The Subjugation Force (1)
Among the adventurers' belongings were any number of curious things. I had no particular hobby of prying into other people's private lives, but the diaries that turned up now and then were excellent for gathering information and killing time.
Shouldering a measure of guilt, I began to read my way through the age they had lived in — a thousand years after my own.
"Seven years since I last saw my daughter…"
A day spent aching for a family torn apart by distance.
"Cleared an A-rank labyrinth…"
A week of triumph, a high-grade dungeon conquered alongside comrades.
"A new weapon…? A magic sword…?"
A day spent pouring a fortune into matching gear.
What filled those pages was nothing more than the small change of ordinary lives — and yet it was more than enough to sketch, roughly, the shape of their era and how far civilization had come.
"Hardly anything has changed…"
I would need to go outside to know for certain, of course, but according to the diaries, aside from a few new magical tools and modes of transport, the world did not seem so very different from the one I had known.
As far as I was concerned, that was good news.
"And this is…?"
Then, nestled among the diaries, a single volume caught my eye — unusually thick, with a design unlike any of the others. I picked up the book, its cover buried under a heavy coat of dust.
It was far older than I had expected. Cobwebs clung to the cover along with the dust. The pages themselves, however, remained pristine, as though a preservation spell had been laid upon them.
Adventurers drifted from place to place; they would never haul a tome this heavy just to lighten their packs. The owner of a book that radiated such an uncommon aura had to be someone else entirely.
"Alfred, where did you find this?"
I asked the one charged with gathering anything useful. The old butler narrowed his eyes, examined the book, and pointed toward a lone skeleton tucked into a corner of the deepest chamber.
"That book did not come from the adventurers, my lady. I recovered it from that skeleton. Judging by how tightly it was clutched even after the flesh had rotted away, I thought it must contain something of importance."
"…"
I approached the skeleton sitting alone in its solitude. Magical energy still clung to it; like the book, every bone seemed to have been sealed under a preservation spell.
To cast a preservation spell on one's own corpse — had this dead soul wanted to remain whole and clean even a thousand years on? It had not, however, stopped the insects from devouring the flesh.
"…How did they get in here alone?"
I frowned.
How had the owner of this corpse broken through the most difficult labyrinth in existence by themselves? Or had they been so grievously wounded that their companions abandoned the body and fled? Or had they been a fixture of this place since before I was sealed?
And what, exactly, was written in this book that they had tried so desperately to preserve it?
"…"
To unearth the truth, I turned the page.
"Ugh—?!"
A sharp spark leapt from the book, refusing to let me turn the leaf. At the same time, a magic circle engraved on the cover slowly revealed itself.
"A barrier…?"
A barrier had been cast over the book — to keep out strangers and other living things, no doubt. But the long years had worn its power thin.
"…"
I forced the barrier open by sheer strength and finally turned to the first page. On it, in a hurried scrawl, a single line was written:
──── Apprentice shaman of Tenma, Mina, leaves this record.
"A record…?"
Given that its owner was already a skeleton, this had to be a record from long ago. With the feeling of reading an ancient mural, I turned the pages one by one.
"Kingdom Year 318. In accordance with the treaty with Serion and Abilia, Tenma shall oversee the seal of the vampire for the next fifty years…"
…The book was nothing other than an observation log of my seal.
Of course. From their perspective, they would have fretted over when my seal might break. A minimum of surveillance would have been necessary.
Most of the pages contained nothing but notes on the state of my seal.
"Zero points. Boring."
I frowned at content so dull compared to what I had hoped for. Just as I was about to close the book in disappointment, the entries suddenly swelled to many times their previous length.
I stopped my hand and kept reading the records, whose tone had wholly changed.
Word has come that the hero who sealed the vampire, Belia Varius, has died of old age. Yet he had been in perfect health until the day before his death, and some are already whispering of assassination. The matter sparked a heated debate among my comrades.
"Assassination…? Pfft. Varius?"
That Varius, whose perimeter security was ironclad, might have been assassinated — the mere suggestion from that era was so absurd it drew a hollow laugh from me.
After all the trouble of sealing me, to meet his end at an assassin's hand. For a man who would have been recorded as "the hero who saved the world," it was a rather hollow conclusion.
…The record continued.
The hero's funeral was held. I went aboveground for the first time in a long while. Many of the people mourned his death. Because the hero's heir is still young, every office has passed to his wife, the elf Lilianel Greenfield.
"…So they did marry in the end, those bastards."
The record named Lilianel as his "wife," so after my sealing the two of them had finally wed. There was an heir as well, it seemed — they must have enjoyed a thoroughly passionate marriage.
And from that point on, Lilianel had steadily seized power.
While I lost every sense inside those hellish chains of the seal, they had tasted nothing but the sweetness of love. Rage welled up in me all over again.
The record did not end there. The next entry looked as though it had been written in a storm of emotion; tear stains marked the page here and there.
Today, Jax, chieftain of Tenma and lifelong friend of the hero Belia Varius — the man who never stopped raising the possibility of foul play in the hero's death — was found assassinated.
