Chapter 42
Chapter 42
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: Raw Night (3)
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Meurso Mountain's entrance, the abandoned mining district.
The demon lair designated by the Empire as uninhabitable for human survival.
And the most dangerous spot among them was this Beauvoir Mine.
A place where not even a rat had ever scurried through was now alive with clamor, echoing sounds straight out of a smithy.
Clang— Clang— Clang— Whoosh! Bubble bubble bubble... Fwoosh! Bang!
Inside Beauvoir Mine, countless prisoners sweated through their forced labor.
The ring of pickaxes striking rock walls, the transfer of searing flames from lava to the furnace, the roar of the furnace heating red-hot, the bellows blasting air, the bubbling melt of iron ore...
The prisoners, arms and legs trembling, mined the iron ore and smelted it down.
Meanwhile.
"Hey! I told you, not like that! Too many impurities and it won't even hold its shape!"
Sancho, whom Federback had put in charge, was zealously barking orders at the other prisoners.
"You bastard! I said don't pour the molten iron that fast! It's spilling over the mold! You wanna see my head on the block? Huh? Oh!? Hey! Hey! Hey! Fire! The fire's dying! Aaaah! More logs! Hurry! What're you doing with the bellows!? Fan it back to life! If the fire goes out, you're done for too!"
Sancho drove the prisoners, split into five teams, pushing the work forward.
They tossed the iron ore dug from the abandoned shafts into the furnace, melting it into molten metal.
Bubble bubble bubble bubble...
The prisoners ladled the molten iron and poured it into massive molds.
Then they blanketed it with snow and ice scooped from the snowy plateau, cooling it rapidly.
Ssssssssssssss...
At last, a single iron stake took shape.
But the moment it was pulled from the mold, it shattered into two pieces with a deafening crack.
Sancho clutched his face with his hand.
"This won't cut it. Young Master Federback said they don't need to be perfect... but they at least gotta stick in the ground. What good are they if they break before they even do?"
Looking at the shattered stake conjured the face of his late father.
Sancho had once helped out in his father's smithy back in his younger days.
If he hadn't fought with his old man—who'd pressured him to take over the family trade—and stormed out, would his life have turned out differently?
Sancho shook his head.
No point regretting the past now.
The priority was making deadline.
'Right. Just focus on the job. What was it Dad did...?'
Boil the molten iron... pour it into the mold... cool it... then hammer it...
'Hold on? Hammer it?'
Sancho's eyes flashed wide.
"That's it! Forging! Before it cools completely, you gotta hammer that wrought iron like a maniac to drive out the impurities. Heat it and hammer, fold it and hammer, repeat that process a few more times at least..."
Right then.
...Clang! ...Thud! ...Thud!
A furious hammering erupted from nearby.
Sancho whipped his head around to see a man pounding cast iron with a hammer.
Soon after, the man dumped several buckets of snow into the mold.
Pssshhhhhhh...
The snow melted into water, the water boiled into steam, and it all vanished.
In its place stood a massive iron stake, perfectly formed.
Sancho's eyes wavered.
"Iwan... you bastard. You knew your way around iron?"
"Hmph. Don't need orders from a hack who can't even swing a hammer right. I'm a real blacksmith, this much."
The thick-bearded brute called Iwan turned around.
Iwan smirked at Sancho.
"Thinking you can smith with what you picked up peeking over shoulders? What an idiot."
"Wh-what the hell? Young Master Federback put me in charge! Who do you think you are, mouthing off like that?!"
"Cut the crap. Not taking orders from some clueless fool. Mad? Step up then."
The prisoners began to murmur at the standoff between Iwan and Sancho.
Iwan grinned and spoke up.
"I'll do what Federback says. Got no choice with the noose tightening. So quit your yapping."
He strode forward, thrusting his sickle and hammer close. Sancho could only drip cold sweat.
Finally, Iwan grinned.
"Up till now, he had us in an iron grip—hard to even think of rebellion... but things are different here. He needs us just as bad, doesn't he?"
The prisoners stirred.
Eyes that had grown meek now flashed with venom in an instant.
Iwan smiled at the prisoners.
"Just follow my lead. I'll make sure that bastard gets what's coming."
The prisoners started voicing agreement.
They rattled the chains on their wrists and ankles, howling like they were about to erupt.
'Th-this is gonna go south...'
Sancho edged toward escape.
But.
...Grab!
Iwan clapped a hand on Sancho's shoulder.
"Hey, goatee."
"......"
