Chapter 166
Chapter 166
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 166
Chapter Title: Invasion
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Traps, traps, even more traps.
There were so many that one could truly call it a dizzying number, swarming through every inch of the underground passages.
No one had counted precisely, but there were at least five thousand, to the point where there wasn't even a single large passage that could hold them all gathered in one spot.
An elderly olmu clapped his hands in admiration at the sight of armed olmu endlessly appearing and vanishing.
"To think so many could gather like this—truly a magnificent sight, isn't it, friends?"
Olmu hero Locke muttered in a jovial tone, spreading his arms wide. His frivolous attitude and words made his fellow comrades furrow their brows and scold him.
"This isn't the time to be so relaxed, Locke."
"Quite some time has passed already, but the human extermination isn't progressing properly, is it?"
Locke was a commander, and for this mission, he held the position of supreme commander.
The two comrades complaining to him, Taem and Battta, were also commanders, but for now, they were merely his subordinates.
Locke found that fact unbearably delightful, and he reveled in commanding nearly five thousand olmu.
How could power be so sweet?
"Relax. They're just lashing out in desperation. Rather, remember that we need to manage them well enough that they don't go extinct. That's an order straight from the king."
Locke didn't take seriously the fact that the humans—his extermination targets—had all abandoned their settlements and fled deep into the passages, wasting time tracking them down.
What did it matter? They were just cornered rats thrashing about.
The underground world was vast and expansive, but it had an end. With so many olmu forming a tightening encirclement, they would be caught eventually.
Since victory was assured anyway, Locke's view was that it was better to proceed leisurely than to lose troops in reckless pursuit.
"Hmm."
"Ominous."
To him, their warnings were nothing more than the ugly jealousy of young ones who hadn't become supreme commander.
Locke chuckled and issued his orders once more. Take it slow if needed, but search every nook and cranny.
* * *
"Numbers, few. Work, hard."
Olmu Bajja grumbled as he set down his patrol cloak.
The defensive position he was in looked desolate.
Originally, this post had nine olmu to operate three ballistae, plus nine reserves, and even one hero to lead them. But now, only six remained.
Due to recent human unrest, a massive mobilization order had gone out, pulling many olmu from each sector forward as combat troops.
Naturally, that meant the olmu left guarding the sectors bore a much heavier burden than usual.
With fewer personnel but the same workload, it was an obvious outcome.
Even Bajja, who had been just a senior patrolman, now had to act as temporary captain for this sector's post.
It was truly lamentable, but as an olmu destined to live his life as a soldier, he had no choice but to accept that this was how the military worked.
"Bajja, back."
"Anything?"
"Nothing."
Patrol duty in the sector was far less leisurely than one might think.
They had to regularly patrol the auxiliary passages here and there, maintain weapons in preparation for combat, and never slack on guarding their assigned area.
At least they had the advantage that if enemies appeared, they could shoot without asking questions.
"Upa."
"Hm?"
"Reload, clean."
Bajja ordered Upa, his loader subordinate, to clean the ballista, then sank his weary body into a chair.
If this were the capital where he truly resided, he could have ordered a human slave to bring hot mushroom tea.
As he grumbled, the subordinate he'd just given orders to called out to him.
"Bajja. Problem."
"What?"
"Front, comrades, dead."
"How many?"
"All. Just now."
Bajja's mind blanked for a moment, unable to process his subordinate's words, falling into brief panic.
This wasn't some hazardous frontline patrol zone teeming with underground beasts. It was the central passage, not far from the capital at all.
To reach them, enemies had to pass several more checkpoints ahead—it was inland territory. For comrades to be wiped out here? How? No, more importantly, by whom?
"Sure?"
"Yes."
Even as Bajja asked, he didn't truly suspect his subordinate of lying or being mistaken. Upa could sense the presence of fellow olmu.
They could detect kin even from places invisible to the eye, and thus notice when that presence vanished, meaning death.
Bajja nodded and declared.
"Report it. Wait. Everyone, ballistae, ready."
As Bajja called for alert, the other five all responded affirmatively.
Naturally, their voices carried more annoyance than urgency, and their movements were sluggish.
Even if they'd reacted swiftly, there might not have been much they could do, but this lethargic response shortened their lifespans.
"Got it······."
With a slicing sound, the subordinate's head who had been replying flew into the sky in an instant.
It happened so fast that Bajja couldn't clearly identify what had severed the neck. All he knew was that it was some unidentified something flying freely through the air.
In the sudden crisis of death, Bajja quickly crouched and shouted.
"Everyone, down!"
After issuing the order, Bajja pressed his ear to the ground as fast as he could.
To identify the attacker.
'Sound.'
A bizarre thumping, like thud thud thud.
It resembled the sound of magic beasts running, but the density was incomparably heavier. Less like a massive entity approaching, more like an enormous number of them.
But this noise didn't seem to be the attacker.
'Too, far.'
The thing that decapitated Upa in an instant couldn't be this footfall—it was too distant. At least five hundred meters; no projectile weapon could reach that far.
Then what was the attacker's identity?
Before he could ponder further, Bajja felt a chill on his neck and instinctively clutched it. Some unknown liquid trickled down.