Everyone who heard the news wanted to abandon the watch over the seal and return home at once. But soldiers of Abilia had already gathered at the entrance to the ruins and barred our way.
In the sudden crisis our captain went to negotiate with them, and we could only wait for the outcome with heavy hearts.
The negotiations failed. Our captain has gone missing.
"…Fascinating."
From the death of that young shaman who had helped seal me, to the imprisonment of the Tenma shamans who wrote this record — while I was locked away, events outside had been racing forward at a breakneck pace.
"What does this say…?"
Whether from rage or force of hand, the next page was so blotted with ink that the letters were barely legible.
Word has reached us that Tenma has fallen to an invasion by the demonkin.
"…!!"
So that was why the monk-state of Tenma no longer appeared on the adventurers' maps. It had been destroyed then. Less than a hundred years after my sealing — the nation had vanished far earlier than I would have expected.
A rumor has come that the true cause of Tenma's collapse was not a demonkin invasion at all, but a surprise attack by Abilia at the request of Lilianel Greenfield. We protested at once to the soldiers aboveground, but it came to nothing.
"Lilianel…?"
Lilianel had requested a surprise attack on an allied nation? Why? What could she possibly have stood to gain?
Today, everyone but me — the minimum required to watch the seal — went aboveground to protest. Half a day has passed, and no one has returned.
They wouldn't have abandoned me… would they?
Has something happened?
In the early hours before dawn, the Kingdom of Abilia suddenly released A-rank and S-rank monsters into the ruins. The howls of beasts echo from every direction. The path aboveground is cut off. No more information. No more supplies. My comrades do not return.
I am completely alone now.
"They meant to wipe them out…"
…The shamans who went up to protest never came back.
No matter how you looked at it, Abilia had destroyed Tenma, and to spare themselves future trouble, they had decided to eradicate every shaman still left in the ruins.
Releasing the monsters was a judgment that my seal would not break. Instead of maintaining a watch, they had switched to a system of simply blocking all approach in advance.
It was a sound choice. With powerful monsters roaming the interior, the ruins would naturally transform into a labyrinth people would dread to enter — and any shamans still inside, like Mina, would be dealt with by the monsters themselves.
And that, it seemed, was how the Dungeon of Immortality had been born.
"Three pages left…"
…Before I knew it, only a few pages of the record remained.
I used every remaining talisman to seal the entrance. In the afternoon I sorted the food. Fortunately there is a great deal of it; I should be able to hold out for a long time.
It struck me suddenly: that Lilianel Greenfield, hungering for power, assassinated the hero Belia Varius — and that, fearing the truth would come out through Tenma and our chieftain, who never stopped raising the question, she destroyed our village in a surprise attack.
But I have no way, no means, of carrying this theory to the surface.
It is unbearable.
"Lilianel assassinated Varius…?"
I frowned at the suspicion this apprentice shaman had harbored a thousand years ago.
This was Lilianel — the woman who had murdered Sophie, her closest friend, and sealed me away, all to win Varius's heart. She would have offered him her loyalty; she would never have assassinated him or betrayed him.
And yet, even knowing the apprentice's theory made no sense, a nameless doubt began to take root in a corner of my chest.
The food is gone.
The monsters never stop. The talismans sealing the entrance are beginning to fail.
I'mscaredI'mscaredI'mscaredI'mscaredI'mscaredI'mscaredI'mscared
"…"
Across a thousand years, the terror that lone shaman had felt reached me. The record had arrived at its final page.
The talismans holding the monsters at the entrance have failed completely. There is no food. No one is coming to save me. I am cold and hungry and afraid. I think this is as far as I go.
Tear stains dotted the page.
…I do not know who will read this record, but if someone does, I would be truly grateful if you would deliver the letter on the next page to my little sister in Tenma. She is a clumsy child who cannot look after herself — I only hope she is still alive.
"…"
On the next page, a letter truly was tucked carefully in place. I drew it free and read the apprentice shaman's final, scant lines.
If there is a next life, I swear I will uncover why my homeland and my people were destroyed. Something happened between the Kingdom of Abilia, Lilianel, and our chieftain — of that I am certain. It grieves me to go without learning the truth. I only pray that someday, someone will bring it all to light.
…Miro. Your big sister is sorry.
I'll always be watching over you from the sky.
I love you.
"…"
The long record ended with that brief message to someone who seemed to be her younger sister. I closed the book carefully. My heart was in turmoil.
"Lilianel…"
I could not take at face value a record written by an apprentice shaman a full thousand years ago — but as her suspicions suggested, it seemed certain that over those thousand years Lilianel had seized power and that momentous events had unfolded around her.
"…A hundred points. This just got more interesting."
No one in this world walks around freely confessing their own crimes.
Lilianel Greenfield.
If I dragged every sin she had piled up over those endless years into the light, made her confess them before all the world, and branded them into history — if I dragged her down in wretched disgrace from the seat she had believed was hers forever — if, with my own hands, I granted her an end more cruel than anyone else's…
What expression would she wear then?
"…"
I found myself looking forward to it.
The news that Elmaile's young lord, Karseron, had issued a commission to every S-rank and A-rank adventurer in his territory spread like wildfire in every direction.
