry, but I’m leaving.]

“Aaaaagh.”

Hans thought, barely suppressing a scream. He had to resolve this situation first.

And then, an opportunity arose.

“Human. Weak. Unacceptable.”

“Yes, this is it!”

There’s always a way out. Hans felt like he had seen the light in the darkness. A brilliant idea came to him, and he calmed himself first.

Getting excited and messing things up now would be irreversible. He only had one chance, and realizing that, he regained his composure.

First, he only knew the basic settings about orcs. He didn’t know the details. So, he had to avoid mentioning anything specific.

Hans carefully spoke.

“I heard there’s a special way for orcs to prove their strength.”

“Warrior’s Battlefield. A proving ground where one fights for their life. Will you challenge it?”

“…”

There was something like that?

Hans forced the words that almost escaped his lips back down. Unfortunately, what he had read in the lore book wasn’t the Warrior’s Battlefield.

He distinctly remembered it being called the Warrior’s Festival. The lore book didn’t have details, but it did describe it roughly.

[Warrior’s Festival.]

[A festival where orcs celebrate the bravery of their ancestors. But the orcs’ festival is different from other races’ festivals.]

[They throw warriors into a hell called the Forest of Valor and wait for their return.]

[Unfortunately, no one has ever returned from the Forest of Valor, except for one, hundreds of years ago.]

Simply put, the Warrior’s Festival was a simple test where you had to escape the forest.

Of course, no orc had escaped in centuries…

But Hans’s specialty was time stop. If there were no witnesses, he had nothing to fear.

Dezra thought for a moment, then exclaimed in shock,

“Could it be… the Warrior’s Festival?!”

“The Warrior’s Festival? What’s that?”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

Excellent reactions.

Fortunately for Hans, everyone seemed to be hearing about the Warrior’s Festival for the first time. Except for the Dragon Lord, whose expression hardened.

“Are you seriously going to do that?”

“Fucking lizard. What’s the big deal?”

“Have you been eating your age? You know nothing.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

The dragon and vampire were about to fight again, but thankfully, they seemed to know their priorities. It didn’t escalate further.

Then, Dezra spoke.

“The Warrior’s Festival. Our people’s sacred festival. A spiritual arena where we bless our warriors and honor our ancestors.”

“I know.”

“But a human participating? You will die. For sure.”

“We won’t know until I try.”

He was a little afraid, but if he used Time Stop properly, he couldn’t die.

Even so, after careful consideration, Hans came to a conclusion.

Fighting openly in front of everyone meant certain death. He might be able to behead Dezra in a one-on-one fight, but the aftermath would be a problem.

Would the other orcs just stand by and watch as he killed their leader? They might say it was fine, but there was no guarantee.

And besides, he didn’t think he could actually behead the Orc King, a monster nicknamed the Rusty Tyrant, especially with his own skills.

On the other hand, escaping the forest on foot offered plenty of opportunities to use Time Stop. Time Stop was absolute. That was the rational conclusion Hans reached.

‘A human challenging the Warrior’s Festival… it’s been a while,’ Dezra thought.

Orcs were cruel and violent. That was half-true, half-false. To be precise, orcs worshipped strength. Even if it was another race, if they showed corresponding strength…

Or even if they were weak, if they showed admirable courage, orcs would readily acknowledge them and treat them as equals. But they didn’t acknowledge everyone.

Just as a sheep couldn’t hide its true nature even if it wore a lion’s skin, a coward couldn’t completely hide their fear, even if they pretended to be brave.

And Dezra saw it. Hans’s unwavering gaze. Did he not know about the Warrior’s Festival? No, that was impossible. He understood.

And yet, there wasn’t a trace of fear in his eyes. Such a gaze was rare, even among his own kind.

Was he confident he wouldn’t die?

No, it wasn’t something so trivial.

Dezra wasn’t foolish enough to underestimate others. He might not show it, but he acknowledged Hans’s ability to rebuild the Royal Knights. He was a seasoned warrior.

In other words, he wasn’t just a fool overflowing with confidence.

He was prepared to die.

Because he had seen enough death.

“…I see. Very well, Hans.”

Dezra’s tone softened considerably. It had been a while since he had met a warrior who didn’t fear death. He had to show him the proper respect.

At that moment, Hans thought,

‘Time Stop is invincible! It’s godly!’

Yes, Hans wasn’t afraid of death.

Because he was confident he wouldn’t die.

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[Translator Notes]

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