The Red Mountains
The three of them set out for the Red Mountains, the ancestral homeland of Rombel and the fallen dwarf.
The road leading south toward the Red Mountains was smooth and even. Gentle plains and rolling hills stretched on endlessly, broken only by the occasional stretch of woodland.
The weather was fine as well. Late summer. The tall grasses swayed in lush waves, painting a scene of perfect peace.
Of course, peaceful scenery or not, it wouldn’t have been strange for a monster to come leaping out from anywhere. But with Elbridge and Rombel traveling together, such creatures posed no real threat.
Yet the only ones truly at ease were Elbridge and Rombel. Marcus wore the expression of livestock being dragged to the slaughterhouse.
Trudging along, Marcus finally spoke up.
“Mr. Rombel. Demons really exist, then?”
“Marcus, my friend. Don’t tell me you’re the type who doesn’t believe in them?”
“I didn’t at first. But after what happened recently, I’ve started to.”
Rombel crossed his arms and shot back, “Then why ask?”
“Because the thought of actually running into one feels completely unreal. So if we keep heading south like this, we’re really going to meet a demon?”
“That’s right.”
Marcus’s face grew even darker.
“Damn it, I’m going to lose my mind. How the hell did my life end up like this…”
Marcus was a mercenary who would take any job if the pay was right.
But every request had its limits. He was willing to accept work involving monsters, yet he had never intended to take on anything that required facing an actual demon.
So why was he sticking with Elbridge and Rombel?
The answer was simple: the oracle he had received from the God of the Sunshower.
“I’m going crazy. Actually going crazy…”
Having been commanded to follow Elbridge wherever he went, Marcus had only two choices left.
First, obey the oracle, trail after Elbridge, and eventually confront a demon.
Second, reject the oracle and face whatever divine wrath might follow.
Both options were equally terrible, but refusing to choose wasn’t an option.
After long and painful deliberation, Marcus had picked the first. Once a god declared it would keep an eye on you, defying the command simply wasn’t possible.
Still wearing a deathly expression, Marcus shuffled over to Elbridge.
“Mr. Rombel’s heading back to his hometown, so I get that. But Sir Elbridge, aren’t you afraid of demons?”
“Not yet… I’m fine for now.”
“Must be nice to be so relaxed. If the reward for this request isn’t absolutely massive, I might just die of pure resentment.”
Elbridge and Rombel both let out soft chuckles. Marcus’s miserable worrying was less pitiful than it was comical.
Some people were simply born with the soul of a clown.
Rombel said, “Marcus, dream bigger. Who knows? Maybe someday you’ll be called the Mercenary King of this age.”
“The Mercenary King?”
“That’s right. Two hundred years ago there was a man known by that title. He wasn’t a knight or a holy knight, but he still pulled more than his weight in the war against the demons.”
“Is that even possible?”
“I’m only saying it because it is. Marcus, do you know the three factors that determine a warrior’s strength?”
“Magical power, divine authority, and talent, right?”
Magical power referred to both holy energy and mana.
It was the secret behind why holy knights and regular knights could wield strength far beyond ordinary people.
Holy power accumulated through battles against monsters and demons, or through years of devout faith and rigorous training. Mana, on the other hand, could be gathered through the secret arts of the Magic Towers.
Divine authority was the special power granted by each order’s god.
The stronger a deity’s influence, the more authorities they could bestow, though exactly which believer received what was entirely up to the god’s discretion.
Finally, talent simply meant an individual’s personal ability.
Even with insufficient magical power or authority, combat techniques that could turn the tide of battle.
In the past, Elbridge had been above average in all three areas, but the one in which he was considered truly exceptional was talent.
Had he been a holy knight who relied solely on authority and magical power, he might have ended up just as diminished as the others now that he had lost so much of both.
In fact, it wouldn’t have been strange if he had been completely overshadowed by holy knights who still possessed greater reserves of holy power.
“The Mercenary King accumulated an incredible amount of magical power. His talent was considerable too.”
“Hmm.”
“When you really think about it, there’s no reason a mercenary should be inferior to a knight. At the end of the day, a knight is just a mercenary who spent enough money to stockpile magical power, isn’t he?”
“Come on, no matter how you slice it, knights and mercenaries are different.”
“I’m not joking. You could surpass them too, Marcus.”
“I don’t know about that. I don’t even want that kind of life. I’d be perfectly happy living an ordinary, peaceful existence.”