The commission was nothing less than the subjugation of the Dungeon of Immortality — and of the Progenitor Vampire said to have been sealed a thousand years ago.
The guild rated the difficulty at SS-rank risk. It was the first SS-rank commission ever measured since the adventurers' guild had come into existence.
On top of that, word that the finest labyrinth-clearing party, Red Moon, had been annihilated by that same Progenitor Vampire raced through every corner of Elmaile alongside the commission itself.
An SS-rank commission. The slaying of an ancient monster called the Progenitor Vampire. The site: the Dungeon of Immortality, entry to which had been all but forbidden until now. And Red Moon, who had entered the labyrinth first, already wiped out.
The contents and circumstances of the commission were shocking enough to make anyone want to run the other way — and yet smiles never left the adventurers' faces. Their attention was fixed on something else entirely.
"Hey, you hear? The reward's twenty gold coins a head!"
"And they're splitting every relic from the Dungeon of Immortality on top of that!"
"Applications close tonight! Let's go, now!"
It was the unprecedented bounty of twenty gold coins per person. Twenty gold a head was enough to walk away from the thorn-strewn life of an adventurer on the spot.
Add the various relics sleeping in the Dungeon of Immortality, and the title of having felled an ancient monster, and the great majority of adventurers flocked to the front of the lord's manor as if under a spell.
"The Progenitor Vampire? Hah. With numbers like ours, what can you even do?"
"Over ninety of the strongest adventurers. When we pool our strength, Red Moon doesn't even compare."
Overwhelming money made the impossible possible. Under ordinary circumstances the commission would have terrified them — but before that astronomical reward, the adventurers of Elmaile forgot their fear and gathered their weapons.
"L-Look over there! It's the Mad Dog — Barbas!"
"And the Princess of Stormhound! Kaira Lockhart is here too!"
…Moreover, the participation of Stormhound — a mercenary guild with a thousand years of history — only stoked their morale higher.
There was a saying that not so much as a speck of dust remained where Stormhound had passed. The power of that vast mercenary guild was absolute.
With them on the field, no matter how legendary the monster, it would be nothing more than their prey.
And so, a mere half-day after the commission was posted, seven S-rank adventurers, eighty-three A-rank adventurers, and a hundred of Stormhound's elite mercenaries — a total of one hundred ninety — had gathered before the lord's manor.
Their presence was closer to an army than a subjugation force. Karseron, lord of Elmaile, looked upon them with satisfaction.
It's a shame the recruitment window was only half a day, but this should be more than enough.
He had needed the subjugation to begin as quickly as possible, so the recruitment period had been limited to half a day — but it was still sufficient. One hundred ninety top-tier adventurers and mercenaries was enough force to destroy a small nation.
Ordinarily, adventurers and mercenaries were too proud to cooperate even when hard-pressed — but before a reward of twenty gold coins, every last one of them had joined forces this time.
"Greetings, gentlemen."
…On a hot night lit by torches against the dark sky, a man clad head to toe in full plate and carrying a massive axe climbed onto the platform erected before the manor.
The man, whose frame looked to stand well over two meters, spread his arms and bellowed with absolute confidence.
"I am Barbas of Stormhound, appointed supreme commander of this subjugation! I look forward to working with you all!"
— Waaaaaaaah!!
— He's incredible!!
His hearty, cheerful greeting drew cheers from everyone present. Between the swaying torches, Supreme Commander Barbas began a speech to fire their spirits before the march.
"Gentlemen — every one of you has gathered here to subjugate the Progenitor Vampire."
— We came for the money, though…
— Shh! Quiet.
"For the past thousand years that legendary monster lay quietly sealed. But in the end it defied fate, awoke, and annihilated the labyrinth party Red Moon."
— …
Everyone held their breath and listened to Barbas's speech.
"…The vampire that wiped out Red Moon will now turn its sights on us humans as prey. It will drain the blood of women and children without mercy, and our homes will be trampled by skeleton soldiers."
Barbas drew his axe.
"Gentlemen — will you sit still and wait to be hunted?"
Embers flared. The full moon shone.
"Or will you be the first to swing your blades and become heroes?! The choice is yours!"
The man called the Mad Dog, Barbas, burned with light in his eyes and thrust his axe toward the sky. The adventurers and mercenaries who heard his cry roared with him.
— Kill the vampire!
— Let's finish what our ancestors could not!
— Avenge Red Moon!
An invisible, unshakable momentum gathered into one. That momentum infected the comrade beside them like a plague of confidence. In their eyes, nothing existed but the outcome of victory.
Barbas shouted.
"The vampire is weaker than we are! When we join our strength, there is nothing we cannot do! Have confidence!"
— Waaaaaaaah!!
The atmosphere reached its peak. For a moment, a sense of justice for the public good filled their chests more fully than simple greed for gold.
"Let's show that ancient vampire what we're made of! Let's show them our overwhelming power!"
…Judging that the moment was perfect, Barbas pointed his axe forward and roared once more.
"All forces! Take up your weapons and march on the Dungeon of Immortality!"