The Evil God's Raid, Part 3

On the first day the fortress was sealed, the Hero allowed himself a sliver of hope.

'The Ring of the ancient Demon King wasn't among the items the host brought.'

The Iron Masks had already obtained the ring. They had achieved their objective here. If so, wouldn't they leave now? Perhaps sealing the fortress was merely a measure to ensure a smooth escape, and they had already crossed back through the Gate to return to the other world they came from.

Clinging to this hope, Charlie stepped outside their gathering point. Ignoring his companions' protests, he ventured alone down to the first floor, where the auction had been held.

The auction items on the dais were gone, vanished without a trace. It appeared they had swept up every single thing of value, even stripping the jewelry from the corpses. Seeing this, Charlie let out an involuntary sigh of relief.

Relief bred courage. Charlie took another step forward, heading toward the damaged wall—toward the private rooms reserved exclusively for those who held first-class tickets.

And as he opened the door to the very first private room—

—Inhale... Exhale... Inhale... Exhale...

Along with a dismal, heavy breathing, an eerie light greeted Charlie.

Eyes characteristic of a wild beast gleamed in the darkness. The light, reflecting off their tapetum lucidum, diffused through the lenses of their gas masks.

The Iron Masks, who had been looting valuables from the private room, turned their gaze. Their predatory, insect-like glare locked onto the Hero.

"…Damn it."

Charlie cursed under his breath. Before the words could fully leave his mouth, a tempest erupted. Red and yellow flashed over the green.

"Aaaaargh!"

The price of his foolhardiness was steep. The Hero lost his left arm. Even that was a stroke of luck; had he lost his right arm, he wouldn't have even been able to escape using the power of the Holy Sword.

The moment he faced those green eyes, Charlie had conjured a barrier with the Holy Sword. He blocked the onslaught with a radiance that was far weaker than before. Seizing a fleeting opening, Charlie spun around and fled.

He leaped down to the first floor, rolling as he hit the ground, and sprinted down into the basement. Blood poured continuously from his severed arm. The blood loss made his vision swim and his mind grow hazy. Using the now-dimmed Holy Sword as a makeshift cane, he finally stumbled back to their gathering point.

"Charlie! W-what happened?!"

"Oh, heavens... Merciful gods..."

The moment he saw his companions' faces, all strength drained from Charlie's body. The Hero collapsed heavily onto the floor.

The next day, Charlie woke to the sound of a heated argument.

"Is that really what's important right now? Look at how badly Charlie is hurt! If we have anything we can use, we should be using it!"

"I am not saying we shouldn't use it. I am merely suggesting we consider a better way to employ it."

"What could possibly be a better use than restoring our strongest fighter?!"

"That is exactly what I am saying we should deliberate! And Lady Ailyn, considering you have been utterly useless in aiding Charlie's recovery, I do not believe you have the right to raise your voice like this."

"Why, you...!"

The voices belonged to Ailyn and Rowena. They were bickering over an ornament-like object held in Rowena's hand. Both were clearly under immense stress, their voices dripping with irritation. If left alone, they looked ready to hurl spells at each other. Charlie forced his body up.

"Ugh..."

As he groaned and leaned against the wall to stand, the two bickering women snapped their heads toward him.

"Charlie! You're awake!"

"Thank goodness... As expected, the power of the Holy Sword forged by Order is truly formidable."

The two women rushed to either side of Charlie, wrapping their arms around his waist to support him. Charlie did not miss the opportunity to ask.

"What's going on? I heard you two shouting."

Ailyn beat Rowena to the punch. Glancing at Charlie's empty left sleeve, she whispered urgently.

"Rowena doesn't want to heal you...! You lost your arm, you must be in agonizing pain!"

Just as she said, Charlie's left arm was still gone. Under normal circumstances, Rowena's divine magic could have regenerated a severed limb in an instant. Her position as a companion to the Hero allowed her to channel an immense amount of divine Authority. However, perhaps due to the lack of mana in the area, the treatment she had administered yesterday had fallen far short. The wound, which had been bleeding continuously, was only crudely scabbed over. It was no longer worsening, but expecting it to improve on its own was wishful thinking. Since this loss severely crippled his combat capabilities, Charlie also desperately wanted to restore his left arm, but...

"Rowena. Is this true?"

Charlie first sought confirmation from Rowena. As if she had been waiting for him to ask, she answered immediately.

"It is true that with this power, I could restore your arm, Charlie. However, with this amount of divine power... we could also establish contact with the outside world."

Rowena held up the necklace in her hand. She explained that her mentor, the Third Cardinal of Order, had bestowed it upon her, infused with his own divine power, to be used only in the direst of emergencies.

"Charlie, you know as well as I do. The enemy is too strong. With our mana depleted, we cannot defeat those monsters. Requesting external aid is the only logical choice right now."

"Rowena! How can you say that when you should be doing everything to support Charlie—"

Charlie held up a hand to stop Ailyn and nodded.

