“And thanks to all the demons piling in, there’s no need to watch out for traps, either,” he added.
It wasn’t all bad news that waves of demons were coming one after another. The fact that these were passages that demons continued to pour through meant that the dangerous traps must either have been removed or set off by rank-and-file demons. There was little danger to us in following the path they’d already taken. That was the reason I could afford to break up our previous formation and put Al and Reystov, who were very good at forcing their way through enemies, in charge of the front.
“Will, are you okay by yourself back there?”
“Hm? There’s not much pressure coming from the rear. I’ll be fine on my own.”
The demons were launching sporadic attacks from the back as well to pressure us, but these I was handling by myself, eliminating every enemy that came my way.
Demon armies were more of a hassle than human ones. The Soldiers were all savage warriors with no fear of death, and the Commanders were just the same, with the addition that many of them were also users of magic and blessings. If a large number of fearless Soldiers forced me into a chaotic battle in a relatively wide and open place with constant long-range attacks from Commanders and Generals, even I could find myself checkmated.
That was why I had laid out a plan for outflanking our enemy to get inside the tunnel-filled Iron Country. This approach gave us a good chance of victory. At the risk of repeating myself, if a pincer attack is carried out without the power to make the pincer lethal, it’s nothing more than a division of forces that makes each side a target for individual destruction.
“Rear guard all by yourself and not breaking a sweat. You’re as ridiculous as ever. Gods.”
“It’s not really like that.”
If I’d been on my own, I was sure that I’d have built up so much mental fatigue that I’d definitely have made some kind of mess-up by now. The only reason I was able to push myself so far was because I had allies whom I could leave the other side to.
◆
“Ghelreis, how far along are we now?”
“We’ve avoided the main route where we’d have been more easily surrounded and descended to the third level through the side paths. Soon will be the Hall of Light, and I expect the dragon will be in the Great Cavern beyond that.”
We pressed onward, calmly crushing our enemies as they came. I had no idea where the leader of the demons would be; however, there were only a limited number of places in the dwarves’ underground kingdom where a dragon could indulge in a long slumber.
“Long ago, our forefathers drained the stagnant water from an underground lake and created the Great Cavern. It lies at the very core of the Iron Country.”
There the dragon was entrenched, and in all probability, he was waiting for us—Calamity’s Sickle, with its golden eye.
“The demons should work out that we’re heading towards the dragon. Assuming they lie in wait for us, where would that be?”
“The Hall of Light, I imagine. It’s the throne room where Lord Aurvangr gave his last speech so many years ago.”
“We have to take it back,” Al mumbled.
I nodded too. “Yep. Let’s take it back.”
We meant the throne—and also the crown. They were just symbols, but that was also what made them important.
“All that work for a symbol? Whatever floats your boat, I guess. I’ll back you up.”
“Me, too. Everything taken should be taken back.”
Menel and Reystov nodded and continued forward, beating the hell out of even more demons. They poured out in great swarms, but the majority of them were Soldiers, or Commanders at worst. Pitted against accomplished warriors, they might as well have been scarecrows.
We traveled through dim stone passages one after another that twisted and branched, sometimes into up and down routes and sometimes with stairs. Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of light.
“Huh?”
A strong, warm light, at odds with this underground space, spread out from a rectangular doorway. It looked like the entrance to a world of light. When we stepped inside, a bright space was there, a vast space with lines of many pillars. There was a chalk ceiling, and a smooth floor in which I couldn’t see any joins. All over the ceiling were lines of magic lights cut from clear crystal with Signs carved into them. It was beautiful, dazzling lighting, as though the light of the sun had been replicated within the room.
I didn’t have to be told to know that this was the Hall of Light, the seat of the monarch. And dead ahead, opposite the entrance and at the other end of the rows of pillars, was the throne. It was beautiful and decoratively carved, and sat on it was a single demon.
