Royal Special Task Force (2)
The area in front of the Gallios Trading Company branch was bustling with activity.
Large gates swung open and shut as countless carts rolled in and out, transporting goods. A line of people stretched from the counters inside the building all the way out onto the street.
The shouts of laborers mingled with the chatter of merchants, while hawkers tried to lure these merchants to nearby inns and restaurants.
Despite being a main street, the scene was as chaotic as a blacksmith’s alley.
Dalen easily spotted the familiar ponytail in the crowd.
“Penny.”
“Oh, Dalen!”
“Here you go.”
With a jingle, a heavy pouch of coins landed in her outstretched hands.
Penny looked back and forth between Dalen and the pouch, her eyes wide with surprise. She spoke.
“How… did you really get it back?”
“Check to make sure nothing’s missing.”
“Thank you. Really, thank you.”
Her large, round eyes glistened with tears. Dalen chuckled softly.
Penny loosened the drawstring slightly and checked the slips inside.
After carefully unfolding the papers to ensure nothing had changed, she tucked them neatly into her pocket.
“What’s this red mark?”
Her hand paused as she was closing the pouch, her eyes catching a dark red stain.
“Blood…?”
“Maybe the pickpocket had a nosebleed.”
“Dalen, did you…?”
“Nothing happened. I just had a chat with the leader of the pickpockets, and they returned it willingly.”
It was true, mostly. There had been a bit of a scuffle before the talking started.
“You didn’t just start a fight, did you? The back alleys are dangerous these days. Even you should be careful.”
“Fight? No, it was all talk. Thanks for worrying.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. It was more of a rough conversation than a fight. Probably.
[It was more of a massacre than a fight.]
‘What did you say?’
[Oh, nothing, master. Hehe. By the way, we’re running out of space for all the gold coins. Maybe it’s time for a new chest…]
The demon, who had been sorting through the spoils from the gang’s hideout, rubbed its hands together, bowing repeatedly.
[More than two chests of gold already! Hehe, there’s no mercenary on the continent who accumulates wealth as quickly as you, master… Aaaagh!]
Dalen reached into the pocket dimension and gave the demon a little squeeze. Fortunately, the entrance to the pocket dimension didn’t let the demon’s screams escape.
To others, it just looked like he was rummaging through his coat.
Dalen dusted off his hands and said, “Just checking on my own coin pouch. Let’s get going.”
The Mithril Forge, run by Reberon Ahakim, wasn’t far from the Gallios Trading Company.
Despite the short distance, their progress was slow, thanks to the throngs of people.
The main street of the Bronze District was packed, with barely any room to move.
Both the Gallios branch and the Mithril Forge were located in the heart of the southern district, making it feel even more crowded than other areas.
‘I came from the western city alliance. Most of my subordinates are from there too.’
As Dalen navigated through the crowd, he recalled what the thug had said.
‘I haven’t been here long, but more people are coming to the city because of the monsters. It’s made recruiting easy. It didn’t take long to settle in.’
“Hmm.”
Without breaking stride, he retraced his steps from the Crow’s Nest.
His high intelligence naturally compared the current scene to memories from about six months ago.
Among the growing number of people, a significant portion were refugees.
Their ragged clothes, grimy faces, and desperate expressions were telltale signs.
The back alleys overflowed with filth, and the city’s atmosphere was both bustling and tense.
‘We’re entering the mid-game now.’
Dalen stroked his chin thoughtfully.
The witch’s schemes and the deputy’s betrayal were, in a way, isolated incidents.
They could accelerate the progress of the apocalypse but weren’t the flow itself.
In contrast, the influx of refugees was more of a shift in the overall narrative.
Monsters were running rampant like never before, and remote villages became easy targets.
People naturally flocked to the safety of city walls, and the already crime-ridden back alleys of major cities turned into virtual maelstroms.
The foundations of the apocalypse weren’t just laid outside.
The internal conflicts of these massive cities would soon become the seeds of division for humanity facing extinction.
“Tsk.”
Dalen clicked his tongue. He had anticipated this for months, but the timeline was advancing by years.
Yet, without hundreds of bodies, there was no way to address the monster outbreaks everywhere.
All he could do was focus on what needed to be done at this moment.
