Winter Has Come (4)

Winter was supposed to be cold, but this year was proving exceptionally brutal.

Last winter had caught him completely off guard, which had made enduring it pure agony. This time around, however, it was bitterly freezing despite weeks of meticulous preparation. The plummeting temperature was bad enough on its own, but what really did him in was the wind. A vicious, razor-sharp gale battered the land without pause, feeling like a blade heated red-hot in a forge every time it slashed against his cheeks.

Consequently, Grylls kept his outdoor excursions to an absolute minimum. Ludwig had given him sound advice on the matter: moving about in the bitter cold drained several times more stamina, as the human body had to burn a colossal amount of energy merely to maintain its core temperature.

"Delicious, right?"

"Hee-urgh. Hrrgh."

"I'll take that as a yes."

To keep their spirits up, Grylls roasted sweet potatoes over the hearth. Anticipating a winter like this, he had harvested a bountiful batch well in advance. Perhaps because they had been cultivated in the mystical soil of the Forest of the Four Seasons, the tubers were outrageously sweet. With every bite of steaming, golden flesh, a burst of honeyed sweetness and rich aroma coated the palate. A cold glass of milk would have elevated the treat to absolute perfection, but that was far too rich a luxury to wish for in this wilderness.

"Here. You guys have some too. Careful, they're hot."

"Oooh!"

"Ggu-eong."

Having steamed an extra-large batch, Grylls carried a pot over to the brick house to share with his animal companions. At first, they flinched and whined from the heat, gingerly pawing at the steaming skins, but the moment the tubers cooled down, they devoured them with ravenous delight.

"Tasty, isn't it?"

"Moo-eong."

The Golden Apple Deer was no exception. Relishing a deep, earthy sweetness completely distinct from its usual golden apples, the stag inhaled them in seconds. The trouble was that they loved the treat a little too much. The instant the last morsel vanished, Ggobongi began peering intently into the pot, turning it this way and that before thrusting the empty vessel right into Grylls's face with a look that plainly demanded more.

"No. Be patient."

"Give more! Want to eat!"

"Gguuu-eong!"

Not only Ggobongi, but Largo also crowded in, nudging Grylls and groaning for seconds. Even the deer, while feigning its usual regal indifference, subtly tapped its front hoof against the floor ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in anticipation. Grylls, however, held his ground firmly despite having a sizeable stockpile left in storage.

If they keep pigging out on sweet potatoes all winter, they're going to turn into giant butterballs.

He recalled a story he had once heard back on Earth about someone taking their pet to the vet, only for the doctor to scold them to stop feeding the animal sweet potatoes because it had gotten egregiously fat. While most creatures loved the starchy treat, the wildlife of the Four Seasons Forest was on an entirely different level: if it was sweet, they lost their minds over it. At this rate, he half-expected a wild bear to come knocking on the front door demanding roasted tubers.

"All right, I'm heading back. Be good, you guys."

"Sweet potato! Sweet potato! Sweet potato!"

"Back off, you rascal. You're going to grow a beer belly if you eat any more."

Prying off the stubbornly clinging gorilla, Grylls managed to slip away and make the trek back to the cave. Even crossing the brief distance between the two shelters, the frost nipped at his exposed skin with terrifying malice. It felt as though he had been stranded in the dead center of Siberia. How could any place on earth get this cold?

Come to think of it, we barely had any rain this year.

Last winter had crashed down without warning right on the heels of the torrential monsoon, but this season had taken a different course. The weather had steadily grown crisper through what could loosely be termed autumn before plunging into the sub-zero deep freeze. If the weather ever relented, he might venture out for a hunt, but that seemed like wishful thinking for the foreseeable future. At best, he would dart out around noon to run quick errands. Even eating meals outside was entirely out of the question.

"Ppiiiiii~"

"Hey, Tyrano. You'll burn yourself if you get any closer."

The prime real estate before the crackling fireplace was currently monopolized by Bbarmbo and Tyrano. Bbarmbo had practically claimed the hearth as his personal domain from day one, but Tyrano was a newcomer staking its claim this winter.

Come to think of it, are dragons considered reptiles?

Most reptiles were ectothermic creatures whose body temperature mirrored their environment. Because so little was known about dragons, Grylls couldn't help but wonder. Some might ask how there could be so little academic knowledge when Dragon Slayers existed, but the reality was painfully simple.

Nobody survives long enough to observe them.

The moment any mortal researcher stepped into a dragon's domain, they would be incinerated by a breath weapon before they could take a single note. Still, Grylls suspected the creatures were probably endothermic, closer to warm-blooded mammals than cold-blooded lizards. Patting Tyrano's scaled crown a couple of times, he turned his head away.

