Royal Special Task Force (3)
“After interrogating Basilikov, we discovered that the rebels are planning a swift and decisive civil war.”
The table was set with a pint of Laveron’s finest craft beer.
The conversation between the Tsar’s special task force agent, a blacksmith, and a mercenary grew more intense.
“That bandit with the bushy beard, right?”
“Yes. He was a close confidant of Boris Kalashnikov, one of the rebel faction’s candidates for the throne. Boris renounced his claim and wandered until he met his end at your hands. So, it’s no exaggeration to say Basilikov was effectively leading the faction.”
Dalen chewed on a piece of jerky and took a swig of his beer. He was already somewhat familiar with the story.
‘The Guardians of the Seven Crowns.’
That’s what the Tsar’s rebels called themselves.
Not for any profound reason—simply because they had seven individuals claiming to be princes or princesses.
Naturally, the rebel factions were also seven, each centered around a different claimant to the throne.
One could call it a coalition for a common goal, but it was more like a fragile alliance that could shatter at any moment.
If any one of them tried to rise alone, they’d surely lose their head, so they banded together to challenge the royal family.
Of course, with only one Tsar’s scepter in the kingdom, once the current Tsarina was removed, they’d likely turn on each other in a bloody struggle.
A successful rebellion followed by internal collapse—a fate that often befell great empires in their twilight years.
‘Of course, the entire Tsar’s realm would become a playground for demons long before it got to that point.’
Dalen scratched his chin. The fate of rebels who consorted with demons was always sealed.
At that moment, Laveron, who had been listening while downing his beer, interjected.
“So, what’s this plan of theirs? Are they really trying to awaken a demon in the labyrinth, as Dalen suggested?”
“Exactly. They’re planning to summon Kalkas of the Chain Throne, a demon under the evil god Enaxagus.”
”…Good heavens.”
The blacksmith rubbed his forehead. Even Laveron had heard of Kalkas of the Chain Throne, a notorious demon.
Among the hundreds of demons under Enaxagus, the nine most powerful were known as the lords of the Nine Thrones, directly serving the evil god.
Kalkas of the Chain Throne was the ninth and last in rank among them.
His domain was said to be a hell where endless chains spread from the throne, covering the land, with frostbitten hounds at the end of each chain drooling over living prey.
If the master of that hell were to manifest in the world, even in an avatar form, the fall of the Tsar’s realm would be inevitable.
Already, most of the military was tied up on the Frost Plateau front, fending off invasions by demon-possessed barbarians.
With insufficient forces to root out the rebels, dealing with a demon’s avatar would be no easy task.
“The rebels descended into the labyrinth about a month ago, and we learned of it two weeks ago. As soon as we got the intel, we dispatched a vanguard. While they hold the rebels at bay, our main force, fully prepared, will join to finish the job.”
Dalen nodded, starting to piece together the situation.
The bandit with the bushy beard who had tried to kill him in Revivach had spoken of the rebels planning to start a civil war amidst the continent’s chaos.
But no matter how many troops the Tsar’s realm had committed to the Frost Plateau, the rebels couldn’t hope to match the ironclad army with their forces alone.
The Tsar’s realm was one of the most powerful military nations on the continent, alongside the Empire.
Even the reserve forces resting and training in the rear were more than enough to crush the rebels’ limited numbers.
Thus, the rebel leaders’ decision to summon a demon wasn’t entirely surprising.
That they chose Kalkas of the Chain Throne, among all the demons under Enaxagus, was a curious coincidence.
“We completed our training and education on the labyrinth yesterday, and all necessary supplies have been stocked. All we need now are quality weapons, armor, and a guide.”
Enforcer Sasha Taran spoke, her eyes gleaming as she rose and bowed deeply to Dalen.
“On behalf of the Tsar’s royal special task force, I ask you to be our guide.”
Her voice, though still formal, carried a hint of sincerity.
It was expected.
It would be strange if they laid out all these details to an outsider like him without wanting something in return.
Her lingering steps at the door had hinted at this very request.
“This is a mission that will determine the fate of the Tsar’s realm. We need a guide more skilled than anyone.”
Sasha said.
Dalen’s prowess was already proven by his defeat of the labyrinth’s gnoll tribe and the demon.
Recently, he had even earned the moniker of “Dragon Slayer” in the south, so the task force was eager to seize this opportunity.
Dalen had no intention of refusing.
Though no one here knew, Kalkas was a demon with whom Sienna had a deep-seated grudge.
The witch of the Raven’s Nest had surely joined the task force knowing this.