'Blood······.'
As the world spun wildly in an instant, Bajja finally realized his own neck had been severed.
Thanks to the olmu's exceptional vitality, he could watch his headless body spraying blood like a fountain.
And beside it, a single eerie disc floating in the air.
'Narakal!'
Bajja knew that weapon belonged to the great olmu hero Myushu. He'd served under Myushu once.
Even as he thought this, his head rolled inertly across the ground due to momentum, flashing the surroundings nonstop.
His subordinates with necks similarly severed, and up above, a winged metal mass descending softly, along with the human in dark blue armor riding it.
'Human······.'
That was the end of Bajja's thoughts.
Deprived of blood from his body, the head finally ceased activity.
* * *
After confirming all olmu dead, Arsen signaled Eloise via earring.
Arsen took the lead in subduing enemies, while Eloise relayed from the main force that he'd succeeded.
Considering their communication was essentially like a phone call, it was astonishingly effective.
[Subdued. Coming?]
[Confirmed. We're advancing steadily here too. No issues.]
[Good.]
Arsen lay atop the landed wingless bird, regulating his breath and trying to relax his body as much as possible.
To shed even a little accumulated fatigue and recover mana faster.
'Still, smooth so far.'
The tactic of dominating the usually unguarded skies, then ambushing with the silent-flying narakal, proved highly useful.
They'd bypassed six guard sectors unscathed, proof of that.
Under normal circumstances, it probably wouldn't have been this easy. If scattered olmu escaped while Arsen killed a few, alerting others, the plan would lose all meaning.
Their success stemmed from the olmu reducing guards to less than half, concentrating forces to fight humans.
"Sir Arsen! I've arrived!"
Maroon and the Star Burmi detachment he led reached Arsen first.
Ready to provide magical firepower support if needed.
"You're here."
"Yes! We raced like the wind!"
Maroon hopped off his cargo lizard excitedly, suddenly glanced around, and asked.
"All······dead, right?"
"Yes. All dead."
Seeing olmu corpses uniformly decapitated, Maroon poked them lightly with a slightly fearful expression.
As if worried the headless ones might spring up.
"No heroes here."
"Magic beasts can be repelled with ballistae anyway, so they must've conscripted all but a few regular soldiers. They already know our side has superior magic firepower."
"Uh-huh."
Maroon nodded vaguely, unsure if he fully grasped it, then asked again.
"But Sir Arsen, are you alright? That wingless bird consumes so much mana."
"I'm fine. Got something useful from the haul this time."
Among Myushu's items was one that consumed relic mana instead—a sort of auxiliary battery.
The wingless bird's mana draw relied on this battery, allowing continued assaults.
If using only his own mana, Arsen would've collapsed long ago.
"Anyway, we need to reach the capital soon. Sounds silly, but some in the trailing group are getting tired."
"Not far now."
Arsen unfolded a map from his bosom.
One received from gazoo Everic, from when humans properly held territory in the underground.
It allowed estimating the distance left to the target.
"Just one or two more to smash, and it'll be the capital."
* * *
The olmu capital has no name. Olmu simply aren't accustomed to naming lands.
But a designation is needed, so they call their capital the "Black Palace."
It's also the name of the building at the center where the king resides.
A pitch-black metallic structure of unknown age, ceaselessly shifting in bizarre ways.
Junta, a powerful olmu hero, was the commander tasked with defending the capital—the Black Palace.
Three thousand soldiers and fifty-seven heroes garrisoned there were his subordinates.
Though mass conscription had halved their numbers now.
'Another fine day.'
Junta strapped a human-made clock to his waist, sipped tea brewed by a slave, and began his routine.
Even his clothes were human-made: rare underground garb woven from magic beast fur.
'Humans are essential to our society, truly.'
Among olmu heroes, Junta was unusually fond of humans—not as equals or friends, but as cherished pets and useful slaves.
Even this was begrudgingly accepted; most olmu saw humans as diligent bugs, and the wealthy beat them to death for stress relief.
By comparison, Junta was an exemplary master.
He gave medicine if his human slaves got hurt or sick, and when breeding them, carefully observed mutual affection to avoid upsetting them.
Thus, the human slaves serving Junta genuinely respected him. He was endlessly kinder than other olmu.
Seated in his chair, Junta looked at the human slave standing right beside him and asked.
"What's for breakfast?"
"Roasted earth hog ribs with stir-fried soot mushrooms."
"Good."
Junta smiled cheerfully upon hearing the menu. One of his favorites.
But moments later, a subordinate rushed into his private quarters with shocking news. One that drove breakfast from mind.
"What? Wait······say that again. Again."
"Main road, comrades, dead. Enemy, coming."
"So enemies are coming? To this capital?"
"Yes."
"How close?"
To Junta's question, the subordinate nodded calmly.
"Here. Last defense line, dead."
Junta shot to his feet instantly. If true, every second counted.
"Breakfast after I return!"
Shouting that to the slave, Junta craned his neck and unleashed a high-pitched cry.
Loud enough for every olmu in the capital to hear.
-Battle stations! Arm and assemble!-