Rombel let out a dry laugh.
“Marcus. Once you’ve drawn a god’s attention, there’s no going back to the way things were. If you want to survive, you’d better start building real strength from now on.”
“It’s not like I can just decide that on my own…”
Elbridge, who had been walking in silence, casually draped his right arm over Marcus’s shoulder.
Then he stretched out his left arm and pointed toward a tree standing some distance away.
“There is a way. Marcus, do you see that tree? The zelkova that’s slightly larger than the ones around it.”
“I see it, but…”
“It’s an individual that has only just begun transforming into a monster.”
Elbridge gave Marcus’s back a couple of light pats.
“Go cut it down.”
“…Just like that?”
“Beginnings are always like this. Off you go!”
Elbridge gave Marcus’s back a firm shove.
Marcus walked forward with a thoroughly intimidated gait.
But as he drew closer, his steps gradually grew more confident. Unlike the monsters he had seen before, this tree looked no different from the ones surrounding it.
It didn’t have an unnatural sheen. There was no face on its trunk.
It was larger than the neighboring trees, but not to any bizarre degree.
This feels like they’re just messing with me.
Marcus straightened his posture in front of the tree.
The base is too thick to cut cleanly with a sword. Slicing through one of the thicker branches should be enough to save face.
He raised his blade toward a branch passing overhead.
The tree remained perfectly still, swaying only lightly in the breeze.
Marcus swung.
Whoosh—
“Huh?”
The sword should have either sliced through the branch or been stopped by it.
Yet he felt no resistance at all.
When he looked up, the branch he had targeted was now curved slightly upward, as though it had pulled back at the last moment to avoid the blade.
A chill raced down Marcus’s spine.
At the same time, something seized his ankle.
Looking down, he saw roots. Thick roots had burst from the ground and wrapped tightly around his leg.
“You—son of a—!”
Marcus desperately hacked downward with his sword.
Thunk. Thunk.
Notches appeared in the roots, but the thick tendrils refused to sever. Cutting through living wood with a sword was no easy task.
Another branch crept up from behind and silently coiled around his arm and torso. Marcus’s face turned deathly pale as he screamed.
“H-Help—!”
At that moment, a short, stocky figure leaped out from behind him. It was Rombel.
Rombel raised the massive double-edged axe he carried on his back and brought it down on the tree’s base in a single, powerful swing.
One strike.
Yet the tree, whose trunk was wider than a man could embrace, was severed cleanly.
The monster tree toppled backward, still clutching Marcus in its branches and roots.
Just as Marcus braced himself for serious injury even if he survived, the crushing pressure around his limbs suddenly vanished.
Crash—
The tree fell. But Marcus was not thrown to the ground with it.
When he turned around, he saw Elbridge standing with sword drawn. The man had skillfully severed only the branches and roots, leaving Marcus completely unharmed.
Elbridge clicked his tongue.
“No wonder you approached so carelessly. I figured this would happen.”
“…”
Marcus’s ears burned crimson with embarrassment.
To think that after all his years rolling around as a mercenary, he had acted like such an idiot.
I must have let my guard down while curiously watching the monster.
Yet Elbridge did not scold him.
“Beginnings are always like this. You’ll grow used to it soon enough.”
“…Soon enough?”
“We’ll hunt every monster we encounter on our way south. Naturally, you’ll be taking the lead each time, Mr. Marcus.”
Marcus’s face went white as a sheet.
*
Fifteen days later.
Marcus’s clothes were ragged as a defeated soldier’s, and his eyes had sunk deep into their sockets. The journey had been far from easy.
Elbridge’s declaration that they would hunt every monster they found had not been a joke.
Elbridge and Rombel sought out all manner of creatures, and in nearly every encounter, Marcus was forced to take point.
Even so, their journey had not been delayed.
The speed at which they dispatched monsters was incredible, and they had moved relentlessly to shorten their travel time as much as possible. Over the past two weeks Marcus had accumulated a fair amount of holy power, but he was so exhausted he felt ready to collapse at any moment.
If I could just sleep for half a day straight, I’d ask for nothing more.
Unlike Marcus, Elbridge had not grown tired during those two weeks. If anything, his movements had grown lighter and more fluid.
Elbridge moved his body slowly as he pondered.
The rate at which my holy power is recovering exceeds my expectations.
