Chapter 78
Chapter 78
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 78
Chapter Title: Silphian Plateau
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"It's a book I bought from the Angel Network."
[Is the book's content in that light window?]
"Yeah, it really feels like an e-book now."
[I don't quite get what that is, but what kind of book is it? Don't tell me it's one of those, you know, naughty books?]
"Wow, seriously. Why does your mind always go there?"
[It's a reasonable suspicion based on your usual behavior.]
Her Lewd level was a solid 6, after all.
Shaking his head at Mitra's point, Cheon-ho paused his Thunderbolt training with his left hand and said,
"It's Leon's adventure tale. About how the first Hero defeated the Demon King's army."
[There's a book like that?]
"Yeah, there were a lot of different kinds. This one even mentions you, Mitra."
[Hmm, how does it mention me?]
"As the holy sword."
[So, how exactly?]
"Uh... for example, like this. 'Leonhart swung the holy sword. Leonhart polished the holy sword. Leonhart sheathed the holy sword.'"
[Hmm...]
Just from what happened with Rug, it was clear Mitra had been a companion to Leon's party.
But to later generations, she must have just been seen as the Hero Leon's sword.
When Mitra visibly deflated, Cheon-ho grinned and said,
"Don't worry. I'll spread your story far and wide later. You might not know it, but I've already recorded quite a bit."
[You've recorded my story?]
"Yeah, want to see?"
[Y-Yeah.]
He felt a bit uneasy, but he still wanted to see. He was even a little expectant.
Grinning, Cheon-ho pulled a notebook from his pocket and flipped it open to a random page.
[Hey!]
[Hey, you jerk!]
Satisfied with the exact reaction he'd hoped for, Cheon-ho smiled.
"Just kidding, kidding. Of course I'd record your cool moments. How kind and gentle you are, how good and pure, how noble and cute and brave."
[Something weird slipped in there.]
"You're imagining it."
Putting the notebook away, Cheon-ho started training again. But before he could, Orenol's voice rang out.
"Pillar ahead! The pillar to the 7th floor!"
[Let's go check it out.]
"Yeah, Mitra."
Answering briefly, Cheon-ho stood up.
* * *
Even after descending to the 7th floor, Cheon-ho's party's journey remained incredibly smooth.
As the God of Healing had said, the early mid-layers still lacked any real influence from the evil gods.
They steadily pushed forward, defeating the occasional monsters they encountered, and soon reached the pillar leading to the 8th floor.
"Smooth sailing so far."
The chariot was too large to pass through the pillar's entrance, so the party had to dismount and use the stairs.
After helping Lucille store the chariot in her inventory, Cheon-ho followed Saschiell down the stairs.
How much time passed? After descending for nearly an hour straight, an exit to the 8th floor came into view far ahead.
"Ugh, another snowy field."
The moment they exited onto the 8th floor, a vast white world greeted the party.
Eizel grimaced at the snowy expanse, which was at least as bad as the connecting path, if not worse.
The others wore expressions recalling painful memories, but they weren't suffering.
This time, Cheon-ho was with them, and above all, they had the chariot to ride.
Lucille took out the chariots from her inventory, and the rock dwarves reconnected them into one.
Amid all this, Cheon-ho looked into the distance.
Not because he was captivated by the snowy landscape anew.
"Mitra?"
As his level rose and their time together increased, Cheon-ho's bond with Mitra had deepened.
He could sense her emotions.
She was staring blankly at the snowy plain before them.
Why?
Why was she feeling all sorts of emotions from this snowy plain?
Cheon-ho caressed the golden gem.
Mitra gazed at the scenery ahead, recalling what her eyes had once beheld long ago, and spoke.
[The Empire.]
The Aiter Empire.
The human nation founded by the first Hero, Leonhart.
Much had changed.
The places they'd passed through on their journey so far could broadly be called part of the Empire.
But this place was different.
The land where the Empire began.
The first land where Leon rose in rebellion alongside Mitra.
That was why he could recognize it at a glance, no matter how it had changed.
It was the Silphian Plateau.
