Chapter 53
Chapter 53
-----------------------------------------------------------------
>Translator: Lord First
>Chapter: 53
>Chapter Title: Stalker vs. Stalker (8)
>-----------------------------------------------------------------
*
-Drip, drop.
A summer rain began to fall. A rain that deepened the darkness of night and cooled the sweltering air.
Ivan stood in the rain, staring at the darkened house.
The sound of the downpour muddled the scene, but one thing was certain. There was no sign of life inside the house.
“Tsk.”
He remembered Daionare. In fact, he had memorized most of the top aides to the leaders of every nation. Among them, he'd personally met Einar's old huscarls on more than a few occasions.
A few huscarls, including Mord, were subjects of keen interest in the Allied Kingdoms. The 'reserves.' Promising talents expected to fill any vacancies in the Hero's Party.
Including Ivan himself, reserves were prepared for each role. Among them, Daionare was considered one of the strongest contenders to succeed Einar.
Had he already made his move? Ivan pondered for a moment before shaking his head.
Unlikely.
The 'dignitaries' of Fritzenkaya, including Esidis, were assigned low-level agents from the Counter-Espionage Command. The surveillance wasn't intense, but it meant they were under protection.
Moreover, the Counter-Espionage Command currently considered the 'Droan Rebels' the prime suspects for the terror attacks. No matter how perfectly Daionare, a native of Droan, had slipped into the country, the moment he appeared near Esidis, he would be caught in their surveillance net.
So, the reason the house was empty... meant she had willingly gone somewhere with Mord.
He couldn't guess why, but well... let's say they went for a night walk.
'That's even less safe.'
Ivan immediately turned and ran.
The downpour grew heavier.
*
Enrique wiped her bloodstained knife on her sleeve, frowning.
“I told you to stay back.”
“But, Master! Shouldn't I be doing something, too?”
“Watching closely and learning well. That is your duty.”
In the darkness, crimson eyes blazed. The pupils of a vampire that had caught the scent of blood, seized by madness.
The sewers of Fritzenkaya. Older than the nation itself, this city's ancient waterways had been expanded over time into a chaotic labyrinth.
From within its passages, small shadows emerged one after another.
-Grrrrrr!!
Under the dim light of the sewers, faint, ashen skin was revealed.
Cave goblins. Miner type.
Enrique frowned and muttered.
“I should have expected this when the dwarves appeared on the outskirts.”
Dwarves infiltrate by digging underground tunnels. Their main purpose is to penetrate rear lines and cause disruption.
As long as there is earth, there is nowhere a dwarf cannot infiltrate. So it is said. Of course, that's not entirely true when you consider supply lines and maintenance costs, but still.
And once dwarves have infiltrated an area, one must assume they've left their own network of tunnels behind. It shouldn't have been dismissed as a mere terror attack by a few dwarven stragglers.
This nation, in just four years, it had grown soft with peace.
No. That wasn't it. She herself had been the same. This simply meant that humanity was forgetting war.
All people instinctively try to avoid negative memories. It's a matter of instinct. The war was an event akin to historical trauma, and humanity was overwriting it with positive memories as quickly as possible.
Thanks to that, civilization was rebuilding at an astonishing rate, so it couldn't be called entirely negative. But she couldn't afford to be like that.
Not her. The one called the ruler of the Fritzenkaya sewers, the rogue of the Hero's Party, and before that... the one who had slaughtered the Elder and become the queen of Fritzenkaya's vampires.
“Lucia. Watch closely.”
Enrique whispered, gripping two daggers in a reverse hold.
Grrr, grk. Distorted, monstrous cries echoed, filling the entire sewer.
Miner goblins are a slave race to the dwarves, and their appearance on the front lines meant a dwarven special operations team was hiding somewhere in that darkness.
I'll end it here. So that not a single demon dares to trespass into the city above.
Taking a deep breath, Enrique shot forward like a flash of lightning. Through the countless blinking red glints in the darkness. Through the horde of demons, packed like a forest, squirming like insects.
-Grr...
-Schlick.
The charging goblins froze in place.
The only sound was the sharp cut of a blade slicing through bone.
-Krr-crack!!
The heads of the goblin horde that filled the passage exploded in unison.
A lone bolt of lightning, flashing in a moment of frozen time, finally returned to the normal flow of the world.
The delicate, single stroke of a master painter. A death woven from light flowed seamlessly before vanishing into its sheath.
As blood rained down, Enrique walked out from the midst of it, rolling her shoulders.
“This is the battlefield of the Hero's Party.”
“I can't watch closely if I can't see anything...”
“If you couldn't see, then feel it. One day, you too will reach this level.”
Enrique patted her disciple's shoulder and started walking again.
*
-Rumble... rumble...
The street rattled. In this era, the roads paved for carriage traffic were made of trimmed brick blocks.
Those bricks were grinding against each other, trembling. Cracks were forming. On the roads and the outer walls of buildings alike.
An earthquake? No, that wasn't it.
This was the sound of excavation. Ivan frowned, kicked off the ground, and leaped into the air.
Thwack, he kicked off a wall, threw himself to the opposite side to kick off the next, then the next, then back again.
Leaping up like a thunderbolt, he soon found himself hanging from the rooftop ledge of the tallest building.
-Rumble... rumble...
Dust rose. Clearly visible despite the rain. Buildings shook and the ground warped. The road was writhing like a snake.
Excavation sounds. A large-scale city assault. The main force.
Dwarves.
“How...?”
During the last demon war, the dwarves' 'Excavation Corps' had been thoroughly crushed. They were one of the demons' most threatening legions. The Wyvern Assault Battalion of the skies, the Dwarven Pioneer Units of the underground. Forces that compelled tactics on a different plane.
