Chapter 26
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: Too Big for a Rat to Handle (1)
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The wizard had vanished.
The remaining goblins were overwhelmed by the sheer number of villagers and scattered.
The heat of battle hadn't even subsided yet when a puff of white smoke burst up right in front of us with a peng!
"Chik! Chikchik!"
"Whoa? You scared me!"
Mani, who had been tinkering with the ballista, jumped in surprise. I thought it was another wizard attack and raised my bowgun.
"Huh...?"
What I saw at my feet were faintly glowing rats.
Ratty and Squeaker, who had ridden atop the ballista bolt and flown off like heroic horned rat missiles.
"Whoa! The horned rats are back!"
Sena's face lit up.
"Chik!"
The horned rats stood up on their hind legs, planting their front paws on their hips in a smug pose, as if asking, 'Did you see our performance?'
"Lady Rodentia! It's true—the horned rats have returned!"
Sena asked joyfully, and as if she'd been waiting, Rodentia's apparition crossed her arms proudly.
I told you so! My apostles!
From inside the bag, Rodentia snorted triumphantly.
Spirit horned rats are fearless immortal warriors! Their flesh is merely a shell to enact my will. Even if destroyed, as long as the faith and hope of the Ratkin endure, they will always return from the paradise of horned rat warriors!
Wow, the horned rats really are invincible.
"Anyway, thank you, milord. Thanks to you, we chased those guys off."
Give thanks to those horned rats too! They are my proxies—verily, the equivalent of angels!
Angels, huh? I'd heard that even the chief gods of the Pantheon Temple had concepts like saints or angels, similar to the Abrahamic religions of my past life.
A rat with a unicorn horn instead of wings as my race's angel was a bit ridiculous, though.
Well, whatever. They'd saved our hides.
"Thanks, Ratty. Squeaker!"
I chuckled and tossed them some hardtack and cheese chunks. The horned rats caught them with both paws and started gnawing away eagerly.
'The rats in this world really do love cheese.'
The ecosystem here was definitely different from Earth's in many ways.
Just look at the torani—a hybrid of rabbit and deer.
Fortunately, there were no further attacks. It seemed the dark wizards had been spooked by Mani's ballista shot and fully retreated.
We stood guard, eyes fixed warily on the forest, for several tense hours.
No more goblin assaults came, but the bloodcurdling silence dragged on.
"Village chief, the messenger from earlier made it out safely, right?"
I asked, unable to hide my anxiety, and the chief nodded while wiping his dry face.
"Aye. Those lads are swift; they've probably crossed the city outskirts by now. I did send an urgent telegram to the guild via the magic slate at the meeting hall... but it only receives, so it's frustrating."
"Magic slate? It can send telegrams too?"
I blinked in surprise, and the chief tapped out his pipe, looking at me quizzically.
"...No, little adventurer friend. You're an adventurer and you don't know about slates? Even a backwater like us keeps one at the hall for checking grain prices. Costs money, but it's linked to the guild's telegraph."
I smacked my knee in realization.
Why hadn't I thought of that?
If the magic slate displays real-time gallery posts, it made sense it'd have email or telegram functions to send messages to specific terminals.
This world's magic network might be crude, but it had all sorts of features.
"Then why not just explain everything via telegram? No need to send a person."
"You're saying some ungrateful things, lad. Do you know how far it is from Oakwood city center to here? Telegrams have strict character limits."
The chief clicked his tongue.
"All you can manage is something like 'goblin attack.' And it's expensive. To guide them to our village, you still need a person."
"Ah, I guess so..."
That was when it happened. Just as I finished talking to the chief, a faint vibration rumbled from beyond the forest. A watchman scanning from the lookout tower shouted in delight.
"They're here! Adventurers!"
The magic telegram must have worked. It arrived first, with the analog reinforcements following.
Leading were young men from the village on horseback. Behind them came armed men thundering in with rough hoofbeats.
"Gasp! The White Skull party's here!"
In the direction Mani pointed, a massive bald man was charging toward us. It was Mace.
"Where are they! War's broken out, I heard!"
Mace right now was a walking armory.
A greatsword half again his height on his back, twin pistols and a mace at his waist, even a hand axe strapped to his thigh.
"Where's the goblin horde!"
Behind him, White Skull party members dismounted. Dozens of bronze-rank-looking adventurers poured off wagons.
