Eastern Front (1)
The sprawling metropolis of Falcion, home to millions.
In a world where transportation lags centuries behind modern Earth, how could such a colossal city come to be?
But that’s not all.
A bastion of humanity built atop the entrance to a labyrinth.
A masterpiece of a transcendent being’s magic circle, functioning as a single grand spell.
The heart of the continent, unshaken through countless wars over centuries.
Beyond its sheer size, the city is described with many names that teeter on the edge of the unreal.
Settings I accepted without much thought from behind a monitor.
But upon falling into this world, I felt firsthand how each of these settings painted an absurd story into reality.
And among them, the most striking was the reality behind the term “humanity’s last bastion.”
“A city with defenses capable of withstanding an army of a hundred thousand and a system that allows for self-sufficiency in most resources.”
Humanity’s last bastion.
This title wasn’t just due to its towering walls or the Golden Palace, home to countless superhumans.
Literally, even if the entire continent were engulfed in flames, this city could survive.
From basic necessities like flour and wooden bowls to the products of magical engineering like mana stones, potions, and enchanted weapons.
As long as the seven districts, divided by seven walls, performed their roles, everything could be produced and consumed within the city.
“Among them, the Bronze District produces the most basic raw materials and necessities.”
Food, leather and fabric, ingots and timber, and people.
The Bronze District was where these primary resources were produced.
Normally, such products would require vast lands, immense labor, and unique environments.
Yet the abilities of the transcendent beings residing in the deepest parts of the Golden Palace made it possible to produce these goods in abundance within the confined space of the city walls.
“The Southern District supplies endless manpower from outside. The Western District provides essentials like grain, timber, leather, and meat. The Northern District handles seafood and river trade along the Lycant River.”
And the East, it produced iron, copper, silver, gold, and gems from its deep mines.
Clip-clop. Clip-clop.
Dalen rode towards the 8th District of the Eastern Zone.
The very area where the Apostles of Reversal had gathered their forces, driving out the city guards and taking control.
Heading into a real battlefield meant being fully armed.
On horseback, Dalen looked every bit the veteran mercenary, thanks to the armor and weapons crafted by Reberon through sleepless nights.
And by his side.
The three riding with him were also equipped like knights heading into battle.
Clad in gleaming plate armor with tattered robes, they were Captain Gawain of the Silent Company and two of his subordinates.
“Tell me the situation.”
Riding alongside Gawain, Dalen spoke up.
He hadn’t shouted, so normally, the sound of hooves and wind would have drowned out his voice.
“Based on evidence from the guild, the city guards launched a raid on the cultists’ hideouts spread across the Bronze District.”
But Captain Gawain, having reached a level of superhuman prowess, possessed extraordinary senses.
“It was an operation involving thousands of troops. Most of the hideouts were easily subdued.”
Clip-clop. Clip-clop.
The voice resonating inside the helmet was muffled by the sound of hooves.
Yet Dalen’s superhuman senses caught every word clearly.
Both he and Gawain deliberately refrained from shouting.
The content of their conversation was not meant for the ears of other civilians on the street.
“The problem was that it was too easy. The forces stationed at each hideout were far fewer than we anticipated.”
“They’ve already moved their forces.”
“Indeed.”
Gawain nodded.
The rest was easy to predict.
The cultists had already withdrawn their forces from each hideout, gathering them in one place. That place was a certain iron mine in the 8th District of the Eastern Zone.
From their hidden base deep within the mine, the Apostles of Reversal launched a massive counterattack.
The Bronze Guards, who attempted to raid the base, were utterly annihilated.
“By the time they had swallowed most of the 8th District, the guards couldn’t regain control of the situation. It was only at dawn today that they managed to establish a successful defensive line at the district’s boundary.”
“They were caught off guard.”
”…Indeed.”
Dalen stroked his chin as he rode.
It had only been two days since the guild was raided.
How many times had the situation flipped in those two days?
Unpredictable events were unfolding, ones that couldn’t possibly arise from the simple algorithms of a game.
But Dalen chuckled softly.
The fact that these events were diverging from the countless scenarios he had experienced over hundreds of iterations.
It was proof that the path he was on was slowly veering away from the inevitable end of destruction he had never escaped in those hundreds of iterations.
The metropolis was vast. The four rode until the sun had completely set.
Riding at a near full gallop along the main road, they switched to fresh, vigorous horses at relay stations along the way.
Surprisingly, the people who couldn’t be swapped out held up well.
