Chapter 167
Chapter 167
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 167
Chapter Title: Black Palace
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Arsen soared through the air, gazing down below.
There lay a city. The city built by the Ollmu—the capital of his enemies, the one he had to destroy.
‘Vast...’
The Ollmu capital was enormous. The vast space right next to the central passage had likely been prepared in ancient times as a platform for lifts.
Its width was beyond estimation, easily spanning several kilometers, more than enough to serve as the capital in this underground world.
The buildings visible at a glance were all constructed from bricks of unknown origin, and the ground was neatly paved.
Magic lamps glowed from the ceiling, their light dim enough to be slightly uncomfortable for humans. It probably reflected the Ollmu's far greater adaptation to darkness than humans.
Thanks to that, Arsen could fly overhead without casting much shadow on the ground below.
‘Is that where the king is?’
Amid the ordinary brick buildings, in the heart of the capital, stood a bizarre structure.
A black building whose material was impossible to guess.
Its outer walls writhed faintly, exuding an unsettling aura that was anything but ordinary.
Arsen didn’t know it was called the Black Palace, the king’s residence that even the Ollmu feared to enter.
But even without knowing, he could sense it instinctively. That was where the king resided.
* * *
—Prepare for battle! Arm yourselves and assemble!—
Commander Junt’s shout echoed across the Ollmu capital, the largest area in the central passage.
The incomprehensible order threw every Ollmu in the capital into chaos.
Prepare for battle? Here in the capital? What battle could there be in the safest city in the world?
“Did you hear?”
“Heard.”
“Commander wants fight.”
“Rebellion?”
“Don’t know.”
“Arm first.”
“I go too.”
The warrior-class Ollmu chattered incomprehensibly about what could be happening, but they swiftly donned leather armor and rushed out with crossbows and spears in hand.
It was possible only because they were elites tasked with defending the capital.
“Huff, huff...”
Junt steadied his heaving breaths, strained from bellowing in the Ollmu’s characteristic high-pitched roar.
Projecting his voice across the entire capital wasn’t easy. He desperately wanted a sip of water to soothe his throat, but there was more he had to say.
He couldn’t borrow someone else’s mouth; the command needed his authority behind it.
—Non-combatants, hide in the basements! Anyone near the palace, report to the king that enemies have invaded!—
At that moment, a shout came from afar.
A rough voice he’d never heard before—it was easy to guess it belonged to a soldier-class Ollmu.
The voice trembled with terror.
—It’s humans!—
* * *
“Prepare to attack.”
The humans formed ranks.
Mages at the front, warriors around them to protect the mages, and knights at the outermost edge to shield the warriors.
Though there weren’t enough knights to cover the rear, they had to accept that risk.
This was no longer the time to conserve strength and fight only safe battles.
It was a short decisive battle: even if they preserved all their forces and failed to take the king’s head, it would be their defeat. Even if every last one died, severing the king’s head meant victory.
“Charge.”
The order was quiet. No need to shout it.
In the darkness, the drill lance Arsen raised began to spin.
With a rising whine accelerating into a deafening roar, it served as a clearer charge signal than any command.
The drill’s reverberating clamor shook the entire underground—for the Ollmu, a symbol of terror; for the humans, the sound of their savior.
“Let’s go—!”
“The savior leads us!”
“Long live Arsen!”
With the roars of warriors now devoted to Arsen, they charged toward the Ollmu capital.
Their pace wasn’t fast. The regular warriors’ footsteps slowed them down.
At this rate, they’d enter the bolt launchers’ range and become sitting ducks.
Then, an explosion blocked the way ahead.
“Whole body—! I’m here—!”
Anun, riding a winged beast, shattered a bolt launcher with an explosive javelin and bellowed at the top of his lungs.
In response, the knights at the front surged toward the Ollmu left awkwardly without their launchers.
They fired a bolt each while charging, then discarded the crossbows to draw spears and swords and engage.
“Die!”
“You bastards!”
The charge of over forty knights was ferocious.
Over a hundred Ollmu guarded the entrance, yet they couldn’t recover from the assault by knights stronger and swifter than themselves.
Magic spells raining from behind amplified the chaos.
The mages unleashed spells indiscriminately at foes and allies alike, but while knights resisted or shrugged off minor effects, the Ollmu were crushed, torn, and frozen solid.
It was a tactic exploiting the knights’ magic resistance.
“Uwaaak!”
“They’re running!”
“Don’t run! The commander’s coming!”
Some panicked Ollmu tried to flee, but more held their ground despite their fear.
As elites defending the capital, their mental fortitude was impressive.
But soon, a monster appeared to shatter even that resolve.
A single knight mounted on a black lion, wielding a roaring lance.
The Ollmu screamed at Arsen’s appearance.
“Roaring monster!”
“We can’t win! Run!”
“Commander! Commander!”
Arsen charged spear-first, like a medieval knight’s lance charge.
The spinning drill tore through the air, its speed lightning-fast; the Ollmu blocking his path were shredded in an instant.
With a boom, over ten Ollmu flew back as if struck by a truck.
One Ollmu who barely rolled aside clutched his bleeding ears and screamed.
“The noiiiise!”
The Ollmu weren’t fools; they knew Arsen’s drill caused massive auditory damage with its roar.
They had countermeasures like earplugs prepared.
The problem was that those with earplugs were in the army mobilized to subjugate humans.
