Northern Front (4)
There weren’t many survivors.
Eight agents from the royal special forces had been deployed to defend the front.
Among the existing fortress defense forces, there were about twenty officers of platoon leader rank or higher.
These thirty or so survivors were all that remained of a fortress that had once housed thousands.
”…You all look like hell. Come on, take this. You’ve been through a lot.”
Felber, who had set up camp and was waiting, clicked his tongue as he saw Dalen and the survivors return. He handed out a few pre-prepared campfires to the survivors.
The survivors, looking as if they might burst into tears, staggered over to the fires and settled down.
Their eyes were bloodshot, their appearances soaked in blood and dust.
It was clear, without needing words, just how grueling the past few days had been for them.
As the survivors warmed themselves with stew, bread, and heated wine, Dalen briefly explained the current situation to them.
True to their veteran status, they listened intently even as they rested.
”…A wise decision. We couldn’t believe it until we saw it ourselves, but after experiencing it, we understood. They’re enemies that can be comprehended with conventional strategy.”
“After taking the fortress, they opened the gates of hell and then retreated north. They don’t seem to care about disrupting the rear or infiltrating the front.”
“It seems their only thought is to gather their forces for a major clash with the central defense army at Eclahim. Damn barbarians… I didn’t mean to insult your origins, Dalen. My apologies.”
”…”
Damn it, I’ve never even been beyond the Frost Plains.
Saying “I’m not a barbarian” here wouldn’t make much difference. And it didn’t really matter if they misunderstood his background.
There were quite a few immigrants from beyond the Frost Plains in the Tsar’s country.
Facing the evil god and the front lines, the residents of the Tsar’s country knew better than anyone about the temptations of demons. Thus, racial discrimination against uncorrupted northerners wasn’t severe.
With Dalen’s reputation and status, he faced virtually no racial disadvantages.
So instead of offering explanations, Dalen focused on his stew like the other survivors.
“By the way, the mercenary hired by Charina was you, Dalen. I heard she requested support from several places besides the Paladin Order, but I didn’t expect it to be you.”
Roman Barkov, who had been promoted to executor after the labyrinth mission, spoke up. Among the fortress survivors, he had taken on a leadership role.
Perhaps he had undergone intense training after losing his direct superior. The aura he exuded was quite different from what it had been in the labyrinth.
He was likely at the early stages of the third rank, having just achieved a small domain, or at least close to that level.
Looking back, the other survivors, while not superhumans with domains, were far beyond ordinary people in strength.
It was because of the hell gate the demon had opened in the middle of the fortress.
To avoid being tainted by the sinister magic flowing from there, they needed to be at this level.
“Man, Dalen isn’t just any mercenary. If it weren’t for him, the damage from the southeastern rebellion would have been much worse.”
The executor Craig, who managed the survivors, interjected. Roman’s eyes widened.
“What? Wasn’t the southeastern rebellion resolved by the Paladin Order?”
“The Paladin Order was mainly involved, but it was Dalen who first thwarted the attack. Wasn’t I there at the scene?”
Craig enthusiastically recounted the events in the south to Roman.
The two were said to be comrades from the special forces training academy. Despite Craig’s easygoing demeanor and Roman’s more upright nature, they seemed to get along well, their conversation never ceasing.
Half-listening to their exchange, Dalen scraped the last of his stew with hard bread when Lucia quietly approached.
She spoke.
“Dalen. Can we talk for a moment?”
“As expected, Suum seems to be preparing for a massive battle.”
Inside the command tent.
Lucia, having confirmed there were no eavesdroppers, began to speak.
“I’ve compiled the survivors’ testimonies. The demon-led monster army took the fortress in an hour, opened the hell gate, and then retreated the way they came.”
“They eliminated obstacles and reinforced their main force. It’s for the final battle.”
”…It seems that way.”
It’s the same pattern always shown in the game.
Opening hell gates to devastate the front line fortresses beyond repair, removing obstacles, and forcing a single decisive battle.
A strategy befitting the evil god, obsessed with a proper fight regardless of the war’s outcome.
“The fortresses ahead are likely to have fallen or suffered significant damage. It might be difficult to secure proper reinforcements.”
”…”
“I’ve heard from the Elgaia Tower Master about Charina and the Frost Throne’s capabilities, but… honestly, it’s just rumors. We don’t know if they can truly stop the demon’s army.”
She bit her lip anxiously.
It was a vulnerability she hadn’t shown in front of the soldiers.
“If we ignore the defensive line fortresses and advance, we could save a few days. With Charina and the Eclahim Palace’s fate uncertain, we need to move quickly…”
“Lucia.”
”…”
“Are you afraid?”
A brief silence.
Lucia finally sighed.
“Yes. I’m afraid. This isn’t just about my life…”
Emotions she had been holding back surged forth.
Her fingers trembled slightly, the holy tattoos shimmering as divine power vibrated through them.
Even a paladin, called by the gods to lead the charge on the battlefield, cannot be free from everything while in a mortal body.
This is true for superhumans like Lucia who have achieved domains, and even for transcendents who have surpassed the limits of their species.
Even after overcoming the past and accepting the present through a time of patience, the future remains an uncertain darkness.
In fact, the higher one climbs and glimpses fragments of that darkness, the deeper the anguish becomes.
Fear is not born from complete ignorance, but from the vague silhouettes moving in the dark.
“This is a matter of the continent’s fate. If we fail, the Tsar’s country will be devastated. Next would be the city-states, Falcion, and the Paladin Order.”
With trembling hands, she opened her water pouch and took a sip.
Once the dam of emotions broke, it was hard to calm down.