Therefore, not a single one of the dwarves' 'Great Earth Diggers' remained. Ivan remembered the mission to destroy the last one vividly.
But to carry out an assault of this magnitude, one capable of covering an entire city, a Great Earth Digger was necessary.
That was impossible. First, the manufacturing technology for the dwarven diggers was now lost. Second, there was no way such a large invasion force could tunnel through the ground without anyone noticing.
The Counter-Espionage Command was not incompetent. On top of that, Krasilov wasn't even a frontline city.
How many nations and cities would they have to cross to reach Krasilov? There was no reason to attack this city in the first place.
“No.”
None, except for the Hero's Party. Ivan nodded. There was a reason, after all.
But still, the 'how' remained unanswered.
Other countries, well, they were pre-modern. Let's say it was possible to sneak in by skillfully navigating the wilderness, avoiding military garrisons and major urban centers.
No matter how skilled the world's intelligence agencies were, how could they catch moles digging tunnels underground?
But his own country was different. Krasilov should have known.
A dwarven terror attack had occurred right next to the capital just a few days ago. It was impossible that the military, especially the Capital Guard Division, wouldn't have attempted to probe the ley lines after detecting such a sign.
The military absolutely, positively, knew about this situation.
“The Central Bank, the Amphitheater, Saint Yansk University, the Great Cathedral of Saint Chereta, the North-Frachenko Central Police Agency...”
Ivan quickly scanned the parts of the city where the tremors were occurring. Assuming there were tunnels underground, and an excavation artifact was active beneath the surface.
By reverse-tracking the epicenters, the traces appearing on the ground, and the web-like spread of the earthquake's intensity, he could pinpoint the origin.
So, those five locations were the focus of this attack.
And this was probably all a diversion.
The real targets are the children of the Hero's Party.
“Lucia is with Enrique, so she's out.”
“Isabelle and Oskar are in the same district, so put them on hold.”
“Elfihera is in the elven settlement, so she's out.”
“And Esidis.”
The other children of the Hero's Party had means to buy at least a little time, given their residential areas and personal traits, whether it was dwarves or rebels attacking.
That little bit of time would be enough for the Counter-Espionage Command to respond.
Which means, Esidis. That kid is in the most danger right now.
-Thwack.
Ivan kicked off the wall and leaped down.
He didn't know Esidis's scent. But assuming Mord was with her, he remembered Mord's.
He remembered fighting that guy, shedding blood and sweat, more than twice. Men from Droan didn't bathe much anyway. The falling rain would only slow him down; it couldn't wash away the scent from his senses.
*
“Why... why, my brother... why...?”
“Have you never thought it strange?”
Daionare laughed, the unconscious Esidis slung over his shoulder.
Mord, collapsed on the ground with a sword driven into his stomach like a nail, gasped and reached out. His dropped axe was out of reach. Still, he didn't stop.
He had to protect his niece.
She was his brother's daughter.
And he was his brother's younger brother.
That was the only reason. That was the duty of a huscarl. With a trembling hand, he struggled toward the distant axe, panting.
“If the right of kings and lords of this world to rule over others is a divine right granted by the heavens, why is the reign of those who hold such power so different from the paradise described in the scriptures?”
“What are you...?”
“Just a joke.”
Daionare looked down at Mord's stunned face and snickered.
Those who couldn't understand, who didn't even try, were no better than cattle and sheep. Fools who wouldn't even shy away from the slaughterhouse as long as they could eat their fill, despite the shepherd's whip.
“Is there any other reason? My father was a Jarl. There's no reason I can't be one, too.”
“My brother will...”
“He won't forgive me, I'm sure. Ah, good. I have no intention of forgiving him either.”
Daionare shrugged and, with Esidis on his back, walked toward the mouth of the alley.
Rumble... The tremors continued. Mord lay in the rain, feeling his blood run cold as he despaired.
He had failed to protect Esidis. He was dying, taken down by a surprise attack without a proper fight.
He would not be worthy of joining the eternal struggle in heaven. He would fall to the depths of hell to live, so this... yes. This was a fitting punishment.
“Relax.”
“...?”
A low voice spoke from above his head.
Lifting his blurred gaze, he saw a man's rain-soaked face against the dark night sky.
“My, my last words...”
“You say those when you're dying.”
The man reached out and gripped the sword embedded in his stomach. With a gruesome crunch, the blade was pulled out.
Blood gushed out, mixing with the puddles and flowing away in red streams.
The man looked down at Mord's wound and placed a hand on it.
“This is going to hurt.”
“Ivan...”
“Yeah.”
“My niece, my niece...”
“I'll protect her.”
Ivan ripped the cap off a healing potion.
Even as Ivan poured the potion directly into the penetrating wound in his abdomen, Mord endured without a single scream, his eyes bloodshot.
When the first aid was finally complete, the exhausted Mord muttered in a cracked voice.
“I'll... trust you.”
Ivan dragged the unconscious Mord under some eaves, out of the rain, and took off his coat to cover him.
As long as his internal mana was intact, a superhuman whose wound was sealed and had received a sufficient dose of healing potion wouldn't die from hypothermia.
He pried the piece of a sleeve from Mord's clenched fist.
It seemed he'd grabbed it reflexively during Daionare's attack. That was fortunate.
-Snnnfff...
The scent. Memorized.
Ivan closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then turned and sprinted into the city's darkness.
-Rumble... rumble...!!
The earthquake continued.
*
“Today, I shall vacate the throne of Krasilov. Prepare yourself, my lord.”
“Yes, Your Excellency. No...”
Dmitry bowed deeply toward the rain-swept terrace.
He struck his head to the floor three times in a deep bow, correcting his own slip of the tongue.
“Your Majesty. I accept your royal command.”
Rain-soaked silver hair shone brilliantly under the terrace lights.
*