‘Stopping all the apocalypse’s advances is impossible.’
Even with thousands of bodies, it wouldn’t be easy.
But that didn’t mean there was no solution.
Whoever said the best defense is a good offense was right. That was exactly how Dalen thought.
A superhuman who had experienced countless possible futures from outside this world.
If he had a role, it was more as a sword than a shield.
If the apocalypse was coming faster, he’d just have to punch it in the mouth first.
“Welcome! Is there anything you’re looking for… Oh? Miss?”
Lost in thought, Dalen found himself in front of the forge.
The boy who had rushed out to greet customers stopped his sales pitch when he saw Penny behind Dalen.
Penny patted the boy’s head gently and spoke in a soft voice.
“You’re always working hard, Alby.”
“Thank you for your hard work, miss. Did everything go well with the client?”
“Yes. Here’s the remaining payment. I’ll deliver the slips to my uncle myself. Dalen, are you going to see my uncle?”
Penny asked. Dalen nodded.
Running into Penny had been a coincidence, but this was his intended destination all along.
The boy, realizing the mercenary was a more important guest than he thought, quickly adjusted his demeanor.
“The master is currently speaking with a guest inside. Would you mind waiting in the lounge, sir?”
The boy led Dalen to a designated area inside the shop.
A simple chair and table were set up on one side, with the rest of the room displaying the forge’s finest wares.
A few months ago, this space had been a storage area for random junk, but now it was a place for wealthy or important guests.
With a glass of Reberon’s homemade beer in hand, admiring the forge’s creations, even the most frugal merchant would find it hard to resist an unplanned purchase.
The weapons crafted by the Mithril smith were such masterpieces that even a layperson would covet them, and a discerning merchant or skilled warrior would pay any price.
“Our special Mithril Forge beer is ready! Please relax while you wait. If you need anything, just call for me.”
Soon, the boy returned with beer and snacks, placing them on the table.
He bowed and left, closing the door behind him. Dalen sipped the beer, the faint sound of hammering from the forge serving as background music.
“Ahh.”
Reberon’s homemade beer was as excellent as ever.
Its crisp, tingling finish was a unique flavor not found in any tavern’s brew.
The faint smell of gunpowder was a bit distracting, but it didn’t detract from enjoying the fine drink.
Before long, the door to the lounge burst open, and a stocky man rushed in.
“Dalen! How long has it been?”
The room echoed with his joyful shout.
Reberon Ahakim, the Mithril smith, pulled Dalen into a bear hug.
Creak.
The armor plates groaned under the pressure.
Reberon’s arms were as thick as Dalen’s, and his strength was almost superhuman.
“Old man, you’re going to break my armor.”
“What’s the problem? I’ll fix it! No, I’ll make you an even better one! Hahaha!”
The blacksmith laughed heartily, squeezing even tighter. A normal person would have had their ribs cracked by now.
But Dalen’s frame was far from ordinary, and Reberon, having crafted several custom armors for him, knew this was how he showed his affection.
Finally, after breaking a couple of rivets, the blacksmith released Dalen, still beaming with joy.
“Hahaha! I had the strangest dream last night—a dragon appeared out of nowhere. I should’ve known it was you!”
”…I didn’t realize I had a knack for prophetic dreams.”
“Ha, it’s probably just a silly dream. But they say the interpretation is more important than the dream itself. I doubt you’ve turned into a dragon in just a few months! Hahaha!”
The blacksmith laughed heartily, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Dalen chuckled along, scratching the side of his nose.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small metal box from a hidden pocket.
“Here. A gift for you.”
“What is it?”
“A memento from the Holy Knights. Something that might come in handy in your forge.”
Reveron examined the box with his practiced hands, his eyes widening in admiration at the intricate craftsmanship. He opened it with a click.
Inside, a small orb-sized space flickered with a mysterious white flame.
Reveron’s eyes grew large at the sight of the white ember. He stammered, “Is this… the Ember of Argent?”
“Indeed, it is.”
The blacksmith fell silent, a pause that stretched on.
The Ember of Argent, delivered through Lucia from the commander, was a reward for a rift exploration mission. This white flame was the source for forging Argent Steel, used in the Holy Knights’ powerful armaments.
