The respite did not last long, only half an hour. Thanks to the collective effort of a few individuals with abilities that could transmogrify the ground around them, they were able to create barriers that kept most of the smaller abominations away from their resting place.
As for the longer enemies, they'd be torn apart by Hiel's monsters or War's Divine Sword. Whichever got to them first.
"Say, Ms. Esme… I think you might've encouraged your old pal Hiel a little too much." Worthy hadn't expected much from Hiel. He was sure the man would refuse to depart with War and remain in the Devil's Den, having spent many years there. He was in his mid-thirties now, and had lazed about for a long time, despite his powerful Reward that ensured he'd never be alone.
After Esme rejected him, Worthy thought that'd be the last they saw of him. It'd be a sour note to depart on, but it was not unexpected.
What was unanticipated, though, was that the man would join War's expedition to Middle Town and play a vital role in their survival. That monster he summoned was far stronger than most of the flesh abominations. Although it was receiving injuries when being swarmed, its body would over time heal, as long as Hiel unsummoned it.
'Speaking of Hiel…' The summoner was walking a bit further ahead of the two, trying to ignore the blood that left him partially submerged in the creek.
Esme was carrying Worthy on her back, since the young man was at risk of slipping and suffocating, as well as contracting any unknown virus that blood might've contained. Thus, he shouted over her shoulder and made her flinch:
"Hey! Hiel! What's your hound's name?"
He groaned when he felt the back of the woman's head ram his chest. "Quit shouting near my ear."
Worthy smiled sheepishly in response.
Hiel turned over his shoulder and looked for a moment. There was a slight glimmer in his eyes, probably because of Esme who was carrying the child. He replied, "Uh… It doesn't have a name. My ability's called [Mephistophelian Beast Key]. According to its description, I hold the key to many Hells. Eventually, I ended up summoning whatever that dog-monster is."
The child's ears twitched at the words. He didn't know what Mephistophelian meant, but it had a sinister aura to it. It also helped to know he wasn't the only person whose ability descriptions were vague. In fact, Hiel's description was far more vague than either version of the [Guide] ability.
More importantly…
"Oh, so that means anybody can give it a name, right?!" The boy nearly bounced, but stopped when he felt Esme's hands tighten around his legs.
Surprisingly, there were audible groans of agony coming from throughout the group. A litany of sorrowful, mournful exasperations told Worthy that not everyone had recovered from their exhaustion yet.
"Ah… no more," someone said in the distance. That poor man, surely Esme had alleviated his physical exhaustion.
Hiel wore a weary smile, rubbing the back of his hand with a hand that lingered a bit too long. "You know, I don't think it needs a name. You wouldn't want something like that feeling too normal, you know?" His excuse was poor and incoherent to the child, who'd already thought of several dozen names for the hound-like beast.
Ignoring his words, Worthy spoke all the names that came to his head. "Panther? Gregory? Flesh Killer? Meat Grinder? Oh… oh! Jettison!"
Eventually, someone spoke to the child and said: "Hey, Kid. Maybe you should just stick with thinking of a name for our escapade, capisce?"
Ah! The man reminded Worthy of something he'd almost given up on while they were ascending up the second mountain. He still hadn't thought of a name for their bloody crusade through the valley of death.
"Say, you're right! I nearly forgot, I had the perfect name!" Once more, the groans came.
Esme didn't groan. This time, she entertained his thoughts. "Well? What have you got brewing in that impish mind of yours?" She asked.
During the climb, the boy hadn't had much time to think about names besides his occasional spurs of inspiration. However, as the group's numbers began thinning, and they eventually set up a camp and reflected on their losses, there was enough time for an idea to sprout in his mind.
Every one of them was climbing the tower for a reason. They were ambitious, or desperate, or moronic — some all of those things together — but they were by no means cowards. When presented with the choice of sloth, those who left resisted the urge of sin and set out to see their goals brought to life.
Some did so out of a sense of self-preservation, loathing the outlook of death that was sure to come if they wasted away in their settlement. Be that as it may, they all decided that they were going to make it to the top and have their individual wishes fulfilled. A determined army marched to Middle Town, and there they hoped to find an even greater force to travel across the First Floor with, and eventually find a Gateway.
By all accounts, their goal should've been impossible. After all, they were only human. Even with War Reaver accompanying them, they'd eventually meet a force that'd wipe them out and leave the Holy Knight as the sole survivor.
Alas, they could not stop. Recently facing a dozen casualties, the possibility to stop was taken away, lest someone be willing to lie down and be eaten alive by carnivorous amalgamations of flesh. Returning alone was not impossible, but the likelihood of dying was so great that no ordinary person was willing to take the risk.
"The Army of Hope."
The name took the group by surprise when they heard it. All of the child's names thus far had something to do with carnage or was eerily grim.
This time, the name he came up with was surprisingly uplifting. It was a name that carried two meanings behind it, but he only told the group the first one.
"We're a group of ambitious folks, walking through Hell to find our dreams at the top of a mystical tower. If that isn't hopeful, then I really don't know what else is. We all decided to challenge a tower where nobody's ever made it further than half way, and we're probably the first to ever do it with the assistance of a Holy Knight. Man… If I'd been stranded and saw this batch approaching, I'd think it's a sign of hope. Wouldn't you all, too?"
It made a lot of sense once he explained it. The child was wise beyond his days. Additionally, he was right.
Although they'd lost some people, the group was committing to an expedition that most would think is suicidal. They'd braved a storm of flying abominations with the help of an impossibly powerful man, who showed no signs of giving up on them either. So long as they followed him, there would be no failures. At least, there'd be no failure so long as the man had control of the situation. They'd not been thrown into any helpless circumstance, yet.
Silence had befallen the group as they walked, many bewildered by the child's sudden suggestion. It was a good one, but nobody wanted to admit it, not even Esme.
But, Worthy noticed something. For once, nobody groaned in discomfort. Not only had his great name finally been met with some positive feedback, as he could see on all their faces, but it'd also aided in calming their soreness. Perhaps they'd all come to appreciate his impeccable naming skills now.
'Yes, yes! You poor fools, lacking any sense of names… I, Worthy, have crafted a name most illustrious for our group! The previous ones were nearly as good, but this is the one I'd deemed the most valuable! How can anyone, ever, create something better?! They can't, my dear thoughts! No one can ever outdo my genius in the field of naming!'
By the time that the group made it out of the creek, their bodies, dripping blood from the waist down, turned into a downpour of ichor. A hundred bloody people getting out of the pool left the ground soaked.
Those who managed to get out of this place would undoubtedly become numb to the sight of blood, if they weren't already. Those who didn't have a traumatic response to it would grow desensitized before long. In fact, those who lived in this place for many years ought to have already been rather distressed already.
Esme put the child down on the ground when they were a safe distance away from the shore. She didn't want him to slip and end up sliding back into the creek.
Their next destination was quite a distance away, but there was also a massive, open lot between them and their goal. An empty, flat field of blood, which created a path straight to the massive, open cavern they'd be delving into. Like the mouth of a beast.
The time for fanfare had not come yet. They continued forward and entered the open plain.