Eastern Frontline (3)
The first to charge were the monsters.
“Graaaah!”
“Raaaargh!”
The cultists in their masks hesitated, fear gripping them as they watched the silver-masked apostle fall with a single blow. But the monsters, stripped of reason, knew no such fear.
In fact, it was as if the chains that had bound them were finally broken. The reason they had been so docile in the mist was because the silver-masked sorcerer had been controlling them.
“Graaaah—!”
“Screeeech!”
A wave crashed forward—a wave of flesh, muscle, claws, and teeth.
Dalen watched the oncoming tide with a calm demeanor, rolling his shoulders to loosen up. Behind him, the Silent Company quickly assessed the situation and formed ranks.
“Form a wedge—now!” shouted Gawain, the captain of the Silent Company.
With Dalen at the tip, the formation spread out like wings behind him, creating a wedge-shaped defensive line.
As soon as the line was set, the wave of claws and teeth crashed against its point.
“Raaaargh—!”
“Crack!”
Dalen’s sword flashed. A charging monster was cleaved in two, its upper body flung backward before it even hit the ground. His sword flashed three more times.
“Slash!”
A head split vertically. A neck severed cleanly. Three monstrous arms, grotesque and grasping, were severed, and two torsos split open, spilling entrails.
In the blink of an eye, Dalen had cut down the leading monsters. But the wave of claws and teeth wasn’t just coming for him. More were rushing in from all sides, filling the street.
Of course, the Silent Company didn’t retreat just because claws flashed before their eyes.
“Raise shields—now!”
“Clang!”
Steel shields rose, and sharp spears aimed at their targets. The rear ranks braced their shields against the backs of those in front, ready to absorb the impact.
“Hold the line—!”
The wave of flesh crashed against the barricade of ragged robes and gleaming armor.
“Boom! Crash! Crack!”
“Raaaargh!”
“Slice! Thud—”
“Ugh! Ugh!”
Screams and roars. The sound of flesh being torn and cut. Severed limbs rolled on the ground, and monsters thrashed against the shields. Dark red blood splattered everywhere, and chunks of flesh and entrails hit the ground with a wet thud.
A monster, half its head taken off by a spear, let out a dying scream and bit into a Silent Company member’s neck.
“Gah! Grrr…”
Even as he died, eyes wide open, the soldier used his last strength to sever the neck of the monster clinging to his comrade’s shield.
In the first clash alone, nearly twenty monsters and a few Silent Company members fell. But the barricade held against the wave.
And that was the signal for a counterattack.
“Silent Company, advance—”
The line, rooted firmly like a tree, began to move forward, step by step. The wave was still fierce, but it couldn’t deliver the same impact as the initial charge.
The wedge-shaped formation of the Silent Company advanced slowly, like a bladed chariot crushing infantry underfoot. At the forefront was Dalen, slaughtering monsters with an impassive expression.
“Kiieee—crack!”
He crushed an open maw with the pommel of his sword.
“Crunch! Grrk!”
He swung his shield to smash a charging monster. With mechanical precision, heads were severed, bodies cleaved, and skulls crushed.
Dalen watched it all with a detached expression, lost in thought.
“Something’s not right.”
The battle was in their favor. The Silent Company, led by Dalen, was cutting through the monsters and cultists like leaves in the wind. The 8th District Guard, following from behind, efficiently dealt with any stragglers.
But despite the advantageous situation, a strange sense of unease lingered as he observed the enemy’s response.
“How did they know about our attack in the first place?”
The Guard’s preparation had been too swift and discreet for it to be mere reconnaissance. The time between the late-night strategy meeting and the dawn raid was only a few hours. For them to have prepared concealment magic using the mist, they must have sensed something at least three hours before the attack.
His brief contemplation ended as the last of the enemies fell to the ground.
There was only one conclusion.
“A spy.”
“Crack!”
“Gah, urgh…”
As he drove his sword into the last cultist’s belly, Dalen thought.
“Slash!”
The sword sliced through the side, dragging entrails out with it. Dalen ended the cultist’s agony by severing her head with a swift stroke.
The head rolled to a stop beside the twitching body, covered in a voluminous robe, slender and writhing.
Dalen looked down with indifferent eyes at the silver-masked sorcerer, her face split by a hand axe.
“Not dead yet, huh?”
“Heh! An apostle doesn’t die… so easily!”
The sorcerer coughed up blood, laughing through her split lips. Dalen placed his foot on her neck, ready to press down, but paused.
The unease.
The presence of a spy alone didn’t explain the strange feeling that held him back.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Heh! The grand plan… cough! will be completed! In a way… heh, no one expects!”
