The Night of Silence (1)
“The High Priest… he’s trying to summon a demon. He plans to open the gates of hell and unleash an army of fiends.”
The silver-masked sorcerer spoke, his arm crushed to the bone.
“But he doesn’t have a sacrifice,” Dalen countered.
“Even to summon a low-level demon, you need the equivalent of 600 human lives. To call forth the creatures that serve it, even more.”
“How… how do you know all this…?”
“Did I say you could ask questions?”
Dalen’s foot hovered threateningly, and the sorcerer trembled, his jaw quivering as he answered.
“His body… it equals 600 humans.”
“I see.”
So that’s how far he’s willing to go.
Cursing inwardly, Dalen swiftly ended the sorcerer’s life.
That was the story from earlier today.
“I can’t say I don’t understand.”
This is a living world.
Every being here moves with its own intelligence and emotions, not just some game algorithm. So, like a cornered rat biting a cat, the High Priest might make a desperate choice.
Though I didn’t expect that choice to be opening the gates of hell at the cost of his own life.
“That’s why they were so desperate to stop our forces from advancing.”
Dalen nodded, recalling the image of the corpulent commander with his jiggling chin.
It wasn’t surprising that the captain of the 7th district’s guard was a traitor. In the game, he was notorious for backstabbing, just another extra among many.
Time was running out.
While the ritual to open the gates of hell required many sacrifices, it wasn’t particularly difficult. Summoning a low-level demon could be done in a day or two.
Any delay here, and the fiends from hell would overrun our unprepared forces.
The attack had to be swift.
“The question now is, who do we trust to join the assault?”
According to the silver-masked sorcerer, some of the commanders in the Bronze District had already been swayed by the cultists.
The problem was identifying them.
In the vast Bronze District, there were dozens of commanders leading hundreds of troops. Even among the thirty or so gathered here, Dalen couldn’t possibly identify the traitors.
He didn’t have a list of every NPC, and now that this world had become reality, even nameless NPCs had gained identities.
Mobilizing the entire force was impossible.
What we needed were a few elite fighters who could move discreetly and be trusted against both cultists and potential fiend hordes.
“We need a stealthy, reliable elite force.”
And so, Dalen gathered the Silent Company and the Elder Mage.
“So that’s how it is.”
Elder Mage Felber stroked his beard, nodding as he listened to the interrogation’s outcome.
Of course, the details about the original game and NPCs were left out.
“I’ve heard rumors of cultists summoning demons, but to see it happening in this city…”
“I’ll prepare my company immediately,” Gawain said firmly. Felber nodded in agreement.
“I’ll gather my companions. It won’t take long.”
Dalen nodded, standing up to tighten the straps of his armor and ready his axe, sword, and shield. He spoke.
“I’ll inform the captain of the 8th district’s guard. Let’s meet again in an hour.”
Preparations were swift.
The Silent Company was always ready for battle, and the mages needed little more than their presence.
At 3 a.m., with most of the forces resting to conserve strength, about seventy men slipped past the makeshift barricade.
First, the Silent Company, then the reinforcements from Elgaia’s Mage Tower.
Dalen, the last to leave, closed the gate and thanked the young commander standing guard.
“Thank you for your discretion.”
The captain of the 8th district’s guard shook his head, as if to say it was nothing.
“The 8th district’s guard, no, all the citizens of the 8th district owe you a debt. This is the least we can do.”
Dalen scratched his neck, feeling a bit embarrassed by the praise.
During the day’s rescue operation, over a thousand citizens had been saved from the 8th district. The young commander had also been reunited with his family, his eyes still slightly red.
Dalen gave a short nod.
“I’ll be back.”
“I’ll ensure no spies cause division within our ranks. Please take care of the cultists.”
Dalen nodded and turned, walking into the darkness.
The path was pitch black, devoid of any torchlight.
Though the Silent Company and mages had already disappeared into the shadows, Dalen, aided by his night vision skill, could see their silhouettes in the distance.
As he walked along the deserted road, the flickering lights of the defensive line faded behind him.
Once he felt he was far enough away…
He started to run.
“The High Priest will do anything to buy time.”
He had sent the silver-masked apostle and countless troops just to delay us.
If he had gathered all his forces for a decisive battle at the mines, he might have fared better than in the skirmish earlier today.
“Whatever demon he’s planning to summon, he must think it’s worth more than the troops he’s sacrificing.”
Dalen’s mind raced. What demon could he be planning to summon with such a sacrifice?
“List? No, that’s not his style. Belzebub? The High Priest can’t afford the sacrifices he demands. Or maybe… Clakaros?”
Many possibilities came to mind. The problem was there were too many candidates.
In the game, there were hundreds of named demons, and countless more without names.
Endless names surfaced in his mind. Dalen shook his head to clear his thoughts.
“The priority isn’t which demon we face. It’s stopping the ritual to open the gates of hell.”
Before he knew it, he had caught up with the Silent Company and mages.
As Dalen approached, the others adjusted their pace to match his.
“Company, move at double speed.”
“Elle, Tehiltala—”
The armored soldiers began to run. The earth mages used their spells to move the sand and gravel beneath their feet, increasing their speed.
They moved at twice the pace of a regular guard unit.
It took less than an hour to reach the mines, the cultists’ stronghold.
Arriving at the mine entrance, Gawain spoke, slightly out of breath.
“This must be the place.”
Before them loomed a massive cliff, as if a part of the mountain had been sliced off and placed there.
At the base of the cliff was a cave entrance, artificially carved.