Thanks to hunting monsters without pause, he had regained more than half the holy power he possessed at his peak.
His current condition was incomparably better than it had been two weeks earlier.
So even though the holy power scattered while I was sealed, the vessel that once contained it remained intact.
He still could not say with certainty that he could defeat a demon.
But with Rombel at his side, if their compatibility was favorable there was at least a sliver of hope. And in the worst case, the God of the Sunshower would surely lend assistance.
While Elbridge was lost in thought, Marcus spoke up.
“Mr. Rombel. There’s something I’ve been wondering about.”
“What is it?”
“Why does Sir Elbridge treat you like a friend?”
From Marcus’s perspective, the dynamics of their group were rather strange.
He treated Rombel as a clear superior, while he showed Elbridge respect but spoke to him relatively comfortably. This was largely because Rombel and Elbridge appeared to have a significant age gap.
Yet Elbridge and Rombel treated each other exactly like old friends. The actual difference in their ages had to be two or three hundred years at the very least.
Rombel answered as though he had been expecting the question.
“What other reason could there be? It’s because this young brat has no respect for his elders.”
Without the slightest hesitation, Elbridge kicked Rombel squarely in the rear, then turned to Marcus.
“I simply couldn’t treat him as a superior when he refuses to act his age. You may speak comfortably as well, Mr. Marcus. Aren’t you easily ten years older than I am?”
Rombel rubbed his backside and grumbled, “Just listen to him. His conscience must have exploded. Exploded, I say…”
As they walked and chatted, a sheer cliff suddenly rose before them.
The slope was nearly vertical, the height staggering, and there were no trees or vines along its face to provide handholds.
Marcus leaned back, gazing up at the cliff’s summit. The leaves above were a vivid red.
“So that’s why they call it the Red Mountains.”
Rombel grumbled in reply, “That’s part of it. There are a few other reasons as well.”
“Other reasons?”
“You’ll probably find out soon enough. Just follow me.”
Rombel took the lead, striding forward confidently. Before long, a valley appeared before them.
It looked as though a colossal sword had struck the Red Mountains and split them cleanly in two.
From the shape of it, the gap seemed to offer a passage into the heart of the range.
Yet a powerful stench rose from the valley’s entrance.
The source quickly became apparent. A corpse was rotting at the mouth of the valley.
Had they found the body elsewhere, they might have assumed it was the work of bandits.
But Marcus could tell this man had not been killed by robbers. There were no signs that his belongings had been touched. Moreover, the corpse had been crushed almost beyond recognition.
“Did a beast maul him? No… that doesn’t seem right either…”
When Marcus muttered to himself, Elbridge answered.
“This is one of the reasons the range is called the Red Mountains. It is said that anyone who does not worship the God of Steel and Anvil will die if they attempt to pass through this valley.”
“The God of Steel and Anvil is the one worshiped by dwarves and blacksmiths, isn’t he? Then doesn’t that mean Mr. Marcus and I cannot enter?”
“I was told the god does not harm the guests of his believers, so it should be fine as long as Rombel leads the way. Rombel. What are you waiting for? Take the lead already.”
“Fine, fine. Wait here a moment.”
Rombel rubbed his hands together briskly, took a deep breath, and stepped up to the valley entrance.
“Huuu… All right. Here I go.”
But contrary to what Elbridge and Marcus expected, Rombel did not stride forward boldly.
He advanced slowly, taking tiny, cautious steps.
The moment he drew level with the corpse—
Rumble—!
With a tremendous vibration, the cliffs on both sides rushed together and slammed shut in an instant.
The speed was terrifying.
“…?”
The innocent corpse was pulverized once more. Rombel, as though he had anticipated exactly this, leaped backward and escaped the closing jaws of stone.
He turned to Elbridge and Marcus with a confident grin and raised his thumb.
“How about that? Pretty nimble, right?”
It had indeed been nimble. But that wasn’t the point.
Elbridge shouted in bewilderment, “Rombel. You’re a dwarf, aren’t you? Why did the valley close on you?”
What was even stranger was that Rombel had clearly expected this outcome.
“Mr. Rombel. Don’t tell me you’ve converted to another faith?”
“No. I didn’t convert.”
“Then why…”
Rombel smiled awkwardly.
“The God of the Steel Anvil excommunicated me from the order. Even after two hundred years, that petty bastard still hasn’t forgiven me.”