Thus, having promised Bourbon to save her, Dalen saw no reason not to follow a similar path.
The important thing was what he could gain from this.
“As you know, my price has gone up quite a bit.”
Dalen said. Sasha straightened and replied.
“The Tsar’s gold is limitless. You can take a cartload of coins if you wish.”
“That sounds tempting, but I already have plenty of gold.”
“Then what would you…”
“If you’re willing to meet my terms, consider the job accepted.”
“I promise, on the name of the task force enforcer, to provide any reward you ask.”
Sasha declared. Dalen chuckled, setting down his empty beer mug.
And shortly after, when Sasha heard what Dalen wanted as his reward, her face turned pale.
The next day.
Dalen and the task force set out for the Silver District.
Sasha had commissioned Laveron for the task force’s armor and weapons about two weeks prior.
With plans to descend into the labyrinth as soon as they received their gear, Dalen’s acceptance of the job was perfectly timed.
Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink.
The task force, clad in equipment crafted by a master artisan, marched in orderly fashion toward the gates of the Silver District.
Few could fail to recognize the distinctive style of the Tsar’s realm, evident in the gleaming plate and chainmail armor.
The southern district of the Bronze Quarter was predominantly populated by outsiders like merchants and mercenaries.
As such, the passersby were well-versed in rumors and knowledge from beyond the city.
“Look over there. That’s the emblem of the Tsar’s ironclad army.”
“And they’re heading toward the Silver District. Do they have business in the labyrinth? Or perhaps the Golden Palace?”
“Something’s definitely happening. Hey, isn’t that the demon slayer from the rumors?”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd along the main road.
Dalen’s keen senses picked up every whisper and sidelong glance.
His expression remained impassive, indifferent to the attention. Yet, he felt a sense of satisfaction.
Not because of the attention, but because he held in his hands the masterpiece Laveron had painstakingly crafted over the past few months.
“What a remarkable piece of work. Is it true the owner of the Mithril Forge made this?”
“Indeed.”
“Ha! How can such a masterpiece come from human hands? No offense to your kind, of course. It’s just that, given your short lifespans, it’s hard to hone skills over centuries like we do. I suspected he was extraordinary, but this is sheer talent.”
The dwarf, stroking his beard, examined the spear in Dalen’s hand.
Bjorn Kaladrakum, the one-eyed master craftsman, had decided to join the mission after their discussion at the inn the previous night.
Bourbon had altered his memory, erasing any mention of dragons and leaving only the fact that Dalen was heading into the labyrinth to rescue Sienna.
The incident at the tavern was chalked up to him passing out from too much drink. How strong the liquor must have been to knock out a dwarf, Dalen couldn’t say.
“I’d love to meet that fellow someday. I have a feeling we’d get along well as craftsmen.”
Bjorn said. Dalen shrugged.
It wouldn’t hurt for them to become friends. In many of the timelines where they both survived, the two artisans had become close companions.
“I can introduce you if you like. We can visit together next time.”
“Ha ha ha! Sounds great! You’re the most reliable mercenary I’ve ever known!”
Leaving the dwarf’s hearty laughter behind, it wasn’t long before the group entered the Silver District.
With just a wall separating them, the bustling crowds thinned dramatically.
The wide, long avenue and the distant central square drew everyone’s attention.
Walking steadily over the well-laid stone pavement, the group of over sixty arrived at the central square’s barrier tower.
By noon, the group had finally made it past the city gates, only to be charged another entrance fee in gold coins before they could step into the vast hall.
“A royal special task force in the labyrinth? Aren’t they supposed to operate in secret? What are they doing here?”
“Haven’t you heard? Just two weeks ago, dozens of them descended into the labyrinth.”
“With demon slayers and the task force together, something must be going on down there. We should be extra cautious on this journey.”
As they entered the Silver Zone, the murmurs that had briefly subsided swelled again in the hall filled with explorers.
Just like in the Bronze Zone, curious and intrigued eyes followed them.
But there was also a palpable sense of wariness, suspicion, and even a faint, unresolved hostility in some of those gazes.
It wasn’t hard to understand why.
Unlike the passersby in the Bronze Zone, for these people, the presence of Dalen and the task force could be a matter of survival.
Still, Dalen had no intention of letting those hostile stares go unchecked.
He casually followed the most intense gaze to its source, locking eyes with an explorer.
The man had a face full of scars and armor that bore the marks of countless repairs—a veteran who had clearly seen his share of battles.
‘Hmm.’
