Preparing for the Raid (17)
The moment I heard Alsaetin's report, I bolted for the Academy gates.
Classes could wait. This was no time to sweat the small stuff.
Handing an entire territory over to an evil god? What kind of lunacy was that? It made no sense whatsoever!
The Burrow Duchy was, without question, enormous. It was one of the few ducal houses in the kingdom, which meant the lands under its influence were vast, and the people living on them numbered beyond counting.
If you could swallow every living thing on all of it, sure — you'd gain an incredible amount of power.
But that only held true if you could actually swallow everything.
There were a dozen points where this plan simply fell apart.
For starters, the sheer size of Burrow Territory was a problem in itself.
What kind of magic could possibly cover that much ground? Even if he managed to prepare it without being spotted, the spell would inevitably be riddled with flaws.
The evidence for that piled up endlessly.
Tariki's authority was incomplete. His power was nowhere near what it once was. Burrow was a knightly territory, so magical resources would have been scarce. And above all — there simply wasn't enough time.
It hadn't been that long since Nakrad consumed the entire Burrow household. Even if he'd started preparing this the very moment he did, the time was insufficient.
There are limits to how far you can push people with fanaticism. A sacrificial ritual can never be perfect. If it fired off at all, you'd have to call it a miracle.
And even supposing, by some stroke of luck, the ritual array came together — the problem remained.
How was he planning to hold out between activation and the moment the offering was actually delivered?
The Burrow Duchy was a massive domain. There was no way the Church would fail to notice a black magic ritual firing off at a scale meant to swallow all of it. However good Tariki's authority was at concealment, it had limits.
Especially now, with his power incomplete.
The neighboring territories. The nation. The Church. They would all come to smash Tariki to paste. The ritual could never be completed.
...
But let's say — just hypothetically.
Let's say that against one-in-a-million odds, the sacrificial ritual unfolded without a hitch.
Let's say he somehow weathered the crusade movement and successfully offered Burrow Territory to Tariki.
Would Tariki actually be able to beat back the ones who came to slay him?
Ha. Not a chance.
A sacrifice is, in the end, energy. Fuel. Just as even a mountain of food can only be eaten so fast, no matter how countless the offerings, there's a limit to how much power you can draw from them.
Tariki right now was, to put it in perspective, like a man who'd spent ages face-down in the dirt, surviving on dripping ceiling water and whatever bugs crawled past his mouth.
It didn't matter what a monstrous appetite he'd had in the old days. Serve a starving man a royal feast after years without a proper meal, and how much can he really put away?
I was certain of it. Even if the ritual completed, the revived Tariki would be pathetically weak compared to his prime.
A Tariki in that state wouldn't paint the skies black. He'd simply add one more line to the war records of the heroes who came to slay him, and fade away.
How can I be so sure? Because I'd seen Tariki's desperate, half-baked resurrection with my own eyes. And I'd personally finished off that pitiful shell of a thing — so weakened it was almost funny next to his completed form.
That was why I'd assumed there had to be some kind of mistake.
No matter how I turned it over, this was suicide. If you bet your life on a gamble that was guaranteed to fail, what else would you call it?
Oh, so maybe he noticed I'd uncovered the Burrow family's hidden secret and started moving to deal with him? Is that it?
Nope. Not at all. He might feel pressed for time, but there was zero reason to do something this deranged. In the process of consuming the Burrow household, he would have recovered more than enough power — the sensible move was to be satisfied with that and retreat. Why gamble his own neck on a bet destined to lose?
In fact, that was exactly how Tariki behaved in the game. He'd walk away, precisely because he knew humanity would tear itself apart fighting over his absence and suffer worse damage than anything he could inflict while present.
"That concludes the report passed down from my master. The Apostle of Beauty and Art witnessed it firsthand, and my master verified it through several priests — there will be no errors."
And yet the Tariki of this world was remarkably different from the one I knew.
He was actually preparing to devour Burrow Territory.
I wanted to deny it. I desperately wanted to!
But every single piece of information laid out in front of me pointed so precisely toward one single fact that denial was impossible!
Dammit, Karia! You are terrifyingly good at your job!
How did you even manage to slip agents in among the evil god's priests?! And you're telling me this is with most of your strength gone? What the hell were you like in your prime?!
"What will you do?"
Alsaetin's question pulled me out of my spiral.
He was straining to keep his face composed, and the act was competent enough. The me of before I unlocked Weakness Perception would never have caught it.
But I was no longer that me. Now, I could see it. The anxiety he didn't want discovered. The worry for his master.
The moment I registered those emotions, the tangled thoughts crowding my head fell quiet, and calm settled in their place.
"Mm."
I let out a long breath and closed my eyes.
As long as every scrap of information pointed to this ritual being real, it was fact that Tariki intended to commit an act of sheer madness.
Which meant pointing out how insane the plan was accomplished absolutely nothing.
So let's flip the question around.
What could possibly force him to commit such madness?
What was he after? Recovering his strength? No. If that were the goal, he had far better options.
Hatred of the Burrow family? He doesn't have any.
