Chapter 58 - Blackmore Duchy Investigation

While I was trembling at the madness of the gallery users, in the south-central part of the continent, a place tainted by corruption. The Blackmore Duchy, which had fallen with the descent of the Outer God. The hero Duke Graywarden was taking a brief rest there. Checking the disconnected gallery.

The gallery had grown unstable the closer he got to the duchy’s heart. Upon entering the capital, the connection cut off entirely.

"The corruption has thickened. It used to connect before."

Duke sighed as he surveyed the gravely tainted city. To him, who remembered its former glory, the sight was heartbreaking. Before the Outer God's descent—the bustling city. Children playing, adults living their lives at work. Now, those scenes existed only in memory.

Duke gazed at the path in the city center, sliced as if by a blade. The traces of his boyhood self and Blackmore's heir struggling to save the duchy’s survivors. Sword marks unchanged from that day. He slowly prepared his meal.

What hadn't changed compared to then were only the banshees rooted to this land. Monstrosities that had claimed the spots where diverse races once lived.

Scanning his surroundings for safety, Duke spotted incoming banshees and swiftly readied for battle. Would they deny him even one meal? The pack surrounded him, emitting threatening shrieks.

Kieeeek—!

"This is why I hate coming here... Can't even eat ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in peace."

Soul-type magic beasts that clashed poorly with Duke. Not individually strong, but annoyingly hard to dispel. He'd sliced them countless times on the way, yet here they were, intact. Realizing they were nearly unkillable, the fearless horde charged.

Kieeeek—!

Sword strikes flew at the banshees. In a blink, the pack was shredded. The fight ended in seconds. Horizontally bisected banshees, vertically sliced ones, diagonally cut ones—all wriggled on the ground. Duke stared in disbelief and spat at them.

"You think I'd let you die easily just 'cause I can't kill you? Pathetic."

Taking it as provocation, perhaps. The crawling chunks shrieked in unison.

Kiek—Kieeeek—Kiiiiieek—

A head-ringing horror. A normal person would lose their mind, mana disrupted. He could suppress but not kill them—an irritating bind. Duke clicked his tongue and decided to eat outside after investigating. His purpose: probe the Outer God's remnants. To assess the monstrosity it left.

He hurried to the inner castle. En route, traces of Blackmore Duchy's former prosperity. Elf treehouses. Dwarf forges. Beastkin playgrounds. Human homes. Ruins where all races once harmonized, now awaiting collapse.

Duke pressed on bitterly, preparing to fight whatever guarded it still.

Thus, he reached the Blackmore ducal mansion. Glancing up briefly, he headed straight to the garden. Where the Outer God's remnant lurked.

The Outer God had planted body parts across the continent, leaving sentinels at each.

"Oh my, long time no see? About 50 years? You've aged so much~!!"

The Banshee Queen appearing before Duke was that sentinel. Invader come with the Outer God. Abhorrent being binding lion souls as slaves.

Ignoring her, Duke eyed the tentacles behind. Pulsing like a heart, writhing. Even larger than before. To inspect closely, he questioned the Banshee Queen.

"Does that keep growing? You'd know, stuck beside it. Answer."

"No hello? Hate that. Ask somewhere else~?"

Seeing her uncooperative, Duke irritably raised his greatsword.

"Choices. Shredded like last time, or answer straight. Does it keep growing?"

Panicking, the Banshee Queen replied.

"Ugh, fine. Yes, it grows nonstop. Put that weapon away. It hurts like hell."

Memories of past shredding, maybe. She hastily clarified. As Duke lowered his blade, she continued, exasperated.

"How are you the same after half a century? Shouldn't people mellow with age?"

"Last time I shredded you on sight. Be grateful you're intact enough to talk."

"Hah..."

She'd greeted warmly, yet got threats. And he moved to leave post-answer. But even a personality wreck like him was a rare outside guest. To prolong the fun, she asked:

"Why alone today? Where's that kid from back then?"

The kid who'd come with him. Blackmore heir who'd rallied survivors for escape in their youth. Cute one vowing to reclaim the duchy. Recalling nostalgia, she probed Duke.

"You were cute too back then... Did the kid age rough like you?"

"Don't wax nostalgic. Pisses me off. Want shredding again?"

Everything led to shredding. Same outcome no matter the question. Sighing, the Banshee Queen perched on the tentacles and delivered her parting words.

"Fine. Won't talk to you. Just relay to the kid. I'm waiting—tell him to visit. Got it?"

With that, she faded. Watching, Duke turned and walked away.

"He'll come regardless. To kill you lot."

"Kyahaha! Nice! He can end me? Free me from this guard dog boredom! Tell him I'm waiting! Definitely!"

Her shout pierced Duke's retreating back. Without looking, he pulled out his notebook and jotted notes. For records and reports—shared with all continent guardians.

Lately filled with hopeful notes. But this new one wasn't:

'Outer God's tentacle in Blackmore Duchy growing. Urge prompt contact with Davian Blackmore.'

Word of a massive threat looming over the continent's sapients.

Grumble—grumble—

Far from the subjugation fervor, inside the bunker. I was covering for TwoMealsADay, on personal leave from mod duties.

The infamous troll post author who'd tormented the gallery, right before my eyes. Everyone suffered but me. The likeable gonik 'LetsWatchTogether' ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fielded endless handshake requests, prepping his next post happily.

"Can't ban this instantly..."

Obvious troll teaser, but no preemptive ban rule. How did we hourly slaves handle this?

Feeling the mods' plight firsthand, this method had clear limits. Time for a change in troll handling.

Hey, options exist. To handle endless trolls, I decided to introduce auto-hunt.