Even when their eyes met, the man didn’t back down.
Instead, he met Dalen’s gaze head-on, his wariness only growing stronger.
Dalen chuckled softly and summoned just a hint of his dragon’s power.
A flicker.
Deep within his dark pupils, a slow-burning flame ignited.
“Ahh!”
With a thud, the explorer’s legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground.
His eyes were half-glazed, and he was drenched in cold sweat, hiccuping uncontrollably.
“Victor? What’s wrong?”
“What happened?”
As his startled companions questioned him, he pointed a trembling finger at Dalen, but by then, Dalen had already slipped back among the other task force members.
After deflecting a few more hostile stares, no one dared to openly challenge the task force anymore.
“It’s chilly in here. My jaw’s trembling. Don’t you feel it?”
”······.”
The dwarf standing quietly beside him had turned pale, scratching his beard nervously.
Rumble.
The hall began to vibrate. It seemed the time had come.
Dalen tightened the straps on his armor and checked his weapons: the holy sword at his waist, the axe, the spell-slayer, and the spear of Reberon slung across his back.
Hummm—
As he finished his preparations and clasped hands with the task force members, the entire barrier tower resonated with a faint hum.
Light seeped from the magic circle on the floor.
The resonance grew stronger until it filled the hall.
At the peak of the light and vibration, everything went dark.
Whoosh—
As if falling into a bottomless pit, the explorers vanished from their spots.
When Dalen opened his eyes again, a faint darkness surrounded him.
The unfamiliar texture of the earth beneath him, the unpleasantly damp air.
As countless stimuli flooded his mind, quickly analyzing the environment, Dalen instinctively looked up.
The sky was adorned with stars.
The constellations that served as guides for explorers, seen countless times beyond the monitor.
‘Due south of the return stone. Quite a distance from the outer regions.’
Having quickly assessed his location, Dalen allowed himself a slight smile.
It wasn’t a bad starting point.
The entrance to the second floor of the labyrinth was located at the far ends of north, south, east, and west from the return stone.
For someone needing to catch up with Sienna and the advance party, being transported far from the return stone was a stroke of luck.
“Phew. I’m glad I prepared myself. The sensation of falling into a bottomless pit is definitely different from ordinary spatial transfer magic.”
Sasha, who had approached him, remarked. Dalen chuckled.
The task force was indeed impressive. Considering many of them had no experience with the labyrinth, it was remarkable that none of them had screamed.
‘Telling Lucia about this would surely bruise her pride.’
Thinking of the blonde knight likely to be somewhere to the south, Dalen naturally drew his hand axe.
“Why the axe all of a sudden…?”
Sasha questioned, puzzled. Dalen gestured lightly with his chin behind her.
The ground they stood on was damp and sticky, somewhere between a sandy field and a swamp.
And all around the clearing, tall grass grew as high as a person.
Following Dalen’s gesture, Sasha turned her head toward the grassy area, her expression shifting from a frown to one of shock.
“Everyone! Prepare for com—”
Crash!
Before the command could be completed, the axe sliced through the task force’s formation.
The axe flew in a straight line toward the grassy area, narrowly missing the shoulders and heads of the agents.
Rumble!
From the seemingly ordinary tall grass, screams erupted.
Crack!
In the darkness, a dimly glowing disc sliced through the heads of camouflaged frogmen.
Thud!
It wasn’t until the axe split the third head that it finally stopped, trembling.
As the frog-headed creature fell, the surrounding grass began to stir.
Rumble!
Rumble!
The grass rustled.
The frogmen, realizing their ambush had failed, communicated the start of the hunt with strange cries and gestures.
In the small clearing where the group stood, it looked like a subtle distortion of space.
“What on earth is this…?”
“Frogmen! How many are there?”
The task force agents, pale with fear, let out cries that were almost screams.
The number of camouflaged frogmen was beyond counting.
The southern region of the labyrinth’s first floor, a vast swamp inhabited by a massive tribe of thousands of frogmen.
The area at the southernmost edge of the labyrinth’s first floor, where the group had been transported, was right in the heart of that tribe’s territory.
Swoosh—
Dalen drew his holy sword. It had been a while since he’d had a proper fight.
With the young blue dragon coiled around his left arm suppressing the dragon’s power, the restraints he’d placed on himself were now lifted.
It was hard to suppress the grin that tugged at his lips. Dalen didn’t bother hiding his smile as he stepped forward.
Thud—
His light step left ripples in the air.
Under the star-filled night sky, the shadow of a warrior soared.