Northern Front (3)
Even during the reigns of the most indulgent czars, who reveled in luxury and excess, the northern front was continually fortified by a few loyal noble families.
Among the most notable improvements were the bridges and tunnels that allowed for swift movement across the front.
The knee-deep snowfields and steep mountain slopes served as natural defensive barriers, but they also hindered the movement of their own troops. Over decades, the czar’s nation overcame these obstacles through extensive construction.
Lucia was well aware of this. The problem was that even with these bridges and tunnels, it still took over ten days to reach the central front.
Two demons had already invaded the eastern edge of the front.
It wouldn’t be surprising if the number targeting the central area was ten times that.
“It might take some time, but the central front will hold,” Felber replied to Lucia’s concerns.
Sitting in the most spacious seat at the back of the sled, the old man opened his half-closed eyes, which he had shut for meditation, and spoke.
“The heart of the northern front is Eclahim, the largest city in the northern continent and a fortress in its own right. There’s a reason it hasn’t fallen for centuries.”
“And what reason is that?”
“The Frost Throne of Eclahim Palace is an artifact older than the history of this country. You’ll see it soon enough.”
Felber chuckled, his gaze fixed ahead, like a grandfather teasing a child with a wrapped gift.
Lucia, who didn’t care for this kind of banter, frowned but soon shook her head, dismissing her interest.
“These wizards…”
Dalen chuckled at her muttered complaint.
Felber might have been teasing, but he was right. The capital, Eclahim, would stand strong for a while.
The current czarina was a formidable force, unmatched even by the transcendents of the labyrinth city, and with the extraordinary artifact known as the Frost Throne, her power would be more than doubled.
Even if the evil god Sume descended directly, they could hold out for a week.
Of course, the problem was that they could only “hold out.”
“That’s why we need reinforcements.”
The strategy was simple.
Move from the eastern end of the front to the center, visiting key fortresses and strongholds to gather troops.
The first step of the plan was to concentrate all available forces from the eastern defense line at the center, Eclahim.
It was a reckless idea, essentially leaving one side of the defense line completely empty to concentrate power in one fortress.
But as the saying goes, fight fire with fire. To face a fanatical enemy, they needed to abandon conventional strategy.
In fact, the few times they had successfully repelled the northern onslaught in hundreds of attempts, it was by defending Eclahim in this manner.
[Hmm… It may not be a conventional strategy, but I agree it’s the best way to deal with Sume. That creature would charge in like a rabid dog at the sight of all the northern forces gathered in one place.]
The ancient dragon beyond the mindscape also agreed with the plan.
Though there was a hint of animosity in its words, it was understandable given the enmity between dragons and Sume.
“So the real issue is how to persuade the nobles,” said Craig Bidroff, the special task force executor.
“The lord and retainers of the fortress I was stationed at were stubborn old men, but they were weak in both ability and character. As we move deeper into the front, more competent nobles will be in charge. They won’t agree to withdraw their forces, so how do we…”
Craig’s eyes glistened as he pondered.
Dalen scratched his chin thoughtfully. He had been drafted from a relatively safe border fortress to join this expedition.
He had every reason to be upset, yet Craig showed no sign of such feelings.
“Heh. Now this is what I call romance. Romance…”
In fact, he seemed to be enjoying the situation, often smirking like this.
The friendly neighborhood uncle they had first met was gone, replaced by a hardened agent with a mysterious glint of madness.
In any case, it was better than being consumed by despair.
And contrary to Craig’s concerns, Dalen wasn’t worried about persuasion.
If his hunch was correct, persuasion wasn’t the key to this plan.
“Ah, the Aslpar Fortress has fallen!”
At that moment, a scout who had gone ahead returned to report.
Perhaps it was the pale face of the scout, but despite the low volume, the news quickly spread among the soldiers, causing a stir.
As they led the reinforcements further, they saw smoke rising from the half-destroyed fortress below the mountain slope.
Dalen dismounted from the sled and spoke.
“Old man, set up camp nearby. I’ll take a look around.”
It was time to rescue any survivors from the fallen fortress, even if it was just a handful of reinforcements.
The ruins of Aslpar Fortress.
Though it was on the eastern outskirts of the front, it was far more fortified than the fortress Dalen had departed from.
The double walls and dozens of siege weapons were reminiscent of the fortresses held by the paladin order, plugging the gaps.
To fend off the corrupted northerners and the hordes of monsters, at least this level of preparation was necessary.
Crunch.
Dalen stepped over the charred remains of a catapult and entered the fortress.
The collapsed walls couldn’t stop even a single person, let alone a powerful demon.
“There’s no one here…”
Lucia muttered uneasily.
The inside of the fortress was eerily quiet. Not a demon or even a single monster in sight.
The absence of survivors or even corpses in such destruction was far from normal.
And it wasn’t long before the reason revealed itself, less than five minutes after they headed toward the fortress’s center.
Rustle.
A shadow stirred in the debris.
“Graaaah!”
A soldier, screaming wildly, leaped from the shadows, brandishing a broken sword at Dalen’s neck.