* * *
Great Labyrinth, 10th floor.
The midpoint of the mid-layers.
In the east dwelled one called the Winter King.
One of the evil gods under the Demon God, he had been waging a long war against the primordial gods and angels who controlled the central Great Labyrinth in the Labyrinth World.
Seated on a frozen throne, clad head to toe in black armor, he stared straight ahead.
His seven loyal knights gazed in the same direction.
The apostle of the Plague God was departing.
He had reported the events from the lower layers to the Winter King.
Tales of the Hero and holy sword, and the angel, apostle of the God of Healing.
The Plague God's apostle left. The forces of the Plague God he had gathered in the mid-layers for a push into the lower layers now joined the Winter King's command.
Tear the Hero and angel apart. Inflict extreme agony.
That was the Plague God's demand.
The Winter King was silent. Then, at one point, an empty laugh echoed from within his helm.
His seven knights looked to their king. In response, the Winter King gripped his jet-black demonic sword.
He ordered his seven knights to march.
* * *
Mid-layers.
Chris, one of the heroes summoned from another world, narrowed his eyes at the Angel Network.
'No matter how I look at it, he resembles him.'
Not exactly identical.
The man in Chris's mind had bolder features. A handsome face that was the epitome of manly.
In contrast, the face now on the Angel Network had finer lines. If the man in his head was a hearty, boisterous charmer, this one was literally a beautifully handsome young man.
Actually, it wasn't just the face.
The body too.
The man in his mind had a massive, beastly physique that could belong to no human. But the young man—or youth—on the Angel Network? Muscular, yes, but compact and sculpted like a statue, not bulky.
If he had to find similarities, maybe the hair color.
But still, he thought they resembled each other.
And one more thing.
Park Cheon-ho.
Surname Park, given name Cheon-ho.
Chris knew only one man with the surname Park.
With silver short hair, sharp green eyes, and long elven ears, Chris counted on his fingers for a moment, sinking deeper into suspicion.
'It lines up roughly.'
Humans grow fast.
If his guess was right.
If this hotshot rookie was the son of the man he'd had a crush on.
"Heh, I'll know when I meet him."
Chris von Crisaor, holy knight.
She was a hero from Phaien.
* * *
Mitra Observation Log #31
Number of "Uwaaah"s: 2
Breakfast: Baked pizza dough in the oven.
Lunch: Minced meat and onions for hamburgers.
Dinner: Fried potatoes in the air fryer.
Night: Provided holy water bath. / Dried the laundry backlog.
Comment: Mitra was cute today too. Tomorrow, make her "uwaaah" more.
The Silphian Plateau could be defined by three words.
Horses, great plains, Leonhart.
The vastest plains in the Empire provided the perfect environment for raising horses.
Over eighty percent of the horses supplied to the Imperial Knight Orders came from the Silphian Plateau, and the Emperor's mount generation after generation was born there too.
Horses from the Silphian Plateau were larger and sturdier than average, with superior endurance and short-distance speed.
And the same went for the breeders who raised them—the nomads of the Silphian Plateau.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say they learned to ride before they could walk. They were the Empire's finest riders.
Tall, broad-shouldered, raised gazing at the horizon, they had excellent eyesight. Their hearing was exceptional too, catching the rustle of clothing from a hundred paces away.
Thus, the Silphian Plateau was the land of knights.
It teemed with knights of astonishing horsemanship and valor.
And at the pinnacle stood Leonhart.
The founding emperor of the Aiter Empire.
The Hero who saved the world.
Born the son of a small tribe, Leonhart had been extraordinary from childhood.
A head taller than his peers, with a sturdy build granting him superior strength and agility, he joined adults on hunts by age ten.
At thirteen, he became the tribe's greatest warrior. His fame spread, and by fifteen, no one on the great plains knew not his name.
When Leonhart turned seventeen.
The Goddess of War, Evnail, gave him a revelation.
'Follow the morning star to the heart of the great plains.'
Leonhart obeyed without a shred of doubt.
He followed the star shining brightest in the dark blue night sky, arriving at the uninhabited heart of the plains, where he met her.