How could I describe that classless demon sitting brazenly upon the throne? The first words that came to mind were “humanoid insect.” The green shell like a jewel beetle’s that encased its two-meter-tall muscular body made it look almost like a samurai in full armor. In its hands was a horrifyingly thick, spiked club. The demon had the mouthparts of an insect, complete with mandibles. And like some kind of sick joke, on top of its head, in addition to a pair of feelers, sat the crown.
If I remembered correctly, this was a General-ranked demon: a Scarabaeus.
“Sir Will...” After looking at the figure of the demon for a while, Al’s expression turned serious. “Let me do it.”
“Al—no, Vindalfr. Good luck.”
“Thank you.” Al marched forward, no longer turning around to reply.
“Wh—Hey!”
“It’s okay, Menel. Let him go.”
“You want to talk about it first?! That’s a fig General! His chances are—”
“Even so, this is Al’s fight.” I said it so strongly that Menel fell silent. “It’s the fight of a king for his throne.” Menel didn’t look at all happy about it, but a warrior’s pride was at stake. This was a battle in which none of us could afford to interfere.
◆
In the chalk pillar hall filled with light, Al marched confidently towards the throne, which was placed on a slightly higher level than the rest of the room. The beetle-demon—the Scarabaeus—languidly rose to its feet.
I could feel a prickling in the air as mana converged on the spiked club in its hands. And I could tell even from its emotionless, bug-like exterior that it held strong contempt for its diminutive challenger and had confidence bordering on arrogance in its own power. Even though its forces had been thoroughly slaughtered and its territory encroached upon, it was probably convinced that it could simply deal with us itself and there would be absolutely no problem.
As Ghelreis watched Al march forward, he took a fresh look at the demon and muttered, “I don’t like the look on it.”
I thought the same thing. But the demon’s arrogant confidence wasn’t without basis. Even though it may have borrowed the power of the foul-dragon to do it, this beetle-demon had in fact been the fall of the Iron Country, wiping out an entire army of dwarves who were prepared to fight to the death.
“It’s strong,” I replied.
If this was the supreme commander of the demon army that the High King had dispatched to the Iron Mountains, it would most likely mean that it was at least the equal of the horned demon called a Cernunnos that I’d fought in the Lord of Holly’s domain. It was probably stronger.
With humans, a commander’s rank and their prowess in battle don’t necessarily match up, but when it came to demons, the ones of higher rank were generally stronger and smarter. If it were me fighting it, the odds would likely be in my favor. The beetle-demon did look solid and had magical armor I couldn’t identify, but I thought I’d still be able to overcome it. For Al, though, this might yet be too difficult an opponent.
“You’re gonna let him die ’cause of some pigshit warrior hang-up?” Menel said with a very sour look on his face. “You’re not the only one who taught him, you know.”
“Yeah, I agree.” Reystov nodded. “But either way...”
�
�Yes. We probably won’t be able to find the time to get involved.”
Just as Al began to close in on the Scarabaeus, the demon raised a sickening cry from its mouthparts. At the same time, the Hall of Light’s dazzling illumination dimmed. The light from the Sign-engraved crystals had been obscured by winged demons descending on us from all angles.
“Fig!” Menel shot through several of them in such quick succession that it would have been impossible to follow the movements of his hands. Demons fell one after another onto the highly polished floor.
This was what it came down to. Demons didn’t possess the poetic sense to entertain the idea of a one-on-one fight in any case, and there was no advantage to them in doing so. It was obvious that they would surround us here and go for the kill. That was the real reason I had allowed Al to go alone.
“Now I get it,” Menel said. “Hey, Al! If it looks like it’s not working out, hold out till we win and keep him on his own! Don’t you die!”
The best case would be if Al won, of course, but even if he didn’t, so long as we could just keep their “strong piece” occupied with our “weak piece,” we could turn the tide of battle comfortably in our favor. If Blood had been here, he might have recommended a one-on-one battle without that kind of calculation behind it, but as for me, I didn’t romanticize battle like that. It was simply a calculated decision.
