Chapter 173
Chapter 173
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 173
Chapter Title: Coastline
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Arsen's group passed through the capital and stepped into unknown territory.
In truth, there was nothing particularly special about this unknown space.
The most they'd encounter were straggling remnants of the Olm, packs of magic beasts, or subhuman races slightly larger and dumber than the Olm.
These, too, were Yerika's handiwork—or more precisely, the failed experiments she'd discarded.
The creatures with their deep navy-blue skin and well-developed muscles made for fairly formidable foes.
Each one was strong enough to threaten a knight, and they roamed in groups of three or four, which must have made them tricky opponents for the Olm.
But they were no match for Arsen's group.
For one thing, their numbers were overwhelmingly outmatched. On top of that, like the Olm, they had virtually no magic resistance, and they were far stupider and less perceptive.
Spot them first, unleash a barrage from the reinforced crossbows, then hit the screaming ones with spells. That was all it took.
Having devolved to a level closer to magic beasts than intelligent beings, fighting them felt less like war and more like hunting. No different from taking down magic beasts.
"Kuooo!"
"Poor bastards."
Bazkal muttered under his breath as he watched one gorilla-like creature scream in agony, frozen solid.
In his hand was a bloodied axe—the wind axe that Arsen had favored.
After acquiring Isht's spear, Arsen had passed the now-redundant weapon to Bazkal.
Unlike his old greatsword, the magic embedded in it wasn't single-use, and its quality as a weapon was far superior, so Bazkal had accepted it gladly.
Of course, having only ever wielded greatswords, learning to handle an axe was a chore. But he'd turned it into an opportunity, approaching Luden's daughter Jisharan—who was the only one in the group using an axe—and their relationship had warmed considerably.
It started with him getting personal lessons from her, and before long, the two were sticking together in a strangely intimate way.
[Bazkal's finally getting some luck.]
[Should be fun if we run into Luden later. Assuming we ever do.]
The plains between Narvik and Belluan were a brutally unforgiving expanse, truly difficult to cross.
Even riding Jin and sprinting full tilt every day, it took nearly two weeks. A barren stretch with scant food or water, more desolate than any desert.
Arsen and Eloise had crossed quickly because their group was small, mounted on Jin, and half-willing to risk their lives. A normal party of a dozen or more would need months' worth of supplies.
Besides, Bazkal would return to Narvik once everything was done.
With his newfound high knight power, he might even subjugate all the knights there. The image of Bazkal as Narvik's estate lord struck Arsen as oddly amusing.
['Though he's more likely to get killed first.']
He hadn't met them often or in great numbers, but the Narvik knights Arsen had seen struck him as more mafia than warriors or fighters.
If a straight fight didn't work, they'd ambush, poison, take hostages, threaten—whatever dirty tricks they could pull.
It was hard to imagine the straightforward Bazkal crushing types like that through sheer power to become their king.
Personally, Arsen thought he'd be better off coming to Belluan to serve as a knight, but since their initial contract specified otherwise, he couldn't force it.
He planned to broach the subject once things wrapped up.
[Bet Bazkal wants to just follow you now, though.]
[We'll see. Gotta talk to him about it.]
In the end, to push his two sons out of the estate, he needed power, and a high knight like Bazkal was prime manpower.
Arsen could shatter anything alone, but he couldn't protect everything by himself.
That's why he needed talents like Bazkal.
* * *
After crushing several more attacking packs like that, the creatures finally acknowledged Arsen's group not as prey, but as predators, and stopped their assaults.
A few central-passage packs even fled, leaving traces behind.
"Guess these guys make cheese too."
"Didn't look that smart."
That was the group's reaction to the primitive civilization remnants left in their lair.
Against weak enemies, with ample food and water, the journey wasn't entirely smooth.
What tormented them was a longing for the sun.
Born under sunlight, they'd been trapped underground too long, and the side effects were kicking in.
"Ah, I wanna see the sun."
Maroon muttered it several times a day, until someone nearby scolded him to cut it out.
One person stared blankly at magical light all day, while another endlessly scratched their skin.
When asked why, they said it felt like their skin was rotting from lack of sunlight.
[Stuck underground like this, even I—without a body—feel like I'm going crazy. Makes sense.]
Barkran, dangling from the backpack outside, scolded them.
This ancient had spent the recent war stuffed in the backpack, shrieking and acting deranged at the slightest brutality.
They were used to it by now, but Barkran still couldn't hold back vomit at sights of people bisected or spilling guts.
Arsen didn't want to see him faint like old times, so he'd kept Barkran dormant inside the backpack.
[The destination's that mountain to the south, right?]
[Yeah. No one's been there, so we'll base it on documents and need a close search.]
[If it's as tall as you said... who knows. It's not like I've traveled around.]
Earlier, Arsen had received a book from Latis.
One that Starburi had copied—the origin of their mage organization.
A memoir from a mage involved in the library's construction and design.
Per the description, the library had been launched with magical and non-magical knowledge, plus tools from various eras to aid realization, in preparation for humanity's sudden doom.
Naturally, it would include advanced human gene manipulation tech, far beyond 1st Age capabilities.
