Land of the Demons (4)
[Ah, the sturdy frame of a true dragon. I must thank your first roar for that. You’re one step closer to being my mate.]
What nonsense is this? Dallun frowned at the laughter echoing in his mind from the ancient spear.
“Have you lost your mind since last time? You’re thousands of years old; you should have some sense of decency…”
[What does it matter? Age is meaningless to those who transcend species. Look at the White-Eyed Seer. She’s lived over a thousand years in a human body and still appears as a young girl.]
“This crazy old coot.”
The Seer was an exception. According to the game’s lore, her appearance was a curse beyond her control. She had awakened her ability to see the timeline too early, and as a result, her own time had frozen. Her frail physical abilities, uncharacteristic of a transcendent, were due to her body being stuck at a teenage level, unable to develop further.
[Your tongue grows sharper by the day. No matter. Even a rebellious younger partner has its charms…]
There’s no reasoning with this one. Dallun shook his head, shutting out the voice of the ancient dragon.
The sky was clear all day. It was the one-month mark since the city alliance army had set out. The troops that had left Falcion were steadily advancing south without any major conflicts. By day, they marched along the main road stretching to the border, and by night, they set up camp. Though monsters roamed the lands of the city alliance, none dared to challenge an army of seventy thousand. Occasionally, mindless beasts would attack, but that only helped maintain order.
As they moved south, they passed through villages left in ruins by the imperial invasion, leaving a few units behind to aid in reconstruction before continuing on. The season was shifting from summer to fall, and a cool breeze tickled Dallun’s nose. It was a rare moment of peace. He opened his status window.
Name: Dallun
Level: 45
[Strength: 68] [Dexterity: 65] [Stamina: 63]
[Perception: 58] [Intelligence: 59] [Magic: 61]
Skills:
Unique Skills (26)
Level 45. Four of his stats had already reached the 60s. The effect of the dragon bone was remarkable. In a month, he had gained about twenty points from collecting corpses in the Bronze Zone, and half of that had been achieved in just half a day of surgery. Considering the process involved removing and reassembling all his bones, it was understandable. Even for someone like him, who had been fighting since falling into this world, it was a pain he had never experienced before.
‘In my last playthrough, all my stats surpassed 100.’
In that final run, he had accumulated all the data from hundreds of playthroughs, choosing only the best outcomes to develop his character. He consumed nearly every elixir in existence and pursued every possible path to power, regardless of the means. It wasn’t a perfect run, though. He had to forgo recruiting allies early on to save time, and nurturing a faction was out of the question due to the resources and time required.
But by following such a meticulously divided scenario, he could say that his personal abilities were unmatched in any other playthrough. With a mere gesture, he could summon storms of lightning and fire to burn forests, and a single sword strike could cleave the walls of the imperial capital.
‘I was several steps above Daltalion, the master of lightning magic.’
Even now, he was an opponent Dallun couldn’t hope to defeat or even escape from. If the five evil gods hadn’t banded together, it would have been his first clear run. Of course, if that had happened, he wouldn’t have ended up in this world.
Sighing at the thought of whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, Dallun listened to the approaching sound of hooves.
“Rivivach! We’re at Rivivach!”
The city of herbalists was just ahead.
The city was in ruins. The walls were crumbling, and nearly a third of the buildings were burned or collapsed. In the central square, where the flags of the Pantheon fluttered, hundreds of charred bodies lay in heaps. Amidst the traces of fire, Dallun and the commanders gathered beneath the newly raised flag of the city alliance.
“We found survivors, but not many,” Everon reported after sending soldiers to scout. Known as the Face of Many Changes, he was in charge of the army’s overall command, utilizing his ability to control dozens of bodies.
“According to witnesses, those who resisted were killed, and the rest were taken as slaves.”
“That’s the Empire’s way. Five hundred years ago, during their expansion wars, they did the same,” said a woman, speaking of history as if it were yesterday. She was a transcendent from the Golden Palace, known as the Master of the Dragon Carriage for taming a dragon to pull her chariot, a fifth-rank warrior.
“Kill… the Empire… bastards…” The man, whose every word was accompanied by flames, was another transcendent who had maintained the barrier towers for centuries. He was known as Luktabes of the Flame Palace, a being said to be half-spirit, half-human, though Dallun had never seen him up close before.