But I had no intention of making light of those sorts of ideals. One’s pride, one’s duty, one’s mission—the amount of passion brought about by these formless things sometimes had the power to smash all ordinary predictions and calculations.
“Thank you very much, Menel!” Al called out. “But I will win. I will beat this thing!”
Then he roared. “On the flame and the fire, the mountainfolk shall put thee to death!” He sprinted at the demons’ leader with the ferocious roar of a warrior. “Take my dwarven axe!” His halberd cleaved an arc through the air towards the commander of the demons.
◆
The demon’s club intercepted the halberd. Splinters flew everywhere. Immediately, the halberd turned, cutting a new arc towards its foe. Roaring, Al chained together attacks with violent intensity, pulling back and swinging around his long-handled axe. Because Al was tall for a dwarf, when he swung around his halberd, he had a moderate edge in reach compared to the Scarabaeus with its club. With this all-out barrage of blows from outside his opponent’s range, which reminded me suddenly of Blood and his broadsword, Al was probably intending to make the most of his advantage.
However, I didn’t have the luxury of watching intently.
The Hall of Light reverberated with loud footsteps, the shrill screeching of weapons, wails, and deathly cries.
Hordes of Soldier demons attempted repeated assaults against us through the entrance we came in by, and each time, they were crushed by Reystov and Ghelreis. Like a storm, Reystov stabbed, swept, and cut them down with his blade of mana. The ones who managed to narrowly evade his attacks were checked by Ghelreis waiting to the side and smashed to pulp.
Just as a lion doesn’t fear a herd of gazelles, and a wolf doesn’t fear a flock of sheep, the two trained warriors didn’t fear these hordes of demons and in fact were driving them away. I too readied my spear, pointing it towards a demon that was starting to get too close and held a curved sword in its hand.
All around the hall, demons that had probably been waiting in ambush here the entire time were appearing. They were mostly Commanders, but occasionally there were some of higher level that were likely approaching General rank. Brandishing Pale Moon, I stabbed them, slammed them, and destroyed them one by one.
A chill ran down the nape of my neck. I instinctively bent backward. Something swept by where my throat had just been. Then came a second and third strike. I parried the slash and the thrust mostly by gut feeling and took a large leap backwards to dodge. I’d definitely knocked away something, but I still couldn’t see a thing.
“Cadere Araneum!” I incanted a Word, dropping down a web of magic. Entangled in the web, there was something in a place where nothing seemed to be. Maybe this demon had hidden its form with the Word of Invisibility, or maybe it was always invisible to begin with. I had no time to check. As the enemy struggled, I swung down my spear and crushed it. “There’s invisible enemies here!”
“Oh, for hell’s sake! ‘Gnome and Sylph, dance hand in hand! Whirlwinds of ochre and curtains of dust!’” Immediately after I shouted, Menel called to the elementals of air, and dusty winds blew about the hall. It was the spell Ochre Dust. We fired arrows and threw daggers one after another into the places where the dust warped strangely, and invisible foes let out cries of mortal agony.
Menel dashed around the battlefield keeping a reasonable distance from the rest of us, prioritizing flying demons, spellcasters, and enemies with frustrating abilities like that invisibility and taking them out at frightening speed. I felt grateful that because of him, I didn’t have to be too wary of back attacks and could focus on using my muscle power to tackle the things in front of me.
That said, I also couldn’t afford not to use my head.
“Currere Oleum.”
After completing a sideways sweep with the blade of my spear, I cast a Word and ran grease across the floor. Several of the enemy group fell flat on the ground. As they struggled to escape while covered in grease, I ran each of them through with the blade of my spear. The tricks I’d inherited from Gus for the specialized use of magic for crowd control were as versatile as ever.
Once the enemy forces had eased off a little, I breathed out and took a glance around at the situation. Reystov and Ghelreis were still fighting and holding an advantage.