"…Ailyn, I appreciate you looking out for me. But I don't think this is a situation we can overcome with faith alone."

"…Charlie."

"Rowena, please. Use that power to contact Ishara. She should be conducting a mission nearby. The strike of the Holy Bow should be able to reach us even here."

The Eighth Hero, Ishara, who wielded the Holy Bow Drishti. If it was her, a specialist in ultra-long-range snipes, she would be able to project the power of her sacred relic from a distance entirely unaffected by the Gate.

"Understood. I will begin at once."

Following Charlie's instructions, Rowena formed a hand seal. The necklace flared with a golden brilliance, weaving divine magic. It was a remote communication utilizing the very system woven by Order itself. Channeling her master's power, Rowena's eyes momentarily turned a deep blue. As a golden pentagram manifested in her pupils, the distress signal of the Fifth Hero reached the Eighth Hero.

Charlie quickly explained the situation. Iron Masks had emerged from a Gate. They were trapped inside the fortress. They needed her help to escape.

As a fellow Hero, Ishara wasted no time on useless chatter. Quickly rearranging her priorities, she asked for their location. Charlie shared the coordinates of the fortress. Ishara replied immediately.

With that, the connection severed as Rowena's divine power ran dry. However, Charlie's expression had visibly brightened. Feeling hope surge within him once more, the Hero spoke to the two women.

"Ailyn, Rowena. You heard her, right? We make our escape tomorrow at one o'clock."

"Charlie, the fortress's seal will unravel tomorrow anyway. Wouldn't it be better to meet up with Lady Ishara then—"

"As long as the Iron Masks remain, they will just keep the blockade active. All they have to do is trigger it again."

"..."

"I'll rest and recover today, and starting tomorrow morning, I'll carve a path out. Rowena, you support me from behind."

"Understood. May the grace of Order be with you."

"Ailyn. You stay here and protect the people. If you happen to find Haru, bring her along too. When the time comes, escape with everyone."

"What?! No! I'm staying by your side, Charlie!"

"Ailyn. With my arm like this, you're the only one who can protect these people."

"Why do these people even matter?! They're all just criminals and slaves anyway! You are infinitely more important than those elves or beastman mutts!"

"Even saving scum like this will be recognized as a great achievement when we report back. You said you needed to replace your staff, didn't you? Besides—"

Charlie did his best to calm Ailyn down. However, his attempt failed miserably—not because he couldn't convince her, but because ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they were interrupted.

Tap, tap, tap...

A faint clicking of footsteps echoed in the ears of the Hero's party. The sound drew closer. And it wasn't just one person. Dozens of footsteps overlapped.

Soon, from beyond the darkened corridor, a loathsome face revealed itself, illuminated by the torches of the gathering point.

A creature with pitch-black skin and twisted facial features, yet wearing a black cassock below the neck as if it were a devout priest. The very same entity Charlie had faced in front of the Gate. The leader of the Iron Masks.

They had chosen ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this gathering point precisely because it was an ancient dungeon beneath the fortress, a place impossible to navigate without a map. Yet, somehow, this monster had navigated the subterranean labyrinth and tracked Charlie down.

"How did you find this place?!"

Confronted by the monster, the Hero instinctively gripped his Holy Sword. Bracing himself for the thunderous roar that always accompanied the Iron Masks, he conjured a barrier. However, with the Holy Sword's power severely depleted, the barrier he manifested was pitifully small—barely large enough to protect a single person.

In that split second, Charlie's subconscious began to calculate. Who should he protect? Who was the most valuable person here? Who had the highest chance of escaping?

"..."

The barrier enveloped only the Hero's body. Gripping the Holy Sword and raising the shield—both had been purely instinctive actions.

Yet, for some reason, as they stared at the frozen Charlie, no thunder followed. As if mocking the Hero who was solely intent on saving his own skin, the Iron Masks merely let out heavy, muffled breaths through their filters as they surrounded the dungeon.

A momentary silence. Only then did a wave of intense self-loathing wash over Charlie. He couldn't believe what his instincts had just driven him to do.

'I... a Hero... cast a barrier just to save myself, leaving everyone else behind?'

The Hero was horrified. In truth, the Fifth Hero had never faced his own mortality before. In places rich with mana, the Holy Sword provided limitless power; as long as he was willing to endure a bit of fatigue, protecting everyone was easy.

But not here. Confronted by an otherworldly malice that stripped even the Holy Sword of its mana, Charlie felt the cold, genuine sensation of impending death. And the self he encountered on the precipice of death... was incredibly selfish.

'No... That can't be who I am...!'

Desperate to shake off that horrifying realization, Charlie swung his Holy Sword. He thrust the faintly glowing blade toward the Iron Masks.

*Whoosh.*

His full-force strike sliced uselessly through empty air. The loss of his left arm had shattered his balance. The dizziness from blood loss, combined with an environment that suppressed mana recovery, had degraded the mighty Hero's body to a state weaker than an ordinary civilian's.

