Raid of the Evil God, Part II

The moment he felt the entities writhing in the darkness, Charlie drew his holy sword. Because they were in the immediate vicinity of a gate that drained mana, his current strength was far below its usual peak, but he did not hesitate. He lunged forward, shielding his party. Thrusting his cloak back, he pushed the bewildered Ailyn behind him and drove the holy sword deep into the ground.

Hummm— Sensing its master's intent, the holy sword instantly unleashed a shower of light. It spun a hemispherical dome of radiance, forming a protective barrier large enough to envelop the entire auction stage.

At that exact moment, thunder erupted like a tempest. Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat! The sheer noise was an act of violence in itself. A relentless barrage of deafening roars, akin to the explosions of high-tier fire magic, echoed without end. Before one vibration of the air could fade, the next tore through it. It was a din so cataclysmic that any ordinary person would have been deafened and driven mad by the sound alone. Yet, the physical devastation that accompanied this auditory assault was far more horrific.

Half... no, at least two-thirds of them must be dead. Charlie, maintaining the barrier with his sword planted in the floor, swept his gaze across the hall. Only those lucky enough to huddle beneath piles of corpses, or those pathologically obsessed with safety who had brought defensive artifacts capable of functioning near a gate, clung to a fragile thread of life. Aside from them, the crowd that had gathered on the first floor—merchant representatives, noble stewards, and wealthy patrons—had been utterly annihilated. Their bodies, pulverized by the raging storm of metal, stained the carpets a deep, visceral crimson.

What kind of attack is this? To unleash this much firepower so close to a gate?! To manifest such destructive force even for a moment in an area with depleted mana required the caliber of a Tower Master. Yet, this onslaught was not a fleeting burst. Just as one storm seemed to subside, another erupted right beside it. Crrrack, crack... Under the relentless barrage, even the barrier sustained by the holy sword began to fracture. The golden light flickered and dimmed beneath the assault of the black-clad monsters. Charlie knew he had to make a decision.

We can't win by just defending. In that case... He shifted his strategy. "Rowena, Ailyn! Guard the merchandise!" Having bought them a precious few seconds with the holy sword's power, he entrusted the auction items to Ailyn and Rowena, who were already chanting their spells. "Haru! Let's go!" Charlie scooped up the beastman girl, who was curled up and ready for action. Lifting his party's sturdiest tank with a single hand, he hurled her directly toward the black monsters.

"...!" Seeing the girl hurtling toward them, the monsters abruptly ceased their fire. The deafening roars that had filled the abandoned fortress suddenly died down. Charlie did not miss this opening. He drove his holy sword into a nearby stone pillar, using it as a stepping stone to vault himself upward. He grabbed the edge of the upper terrace and swung himself over, his golden cloak billowing behind him like wings. By the time he landed, the holy sword was already back in his grip. Standing directly before the gate, Charlie bellowed:

"Who are you people? Why have you raided this place?" the Hero demanded with absolute gravity.

The Iron Masks. Cursed monsters that emerged from beyond the gates. Until now, they were enigmatic entities whose very existence, let alone their activities, had never been officially confirmed. Charlie only knew of them through highly classified reports he had received as a Hero. This was his first time facing them in the flesh.

The reports said they are sapient beings from another world. Some even claim they tame and command monsters. Though they had been overlooked due to the pressing threat of the war against the Demon King, their sheer unpredictability, unknown motives, and extreme danger meant they should have been classified as a top-tier threat. And now, dozens of them were gathered in this single location. Only a fool would dismiss this as a mere coincidence. Driven by his Hero's intuition, Charlie leveled his holy sword at them, but the Iron Masks did not deign to answer. They merely stared at him with vacant, hollow eyes before whispering among themselves.

Even with his enhanced hearing, Charlie could not fully make out their words. His eardrums had been damaged by the previous thunderous explosions, and the muffled, distorted murmuring characteristic of the Iron Masks made it difficult to decipher. However, the few fragments he caught were more than enough to deduce their objective. After all, it was the very reason Charlie had come here in the first place.

...The Ring of the Ancient Demon King. Do they know about it too?! The items at the Bruton Auction House were all extraordinary. They ranged from relics of historical figures to rare Elven and beastman slaves. But even those were prized ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠only by ordinary standards. They lacked the weight required to summon mysterious monsters from another world. To draw legendary horrors like the Iron Masks across the dimensional boundary, it had to be something on the level of a dark holy relic—one imbued with the authority of the ancient Demon King.