Nakrad acting on his own? Also no. The Bluffing Beanpole's competence is one thing, but his loyalty is the real deal.
Then what? Seriously, what?
Just as the feeling of sinking deeper into a maze made my head start to swim, Halbae heaved a sigh.
<Haa. How is it that whenever it isn't about dungeons, your brain turns to stone?>
'...Huh? Grandpa, did I say something?'
I didn't say anything out loud to Halbae, did I? I was just thinking!
'Then give me a heads-up first!'
Why are you just lurking there eavesdropping?! You're supposed to respect a person's privacy! Like a proper elder!
'Really?'
<What other reason could there possibly be?>
'No, but... after what the skeleton said a while back, I have my suspicions.'
<How many times must I say it — my tastes do not run to bratty little whelps like you! ...Anyway! Why can you stand right in front of the answer and fail to reach for it?!>
Right in front of the answer? What's that supposed to mean?
<Let me ask you this. When does a person throw away their own life for something?>
'To protect something precious?'
<...Close. More precisely — when something more important than their own life is on the line.>
Something more important than his own life. If it was Tariki. The Evil God of Darkness. A creature sealed in the wake of his defeat, brewing hatred for untold ages...
'Revenge against the Chief God.'
There was exactly one thing he'd gamble his very existence to accomplish.
<Good. Then what must he do to take his revenge?>
'Destroy the world?'
<Why do you believe he would do that?>
'Well, because this world is the thing most precious to the Chief Go—'
The thing most precious. The thing He cherishes. The thing He watches over, keeps His eyes on, day after day.
Back when the useless Chief God barely involved herself in this world at all, that target could only have stayed abstract.
But not anymore.
Because now there was me.
The Apostle of Armadi.
<Yes. You, girl.>
'...No, but. Wait. That has nothing to do with me, does it?'
Sure, I had to head to the Burrow household anyway because of the quest.
But Tariki knows nothing about the quest.
Worst case, he could do whatever he wanted in Burrow Territory and I could just ignore it. What would he even do then? Throw his tantrum alone and quietly extinguish himself, that's what.
If he's targeting me, he's doing a laughably clumsy job of it.
<And that is why you can simply ignore it?>
'...I'm sorry, what?'
<Can you turn a blind eye to the countless lives your indifference would cost?>
'...'
<Since you cannot answer, let me ask something else. Can you bear it — Burrow Territory burning — because you dragged other factions into it?>
'...No.'
I couldn't. I wasn't built that strong.
I could barely carry the weight of a single life. Pile countless more on top of that, and I would break for certain.
<Then let us return to the beginning. Is this matter truly none of your concern?>
'...No.'
I had no rebuttal. As long as I was me, there was no way I could ever look away from what happened in the Burrow household.
<That is how it stands. And you have been sprinkling clues everywhere you go, so rest assured he knows it too.>
Once I faced reality, my heart sank.
Ugh. Dammit. Now there was no walking away from it at all.
Because if Tariki carried this out and people died, then my negligence would be part of the blame.
<Make no mistake — the enemy is digging a trap with you as the quarry. If you go, danger and hardship beyond counting will follow.>
Of course they would. When you know your enemy is coming, what possible reason is there not to prepare for him?
Oh. Is that why he took over the Trial Dungeon?
To learn how I clear dungeons?
And to build a dungeon, using that intel, designed specifically to hunt me down and kill me?
All that stuff I wrote off as him singling me out for unfair treatment — that was reconnaissance?!
<My counsel remains the same as last time.>
Halbae told me.
Learn when to accept sacrifice.
Don't stake your life on every single battle.
Call for reinforcements.
Same as before.
But this time, there was one new thing in what he said.
<You are my master. So your will must be respected. Let me ask you — what will you do?>
The instant he asked what I was going to do, only one word surfaced in my mind.
'We clear it.'
Clearing it.
A dungeon built just for me.
Built to catch and kill me, me and me alone.
A dungeon custom-tailored to my every habit, sitting right in front of me — and I'm supposed to just walk past it?
The mod creator personally crafted a dungeon for my benefit, and I'm supposed to ignore it?
No way! Absolutely not happening!
<...Haa. Yes. I thought as much. Then, next question. Do you have a plan?>
'You call that a question, Grandpa? It's a dungeon.'
Ha! He wants to counter me? Bring it on! He's nothing but a scrub-tier evil god anyway!
I've cleared this game more times than I can count — I know exactly how starved for creativity that idiot is!
Go ahead and try! I'll make sure he learns the depth of his own stupidity, personally!
<And the plan?>
'He went to the trouble of preparing a present for me. So obviously, I prepare one for him.'
The enemy is lovingly preparing something I'll hate. Naturally, I have to return the favor with something he'll hate.
I'm a sweet, well-mannered person like that.
Think two suns rising in the sky would be enough to make him thrash around in despair?
<...Is that even possible? Without the Chief God's help?>
'It's possible.'
Maybe not back then — but the me of right now has a brand-new skill.
The catch being, I'd have to sell off a little of my dignity.
Okay, fine. A lot of my dignity.