Chapter 344 - Assembly (2)
[Krroaaaaaa!]
Savage eyes, bulging with blood-red veins.
Talons strong enough to tear even metal, left gouged tracks behind.
The savage cries of beasts, hunting their prey, rang out from every direction.
Canid demi-humans, who move on all fours or on two legs, Gnolls.
Among them, the ones that have evolved into higher variants, grow horns on their heads.
If the horn is one, Single Horn.
If the horns are two, Double Horn.
If the horns are three, Triple Horn.
By nature, these are higher individuals who rule the lower Gnolls.
The extermination risk, for the entire pack each of them leads, is Silver-rank, Gold-rank, and then Platinum Rank. The more horns, the larger the body, the higher the intellect, and the stronger the strength and toughness.
And if the number of horns goes beyond this, the risk is measured not by pack, but per individual.
If the horns are four, Quadra Horn.
If the horns are five, Quinter Horn.
Their bite force chews through refined steel, their brute strength rends a human like a toy.
A sense of smell that never loses the scent of prey. The speed that bursts from their hind legs, puts them on a different track from the lower variants.
On top of that, they wear tough hides, which ordinary sword auras can hardly harm.
Predators, in the literal sense.
If you meet them in an uninhabited forest, even a seasoned Platinum Rank adventurer, will become prey.
Such monsters were now pursuing Leira.
Killing intent, filled the space behind her back.
As she heightened her senses and counted their number, she knit her brows.
'There are more than I expected.'
She had heard that Glory of the Dead was commanding demi-humans.
And from the heir of DarkWarton, that they had subjugated three Quinter Horns.
Yet the creatures still remained.
Four Quadra Horns, and one Quinter Horn. Including the previous ones, there are no fewer than eight Gnolls that have evolved into higher variants.
If you include the other riffraff among the demi-humans, the count easily exceeds three digits.
'It feels similar to the demi-human surge I saw in the Kailiens....'
It can't be a coincidence.
Perhaps they used that thing called the [Pillar of Life], again.
Whatever the cause, can wait. For now, focus on the goal.
'Now.'
No more individuals were sticking close behind.
A so-called drive hunt.
A blood-tinted aura wrapped her sword.
Leaping low, she brought her legs together, then kicked both feet off a thick tree root that jutted from the ground, and charged back the other way.
With her spin, a light breeze stirred, and crimson threads scattered from the sword tip at the same time.
Blood Gale.
Unavoidable, by relative velocity.
A sword-aura trajectory, that eyes cannot read.
Kwagwagwagwagwa!
The blood-red storm shredded and butchered all four nearby Quadra Horns, to pieces.
Blood and chunks of flesh, poured down like a shower.
As Leira halted in the midst of the forest turning red, a Quinter Horn, with a roar, lunged from behind.
[Krroaaaaaaa!]
It, too, had been exposed to the storm, but suffered nothing fatal—only its hide torn here and there.
Not surprising.
She already understood that defensive power.
Kagagagak!
Claws as big as a human torso, scraped her armor.
Sparks flickered faintly.
With clear perception she let the strike glance off, slashed to blur its vision, then shot her arm forward like lightning, finding an opening.
Blazing Apex.
The crimson blade tracing a straight line, grazed past the Quinter Horn's eyes.
[...?!]
With a single strike, she stole its sight.
Howling in pain, the creature thrashed wildly, ravaging the forest.
Matching its frenzy with nimble movement, Leira poured sword aura only into its openings.
The greatest strength of the Adventurers' Guild, is information.
Over hundreds of years, they have amassed a world-spanning trove of knowledge—habits, weaknesses, and more—about the beings that threatened humanity.
From prey, to predator.
Adventurers are the ones who hunt monsters.
[Kaa...!]
Dozens of seconds of fierce battle.
At the end of it, the Quinter Horn, its whole musculature and nerves sliced to ribbons, collapsed.
"Haa...."
Fresh blood, covered her black-and-crimson armor.
Unleashing martial arts and sword aura in succession, the recoil was a bit harsher than usual.
Leira took a deep breath, and looked up at the sky.
'Where on earth is their base of operations?'
Even though she searched the area thoroughly, she found neither a black mage, nor any hint of human traces.
The consecrated cross that Archbishop Joseph gave her, which detects black magic, did react... but it didn't lead to the hideout of Glory of the Dead.
[Kak... Kaak....]
It was pointing to the black magic circle engraved on the forehead of the Quinter Horn she had just subdued.
Her thoughts deepened.
Even if she widens the search radius like this, there may be no results.
'...I'll have to leave it to Asher.'
Before departure, Asher had asked her for a favor.
To secure a living demi-human, one engraved with a black magic circle.