The capital’s defenders had none—who would imagine humans abandoning their homes to assault the capital!
“Stop! I’m the hero Safa...!”
Arsen hurled a gem at an Ollmu hero stepping forward to speak. It was one of the spoils from Commander Myushu.
The gleaming gem exploded violently on contact with the hero’s weapon.
An explosion strong enough to make even a knight wince.
“Kraa—!”
A fatal blow to the sound-sensitive Ollmu. He’d endured the drill’s roar by force, but this was too much; he dropped his weapon and clutched his ears.
Arsen’s drill lance pierced his head without mercy.
“That’s three!”
“Uooo!”
Shouts of three Ollmu heroes felled rose from behind.
A somewhat comical performance, but necessary to boost morale.
Confirming the cheers, Arsen turned to those following and yelled.
“Keep advancing! No rest until we seize that black building ahead!”
The humans who had entered the capital were already surrounded by four or five times their number of Ollmu.
A firefight raged with crossbows and shields, and the occasional brave Ollmu charging to break the formation fell limply to magic.
Amid the chaos, raggedly dressed humans appeared here and there—hiding in houses or cowering in alley corners. Their identity was obvious.
‘Slaves.’
Humans raised by Ollmu. He might help later, but not now.
Turning from them, Arsen relentlessly urged the warriors onward, advancing and advancing.
The 800 meters from the capital’s edge to the Black Palace would’ve taken him seconds alone, but breaking through took nearly ten minutes.
Finally facing the palace, a thunderous roar echoed from somewhere. Loud enough to pierce the already chaotic din.
“Yoooou scum—!”
There stood an Ollmu hero riding a centipede-like magic beast with dozens of legs, like a knight on his mount.
Dressed in gem-adorned clothes like Myushu’s, he was clearly the commander.
The centipede’s dozens of legs writhed, closing the distance to Arsen in the blink of an eye.
Lightning speed.
“Die!”
Commander Junt’s hammer clashed with Arsen’s drill lance.
A screech of metal grinding and sparks flew, but Junt’s hammer didn’t shatter like ordinary weapons.
Its durability as a solid metal mass far outstripped bladed arms that sacrificed toughness for sharpness.
But the hands gripping it told a different story.
“Guh!”
The immense recoil made Junt groan.
He barely held on, but soon felt his palms grow slick.
Glancing down, he saw his grip torn, blood flowing.
Junt clicked his tongue in inner shock.
‘Insane... what strength...!’
He’d never imagined humans could be this strong. To him, they were helpless pets; even wild ones were like stray cats.
Even their so-called guardians were the same.
As they separated briefly from the clash, Arsen pointed at Junt. A disc from his side flew skyward and hurtled toward him.
Seeing it, Junt cried out in horror.
“Narakal!”
The famed treasure bestowed by the king on the renowned commander Myushu. Bloodshot rage filled Junt’s eyes.
Daring to loot and wield a king’s gift—a blasphemy against the king.
No Ollmu would tolerate such an affront.
“Drop that weapon, you arrogant cur!”
His bellow brimmed with excitement.
So exhilarated, Junt charged swinging his hammer without using his commander’s gems—like a berserker.
Arsen, who had beaten the stronger, calmer Myushu, had no reason to fall to this foe.
Especially with Myushu’s treasures in hand.
“Grh...”
In mere exchanges, Junt’s body was drenched in blood—from blocking the drill lance only to be sliced by the Narakal.
Regaining composure as Junt faltered, Arsen forced open the black lion’s maw and exhaled its breath.
Junt, like Myushu, had a relic against flames and survived, but his centipede mount didn’t.
■■■■■■■■---!
The centipede shrieked and crumpled.
Arsen hurled the Narakal and thrust his lance at Junt leaping down.
Blocking precariously atop the fast centipede was one thing; on foot, impossible. In moments, Junt’s waist was severed by the Narakal, and he collapsed.
A spinal severance, fatal.
“Damn... you... can’t reach... the king...”
Even spilling guts, Junt drew a dagger to resist. Arsen swung his lance.
Junt’s head rolled limply across the ground.
“We won!”
“Long live Sir Arsen!”
Cheers—and despair.
Two emotions crossed between humans and Ollmu. The Ollmu, losing will to fight, even showed signs of retreat.
Then, a woman’s voice resounded from somewhere.
[My children. Fight, to the death.]
A commanding, cruel tone.
In that single sentence, the Ollmu’s momentum shifted instantly.
“The king.”
“The king commands.”
“Kill.”
“Fight!”
Unlike their hesitation moments ago, the Ollmu charged heedless of their bodies, roaring like beasts.
A scene straight out of a zombie apocalypse.
Casualties skyrocketed, but the charges were effective.
‘Crazy, like zombies or something.’
As the outnumbered humans faced waves of zombie-like Ollmu, their own losses mounted.
One human death outweighed three or four Ollmu; after felling one, Timac yelled at Arsen.
“Sir Arsen! Kill the king! As planned!”
They had reached the Black Palace. The ominous building writhed, leaking smoke-like wisps.
At its main gate, humans formed a semicircular line, erecting a defensive front against the Ollmu.
Confirming it, Arsen shouted to Timac.
“I leave the rear to you!”
Entrusting them to hold until his return, Arsen led his subordinates into the palace.
To claim the king’s head.