Had she been suppressing her emotions this much in front of the soldiers?
The reason there were no deserters even after witnessing the fallen fortress was clear when you thought about it.
Without the Archmage Tower Master, the Paladin Order’s inquisitor, and the dragonslayer mercenary, the army would have likely fallen apart long ago.
Knowing her position, she must have tried not to show any emotional turmoil in front of the soldiers.
”…”
She lowered her head after quenching her thirst. Droplets fell like a golden waterfall onto the table, forming small circles. Watching her shoulders shake beneath her golden hair, Dalen slowly spoke.
“I’m afraid too.”
”…What?”
Her reaction was one of surprise, as if she hadn’t expected that answer. Dalen shrugged.
“It’s not for the same reasons as you. I’m not noble enough to claim I’m protecting humanity or defending civilization.”
Creak.
He leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the tent ceiling.
The tent, insulated with animal hides, reminded him of the mountain cabin where dried deer hides hung on a drying rack.
How terrified he had been, waking up in a world blanketed in white.
Even after hacking apart a pack of wolves with an axe on a mountain path, and doing the same to bandits as a mercenary.
What dominated his mind was not the exhilaration of a powerful body, but the fear of a company man whose hobby had been gaming.
“I’m afraid of dying. I’m afraid of being forgotten. I’m afraid of finally collapsing under the weight of the world.”
”…”
“I wasn’t always someone who killed people and monsters with swords and axes. I was someone who couldn’t even throw a proper punch, let alone cast a spell or swing a sword. I was the one who got hit, not the one who hit.”
”…It’s hard to imagine you being bullied, even as a child.”
“Right? I wonder why I was like that. I should’ve at least punched those bastards in the face.”
Dalen grinned playfully, and Lucia couldn’t help but chuckle.
“I always took the easy way out. But it turned out to be the hardest path. I kept choosing the easy way out of habit, regretting it every time, and so on…”
”…”
“I won’t do that here. I know the difference now between being consumed by fear and taking the easy way, and closing my eyes and charging forward, even if it seems crazy. And…”
With his eyes closed, he spoke softly.
“I’d rather fail a hundred times than kneel in defeat.”
He had faced countless failures beyond the monitor.
“I can’t afford to lose twice.”
Yet, there was a reason he couldn’t give up until the very end.
It wasn’t just about returning to his former home or reclaiming what was lost.
Having lost once, he understood the value of what he had. As time passed, Dalen realized that this value remained unchanged, even in the present moment.
The monotonous, exhausting life on Earth had become a cherished memory of a lost home.
Would life here be any different? Dalen thought not.
His desire to obtain the Stone of Wishes at the labyrinth’s depths remained unchanged. But now, his reasons were more than just one.
Having felt the aching nostalgia for his lost everyday life, he had come to appreciate the preciousness of this world as well.
He didn’t know what choice he would make in the final moment, but his motivation to protect and reclaim had grown stronger than ever.
Creak.
The chair made a small sound. It was Lucia’s chair.
“If we don’t destroy the hell gates that have formed at each fallen fortress, the northern front will become a contaminated zone even after we win the final battle. The warriors who survived those fortresses are the veterans who can truly help us face the demon army.”
Her voice was slightly tinged with emotion, yet calm and logical.
“Every time we secure a fortress, the soldiers’ morale will rise. It will greatly impact the final battle.”
Regardless of her trust in Charina and the power of the Frost Throne, she knew that to win the war, not just the battle, they needed to secure the front line fortresses.
What had been holding her back was fear.
Dalen didn’t see that as wrong.
That’s why he hadn’t promised to fight by her side until the end or vowed to protect her no matter what.
With a low chuckle, Dalen added, still with his eyes closed, “Don’t worry. I have a feeling… that Sum is itching for a showdown with me right about now.”
The memory of the warrior he faced at the tomb of the High Orc ancestor.
In the warrior’s final memory, which painted the sky and earth in shades of gray, Sum’s expression was vividly etched.
A mix of intense killing intent, rising excitement, competitive spirit, and pleasure.
Dalen was certain. Though he couldn’t understand it, he felt those emotions clearly directed at him this time around.
‘The Gray Warrior also killed the Grand Duke of the Corpse Swamp.’
The reaction of the war god, who had lost his most astute strategist, to the killer could only be one thing.
Perhaps all these actions of burning and capturing fortresses were an invitation to him to join the battlefield…
Smooch.
A sound pierced through his thoughts.
The soft sensation registered a moment too late.
“This isn’t a goodbye.”
When he opened his eyes, Lucia was close.
It wasn’t hard to trace the warmth lingering on his lips to its source.
Her eyes were moist, her cheeks slightly flushed, and beneath them, a gentle smile.
That smile opened.
“You said you can’t lose twice, right?”
And she leaned in once more.
“I won’t lose twice either.”
For a while, warmth lingered inside the tent.
The reinforcements continued their advance toward the central front.
The operation to destroy the hell gates at the fallen fortresses and rescue survivors occurred every day or two.
Initially centered around Dalen and Lucia, the operation soon included separate rescue teams.
As they approached the central front, the fortresses grew larger, and the warriors they had previously saved wanted to help find other survivors like themselves.
Occasionally, they encountered fortresses that hadn’t fallen.
These were places where the defensive forces had resisted fiercely or where only a single demon accompanied the monster army.
Such fortresses often started defensively but, upon hearing the situation from rescued survivors, would send out all but the minimum necessary forces.
Thus, as they expanded their numbers and marched for three weeks, Dalen and the five thousand reinforcements finally stood before the royal capital, Eclahim.