She didn't know the reason.
But she was certain he had some astonishing method.
So she did not kill the Quinter Horn at once, she kept it alive.
'There are no other options.'
There isn't much leeway.
If she's late, she'll end up holding everyone back.
Moreover, who knows when or where she'll find another demi-human engraved with a black magic circle like this.
There are times when you must retreat, when you must retreat.
Having decided, Leira flashed a bracelet made of four strands.
A magic item, issued only to high-ranking adventurers of Mithril grade and above, [Floating Restraints].
A special product for easily transporting monsters that are difficult to harvest on the spot, or that must be captured alive.
Three silver threads separated from the bracelet, swelled, and bound the Quinter Horn.
At Leira's will, the restrained creature rose into the air.
Jurruk.
A good amount of blood poured from the wounds, but there was no need to mind it.
With a Quinter Horn's natural healing, there is absolutely no way it will die. Rather, she needs to act again before the body fully recovers.
'Now I just have to return to the Church of Luas garrison....'
[Kaaaarrr!]
[Kigegegegek!]
Cries, came from the darkness.
From every direction, without needing to pinpoint a bearing. They must have caught the scent of blood.
Leira flicked the blood from her blade, and reset her grip on the hilt.
"...I need to hurry."
If she's surrounded, it'll already be too late.
With the Quinter Horn secured, Leira hastened onto the return route.
***
Judging from the fragments of conversation I heard outside the door, that nasty-looking man, is without a doubt one of the two High Councilors whom the Church of Luas said they had rescued.
At the command of the High Councilor named Angrang, the executioners moved.
They set hands on their respective weapons, and stepped forward without hesitation.
"These bastards...."
Adrian, laying his emotions bare, flexed his fingers.
He looked ready to knock them all flat, right now.
At that moment, Verden stretched an arm sideways, stopping Adrian.
"My lord?"
"Words will suffice."
From the circumstances, Angrang does not seem to know much about Verden and Adrian.
They said there was a High Councilor who was cooperating directly with the Church of Luas, but that doesn't seem to be this man.
If so, explaining is enough.
No need to say much—just a brief self-introduction will more than suffice.
Verden is a man of intellect.
"I'm Asher, working together with Archbishop Joseph of the Church of Luas."
"W-with... His Excellency, the Archbishop?"
Angrang's expression, changed.
At the same time, the executioners also halted their movements.
They might be able to pressure a High Bishop, but to voice complaints against one of the Seven Archbishops, that was far too troublesome.
"And I am also an honorary Count of the Kingdom of Estiria."
Verden revealed himself as a noble of a foreign land.
Now that it had come to this, the same attitude as before would no longer be possible.
One cannot deny that overwhelming strength is the greatest means, but at times, a few words are the best way to avoid needless friction.
That was Verden's thought... which Angrang shattered, as if to mock it.
"Estiria... Kingdom, you say...?"
Blood vessels bulged in his eyes.
"How dare you! How dare a vile and despicable noble of Estiria set foot here?!"
"?"
"The Church of Luas, do you know how much we have donated to you until now? And yet you do this! It wasn't enough to interfere in the domestic affairs of the Republic of Beldirn, you even drag in that base Kingdom!! The war ended not even half a century ago!"
In the past, the Republic of Beldirn had waged war against the Kingdom of Estiria, standing up to the pressure and tyranny the Kingdom inflicted on its neighbors.
During that process, the Republic nearly won... but then, suddenly, they began suffering repeated defeats on the front lines, and were even invaded.
The tide of war reversed. The capital of the Republic itself might have been on the verge of falling.
───You spout off nonsense with that open mouth of yours. Say it again, Councilor Angrang!
───Th-that...!
At that time, Angrang, a rookie councilor backed by a powerful family, had guaranteed an overwhelming victory with "rational" analysis and force comparison, only to suffer a crushing disgrace.
Later, when the war ended and matters were barely salvaged, he rose to become a High Councilor... but the embarrassment and rage he felt back then, still burned vividly.
In truth, the Kingdom's counterattack was backed by the human experimentation of Gluttony, but naturally, Angrang had no knowledge of that.
He hated the Kingdom, simply for various reasons.
"This is a great! A very great insult to the Republic of Beldirn! Bishop Lena, as a High Councilor I cannot, will not overlook this!!"
"P-please, let's calm down for a moment..."
"You keep saying calm down, calm down, but that's something to say only after locking up that vicious Kingdom bastard first!"
Angrang raged and flailed in fury, far more than before.
It was proof of how deep his hatred for the Kingdom ran.
Of course, Verden had no reason to understand any of it.
It was unpleasant.