Broken tracks, dried bloodstains, overturned mine carts.
The entrance exuded an eerie atmosphere, reminiscent of an abandoned mine.
And the eeriness wasn’t just a feeling. Dalen sensed a foreboding presence at the edge of his awareness.
Beyond normal senses, beyond the heightened perception of a superhuman, there was another sense for detecting magic.
Commonly known as magical perception or mana sensitivity, it was a sense unique to mages.
“It seems right. I can feel the ominous magic.”
Felber formed a hand sign slowly, speaking. The other mages followed suit, preparing to cast spells at a moment’s notice.
The Silent Company also drew their weapons, lowering their stances.
A tense atmosphere settled over them, breaths audible in the silence.
Dalen stood quietly, gazing at the mine entrance, then slowly walked forward alone.
“Dalen?”
He drew his axe but didn’t throw it.
He tossed it lightly, catching it again, as if waiting for something.
“Dalen? What are you…”
A wet sound echoed.
Footsteps, as if stepping on a damp surface, filled with moisture.
Dalen tilted his head slightly, watching the mine entrance.
In the shadows cast by the moonlight on the main shaft’s support beams, a figure emerged.
Squish… squish…
A figure, dripping with viscous fluid, stepped forward. Its body was covered in cuts and gashes, oozing fluid and blood.
The skin was so torn and peeled it was hard to recognize the face, but Dalen knew who it was.
The sagging belly between the shredded armor, the double chin with dangling flesh.
The face, once red, was now a bloody mess.
Dalen spat on the ground, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth as he looked at the grotesque figure of the 7th district’s guard captain.
At that moment, the captain of the guard, with his one good eye, spotted Daelon and stretched out his arms, shouting desperately.
“Ugh, ugh… Spare me! Trai—traitors, they—”
Crack!
Before he could finish his plea, a massive hole appeared in his chest, and his eyes rolled back.
“Disgusting. A traitor whining about betrayal.”
“Gah, ugh…”
A thick, muscular arm had pierced through the captain’s chest. The arm, covered in sleek reptilian scales, glistened in the moonlight, slick with blood.
“Your life is as worthless as a worm’s, but…”
An identical thick hand slowly grasped the captain’s head.
“Don’t worry. You’ve enjoyed more glory than you deserve as a sacrifice.”
As the beast-like, low voice finished speaking, the captain’s head exploded in the monstrous grip.
Crunch!
White and red fragments scattered to the ground.
Daelon watched silently as the headless body collapsed, his gaze fixed on the massive figure of the silver-masked apostle.
The creature’s vertically slit eyes gleamed as it surveyed the mage and the Silent Company.
“Ah, guests have arrived just in time. We can entertain you properly.”
Boom—
Behind the creature, a heavy rumble echoed through the tunnel entrance.
Boom—
A shadow, so enormous it dwarfed even the apostle’s massive frame, squeezed through the mine’s entrance.
Boom—
In the moonlight, a grotesque creature emerged, as if formed from the fused bodies of dozens of humans. It supported itself on legs as thick as tree trunks, with a long tail trailing behind.
Screeeeech!!
Dozens of mouths screamed in unison.
“A demon from hell!”
Even the fearless Silent Company recoiled.
The monster, a nauseating amalgamation of human limbs, heads, and torsos, exuded an overwhelming presence.
Even Captain Gawain of the Silent Company gritted his teeth, watching the creature intently.
The only one who seemed unfazed was Daelon.
Swish, thud. Swish, thud.
With his usual indifferent expression, he tossed and caught his axe.
The last remaining silver-masked apostle chuckled darkly at the sight.
“As expected of the warrior the Grand Apostle is wary of. So calm. I almost want to crack open your skull to see what you’re thinking.”
Daelon glanced at the apostle without a word, then looked back up at the monster. He continued tossing and catching his axe.
“That’s the famous hand axe, isn’t it? The one that killed more than half of our silver-masked apostles.”
“No, it’s not.”
”…What do you mean?”
“This isn’t that axe. I broke it.”
Behind the mask, the apostle’s elongated pupils wavered for a moment.
“No, I did kill a sorcerer with this recently. I must have been mistaken.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing at all.”
Daelon’s hand blurred, the sound of the axe slicing through the air coming a split second later.
The silver-masked apostle twisted desperately, raising an arm, but it was too late to dodge the axe.
Thud—!
With a sound like a blade striking thick leather, the apostle was sent crashing into an abandoned mine cart, mask fragments scattering.
Daelon flexed his hands and spoke.
“Just bluffing a bit. You’re too literal.”
He took a step forward. It had been a while since he could use his strength freely.
After his last level-up, he’d invested in stamina, and his regenerative abilities had improved significantly since the battle at the guild.
That corpse monster would be a perfect warm-up.
Screeeeech!!!
The creature howled as the silver-masked apostle fell, stomping its feet as if ready to charge.
“Silent Company! Charge—”
“Elle…”
The seasoned warriors responded swiftly to the demon’s scream.
Gawain shouted the order to charge, and the mages’ lips moved almost simultaneously.
And just a half-beat ahead of them—
Boom!
The ground exploded where Daelon had stood, dirt flying into the air.
And then—
Boom!
The lower jaw of the howling corpse monster shattered like clay struck by a rock.
Screee—
Daelon dangled from the remaining upper jaw, drawing his sword with his right hand. He grinned.
“Let’s see how much experience a first-time hell demon gives.”
It was the fierce grin of a predator.