Dalen scratched his chin, annoyed by her blood-mixed cough and awkward speech.
He bent down and pulled the axe from her head.
“Crack—”
“Aaaargh!”
The sorcerer screamed as the axe came free, but soon she was giggling again.
Seeing the viscous fluid slowly knitting her severed brain back together, Dalen asked again.
“In a way no one expects?”
“Heh, you can’t even follow the shadow of the Grand Apostle! The plan is already complete. The sacrifices are ready! All that’s left is… kyaaa!”
The sorcerer screamed as something crunched. Dalen had lifted his foot and slowly crushed her thin hand from the fingertips.
Turning her hand into a well-tenderized piece of meat, Dalen spoke in a low voice.
“Get to the point.”
“Ugh, ugh. Alright…”
The sorcerer, tears of blood streaming down her face, confessed the truth. This time, she spoke without awkwardness or excessive embellishment.
How they had prepared for the surprise attack, and what the purpose of this raid was.
After hearing the full story, Dalen snorted, clearing his nose of blood.
“Grr… ugh.”
“Crunch!”
Then he ended the sorcerer’s trembling life by crushing her neck, putting an end to her long suffering.
By then, Gawain and the Guard Captain, having regrouped their forces, approached him. The Guard Captain spoke first.
“Three Silent Company members dead, two from the 8th District Guard. The rest are lightly injured.”
“Is the interrogation complete?”
Gawain glanced at the sorcerer. Her arm was a mangled piece of meat, and her head, split in two, lay on the ground, oozing fluid.
The one responsible for the scene, more brutal than a mere interrogation, nodded with indifferent eyes.
He silently stroked his chin, replaying the sorcerer’s words in his mind.
Who had betrayed them? What was the Grand Apostle planning?
The more he thought about it, the more he realized there was only one conclusion.
“Damn it.”
It seemed these bastards were determined to die with them.
At that time, other units were also under similar attacks.
A sudden assault by hundreds of monsters and dozens of cultists.
Some units suffered significant damage, but fortunately, none were routed.
Thanks to this, as planned, the Guard was able to establish a forward defensive line further ahead.
Centered around the cultists’ stronghold in the mines, the encirclement had shrunk to less than half its original size.
After the new defensive line was established, the units guarding the old line slowly joined in.
They dealt with the remaining cultist remnants and rescued civilians hiding in buildings.
“Abba! Waaah—”
“Oh, dear!”
“We’re saved!”
Survivors, who had been hiding from the cultists, burst into tears of relief as they were rescued.
Some 8th District Guards, reunited with their families, embraced and wept.
The tearful cheers of the survivors greatly boosted the Guard’s morale.
As the sun set to the sound of songs, an unexpected visitor arrived at the Guard’s camp.
“Whoooom—”
In the street bathed in the reddish hues of dusk.
A strange resonance echoed along the cobblestone road, where uneven stones were tightly packed.
Boom—
Even the soldiers, who had been basking in the joy of victory, were startled and rushed out of their tents.
Some had managed to don their weapons and armor in that brief moment.
Boom—
The pebbles on the street jumped as if the ground itself was shaking, though there was no earthquake.
Silhouetted against the sunset, a group clad in earth-colored robes marched down the main road.
Riding alongside them, a member of the Silent Company raised his voice to announce their identity.
“Reinforcements from the Elgaia Tower of the Silver District!”
Boom—
With each step, the ground trembled.
The march of the earth mages, in tune with the land, exuded an overwhelming presence.
The guards, who had gathered in confusion, parted to make way, their murmurs of surprise spreading among them.
“Mages?”
“From the Elgaia Tower?”
“Reinforcements from the Silver District…?”
The commotion was short-lived. Soon, the commanders of the guard came out to greet the mages.
The mage leading the group, upon seeing them, pulled back the hood that had been covering his head.
A long, brown beard tied neatly, and eyes that glinted with an unusual light.
Felber Valentino, the elder mage of the Elgaia Tower, smiled as he spotted Dalen standing askew among the commanders.
“It’s been a while, Dalen.”
“Indeed, it has, old man.”
Dalen gave a half-hearted nod. The elder burst into laughter at the casual greeting.
“Haha! To think I’d live long enough to be called ‘old man’ by a mercenary as an elder mage!”
“If it bothers you, I can call you something else.”
“No, no, it’s fine. That’s why I like you.”
The elder’s eyes twinkled with amusement.
“So, you’ve dabbled in spells since we last met. How far do you plan to go?”
“Who knows.”
Dalen shrugged.
He’d scavenge whatever he could from the battlefield, as always.
The elder mage seemed intrigued by Dalen’s brief response, a smile playing on his lips.