"You lost everything to Federback too, right? Money, family, the works."
"......"
"Join hands with us. If we all band together, we can kill him. Right here in these snowy mountains."
Sancho's eyes began to quiver faintly.
Iwan wheedled him in a soft tone.
"It'll be easy. Just report to Federback that everything's fine. Repeat that line. That's why we let you play foreman."
"......"
"Hey, don't sweat it. The stakes'll get made on schedule. Way better than your crap, right to spec. Except... once they're done, so's his life. I've got a plan."
The other prisoners closed in around Sancho.
Before he knew it, every prisoner but him was glaring with feverish eyes.
Iwan said,
"I'll take care of everything. Just say 'I'll help' one time."
"......"
The abandoned mine grew sweltering, like the inside of a blast furnace.
Thick beads of sweat formed on Sancho's brow.
At last.
"I..."
Sancho made his choice.
A blizzard raging across the snowy mountains.
Federback was currently traversing a flat plain nestled right beneath a towering peak.
Crunch— Crunch— Crunch— Crunch—
White vapor puffed from his mouth.
Federback's crimson eyes swept over the landscape beyond the snowfield.
A plain-shaped peak nestled between high and low summits.
A terrain rare in these parts, for sure.
"......"
Federback crossed the plain in silence.
'Those prisoners. Plotting mutiny by now, probably.'
He'd seen it coming the moment he left the cave.
A few had those suspicious glints in their eyes. The second he stepped away, they'd spark a revolt.
But.
'If they're gonna rise up anyway, the sooner the better.'
Federback was actually waiting for the prisoners' rebellion.
'The instant they revolt... Hm?'
Suddenly, Federback halted.
His gaze fixed on a ravine sprawling beneath a low cliff.
"......"
Federback scrutinized the ravine floor intently.
A bizarre green pattern etched across the narrow valley bottom.
About a dozen meters wide. Length impossible to gauge.
Traces of melted snow linking into strange shapes blanketed the entire ravine.
'Geothermal heat melted the snow, and grass sprouted in its place.'
A grassland smack in the middle of a snowfield—truly bizarre.
Federback followed the grass patches.
Only those spots felt warm to the touch, the heat tracing winding curves deeper into the ravine.
The phenomenon grew more pronounced the further in he went.
Balmy steam rising from the earth melted the snow across a broad plain, baring the soil beneath.
Even stranger: every sprout and bloom here belonged to plants that flowered in entirely different seasons.
'Veins carrying the mountain's life force. This is where they converge.'
It felt like the "mountain's vital essence" had slithered past in the form of a serpent.
Federback descended by stepping on rocks jutting from the cliff face midway down.
[Greech?]
En route, a massive lizard lunged to bite him.
Crack!
At the 3rd Circle realm, Federback merely swung his blade through empty air—and severed the distant lizard's head.
Sword qi projection.
A launched slash through the void.
The dream realm that normal knights trained a lifetime to glimpse... was just another milestone for Federback.
He showed no reaction to his own display of prowess, simply sheathing his sword at his waist.
His attention lay elsewhere from the start.
'...No doubt about it. This ravine's far too warm. Can't pass it off as mid-snowfield flora.'
Federback eyed the cave at the ravine's deepest end.
He also took in the surrounding peaks ringing the ravine's edge.
'Yeah. I remember. This is the place.'
After double- and triple-checking his surroundings, Federback dropped to the ravine floor.
Thud—
Planting his foot on the ground deepened his certainty.
A colossal footprint stamped into the mud from melted snow.
Far larger than if Federback himself had lain down.
Unmistakably the mark of a gigantic monster.
'...It went this way.'
Federback followed the ravine toward the cave.
Near the entrance loomed scars like dozens of slashes from a massive scythe.
Traces of excrement nearby, too.
Mixed into the sloppy meltwater mess were several human skulls embedded within.
'Devoured the local natives, huh.'
Federback nodded.
'...Yeah, this is the one. Found it.'
Dredging up pre-regression memories to their limit, Federback had located his quarry's lair.
The ultra-high-tier beast that turned Beauvoir Mine—once Meursault territory's top iron producer—into an uninhabitable zone.
'Without this thing, Meursault could be several times more prosperous.'
Federback rose to his feet.
A chill wind blew from the cave, tousling his hair.
'...Rushing in now would be risky. Need to lure it out first.'
Federback quietly backed away.
He'd already prepared a way to draw out this ravine's master.
'The prisoners' revolt. Should be entertaining.'
All that remained was biding the perfect moment.