While Dalen’s superhuman physique was expected, it wasn’t easy for ordinary people to endure such a grueling march.
The two members of the Silent Company grew paler as they went, but they kept their mouths shut and followed without falling behind.
Dalen realized once again that the reputation of the Silent Company was not just an empty title.
“Of course. The captain himself is one of the heroes who slays demons in the later stages of the game.”
Watching Gawain, whose expression never wavered, Dalen thought to himself.
At some point, the scenery around them began to change.
The neatly paved roads turned into paths made of uneven stone.
The tall buildings lining the main road dwindled, replaced by large warehouses scattered here and there.
The road gradually inclined. Not a complete mountain, but a gentle, long ridge with the terrain sloping down on either side.
Built on high ground, it was the landscape of the Eastern Zone of the Bronze District, specialized in mining.
“The 8th District… one of the three districts with the largest iron mines in the Eastern Zone.”
Arriving at the defensive line established by the guards, Dalen dismounted and spoke in passing. He glanced around as he did.
Temporary watchtowers made from buildings, barricades blocking the streets, and guards patrolling above them.
“Ugh… help me.”
Wounded soldiers were being transported to tents, groaning in pain.
For a defensive line established just this morning, it was surprisingly sturdy and organized.
Gawain, who dismounted after Dalen, questioned his passing comment.
“Do you know the Eastern Zone well? Unless you’ve lived here for years, outsiders usually only know the Southern Zone of the Bronze District.”
Well, of course. Who in Seoul’s Seocho-dong would know what it’s like up in Dobong-dong?
In this world, where transportation is inconvenient, it would be even more so. Dalen just shrugged.
“A little. I’ve picked up bits and pieces here and there.”
As the game progresses into the mid-to-late stages, it’s important to pay attention to these detailed settings.
Conflicts arising from territorial disputes between districts have often turned heroes, who called those districts home, into knights of demons.
There was even a necromancer who, in a bid to kill the village chief who imprisoned his parents, led an undead army to attack the entire city.
Having great power doesn’t necessarily come with great responsibility.
The myriad human figures in this world, experienced from behind a monitor, were one of the main reasons for the game’s skyrocketing difficulty.
“In that sense…”
Dalen turned his gaze to Gawain.
In the game, he was one of the steadfast and loyal heroes who dedicated himself to humanity until the end.
But even heroes have their weaknesses.
In this world turned reality, how similar was he to his in-game counterpart?
While weaknesses can eventually be overcome, would his steadfastness and honesty shine here as well?
Whether he knew Dalen’s thoughts or not, Gawain was greeting the two company members who had arrived a bit later.
“Beton, Ray. You’ve worked hard coming and going today. Go in and rest now. Dalen, do you have a moment?”
Dalen didn’t answer. He merely glanced in the direction Gawain was heading.
The large tent surrounded by torches in the distance was likely the meeting place where the guards’ officers were engaged in heated discussions late into the night.
Seeing Gawain naturally leading him towards that tent, it seemed he hadn’t brought him here just as a mercenary with some muscle.
“Let’s make things clear.”
Dalen began.
“Tell me where exactly my help is needed.”
”…”
A simple question any mercenary might ask.
But Gawain, perhaps not taking it as such, only spoke after a lengthy pause.
“The information broker from the Raven’s Nest… she and I have a long-standing acquaintance.”
Dalen nodded without a word.
“She told me about you. She convinced me of how crucial you are in this fight. I hope you don’t misunderstand; she didn’t share much.”
“What did she say?”
“It seems you know quite a bit about the cultists. And also…”
Gawain paused, uncharacteristically biting his lip.
What on earth is he trying to say?
As Dalen watched him intently, Gawain spoke with a face more rigid than usual.
“…that you’re not actually from the North.”
“Pfft.”
Dalen almost burst out laughing.
It seemed that the ever-curious informant was quite shocked to learn that Dalen wasn’t a northern barbarian.
So much so that he must have whispered it to Gawain as if it were a top-secret revelation.
And this straightforward warrior took it at face value, revealing it as if it were Dalen’s most guarded secret.
‘How far has his imagination run wild?’
Regardless, Sienna was a talent destined to become the city’s top informant.
Though he overthought things, his skills were exceptional.
Dalen marveled at the information Sienna had gathered about his past two years in such a short time, and he suppressed a smile.
Gawain’s stern face took on a slightly dazed expression.
“Why are you laughing?”
”…Oh, it’s nothing. Just something amusing.”