Charlie's sword was painfully slow. In contrast, the Iron Masks were as energetic as if they had just returned from a restful break.

The disparity was overwhelming, and the Iron Masks knew it. The monsters lowered the rods they had been aiming. They flipped the terrible weapons that spat thunder, gripping them by the barrels. Raising the rods they had used like walking sticks, they brandished them like clubs.

Charlie instantly realized what was about to happen. There was only one thing monsters wielding clubs would do to a defenseless Hero.

His prediction came true with brutal accuracy. A merciless beating rained down upon the weakened Hero.

*Thud! Crack! Thwack!!!*

"Ugh! Argh! Aaagh!!!"

The screams he tried so hard to suppress finally tore through his throat. It was a raw, pathetic wail, entirely unbecoming of a Hero.

Rowena could do nothing as she watched Charlie's miserable state. Having exhausted all her divine power, the priestess could only clasp her hands over her mouth and pray.

She collapsed to her knees. A warm, silent puddle began to spread beneath her.

The leader of the Iron Masks stared at Rowena for a moment. He tilted his head as he studied her face, then reached out toward her eyes, where the golden pentagrams had not yet fully faded.

"Whimper... Hic..."

Rowena wept, paralyzed as she endured his touch. A pale hand, starkly contrasting with his black skin, traced her face. The leader of the Iron Masks paused as if lost in thought, then simply ignored her. Rowena's body collapsed entirely, slumping to the floor.

While Rowena fell apart, Ailyn took a different path. She began chanting a spell, aiming at the monsters assaulting Charlie.

"You filthy bastards!"

Screaming at the top of her lungs, she summoned fire. The prodigy of the Red Tower unleashed her specialty. A fireball large enough to incinerate a dozen men easily materialized. The fireball, conjured by squeezing out every last drop of her remaining mana, was undoubtedly a threat even to the Iron Masks, but...

"Die!!"

*Crash!*

The fireball she unleashed flew in a completely wrong direction, entirely missing the Iron Masks. It slammed into the dungeon wall, leaving a massive, scorched crater as the stone crumbled and collapsed. Naturally, not a single Iron Mask was harmed.

It wasn't just her magic that had gone astray. Charlie realized too late that even the direction of Ailyn's fury was completely warped.

A faint blue mana had gathered before her eyes. The Hero recognized what it was.

'Illusion magic!'

An art that wove illusions to deceive the senses. Because it didn't directly affect the physical world, it consumed very little mana. However, because it could be easily dispelled depending on the target's mana capacity and mental fortitude, standard mages rarely studied it. No matter how brilliant an illusion was, it couldn't save one's life on a real battlefield.

Yet, this very illusion magic—an art ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠looked down upon by most mages—proved to be devastatingly effective in this place where mana was heavily restricted by the Gate.

Toying with the senses of the magic-depleted Ailyn, the Iron Mask muttered.

"Hehehe. Yes, child. So you have learned fire magic."

The Iron Mask who had cast the illusion pulled out a mysterious glass bottle. He hurled the bottle, filled with a sloshing, colorless liquid, straight at Ailyn. Trapped in the illusion, the woman didn't even think to dodge.

With a sharp shatter, the bottle broke. Shards of glass left shallow cuts across Ailyn's skin, and the clear liquid drenched her entire body.

"Now, let us see if you can withstand this old body's flame as well."

A spark flickered from the Iron Mask's fingertip. It was a pitifully small ember, devoid of any discernible mana—a spark too pathetic to even be called fire magic. Yet, the moment that tiny ember touched Ailyn's body, it erupted.

"Aaagh! Aaaaargh!"

Ailyn began to scream as the flames devoured her body.

"F-fire?! It won't go out! Why?! Why?!"

A flame with such weak mana should never have been able to burn Ailyn, who possessed high fire resistance as a fire mage. Yet, the Iron Mask's fire defied all common sense. A faint blue flame devoured Ailyn's crimson hair.

"Aaaaargh!"

Her agonizing screams filled the subterranean chamber. Yet, there was absolutely nothing the Hero could do. He could only scream uselessly as the blows continued to rain down upon his body.

"Damn it! If only I had mana! If only I had my mana, I could have slaughtered you all! Haru! Where is Haru?! Where did that useless slave bitch go?! Why did the shield we bought run off first?!"

Of course, even the Hero's desperate thrashing could not last long.

*Crack!*

An otherworldly club struck the back of Charlie's neck. A sudden, sharp pain flared, and his consciousness snapped. As his vision faded into blackness, the vivid images of Rowena, passed out and soiled, and Ailyn, thrashing wildly in flames, were burned into his mind.

Charlie and the rest of the Hero's party were rescued the following day by Ishara. Except for Haru, who had suddenly reappeared unscathed, the other three were diagnosed with full-body fractures, third-degree burns, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and severe PTSD, respectively.

And so, the historic Bruton Auction came to a close, its treasures plundered and the lives of its attendees harvested by the monsters of another world.