Mace, breathing raggedly from the hard ride, wore a strange expression.
"...Huh?"
He readjusted his pipe and looked down at us in bewilderment.
And small wonder. The village was peaceful!
We waved from behind the barricade where we'd been standing guard.
"Ah, you made it?"
Sigh, that look. I got the sense immediately.
A couple of tiny Ratkin and one dwarf girl.
They'd rushed here all geared up, only to find kids picnicking. No wonder they were deflated.
"What the... Aren't you those little ones from guild HQ?"
Mace didn't hide his disappointment as he stowed his weapons.
"Village folk said it was war. You three held them off? Kids these days sure love to brag."
The following adventurers murmured too.
In the end, it was our appearance. Nothing to be done about that.
All that was left was to show them the proof.
"See for yourself if it's bragging or not."
"Huh?"
"Over here."
I calmly pointed beyond the village barricade, to the forest edge. Mace snorted and strode over.
"Lemme see. If it's just a goblin or two and you're making a fuss, expect a knuckle sandwich..."
Mace's steps halted abruptly.
At the forest edge, on the most visible tree trunk.
"...What the hell is this?"
A thick pine stood with a massive crack, charred black.
At its center was embedded a steel bolt as thick as a spear, sunk halfway deep.
Beneath it lay bloodstains and robe scraps left by the fleeing dark wizard.
Mace stroked the cracked pine in disbelief, muttering.
"Explosion magic? No, this is physical impact... You kids bring a siege weapon or something?"
"My handiwork, mister! Our dwarven portable modular siege cannon!"
Mani grinned beside him and gave a thumbs-up.
"This is just the appetizer. The real show's deeper in."
"The real... what?"
"Follow me."
I led the dazed Mace and adventurers deeper into the forest.
A bit farther upstream, cries of shock erupted from the adventurers.
"Gods..."
"How many is this?"
Goblin corpses littered the trees.
Several with arrows in head and heart, dead on the spot.
"One, two, three... Crazy, over twenty dead. This many in the wild, not even a dungeon?"
"So many?!"
As the adventurers whispered, Mace's gaze shifted elsewhere—to the embankment where we'd fought.
"That's a torani, right? Rat kid, don't tell me it's what I think."
Mace prodded the massive dead beast with his foot, eyes wide red.
Beside it lay a goblin, dead clutching a spear and some rope like reins.
"Yeah, the goblins charged riding this thing."
"Goblin cavalry? Insane! Heard rumors, but didn't think it was real."
Mace fell silent, then scratched his scowling face and approached me.
"Guess my eyes were wrong."
He extended a rough hand.
"Sorry for judging by size. You're the real deal. As White Skull's leader, I apologize."
"Apology accepted. We are pretty small."
I took his hand, and he chuckled, gripping it.
"Heh, not bad. Better than those big lugs who can't back it up."
"Yeah... Ow!"
Ow, my hand! Apology accepted, but this guy's grip was brutal.
"Damn, sorry, rat kid! First time shaking with someone your size..."
Meanwhile, Mani, who'd bristled at "small," jumped in.
"Mister! Why keep calling me and Reti small?!"
"Ah, dwarf kid, wasn't teasing. That's why you're..."
"Ugh..."
Mace laughed awkwardly in a bind, Mani grumbled.
Dwarves seemed sensitive about being smaller than us.
Then, a White Skull woman with a staff, investigating the scene, shouted urgently.
"Boss! Come here! This smells off!"
We gathered where she pointed—the clearing where the wizards had tried their ritual.
"So, there was a flag here?"
"Yes, but... it's gone now."
Explaining the flag was awkward, but luckily, Mace and the adventurers seemed quick to accept our word.
Thanks to the goblin corpses, probably.
The traces of the magic circle on the ground and the unpleasant aura lingered.
"I sense magic."
The wizard rubbed black soil from the ground, frowning.
"Not ordinary mana. It's mixed with death and decay."
"Death aura? You don't mean..."
"Only one group around Oakwood uses this vibe."
"Necromancers."
Mace ground his teeth.
"Those Lich Clan bastards! Driving goblins berserk too?!"
"Stealing materials, controlling dungeons, and plotting this behind the scenes?"
Conviction spread among the adventurers.
The evidence pointed to a necromancer culprit, and naturally, minds went to the recent necromancers in Oakwood.
'Are they really the necromancers?'
On the surface, yes. Similar robes, eerie vibe.