“Let’s rest for a day and set out tomorrow,” Everon concluded in a calm voice. Rebuilding Rivivach might require more troops than expected. Even though it was a small city, it was much larger than the villages they had passed, and leaving just a few units wouldn’t suffice. They needed to station enough troops to protect the survivors, but anything more would go against the army’s purpose.
“It feels like just yesterday that I visited the healer on Galleos’s recommendation… and now it’s come to this,” Felber lamented, his voice filled with regret, as the army set up camp throughout the city.
Dallun settled into the inn room he had stayed in before. It was the same inn he had lodged at when he went to confront the Witch of Ashes.
“The lamb and herb stew is a shame to miss,” he murmured, lying on the bed. The mattress was uncomfortable, having not been restuffed in a long time, but it was untouched by the flames, making it a satisfactory place to sleep. Most soldiers were camping in tents on the streets.
“And the herbal liquor, too.”
The few bottles of herbal liquor Felber had saved using his domain’s power were now among the last of Rivivach’s specialties left on the continent. Dallun liked its high alcohol content and sharp bitterness. He smacked his lips, staring at the ceiling.
‘Could I have saved them if I had been faster?’
An entire city was gone. The residents were slaughtered like animals, unable to mount a proper defense. Dallun had slain thousands of monsters and quite a few people, but witnessing a massacre didn’t sit well with him. The bodies piled in the square were no longer just polygons on a monitor.
“Damn it.”
They were someone’s children, parents, lovers, and friends. Life was not weightless. The inevitability of it all didn’t ease the pang of regret.
Perhaps even after all the battles, the vulnerability of a thirty-four-year-old man lingered within him.
[Not changing doesn’t necessarily mean stagnation, Dallun.]
“You said you couldn’t read my mind. Was that a lie?”
[No. I still can’t see into your heart. But I know you’re grieving. The sky of your mind is weeping.]
”…”
Dallun silently stared at the dark grain of the wooden ceiling. A mindscape, huh. Charina had said it was about envisioning the future.
The lightning mage Daltalion had envisioned a sky filled with all the world’s lightning. Charina had become the frozen northern sky and land, vowing to protect the future of her kingdom.
‘You choose what future you want to see.’
The queen’s voice echoed in his mind. He had thought about what kind of future he wanted to envision. He had resolved to obtain the Stone of Wishes and return home. He wanted to protect those dear to him with the power he gained in this world.
The clearer the future he envisioned in his mindscape, the more solid his domain would become. It was undoubtedly the final step to fully manifesting his world and overlaying it onto reality as a sixth-rank transcendent.
So what did the dark storm clouds covering his sky represent?
[When your thoughts become overwhelming, finding a distraction can help.]
”…”
[If you don’t fancy a hobby, perhaps some training. Or maybe exchanging sweet nothings with a lover who understands your heart…]
“Quite the convincing argument, considering you don’t even have a body to lie in bed with.”
Dalen chuckled softly and got to his feet.
Rising from the bed, he naturally gathered his gear and left the room.
His footsteps were silent as he slipped out of the inn, moving through the shadows of the city, passing through the broken city gates, and onto an old dirt road.
No one followed the traces of his presence, hidden by the wind barrier. As he picked up speed, the dense forest soon welcomed him.
‘The Revivach Forest.’
The place where, years ago, he had split a witch’s head in two.
Dalen moved confidently into the underbrush. The trees were spaced generously apart, and beneath his feet, herbs were as common as grass, crushed underfoot.
The battle with the witch had wiped out the mandrakes, and their nutrients had overflowed onto the land, promising a bountiful harvest of herbs for a time.
Unfortunately, before that bounty could end, Revivach was swept into war and reduced to ruins.
Crunch. Crunch.
The deeper he went, the more charred trees he saw. Though covered in moss and herbs, they were unmistakable remnants of the battle.
And seeing those remnants meant he was nearing the heart of the forest. Dalen slowed his pace and closed his eyes.
In doing so, his other senses naturally extended outward, picking up stimuli from thousands of meters away.
‘The gods have given us a sign. Human armies are gathering in the nearby ruined city.’
‘Squeak! This is the opportunity the gods have given us. Let’s set the city on fire. Catch and eat those who flee!’
‘Wait. According to the sewer rats, there are four of those disgusting old warriors from the Golden Palace, including the one who killed the Sixth Finger.’
‘So what? Are you scared of dying? Cowards are of no use to the clan!’
‘Get out of here! Coward! You cat-like wench!’