At the book's end, the mage had sketched the summoner's location.
In the southern mountains, closest to the sky.
[Weird guy, though. From what I saw, he didn't seem that ancient, but he wrote with a pen and ink.]
He was a 2nd Age figure like Barkran, an oddball using pen and ink in an era where everyone magically wrote and recorded.
That quirk was probably why his records survived to the present.
[Anyway, location-wise, it's roughly near Bayaka Kingdom. They had advanced satellite tech. Third country to launch one worldwide.]
[First?]
[Our Lehman Republic, obviously. Every wonder started here. Even the nasty stuff.]
Lehman Republic—a name Arsen recognized. Probably Barkran's homeland in life.
He'd heard it was a nation claiming descent from an ancient world-unifying republic.
Barkran's tone dripped with sarcasm, unclear if praise or mockery.
[I've noticed before—you don't seem to like your country much.]
[People insisting how great they are look pathetic from outside. Oh, right—you don't have a country, so you wouldn't get it. Remember this if you found one later.]
[Will do. Though where we're headed already has one.]
Arsen briefly recalled Latis's description of the southern kingdom. Eight-plus estates linked by transfer gates, moving organically to muster a hundred knights and a thousand soldiers in moments. A powerhouse.
No estate in this world could match that might.
Even the Olm kingdom had fallen to such mobility and communication gaps.
And the giant king, Nardok.
A 3-meter knight who'd easily crushed Arsen; even high knight Kren had admitted defeat.
Though aged now, if he'd trained steadily to maintain peak form, he'd be a tough foe. One even this strengthened Arsen had to beware.
[Still, I got a rough lay of the southern politics from Sir Kren. Even sketched a simple map.]
Using what Kren shared, plus Barkran squeezing memories of old world maps, Arsen had drawn a southern kingdom map.
Sources were shaky, reliability dubious, but better than nothing.
Referencing Latis's book's illustrations, they grasped their emergence point and route.
[Anyway, now I wanna see sunlight too. How much farther?]
[Dunno. By march speed, about a month.]
One small mercy: they knew exactly where they were and the endpoint.
Entry at passage 153, Olm capital at 201, now 349, destination 561.
Their pace beat surface travel. No mountains, hills, or cliffs forcing detours in these underground passages.
Just endless plains to sprint across—efficiency worlds apart from above.
[Ugh, this sucks. I want a body. Wanna read books too.]
[Grad student, huh? Love studying?]
[Never liked it. Just to get ahead and live well. I miss novels.]
* * *
A month later, they kept marching.
Pale and haggard from no sunlight, they cut down everything in their path like reapers incarnate.
Pressing on, slaughtering relentlessly, they reached their goal.
"Passage 461... this is it. Out this way."
Latis the elder read the inscription by the door, murmuring softly. Arsen placed a hand on the passage ahead.
He wasn't without inner worries. What if, like the Wigon ruins, it demanded qualifications and refused?
"Open the door."
[Thank you. Please visit again, visitor.]
Fortunately, Arsen's fears were unfounded.
The ruins responded politely, opening the door. At last, after nearly three months underground, they emerged.
"It's dark. Should be daytime by the clock."
"Probably like the entrance—structured that way. It'll brighten as we climb."
Indeed, the spiraling passage proved Latis right.
Minutes of ascending the helical stairs, and sunlight began filtering in.
Not the artificial, pallid magical glow, but warm, vivifying rays.
"Outsideeeee—!"
"Woo-hoo!"
Bazkal and Maroon whooped first, charging into the sunlight toward the surface.
Arsen's orders for caution—unknown threats outside—had vanished from their heads.
Understandable after the ordeal, but Bazkal needed proper discipline.
Glancing at Latis beside him, Arsen saw the same thought mirrored.
They nodded silently to each other.
"Bro—! Safe! No one's here!"
Bazkal's echoing shout. Arsen sighed, signaling advance.
Soon, all were out.
"Whoa..."
The exit sat atop a small peak.
Steep like their entry, not fully concealed but high enough.
Great for surveying surroundings.
"Whoa, chilly... and the wind smells weird. Kinda fishy."
Anun rubbed his cheek as he spoke.
Winter approaching, perhaps—the air had cooled, carrying an odd fishy tang, unmasked by the land's toxic miasma.
A briny, salty fishiness.
Arsen knew its source.
On Earth, it was called sea breeze.
"Over there—water!"
"Huge!"
Someone pointed south, exclamations erupting as all turned.
Far off, an otherworldly vista unfolded.
White sand like a desert, waves crashing and receding atop it.
Beyond, an endless ocean.
Like the Eldarin River, yet heavier, more oppressive than any river's weight.
"Whoa..."
Starburi mages from the north—who'd seen seas—weren't overly impressed, but Arsen's inland Narvik knights gaped in awe.
Seeing Arsen similarly transfixed by the novel sight, Latis explained calmly beside him.
"First time seeing the ocean? This must be the southern sea. Or... the world's edge."
It was just nostalgia from ages since last seeing one—no true awe—but Arsen nodded silently, no excuses.
It hit him anew.
They'd reached the world's end.