Until Rodentia suddenly tilted her head.
Something's off, Reti.
'Why, milord? Find something?'
Not sure if that lady wizard's right about the mana smell. It's low and pervasive like that pointy-eared guy last time... but stickier and fouler.
Rodentia pinched her nose in mimicry.
'Even you aren't sure, milord.'
Guess we'd need more investigation.
We hitched a ride back to Oakwood on Mace's wagon.
Mace rode alongside, chatting with us in the open cart.
"My take is, rat kid, those necromancers are suspicious, right?"
"The necromancers?"
"Yeah, thought they were just here to fleece cash, but rumors around lately are nasty. So, here's the thing..."
Mace glanced around, then spoke gravely.
"You seem tight-lipped and promising, so I'm telling you... don't blab this anywhere? Those necromancers are in cahoots with city hall."
"City hall?"
"Yeah! Goldman the mayor, that old fox! Something's up lately. Like he's waiting for adventurers to slip up."
Mace growled low.
"City loves adventurer coin but hates armed groups in town. Probably hired necromancers to cause trouble, then use it as excuse to boot us—for monopolizing Oakwood's dungeons and resources."
A sharp, plausible theory. Couldn't ignore a vet's instincts from years on the ground.
The military police and guards I'd seen before, the tax collectors at the dungeon entrance—couldn't ignore those either.
'What if I were this city's mayor?'
Even modern democratic politicians schemed greedily for interests. In this half-medieval, half-modern world, no way they'd leave a goldmine dungeon alone.
I pondered.
Should I spill what we knew to him?
It's fine, apostle Reti! This bald human is straightforward.
Sweat and tobacco smell, but no lie stench!
I'll trust the Lord's nose.
"Hey, mister. We actually saw more."
I told him about the totem from the sewers and the imp flag we'd found in the dungeon and handed to the guildmaster.
"Guildmaster saw it and said demon worshippers had infiltrated. Told us to keep quiet while investigating secretly. Didn't he commission you too?"
Mace's face grew stranger as he listened.
"Wait, what? Old man's seen the flag?"
"Yeah. You went into his office then. Secret commission?"
"What're you talking about?"
Mace scowled deeply.
"Never got any commission like that from the old man. Went that day to discuss baron territory issues. Flag? Demons? First I've heard."
"...What?"
Silence fell in the cart. Sena and Mani, listening, stared at us in shock.
'Guildmaster said he'd tasked someone silver-rank equivalent.'
Yet Oakwood's top vets, White Skull, knew nothing.
"Doesn't add up. Old man hiding something that big from me?"
Mace's eyes wavered.
"Weird. Soon as we arrive, grilling the old man. Must've forgotten in his dotage."
We headed straight to the guild upon reaching Oakwood.
The hall bustled as usual but felt oddly off.
"Hey, receptionist! Where's the old man? Guildmaster's office?"
Mace asked, and she tilted her head.
"Guildmaster? Dunno. Haven't seen him all day. Heard he came in early morning..."
"Not seen?"
Mace's eyes sharpened.
"Wait, mister?"
Mace stormed up to the guildmaster's office on the second floor. We followed in a daze.
Bam!
Mace kicked the door open without knocking.
"Old man! It's m—"
The room was silent.
"What the...?"
The room was oddly ransacked.
Papers scattered on the floor. Desk drawers yanked open.
Signs of someone roughly searching.
A teacup still warm on the desk and a pipe on the ashtray proved someone had been here recently.
Smoke still wafted faintly from the pipe.
Someone had just been smoking it.
"...Gone."
Mace muttered blankly.
No fight signs. Chair upright, no blood.
Noise would've alerted reception.
"Whoa! That!"
I pointed to an empty box in the desk corner. Lid wide open, contents gone.
"What's with it?"
Mace asked, and I answered shakily.
"That box! The one we gave the guildmaster to store the totem and flag. He sealed it in there..."
"What?"
Mace checked hurriedly. Empty, not a speck of dust.
"Damn! No way!"
Mace slammed the desk. Wood cracked.
"Old man's been kidnapped."
"Kidnapped?"
"Obvious. Even your evidence is gone? Not just missing. Some bastard snatched him without a chance to fight. No one the wiser!"
Our party froze.
Things were spiraling too wildly for newbie bronze-ranks like us.
Apostle!
This room! That foul smell from the forest earlier! Thick as hell!