Dalen calmly reached out and grabbed the soldier’s throat. The soldier, caught so easily, groaned and glared at Dalen.
Red eyes.
Long, claw-like nails.
Horns and spikes protruding through the chainmail were proof of a complete transformation beyond saving.
Clack! Clack!
The soldier repeatedly stabbed at Dalen with the broken sword, but it couldn’t even scratch his steel-like muscles and tough skin.
Dalen tightened his grip slightly. With a crack, the soldier’s body went limp.
But only for a moment.
“Kyah! Kaaah!”
As if pretending to be dead was a lie, the soldier’s eyes snapped open, and he began snapping his teeth at Dalen.
The body flailed, and the head, with its snapping jaws, separated, becoming two monsters.
This was why there were so few bodies in the streets amidst the collapsed walls and shattered buildings.
Revived by the influence of hellish magic, they had been lying in wait for prey.
The sinister magic emanating from the fortress’s center enveloped the entire interior.
The dense flow of magic made it difficult to detect these minor monsters until they were quite close.
“This is serious. If this is happening… there must be a hell gate nearby.”
Dalen nodded. He tossed the transformed soldier aside.
“Graaaah! Kaah!”
Crash! Rumble!
The creature, still flailing its limbs, smashed into a stone wall and was buried under rubble, finally ceasing its movements.
The sticky magic grew denser as they walked deeper into the fortress.
At the same time, more creatures similar to the first soldier monster began to appear.
A low-ranking soldier with a shattered skull, clutching a spear.
A trumpeter, his innards devoured, charged with his hollowed-out belly exposed.
Further in, grotesque creatures formed from fused bodies and giant worms made of entrails and bone fragments blocked their path.
There were even soldiers who, though not dead, had been so corrupted by hellish magic that they had lost all humanity.
“With this level of corruption… they’re practically dead. Their souls and bodies are completely tainted by hell’s energy. Consider them monsters, not survivors.”
When asked if there was a way to reverse the corruption, Lucia shook her head with a bitter expression.
Dealing with the mutated creatures wasn’t difficult.
For the two who could single-handedly cut down demons, these seemingly fearsome monsters were literally no match.
After advancing without much trouble, the two finally discovered the source: a blazing hell gate in the middle of the fortress’s central plaza.
”…Oh, my God.”
“A hell gate opened directly by a demon, right?”
“Yes. While the hell gates of dark sorcerers close after spewing out a certain level of monsters or demons through sacrifices and contracts, a demon resident of hell can tear open the passage itself.”
Though both had seen hell gates countless times, this was their first encounter with this type.
A hell gate, burning in the form of a crimson ring.
The sinister magic seeping from the place had already transformed the square into a hellish landscape.
Unlike the results of black magic, a demon’s hellgate never closes on its own.
It seemed almost alive, drawing in the souls and vitality of its surroundings to fuel itself.
With that power, it further contaminated the area—a key characteristic of its existence.
While dark sorcerers might open a hellgate to gain power and armies, a demon’s hellgate had a different purpose.
It aimed to transform the environment into one suitable for demons and monsters.
Turning a place that wasn’t hell into hell itself was the ultimate goal of those fiends.
“It’s a good thing we held back the troops. Ordinary people would turn into monsters just by entering the fortress walls.”
Survivors would be hard to find. Instead of responding to Lucia’s murmured observation, Dalen drew his holy sword and swung it lightly.
Slash!
The air itself seemed to tear, scattering scales of a peculiar hue that shimmered as they caught the light.
Dalen raised his hand to catch a spear thrust from behind a cloak of invisibility.
A solid weight. The strike of someone who had honed their weapon skills to the extreme.
The man, whose ambush had failed, quickly retreated, drawing his sword and shouting.
“Servants of the demon, I’ll tear you apart! In the name of the Special Task Force Executor, I will—what?”
His shout was cut short.
His bloodshot eyes wavered violently.
“Y-you’re not a demon’s servant? And there’s a holy knight with you? Wait, what?”
The man stammered in confusion. It wasn’t hard to guess his intent.
Seeing Dalen covered in blood and gore from fighting monsters, he must have mistaken him for a demon’s minion and tried to kill him.
The man was no stranger, either.
Not someone Dalen had just bumped into on the street, but a comrade he’d shared life-and-death struggles with for weeks.
“It’s been a while, Inspector Roman Barkov, isn’t it?”
“Y-yes, Dalen… sir…”
Despite the bloodshot eyes and hair matted with blood and sweat, he was recognizable.
He was the direct subordinate of Executor Sasha Taran, who had met his end protecting his men in the labyrinth.
The man had been part of the expedition to thwart the rebels’ plan to summon the demon Kalkas.
“I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to—it’s just, you looked like a monster—no, that’s not it!”
”…Let’s save that story for later.”
Dalen rubbed his suddenly aching forehead and lowered his holy sword.
With a blue flash, he shattered the hellgate and surveyed the square.
“Is there anyone else alive in this fortress besides you?”