Sinking (3)
"Shouldn't we escape while we still can?"
How much time had passed?
Bran asked, his voice thick with exhaustion as he drove his blade into the wall.
I stared at the space beyond the doorway.
In the sprawling, labyrinthine chamber, rebel soldiers with twisted ankles or severed torsos were dragging themselves toward us.
Logically, there couldn't be an infinite number of these corpses.
The rebel forces were limited, and those who had died were fewer still.
"No, we have to target the main body now."
Even if we managed to escape, we would eventually have to return here to resolve this.
And by then, the barrier would only be stronger.
If the corpses gathered to protect the tumor and established a defensive line, things would become dozens of times more complicated.
"Then how about we swap places? With your strength, Sir Kamil, I feel like we could break through much faster."
He was right.
But if I did, could they hold off the swarming corpses?
I still didn't know the full extent of the knight's capabilities.
To say nothing of Bran, who was a mere common soldier.
The most troublesome part of dealing with corpses possessed by the tumor was that they were already dead.
They wouldn't lose their will to fight or collapse just because their heads were severed or their limbs hacked off.
It was more accurate to think of them as the limbs of the tumor beast rather than an army of soldiers.
"Does he agree?"
"What do you think, Sir Knight?"
Judging by the despairing sigh that followed, a positive answer was not forthcoming.
"To be honest, I'm the only one digging through the wall now. I mean, ever since we carved out enough space for one person to fit. His halberd is too long, so he can't do much with the axe blade in there. I'm not blaming the knight, of course. But I have to let you know what kind of situation we're facing, don't I?"
I hadn't realized Bran was such a talkative fellow.
It seemed his silent endurance had finally hit its limit.
I couldn't blame him.
Doing what he was told without complaint in a situation like this was already commendable.
What weighed most heavily on my mind right now, however, was the completely motionless Tirmisia.
Now that I knew he could seize control of my body at any moment, I couldn't afford to act rashly.
It felt like walking on thin ice.
What on earth did you do?
No answer came.
That silence only made me more anxious.
Just then, a scream echoed from behind.
"What's happening?"
Without a word of reply, only Bran's screams and the clashing of metal rang out. I hastily shoved away the corpse lunging at me and spun around.
Insects were pouring out of the hole dug into the wall.
The knight was frantically swinging his halberd, crushing the bugs crawling across the floor, while using his other hand to pull at Bran's legs, which were barely sticking out of the hole.
The knight's individual combat prowess was more than sufficient.
The insects controlled by the tumor were sliced to pieces before they could even get close to his body.
The problem was Bran.
Having crawled quite deep inside, Bran couldn't even offer any resistance, his body merely twitching in agony.
Should I save him?
But I couldn't leave my post even for a second.
The moment we were pushed back further, we would lose the advantage of this narrow passage. Even if I rescued Bran, it would only make things more complicated.
In that case, I had no choice but to trust them.
"Let's swap! I'll save Bran, so you take the doorway...!"
Clang!
Before I could even finish my sentence, the knight slammed his halberd onto the stone floor, signaling his refusal.
Seeing that, the reality of our situation—which I had been ignoring—flashed through my mind.
In the first place, this entire predicament was caused by my erratic behavior.
From the knight's perspective, it was only natural not to trust me.
Moreover, since I had just rejected Bran's earlier suggestion to swap, the knight had every reason to suspect I had some ulterior motive to reach the tumor while the two of them were pinned down.
Right then, a tremor shook the area, accompanied by the sound of an explosion from the direction of the stairs on the opposite side.
What was that?
Perhaps because of the blast, about half of the corpses rushing toward the passage turned around and headed toward the source of the noise, finally giving me a brief window to move.
I kicked off the ground and closed the distance to the wall in a single stride.
The knight swung his halberd, threatening me as he cleared the bugs, but I didn't have the luxury to deal with him.
Instead, I immediately grabbed Bran's legs and yanked him out in one swift motion.
"...!!"
His condition was critical.
A centipede as thick as a man's forearm was writhing its way down Bran's throat.
Seeing his distended throat twitching, it had already crawled quite deep inside.
If I blindly pulled it out, his internal organs might come out with it.
...In that case.
I immediately laid Bran flat on the ground, crushed the other insects clinging to his body, and placed my hand near his solar plexus.
I had to finish this quickly before the creature could run wild inside his stomach.
Recalling the time I first met Gyal, I concentrated my energy at my fingertips.
It was a relief I had practiced fine control; otherwise, the sudden burst of energy might have killed Bran instead.
The energy carefully extending from my palm penetrated Bran's body, swiftly wrapping around the centipede's torso.
Then, I channeled my strength and pulled the energy back.
The part of the centipede's body dangling from his mouth instantly went limp. Terrified, Bran grabbed it and yanked it out with all his might.
"Ugh...! Cough, cough!"