I took a look over at Al as he let out a loud roar.
From a series of overhead swings hammered down with all his might, he suddenly changed direction and executed a precise foot sweep. But it wasn’t just any foot sweep; the Scarabaeus’s foot had been taken out by a halberd with a metal hook. Its left ankle twisted violently.
“■■■■!”
The demon let out an inhuman scream, its mouthparts making scratchy insectile noises, and it collapsed to the ground. Al stepped forward. He raised his halberd high into the air. He was going for the kill.
That instant, the demon grinned.
The Scarabaeus dodged the axeblade and jumped, as though it had no ankle injury at all.
“Wh—”
No, it wasn’t “as though.” As if by a miracle, its wound was actually gone.
“Blessing!”
By the time I realized it, it was too late. The attack that Al had put his whole body into had missed, and the demon, laughing raucously, slammed its club into his torso.
◆
“Gah—”
Al’s feet left the ground, and he slammed back-first into a pillar. At the same time, there was a flash. Layers of chains made of mana wrapped themselves around Al’s body, binding him to the pillar. The club had the Sign of Spellbinding engraved into it!
It looked as if Al had managed to take the blow itself on his armor, but there was no way to avoid the damage to his organs. He had just barely kept hold of his halberd, but those magical chains couldn’t be destroyed by physical strength. He was in mortal danger.
Demons were warriors who knew no fear, and the higher-level ones among them were sometimes sorcerers or priests of the god of dimensions, Dyrhygma. I should have known that they would use blessings just like me!
I grunted in frustration. I wanted to fire off the Word “Dispel Magic,” but doing so wasn’t so easy. As two demons came at me from the left and right, I exploited a slight mismatch in their coordination, first kicking one away and then immediately turning adroitly and stabbing the other. But even in that small amount of time, the next attack from another demon was already heading my way. I whipped my spear down and smashed the demon to the ground. This really wasn’t the kind of situation where I could afford to give Al a helping hand.
“Dammit!” Menel cursed. He h
ad his hands full as well.
Reystov and Ghelreis, too, were stretched to their limits dispatching hordes of demons. The beetle-demon clicked its mouthparts and laughed unsettlingly as it drew close to Al, who was still chained to the pillar.
“Al!” I couldn’t help but shout.
“I’m... fine.” Amid the noise of battle, for some reason, I could make out his voice—and the heat that filled his words. “I will not lose.” The indestructible chains groaned. “I swear on my oath and on the dreams of my kin...”
Al’s face turned bright red as he pulled at the chains with all his might. The pillar to which he was chained seemed to warp. It groaned. Fissures ran through it—
“I will...”
The Scarabaeus realized what was about to happen, and it raised its spiked club in a panic, ready to strike. But it was too late.
“Take back our homeland!”
The pillar that the magic chains were wrapped around broke apart. The chains slackened. Al’s halberd, which he had swung up from below to intercept the demon’s club, had at some point become engulfed in bright-red fire. I felt the aura of a god. It was a brave, manly aura that was neither the god of the flame’s nor the god of undeath’s. I got the feeling that the corners of his mouth had curled up into an awkward smile.
Al bellowed. The axeblade imbued with divine fire traced a crimson trail and sent the spiked club flying through the air with the Scarabaeus’s hand still attached. But the beetle-demon was itself a storied warrior. Disregarding its sliced-off hand, it drew a dagger with its other hand and charged forward, trusting in the defense of its shell.
But that was nothing other than a blunder. That was Al’s range.
He grabbed hold of the Scarabaeus’s arm. He bent down low and pulled it towards him, just as I’d taught him, with the same movement I’d used when I threw the forest giant. There was a mighty roar. A large body flew through the air, and the King of the Iron Country slammed the invading demons’ supreme commander to the ground.
The Lord of the Rust Mountains (Complete) Page 28