...I considered just grabbing the ring and fleeing, but that's not an option anymore. Charlie tightened his grip on the holy sword. He whispered softly to Haru, who was warily scanning their surroundings from his side. "Haru. Draw their attention. Stop any of those monsters from reaching Ailyn and Rowena."

"All units, disperse."

The moment Charlie spoke, the lead Iron Mask issued a command of its own. Dozens of Iron Masks scattered in unison. Some headed toward the private booths, while others descended into the blood-drenched auction hall. They spread out in all directions like ink bleeding through water.

"Where do you think you're going?!" Charlie and Haru moved swiftly to block their path, each guarding one of the two main staircases leading down to the first-floor auction hall. It was not a highly effective strategy. Despite the clear suppression of mana in the area, the physical capabilities of the Iron Masks far exceeded those of ordinary humans.

Damn it, do all Iron Masks possess this kind of strength? They're on par with beastmen...! Excluding the use of mana, beastmen possessed physical capabilities several times greater than humans. Yet, these Iron Masks displayed a level of agility and reaction speed that rivaled them. If Charlie could freely channel his mana, or if they weren't so hopelessly outnumbered, it might have been a fair fight. But as it stood, nothing was in the Hero's favor. Slowly, Charlie was pushed back. He could not halt the relentless, heavy march of the advancing Iron Masks. The narrow corridors of the fortress also worked against him, making ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it incredibly difficult to swing his sword. Forced into a gradual retreat, Charlie was eventually pushed all the way back into the first-floor hall. Though he finally had the space to wield the holy sword properly, the tide of battle did not turn. A different obstacle now blocked his path.

What incredible... coordination! Charlie grit his teeth. Their teamwork was flawless. Or rather, their weaponry was simply too advanced. Every spell required a chant to cast. Even an archer had to notch an arrow before firing. Because of this, seamless coordination between melee and ranged fighters was virtually ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠impossible without years of rigorous training, as they had to perfectly synchronize the gap between preparation and execution. Charlie's own companions were a prime example. Rowena was busy using holy magic to protect the auction items and survivors, while Ailyn could only occasionally intercept the Iron Masks leaping down into the hall. Despite their long history of fighting together, they could offer no direct support to Charlie as he clashed with the enemy.

Rat-tat-tat! The Iron Masks defied all conventional wisdom. The moment an opening appeared, an attack immediately followed. Lethal projectiles were unleashed without a shred of preparation. And it wasn't just a single shot. The longer his opening remained, the more intense and concentrated the barrage became. Only then did Charlie realize the truth. The spacious first-floor auction hall was not an environment that favored only him. While it gave him room to swing his holy sword, it also gave the Iron Masks ample space to maneuver and evade.

Bang! The moment he tried to widen the distance, that thunderous roar erupted again. Though the accuracy of any single shot was low, Charlie was already surrounded by thirty Iron Masks. Every time he tried to press an advantage, sparks flew from the strange metal rods in their hands. The deafening cracks pierced his ears, and his flesh tore. A direct hit from this "thunder" did not shred the Hero's body as it did the others. Karmanta, the Holy Sword of Righteous Deeds, provided an inexhaustible well of power as long as its wielder fought for a just cause. But that did not mean he was immune to harm. The pain remained. The blood flowed. His life might be preserved, but his tendons and nerves were not. Thud, slice, rip— The Hero's body was slowly being whittled down. Like a stone battered by a violent ocean current, he was being worn away from the outside. Before long, even swinging the holy sword became an agonizing chore. His hands, slick with his own blood, could barely maintain a grip on Karmanta.

Charlie activated the holy sword's barrier once more, his mind racing. Damn it. I can't keep this up. For some reason, the Iron Masks near Haru aren't attacking her, but if they decide to join the fray over here, I'm finished. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠He drew upon his years of experience as a Hero, combing through his memories for a solution. The behavior of the Iron Masks. Their instincts and patterns. He overlaid his observations from today onto the theories he had read in the reports. Suddenly, a realization struck him. ...The reports said they primarily operate in tight-knit squads. If they possess any sense of camaraderie— He immediately acted on the spark of inspiration. Accepting the risk of further injury, he threw himself forward. He lunged toward an exceptionally short Iron Mask, grabbing its dark-clad shoulder and pressing the edge of the holy sword against its throat.