Only after the centipede's corpse—its head cleanly severed from the inside—was pulled free did Bran finally catch his breath.
Seeing this, the knight turned the tip of his halberd away from me and thrust it deep into the hole in the wall.
Before long, mashed insect remains oozed out of the squirming cavity. The knight and I locked eyes.
...It felt like a warning that if I made even a single wrong move, I would be the one turned to mush next, not the bugs.
I gave a slight nod, and the knight immediately turned back, swinging his axe blade at the corpses that were beginning to swarm once more.
Though the halved corpses crawled along the ground and reached up to grab him, he paid them no mind, systematically hacking them into smaller pieces.
I immediately squeezed my body into the tunnel.
A sticky, lukewarm sensation enveloped my entire body.
The tunnel was deep enough to accommodate my nineteen-year-old, not-yet-fully-grown frame.
Fluid dripping from the crushed insects along the walls splattered onto my face.
Toxicity... there probably wasn't any.
The only troublesome part was the highly acidic secretion strong enough to melt through the tough stone walls.
The liquid pooling at the bottom seared my back, but by now, I could grit my teeth and endure this level of pain.
Taking a deep breath, I infused my blade with energy.
How much further was it?
The red-hot blade sliced smoothly through the wall, carving out chunks of stone.
I had to reach the tumor as quickly as possible, as there was no telling when the corpses that had headed toward the stairs would return.
As I dug deeper and deeper into the wall,
the voice of the tumor began to echo once more.
It seemed things were not going as smoothly as it had planned.
It was obvious what its plan had been.
It must have intended to use the soldiers it turned into puppets to slaughter the living and claim the capital as its own.
Not a chance.
I had worried that Tirmisia might wake up and grant the tumor's plea, but fortunately, he remained absolutely still, dormant within my heart.
And finally,
I felt the tip of my blade pierce through the opposite wall, striking empty air.
I channeled strength into my hand and ripped the wall open.
As the space on the other side was revealed, the shaft of light from behind me illuminated the tumor.
The ground surged upward, and the underground chamber began to collapse.
"Fall back."
The moment the Prophet finished speaking, the ground began to shake violently.
Gyal Bailey felt the backdraft, rode the momentum of his swinging greatsword, and retreated toward the stairs.
The ceiling caved in, crushing the corpses beneath the falling debris.
Without looking back, the two of them sprinted up the spiral staircase, propelled by a gust of dusty, suffocating air and a vibration that rattled their very bones.
The shriveled entrance was withering away.
The sun was sinking between the towering spires of Arselion Castle, and the crimson light piercing through the gaps pointed directly at the enemy.
It looked like a massive eruption of slime mold.
Black, viscous substances oozed from the cracks in the ruptured pleasure district.
They soon coalesced into a single central point, growing upward like a tree, with a writhing tumor hanging from its tip like a grotesque fruit.
Whoosh!
Gyal's greatsword ignited, tracing a fiery arc through the air.
The severed sections immediately shriveled, spraying fluids in all directions.
"..."
He felt a sharp sting on the back of his hand, which he hadn't managed to pull away in time.
A few stray drops of the fluid had clung to his skin, eating their way inside.
Gyal without hesitation pressed the heated flat of his blade against the infected area, the acrid smell of burning flesh stinging his nostrils.
A massive tower at the edge of the pleasure district collapsed with a deafening roar.
The screams of the survivors mingled with the chaos, adding to the discordant symphony.
As buildings collapsed under the encroaching flames, blanketing the streets, a voice bellowed above the din of fleeing crowds dodging both moving corpses and falling debris.
"Do not break ranks! Victory is at hand! The royal army has fled with their tails between their legs, and our ally has risen from the earth to punish the cowards! Draw your weapons and march forward! Even death is on our side, so what is there to fear?!"
The rebel leader, Taren Mors, pointed toward the tumor, his face covered in soot.
The panicked rebels looked up at the towering tumor with trembling, fearful eyes.
"So that's the thing."
"Your assessment?"
"He won't even realize what swallowed him until the moment he dies."
At Gyal's reply, the Prophet shrugged and reached out, grasping the empty air.
Her left fist was extended toward the tumor, while her right hand rested near her chest, as if drawing a bowstring.
The space between her hands shimmered, and white frost began to form.
The Prophet opened her clenched fist, unleashing the gathered energy.
A dull explosion swallowed the tumor's flesh, scattering it in all directions.
Frozen chunks of flesh, blasted by the Prophet's power, rained down over the pleasure district like hail.
The towering tumor-tree, which had stood proudly, tottered and crashed into the sea of fire.
The frost coating its surface began to boil, emitting a sound like a screeching wail.
It now resembled a single-log bridge spanning the flames, connecting the ruined pleasure district to the rest of the city.
Just as Gyal began sprinting along its massive trunk,
a dark red blade burst forth from the sunken ruins of the pleasure district below.