“I’d love to see just how great your potential is… but this isn’t the place for that. We’ll save it for another time. By the way, who’s in charge here?”
At Felber’s words, Gawain, who stood beside Dalen, stepped forward.
“As you know, the Bronze Guard operates differently from the Silver Knights, with command strictly decentralized. I’m just a temporary representative. Besides, I hadn’t heard that the Elgaia Tower was sending reinforcements…”
“I had an agreement with a young friend over there. He chose to call upon the tower’s aid for the city’s sake, refusing personal reward.”
“Is that so?”
The day after rescuing a young blonde mage from the sewers, the elder mage had offered Dalen additional compensation as a token of gratitude.
Originally, it was to be a dozen or more tower-made healing potions.
But the mage, having sensed the regenerative factor of dragon’s blood in Dalen’s veins, proposed a different reward.
‘Should the city face a crisis, if you call upon me, I’ll do my utmost to help, no matter the size or location of the threat.’
It was an oddly generous offer for a mere mercenary living day-to-day.
After some thought, Dalen chose the promise over a bag of potions.
And now, here was the result: a single voice had summoned reinforcements from the Silver District, which had been unresponsive to the guard’s requests.
“In the end, it’s a connection made thanks to you, isn’t it? You deserve some credit.”
Felber laughed warmly, like a kindly grandfather. Dalen, meanwhile, had his suspicions confirmed.
So, it was the Silent Company captain’s recommendation that led the old man to entrust me with this mission.
“Anyway, welcome. The tower’s support is always appreciated. We weren’t informed in advance, so we couldn’t prepare accommodations suitable for guests from the Silver District. I ask for your understanding.”
“No need to worry. As long as we have the earth’s ample embrace to rest upon, we can sleep anywhere.”
“Thank you for your understanding.”
Gawain instructed some guards to guide the mages to their lodgings.
The group of about thirty mages followed the guide to accommodations near the newly established defensive line.
Unlike their initial entrance, their steps no longer exuded an overwhelming presence.
‘Always putting on airs.’
Watching them leave, Dalen raised an eyebrow with a look of mild annoyance.
For some reason, he never quite liked spellcasters, with a few exceptions.
Night had fallen.
With the successful completion of the operation that had begun in the morning, the atmosphere at the newly established defensive line was lively.
Voices were rising, suggesting they push on to the cultists’ stronghold in the mines and wipe them out.
Gawain, having heard such talk from his company members several times, made his way to the outskirts of the camp, looking slightly weary.
In the deserted outskirts of the camp, under the bright light of the full moon, the hero of today’s operation sat on the bare ground.
Unlike his usual sullen expression, he seemed somewhat elated.
He spoke.
“You’ve come.”
A soft exhale carried a bittersweet aroma.
Though faint, Gawain’s keen senses picked it up.
Looking closer, Dalen was drinking from a flask. Gawain asked.
“Is that alcohol?”
“It’s as good as, if not rarer than, alcohol on this continent. In some ways, it’s even better.”
Gawain looked momentarily bewildered.
What could be rarer and better than alcohol?
‘Could it be… drugs…?’
It seemed unbelievable.
A mercenary, worthy of being called a hero, indulging in drugs in the midst of a fierce battlefield?
Just today, he had half-killed a silver-masked apostle and extracted information from him.
Having been summoned to such a secluded spot at this late hour, Gawain had expected an important discussion about that information…
“It’s coffee. Oddly enough, this fellow has a taste for it. I heard from the Raven’s Nest that he’s not much into tea.”
Crunch.
Felber Valentino, the elder mage, appeared, kicking up pebbles and dust underfoot.
”…!”
For a moment, Gawain felt a chill run down his spine.
Even he, one of the top talents in the Bronze Guard, had momentarily missed the elder’s presence.
He knew there were formidable individuals in the Silver District, where the labyrinth’s entrance lay.
But knowing it in his head and experiencing it firsthand were different matters.
While Gawain was feeling a strange sense of rivalry and ambition due to Felber, Dalen reluctantly closed the flask.
“Now that everyone’s here, we can talk.”
Dalen dusted off his pants and stood up. He spoke.
“As the Silent Company captain knows, another silver-masked apostle was killed today.”
“That’s good news. I’ve heard of their atrocities.”
The elder mage stroked his beard with long, slender fingers.
“Indeed. And it wasn’t just a simple kill; we interrogated him first. I called you both here separately because of what we learned.”
“Is there a spy among us?”
Gawain interjected. Dalen nodded.
“Yes. And we’ve discovered something even more serious.”
He let out a short sigh and continued.
“Their high apostle is attempting to summon a demon.”