“Anyway, I don’t intend to pry into your past with the cultists. I have no desire to.”
Gawain spoke in a low voice, ensuring others couldn’t hear.
“I’m just a simple man who got here by wielding a sword, but maybe because of that simplicity, I know this much: threats don’t work on someone like you.”
Dalen listened quietly, offering no response. Gawain continued.
“And because of that, you’re someone we can trust even more. Help us.”
The young, stoic commander bowed his head.
Just as he had done when they first met in front of the burning merchant guild.
Dalen chuckled softly.
“For free?”
”…”
“I’m joking. You really can’t take a joke, can you? You wouldn’t last a day in the mercenary business.”
Gawain’s stern expression twisted slightly.
If his subordinates were around, they might have been terrified by that look, but Dalen knew it meant Gawain was flustered.
“I’ll help. Don’t worry.”
Dalen took a deep breath. The cold air filled his lungs, reminding him that this world was alive.
Many things were changing.
But some things remained constant.
His task was to break the seeds of destruction while preserving the noble causes that stood against it.
And the silent commander was exactly the kind of person Dalen had thought he was.
Dalen was satisfied to have one more noble cause to protect.
He laughed quietly and said, “Let’s go in. The meeting should be wrapping up soon.”
The large tent was bustling with activity, a testament to the gravity of the situation.
The commanders of the city guard, who would normally be scattered throughout the city, had gathered in one place due to the unusual circumstances.
And when too many heads come together, problems are bound to arise.
Listening to the shouts and arguments erupting from all sides, Dalen found a seat with Gawain.
“If we go in and get wiped out, who’s going to take responsibility for that?”
Bang!
A middle-aged commander slammed his fist on the round table, his face red and lined with anger, his fierce eyebrows furrowed.
The man, who seemed perpetually angry, barely contained his ample belly within his armor.
A young commander with dark circles under his eyes protested the older man’s words.
“So you’re suggesting we just abandon the citizens of District 8?”
“Abandon? How can you say that! If we rush in recklessly and get defeated, won’t that extinguish the citizens’ hope?”
From what Dalen could gather, the argument was about whether to quickly suppress the cultists or to wait and see.
Of course, Dalen knew the answer.
The demon-worshipping Apostles of Regression would only grow stronger if left unchecked.
And in a world overrun by monsters and demons, any commander with sense would know that much.
But the rotund man was adamantly blocking the idea of a swift assault.
“Our job is simple. We must prevent those vile cultists from breaching our hard-won defenses and invading the city! By doing so, we buy time for reinforcements from the Silver District and show the citizens that we are still standing strong!”
“Commander of District 7, isn’t that essentially saying we should leave the citizens of District 8 to fend for themselves?”
“Watch your words. District 8 Commander, weren’t you the first to tuck tail and run?”
The rotund man turned the tables, fiercely attacking the District 8 Commander. Dalen shook his head at the sight.
‘Right. This was always the game.’
He had momentarily forgotten, thanks to his recent string of successes.
In this game, the most troublesome enemies weren’t the monsters or demons, but other humans.
“Unlike other districts, some areas in the eastern sector with deep iron mines have no direct routes to the lower streets. District 8 is one of them. If we just block the surface, those without supplies will eventually self-destruct…”
“They won’t self-destruct.”
A low, deep voice interrupted the heated man’s words.
All eyes turned instinctively.
To the mercenary at the far end of the table, propping his chin with one hand and tapping the table with the other.
“They’ll only grow stronger and counterattack.”
Dalen added in a nonchalant voice.
“Isn’t that the guy who…”
“The one who took down the Telia Guild…”
Whispers began to spread. Dalen chuckled softly.
Rumors travel faster than a galloping horse. And rumors are always a double-edged sword.
In this case, it seemed to be working in his favor.
At the center of the murmuring around the round table, Dalen calmly laid out the future he foresaw.
“As the District 7 Commander said, reinforcements from the Silver District will eventually resolve the issue. But by the time those slowpokes move, half of the Bronze District will already be a battlefield.”
Tap. Tap.
His tapping fingers paused momentarily. Dalen laughed quietly.
“At least half of the people here will end up as monster fodder.”
This wasn’t a prediction.
It was the outcome Dalen had experienced countless times from behind a monitor, fleeing from the Apostles of Regression.
A branching point where half of the Bronze District would be engulfed in flames.
“Is that the future you want?”
One of the many paths leading to inevitable destruction.