To a skilled blacksmith, the Ember of Argent was a priceless treasure, one that couldn’t be bought even with a fortune. Weapons forged from Argent Steel were unmatched in their ability to conduct holy power and were incredibly strong and flexible, often used to craft sacred relics.
”…Thank you.”
Reveron finally spoke again when Dalen had silently finished his beer.
“I don’t deserve such a gift, but I won’t refuse it. Just don’t expect to pay for anything in my shop from now on.”
“That’s more than enough.”
Dalen chuckled softly. After all, it was in his best interest for a master blacksmith to hone his skills quickly.
He scratched his chin and changed the subject. “I heard you have a visitor.”
“Ah, yes. A guest from the far north. You might know them.”
“I thought as much.”
Dalen added, noting the presence lingering just outside the door. From the moment he entered the forge, he hadn’t missed the scent of gunpowder mingling with the tannery and metal.
With his senses sharpened, he had already identified the visitor. Even in a large forge, the distance wasn’t enough to hide his presence from the other party.
He hadn’t bothered to conceal his presence, so the fact that they were lingering outside meant they had something to say. But since they weren’t on friendly terms, they hesitated at the door.
Dalen settled comfortably into his chair. As he casually rested his hand on the axe beside him, the presence outside flinched and retreated slightly.
He smirked and called out, “If you have something to say, come in. No need to skulk around like a mouse.”
Creak.
The door opened, and a woman entered, no longer in her covert attire from their last meeting.
She wore the uniform of the Tsar’s military, her hair neatly swept back.
Sasha Taran, an officer of the Tsar’s Royal Special Forces, bowed her head in greeting.
“Good to see you again, Dalen. I’m Sasha Taran, officer of the Tsar’s Royal Special Forces.”
Her demeanor was still polite and businesslike. Yet, the slight tremor in her hands and her uneven breathing betrayed her underlying anxiety.
“Haha, if you two know each other, this conversation will be much easier. Dalen, this officer here is my biggest client this month. She ordered armor and weapons for sixty men to venture into the labyrinth. Officer, this is my benefactor, Dalen. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”
”…Heading into the labyrinth, are you?”
While Reveron introduced them with a chuckle, Dalen studied Sasha, scratching his chin.
It wasn’t common for someone of her rank to enter a dangerous place like the labyrinth. It meant the mission was both critical and urgent.
It wasn’t hard to guess what the mission entailed.
After all, it was Dalen who had recently handed over a key figure from the rebel forces.
“You must have extracted some valuable information from that bandit leader.”
”…You’re quite perceptive.”
“You’re planning to chase the rebels into the labyrinth?”
Her long, thin eyebrows twitched. Dalen chuckled.
“Are they trying to summon a demon from within the labyrinth?”
”…How did you—”
“Just a guess. But your reaction tells me I’m right.”
Sasha’s expression twisted.
For Dalen, it wasn’t a difficult deduction.
The Tsar’s rebels, calling themselves the ‘Guardians of the Seven Crowns,’ had been demon pawns from the start.
Considering the demons they served were under Enaxagus, it wasn’t surprising they were making a move now to seek direct demonic aid.
Enaxagus, the god of fate and chaos, was the most strategic among the five dark gods in hastening the end times.
It wouldn’t be ideal for the Tsar to suffer too great a loss here, considering the future.
Though he wasn’t particularly fond of the officer before him, Dalen decided to offer a small piece of advice.
“Just a word of caution: be careful about entering the labyrinth. Especially with a large group.”
“I’m aware. The labyrinth is a maze where even seasoned explorers can get lost if they’re not careful. But with a unit already ahead of us, we can’t afford to delay.”
Sasha’s voice was firm. Dalen crossed his arms. Already ahead? That’s quick.
“How many went in?”
“Forty of our special forces went ahead.”
“Then you should consider them lost. No offense to your skills, but surviving the labyrinth is a different beast than fighting people.”
“That’s not the case. It was a hasty deployment, but we didn’t send our agents in unprepared. They were equipped with special training and gear, and we hired an exceptional guide.”
“A guide?”
That changed things. A truly skilled explorer could just about manage to lead a group of that size.
But Sasha’s next words caught even Dalen off guard.
“Yes. The information broker from the Raven’s Nest is leading our advance team.”