Standing stoically in the corner of his vision was the Cain Statue.

Looks like the protests in El Dorado are finally winding down.

According to the latest discussions on the Gallery, the Holy See had played a desperate hand, going so far as to mobilize the military while making an impassioned public plea. Their official declaration claimed that "all current protesters have fallen under the lingering curse of the Undying King, and the Holy See is currently investigating the cause." Seeing the clergy deploy armed troops to deliver that statement, the protesters had wavered, wondering if there might actually be truth to the claim. Then, a single representative stepped forward and voluntarily entered the Papal Palace to undergo testing. With that, the crowd had dispersed for the time being, adopting a cautious wait-and-see stance.

When Grylls had relayed all of this to Ludwig, the paladin's reaction had been swift and unmistakable.

It had gone roughly like that. Profanity was, after all, the universal language of mankind. Besides, Ludwig was a man who had personally been betrayed and purged by the Holy See; his trust in the establishment was naturally rock bottom. Even so, the civilian protesters still harbored a faint flicker of hope, heavily swayed by the fact that the army had been called in without drawing blood.

At least the military didn't open fire on the crowd. That's something.

A military massacre would have been a catastrophic tragedy—an unhealable scar burned into the nation forever. At any rate, it felt safe to put El Dorado out of mind for the time being. If something erupted again, he could pay attention then.

Odd posts like that popped up every now and then. Even if the curse story were true, restoring public faith would take the Holy See an eternity. The continental shockwaves triggered by the Undying King's historical records had vastly exceeded Grylls's expectations—not that he had intentionally sought to plunge the continent into chaos.

Well, it's not like it really concerns me anyway.

Right now, his only priority was staying warm by the fireplace and surviving the winter. Checking the time, he decided to fetch some dried provisions from the storage cave.

"Oowok?!"

"..."

The second he stepped out of the cave entrance, he ran smack into a thief. A white gorilla was tiptoeing past with an enormous armful of sweet potatoes clutched against his hairy chest. Caught completely off guard, Ggobongi froze in place, his eyes blowing wide with comical guilt.

"...Sigh."

Fine. Go ahead and eat until you burst.

Grylls sighed and flicked his hand, gesturing for him to just take them. Ggobongi shot him a shifty, tentative glance before scurrying off toward the brick house as fast as his feet could carry him.

—Ooo-ho! Ooo-ho-ho!

—Ggu-eong!

A chorus of ecstatic roars and happy chirps echoed from the brick house. Were they really that delicious? Grylls smirked softly and looked up toward the overcast canopy. The sky hung low and dreary; it looked like snow would begin falling any moment.

A full day had passed since Hans had entered the Papal Palace as the representative of the citizens. Whether the spiritual examination was exceptionally arduous or something else was amiss, the Holy See remained shrouded in absolute silence. Stricken with growing dread, Hans's family approached the palatial gates to inquire, only to receive the exact same rehearsed response each time:

Left with no recourse, his weeping family was forced to leave empty-handed. Observing this troubling lack of transparency, many citizens argued that they should resume the protests immediately, though others urged caution. Even thirty years after the war, remnants of the Undying King's terror still lingered across the continent. The fallen Balkan Kingdom, in particular, remained a blighted wasteland crawling with the restless dead—ranging from common ghouls and skeletons to elite Death Knights and Liches. The royal palace itself was so densely infested with vengeful wraiths that it remained an uncleared death zone to this day.

"What in the hell are those bastards doing? How long does it take to lift a single damn curse?"

With an entire day yielding zero progress, Reina finally spat out her mounting frustration. She was not the only one on edge; beside her, Asella nodded grimly. Even for the most deeply rooted curse, an entire day was more than enough time for high-ranking clerics to unravel it. Moreover, the Pope himself resided within those walls, and his holy power was renowned as rivaling even that of the Hero. For there to be complete radio silence... something was undeniably rotten. While no news was often good news, in a fraught situation like this, silence smelled of foul play.

"...I have to go."

"Are you sure you'll be all right going alone?" Reina asked, worry creasing her brow as Asella rose from her seat.

Reina had no talent for stealth infiltration, so sending Asella alone was the only sensible choice. Yet their target was none other than the Papal Palace—the heart of the theocracy, guaranteed to be guarded with impenetrable vigilance.

"I'll be fine. I know the entire layout of the palace, including all the blind spots."

"Blind spots? How would you know where the blind spots are?"

"I wandered all over the grounds as a child."

Chosen as the Hero at a tender age, Asella had been raised within the Papal Palace. Though a fabricated prophecy had recently branded her a traitor, that mattered little now. Reluctantly, Reina yielded; under the circumstances, tagging along would only make her a liability.