"Haa... haa... haa...!" Holding the blade to the Iron Mask's throat, the Hero panted heavily, unable to utter a word. The sheer toll of the battle had left him utterly exhausted. Yet, even without words, his intention was crystal clear. A hostage. The most ancient and time-honored tactic for dealing with an overwhelming foe. The Hero did not hesitate to apply the pragmatism he had forged in battles against monsters. Instantly, the Iron Masks froze. Every single head snapped toward a single point. They looked toward the figure still standing before the gate, overseeing the entire auction hall—the clear leader of these creatures—waiting for their next command. The leader atop the terrace reacted. It turned its gaze away from Charlie and looked up toward the sky. Even though the ceiling of the fortress was solid stone, Charlie felt, for some inexplicable reason, that the creature's eyes were piercing through it to look at something far above. A tense standoff ensued. Then, the leader of the Iron Masks stepped forward and reached out. Click. Its hand brushed against the wall, revealing a cleverly concealed switch. Seeing this, the auction host shrieked in terror. "N-No! How could they possibly know about that?!"

Along with the host's scream, every single light in the auction house went out. Simultaneously, a powerful force slammed into the Hero's chest. The hostage was wrenched from his grasp. In that pitch-black darkness, even the holy sword failed to emit enough light to pierce the gloom. Realizing how quickly the situation had deteriorated, Charlie felt a sudden surge of dread. His Hero's intuition screamed of a horrific future. He did not ignore the warning. Charlie lunged forward, shouting at the top of his lungs: "Everyone, run! Head for the fortress basement!" Inside the dark fortress, illuminated only by the faint, alien glow of the gate, beastly, luminescent eyes flashed behind the iron masks, beginning their hunt in the dark.

Charlie ran blindly, relying solely on the faint, golden glimmer of his holy sword. He sprinted to escape the nightmare pursuing him from behind. He channeled his remaining mana, desperate to evade the glowing green eyes tracking him through the dark. Fortunately, there weren't many pursuers. Most of them seemed to have focused on securing the merchandise left behind in the auction hall. Charlie managed to shake them off without much difficulty. He navigated the winding corridors of the fortress basement. Having memorized the layout while planning the raid, he headed straight for their prearranged rendezvous point.

"Charlie! Thank goodness, you're alive!"

"Oh, Lord of Order... thank you..."

His companions, who had faced far less pursuit, were already waiting at the rendezvous point. They had managed to escape along with the survivors Charlie had bought time for. Charlie finally let his guard down, slumping against the cold stone wall.

"Haa... haa... What on earth was that? Where is Haru? And why did the lights go out?"

At Charlie's desperate barrage of questions, Ailyn answered, "Haru... she hasn't arrived yet. As for why the lights went out, that man over there probably knows."

Ailyn pointed to a man crouching in the corner of the hideout. It was the auction host, who had fled alongside them. When Charlie turned his gaze toward him, the host replied in a thoroughly dejected voice:

"...It is an emergency lockdown protocol. Originally, it was installed to repel external raids."

"How could those monsters possibly know about it and trigger it?"

"I have no idea. It was a secret of secrets, known only to myself and my patron Constellation... *Sigh.* Regardless, that is not the main issue right now."

"?"

"Now that the device has been activated, the fortress is completely sealed. For the next three days. No one can leave this place."

Hearing this unexpected revelation, Rowena quickly interjected, "Wait. Did I hear you correctly? There is absolutely no way out?!"

"Yes. Unless you can smash through the outer walls, we are trapped. And with our mana depleted, breaking those walls is out of the question. Unless... hehehe, you want to try stepping through the gate? Though I highly doubt those monsters would allow it!" the host shrieked, a hysterical, half-mad grin spreading across his face.

Detecting the blatant sarcasm in his tone, Ailyn raised her voice. "Hey, old man! Is that any way to speak to the people who just saved your life? Watch your mouth!"

"Bwahaha! Everything is ruined, so what do you expect me to say?! The fortress is lost, the buyers are all dead, which means the auction is finished! All I have left are the few items I managed to grab! What do you want from me?!" This time, the host did not back down.

The treasures that had filled the fortress had been seized by otherworldly monsters in the blink of an eye. All that remained in his possession were a few items he had desperately grabbed while fleeing: the Elven and beastman slaves he had dragged along by their leashes, and a handful of jewelry. While still a considerable fortune, it was far from enough to appease the powerful factions of the deceased buyers, who would undoubtedly seek bloody vengeance. Facing a grim and ruinous future, the host continued to shout, and Ailyn yelled back with equal fervor. Amidst the chaos, the beastmen knelt on the cold floor, whispering prayers, while the Elves darted their eyes around, desperately plotting an escape. It was a scene of absolute, unmitigated chaos in the depths of the fortress. Charlie felt a heavy darkness close in on him. His Hero's intuition whispered a chilling warning: the next three days would be far more grueling than any trial he had faced in his entire life. And that intuition was entirely correct.