The holy sword Mitra.
The most beautiful, powerful, and cute among all holy swords in the Labyrinth World.
[Hold on, am I reading this right?]
"Tch, caught me."
[It's not 'tch, caught,' it's 'tch, caught.' You're impossible to let your guard down around.]
She grumbled, but it wasn't a bad tone. She even sounded a little pleased.
'Looks like her mood improved a bit.'
Cheon-ho let out a small sigh of relief and stroked Mitra's golden gem.
When he realized they'd arrived at the Silphian Plateau, Mitra had looked quite down.
He could guess several reasons.
The Great Labyrinth's influence had changed the Silphian Plateau.
Leon, with whom she'd risen here to fight the Demon King, was no longer of this world.
Memories were a double-edged sword.
Recalling good times ultimately reminded one of what was lost, what had to be left behind.
Leon was gone.
The Empire he'd built with Leon was gone too.
That fact must have pained Mitra's heart.
[Anyway, learning about Leon like this is pretty fun. Read more to me later.]
"Anytime. Or we can just read it together."
He didn't even need to read aloud. Just swipe the light window for the handless Mitra.
"By the way, the snow's picking up pretty bad. This place wasn't like this originally, right?"
[Right. The great plains did get snow, but not like this. Probably the Great Labyrinth's influence changing the climate, like on the 3rd or 4th floors.]
If it was only winter, it might be manageable, but year-round? That was serious.
The death of the great plains meant death for all who lived there.
Perhaps no one lived on the Silphian Plateau anymore.
That fact pained Mitra's heart once more.
[Leonhart...]
They'd made a promise.
To protect the Empire. To protect his descendants even after his death.
As Mitra grew gloomy again, Cheon-ho felt troubled. But fortunately—or unfortunately—there was no time for gloom.
"Hero! Show yourself!"
Orenol shouted loudly, and emergency alarms blared across all three connected chariots.
Cheon-ho jumped up and hurried to the front where Orenol was.
"Orenol?"
In response, Orenol pointed ahead. Through the large front windshield, swirling white snowflakes were visible, and beyond them, fleeing people and pursuers.
[Refugees!]
Loaded wagons overburdened with luggage and people clutching bundles made it obvious.
Panting as they ran through knee-deep snow, at least a hundred undead trailed them effortlessly.
Zombies with half-rotted flesh and bare-boned skeletons.
The blizzard howled, but their movements weren't sluggish like the 1st floor's. They were overtaking the refugees.
[They're going to get caught.]
Cheon-ho thought the same. He urgently told Orenol,
"Cut through!"
"Got it!"
Sever the gap between the undead horde and refugees. Buy them time to escape.
"Rooooar!"
Orenol roared and floored the pedal, surging the chariot forward.
Gliding across the snow, it perfectly wedged between the refugees and undead, forming a barrier.
"Go!"
As Orenol yelled, Cheon-ho was already opening the door.
The angels from the other cars appeared too.
"Hero! Leave it to us!"
Lucille shouted first.
Spreading all four wings wide, she soared up and thrust both arms toward the oncoming undead horde.
"Sword of Healing!"
She didn't use purification like before. As a 5th rank angel and apostle of the God of Healing, she used a new divine spell from the God of Healing.
"Ooooh!"
The angels exclaimed in unison. Crimson swords resembling blood, dozens of them, formed at her sides.
"Heal!"
At Lucille's command, the dozens of red swords rained down on the undead like a bombardment.
One sword per undead, piercing them through.
"Ughhh!"
"Grraa!"
Impaled by the swords of healing, the undead groaned and collapsed. Zombies withered entirely, skeletons shattered to dust.
[Recovery magic is poison to undead!]
Nodding reflexively at Mitra's explanation—common in games—Cheon-ho had one question.
'Is that recovery magic?'
So, do they stab the wounded with those swords to heal?
Imagining Lucille hurling blood swords at the injured, Cheon-ho grinned disastrously. He charged forward.
Thanks to Lucille, the front line of undead was in shambles, but nearly a hundred remained behind.