"Be careful. And... no matter what happens, keep your head."

"..."

"Even if what you see makes your blood boil, you have to endure it. If you cause a scene in there, you'll only be handing them the exact pretext they want."

Faced with Reina's pragmatic counsel, Asella gave a solemn nod. Whatever horrors lay concealed behind those marble walls, she had to steel her heart.

"I will start by searching the interrogation chambers."

"Go. Stay safe."

Pulling her hood down low to obscure her striking features, Asella made her move. Steering clear of the heavily guarded front gates, she slipped toward a section of the outer perimeter where the watch was comparatively thin. The stone rampart soared over five meters high, but clearing it was effortless for her.

Tap! Ta-dat!

Defying gravity, Asella kicked off the vertical masonry with featherlight precision. Vaulting over the parapet with the fluid grace of a bird taking flight, she dropped into the courtyard and melted instantly into the shadows.

It's almost time for the guard shift change. That's my window.

Her sharp mind kept the palace's entire patrol timetable mapped out in pristine detail. Darting between the blind spots of the patrolling sentries, she navigated the perimeter until she spotted her entry point.

The interrogation cells are located deep underground. There is only one formal entryway, but...

There existed an alternate path: the massive ventilation shafts installed to keep the subterranean dungeon from suffocating in stagnant air. Checking her surroundings to ensure no eyes were watching, Asella grasped the heavy iron grate and wrenched it free. An ordinary man could not have budged it an inch, but for the Hero, bending cold iron was child's play. Naturally, she took care to slide the grate neatly back into place after slipping through.

Screeech—

Navigating the narrow air ducts, she soon emerged onto the massive stone framework that supported the vaulted ceilings of the dungeon complex. Perched atop the dark rafters, Asella peered down into the gloom. The subterranean chambers relied almost entirely on flickering wall torches for illumination. Shrouded in the deep shadows along the ceiling, she was virtually impossible to spot unless someone deliberately cast a light straight upward.

Just as Reina said, they would never expect me to be here.

As the Central Plains proverb went, it was darkest directly beneath the lamp. With royal pursuit squadrons scouring the far reaches of the provinces for her, the authorities would never dream that she had slipped straight back into the capital. Regulating her breath, Asella bounded across the structural beams, her innate balance allowing her to move without producing a whisper of sound. One after another, she scrutinized the grim, blood-stained cells below in search of Hans.

—#$%$%#!

The underground facility was vast, but one particular chamber at the far end was unusually loud. Relying on intuition, Asella glided ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠soundlessly toward the source of the commotion.

It's an enclosed room. I can't see the interior from up here.

Dropping lightly onto the stone ceiling directly above the chamber, she found herself blocked from entering; two heavily armored holy knights stood guard before the iron door. Yet she was far from helpless. Gathering her concentration, she quietly released her mana.

Like delicate spiderwebs, her mana seeped through the porous stone, blanketing the interrogation room beneath her and mapping the precise movements of every occupant within. It was a sensory technique taught to her by Ludwig—a high-level perceptual art that, much like manifesting an Aura Blade, belonged strictly to the realm of martial genius. Once the entire room was bathed in her invisible energy, Asella pressed her ear against a narrow ventilation slit. While mana could chart physical movement, deciphering the nuances of spoken words still required her own ears.

—"I... I will never say such a thing! Why on earth should I?!"

—"Come now, my dear fruit merchant. If you simply confess, everyone walks away happy. All you must do is admit that you were an agent of the Undying King, and that the Holy See successfully cleansed your soul."

...What are they saying?

The sheer depravity of the exchange made Asella's eyes widen in horror. Yet the nightmare had only just begun. Hans's furious, defiant roar echoed through the stone.

—"D-Do you truly believe the Goddess will forgive you for this?! You bastards are the real Demon Kings! It was monsters like you who created the Demon King in the first place!!"

—"Good grief. That Undying King truly was a pestilent dog, wasn't he? To think he left behind a wretch as stubborn as you."

The interrogator chuckled with chilling detachment, turning to someone standing beside him.

—"Hey. Start it up again."

—"Understood."

—"Get your filthy hands off me...! Auuugh! Gggghhhk...!!"

Asella felt the blood in her veins run ice-cold.

The unspeakable savagery unfolding within that chamber... The agonizing torment that the warm, jovial fruit merchant was being subjected to...

In that singular, suffocating moment, Asella bitterly cursed the extraordinary sensory gifts the heavens had bestowed upon her.

Ah...

The proud holy land founded directly by the Goddess Aris herself. The radiant empire of El Dorado.

How... How could this be...?

The Demon King was not across the distant borders.

The Demon King had been here all along.