The opponent's indiscriminate hostility was irritating. Especially the booming voice that rattled the chamber, unbearably loud.
"I was mistaken."
Verden furrowed his brow.
"Words won't be enough."
"I will shut him up immediately."
Adrian's figure blurred.
A few executioners reacted, but that was all, they failed to stop him.
In the blink of an eye Adrian was before Angrang, and lightly swung his arm.
"If you don't want to be thrown in prison then get that Asher or whoever out of the border at once───ugh!"
Angrang, struck on the jaw as if brushed, slumped forward as though falling asleep.
"Uh."
A High Councilor, had just been punched in the jaw.
Even Bishop Lena was struck speechless.
Silence, lingered for a moment.
Then, the executioners, having grasped the situation, instantly took their stances. Their intent clear—to protect Angrang and subdue the enemy.
Among them, their leader, the magus Serin, began computing a spell, only to meet Verden's gaze.
"...?! Kugh, kugh!"
"Sir Serin?"
Serin coughed repeatedly, and reflexively stepped back.
A chilling feeling. His fingertips trembled slightly without his will.
'W-what on earth....'
Indescribable... but dangerous. An instinctive sense, that he must not oppose this.
It was a reaction even he himself did not understand.
Due to Serin's unexpected lack of orders, a strange standoff formed.
"E-everyone, please, don't fight, just calm down for now...! Yes?"
But no one listened.
Bishop Lena, caught in the middle, gave up and unleashed holy power.
If words would not work, then only a miracle could stop this.
Unintentionally, it became a three-way clash.
It was then.
"...!"
Several presences approached.
The tightly shut door, flung wide open.
"There you are, Asher. I heard you returned much earlier than expected, thank you both for your hard journey."
Archbishop Joseph, Railver, and Leira appeared.
"But what is this commotion?"
Joseph looked at the pitiful figure of Angrang, collapsed on the floor, and asked.
Bishop Lena hastily answered.
"They're fighting!!!"
A tattletale, to the Archbishop.
And in an instant, the situation came to an end.
***
"To think you'd sock a High Councilor in the jaw the moment you came back.... Bold isn't the word, you're simply running wild now, aren't you?"
Leira snapped with disbelief.
Before Adrian could retort, she pressed again.
"Don't tell me you did the same in Southern Pit? Like breaking wanted notices and all just because you were looking for an escort."
"..."
This woman, sharp.
For news of what happened in Southern Pit to reach here, it should still be far too soon.
Adrian clamped his mouth shut.
Before more words could be added, Verden diverted the subject.
"By the way, did you find the base?"
"Seeing as you're not answering, don't tell me... huh, no. To be honest, I didn't. I did search quite diligently though."
Leira had failed to achieve her goal.
Even though she searched the entire designated region... this meant it was not her lack of ability, but rather that the plan had been flawed from the start.
"Still, I did secure a demi-human engraved with a black magic circle, just like you asked. Alive. That's why I arrived a bit late, bringing it into the city."
Her appearance was fierce.
The bloodstains smeared all over her had been mostly wiped off, but the scratches on her armor remained clear.
"You seem to have been busy."
"Thanks to it."
With a shrug, Leira guided Verden and Adrian to the demi-human.
They headed to the underground warehouse, of the central fortress of Quorail.
Inside, guarded directly by several paladins, a five-horned demi-human was restrained.
According to Leira, this monster was a Quinter Horn.
Among Gnoll higher variants, its individual danger rank was Platinum high, or Mithril low.
[Grrrr....]
Its growl, brimmed with killing intent.
Verden approached unfazed, and examined its forehead.
The black magic circle, inscribed by Glory of the Dead.
It was directly connected to the demi-human, interfering with its mind—no, its instincts.
Verden's unique insight grasped the entirety in an instant.
"How is it, is this enough to satisfy you?"
"Plenty."
Verden inwardly smiled.
The quality of the magic circle was considerable.
Leaving aside its structural complexity, the mana imbued within it indicated, without a doubt, that it was written by at least a 6th-tier black mage.
'The master of this black magic circle is likely the Fourth Servant we faced at Kailiens.'
In other words, if he extracted the mana from here and transplanted it into a magic stone, then used the [Compass of Black Hour], he could instantly locate the direction where the caster resided.
Just like when they tracked Viola and Nosa in the Kingdom.
They had seized the most likely lead.
"Well done, Leira."
"Well, it's nothing...."
"Then, would you mind stepping aside now."
He had no intention of revealing the compass's existence, save to Adrian.
After sending Leira out, Verden immediately began the extraction and transplantation work.
And after several hours, Haldirn arrived at Quorail.
With that, the entire leadership of the Glory of the Dead subjugation force, having completed their respective missions, assembled.
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