The Mountain City of Varkuntol
Among the laws said to have passed in the Heavenly Assembly, if one were to name the single most widely known bill on the surface world, it would undoubtedly be the Prohibition of Revenge Act.
The content of the Prohibition of Revenge Act was straightforward.
It forbade harming believers who had left their order. Thanks to this law, people could freely switch their allegiance from one faith to another.
Yet the Prohibition of Revenge Act contained no clause forbidding harm to those who remained within an order.
Was it because a god harming their own believers was considered just?
Surely not.
Simply put, no god had ever committed such an act, so there had never been a need to regulate it.
The God of the Steel Anvil was the only deity who had slain a warrior of the greatest valor, the deepest devotion, and one who had never turned his back on the order.
Elbridge murmured.
“Goddess. Are the gods of the Heavenly Assembly aware of this fact?”
No one would have known.
“Goddess. Is the God of the Steel Anvil an evil god?”
The Goddess’s voice carried a note of bitterness.
Elbridge. The opposite of an evil god is not a good god, nor is benevolence the standard that separates evil gods from those who are not.
At that moment, Marcus spoke.
“Rombel. Are you saying the God of the Steel Anvil murdered the dwarf warriors?”
Even though the circumstances made it obvious, he still seemed unable to accept the conclusion he himself had reached.
“Almost certain.”
“But why… the greatest warriors of all…”
“Because they had seen too much of the outside world. Because they witnessed believers of different orders living together in harmony. And because they possessed the qualities to become the center of change.”
“But aren’t they the core fighting force of the order?”
“They probably never imagined a situation like this would arise. Or perhaps they believed that even if it did, they could clean up the mess somehow…”
Rombel cut off his explanation with a heavy sigh. Hoooo—
“When the mayor told me a distortion-type demonic beast had reached the late stage, I couldn’t understand how such a thing had happened.”
The danger of a distortion-type demonic beast that had reached the late stage was something every experienced warrior knew well.
That was why the directive had been created: upon discovering a distortion-type demonic beast, eliminate it by any means necessary, immediately.
Fortunately, an early-stage distortion-type was far weaker than the common enhanced-type beasts. It only became troublesome once it entered the middle stage.
Even if discovery came a little late, as long as it was found at all, it could be destroyed before reaching the late stage.
The fact that a distortion-type demonic beast had been allowed to reach the late stage without being culled could only mean one thing: an absence of seasoned, veteran warriors.
Marcus’s voice grew uneasy.
“…Rombel. You said you planned to fight alongside the dwarf warriors.”
“I did.”
“Now that there are no warriors left to help us, shouldn’t we turn back? You said that beast may be less dangerous than a demon, but it’s still comparable to one. If the three of us charge in, we’ll die for sure.”
Yet Rombel flatly rejected the suggestion.
“No. If we retreat now, the God of the Steel Anvil will maintain his influence forever.”
“You want the three of us to fight an unknown number of demonic beasts?”
Rombel did not answer. Sometimes silence itself was affirmation.
Marcus pleaded.
“Rombel. You told me your wish is to bring about the downfall of the God of the Steel Anvil, didn’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“Let’s be blunt. The easiest way to make that wish come true is to run away from here right now.”
Fighting the demonic beasts here would clearly lead to death.
Even if they miraculously survived and won, the gains would be meager: planting a small seed of doubt in the dwarves toward the God of the Steel Anvil, along with some compensation. That was all.
But if they fled, they would live.
In exchange, the mountain city of Varkuntol would be destroyed, yet the God of the Steel Anvil would fall.
How could a god who had lost all his believers maintain his seats in the Heavenly Assembly? Rombel’s dream would undoubtedly come true.
It was an argument that felt almost vicious.
Yet there was nothing incorrect in what Marcus had said.
Furthermore, even if the mountain city of Varkuntol were destroyed in that manner, no one would hold Elbridge’s party responsible.
Leaving the fate of an entire race and city in the hands of three outsiders—wasn’t that the height of irresponsibility?
Elbridge, who had been listening in silence, answered in Rombel’s place.
“That won’t do.”
“Why not? Dying here would be a pointless death!”
Elbridge smiled faintly.
He had seen the shadow of the apprentice holy knights in Marcus’s demeanor.
Apprentice holy knights who opposed battle with cold reason, who begged to retreat for the sake of the greater cause, and who ultimately could not overcome their fear and fled.
Every apprentice holy knight experienced such a moment. Even Marcus, a half-baked holy knight, was no exception.
“If we leave this place, what will become of the dwarves?”
“They’ll die. But if they abandon the city and flee, they might survive.”
“The dwarves didn’t remain here because they were unaware of that possibility.”
“Still, that is their choice to make! Besides, if we fight here claiming to save the dwarves, we’d only be helping the God of the Steel Anvil.”
“Mr. Marcus.”
Marcus took a deep breath and calmed his agitation.
“…Go on.”
“Leading those you hate toward ruin, and helping those who need help. Which do you believe should take priority?”
“…”
“It isn’t a question with a single correct answer. But I have my own.”
After a little time had passed, the atmosphere grew calmer.
Marcus asked.
“So. What are you going to do?”
Despite having looked ready to flee at any moment, Marcus ultimately stayed by Elbridge and Rombel’s side, hesitating.
It probably wasn’t simply because of the oracle from the God of the Fox Rain. After all, Marcus had behaved the same way when he first met Elbridge.
Rombel answered.
“First we need to assess the demonic beasts’ situation.”
“Assess it? If we open the gate leading to Bron… Bronzim? Whatever it’s called, won’t that be the end of us?”
“No. There’s a side door next to the iron gate that leads to Bronzimmar. Follow me.”
Rombel took the lead, and Elbridge and Marcus followed.
As they drew near the massive iron gate, heavy thuds and booming vibrations echoed through the area.
Faint, labored breathing could be heard as well.
“The beasts are trying to smash their way through the iron gate.”
“Rombel. Are you sure this is safe?”
“It won’t break through immediately.”
“Are you certain?”
“Probably.”
“…”
True to his word, beside the enormous iron gate ran a staircase along the cliff face.
Elbridge asked.
“Why does this staircase even exist? It doesn’t even reach the end of the cliff.”
“It was used during the construction of the iron gate connecting Varkuntol and Bronzimmar. There’s an identical staircase on the opposite side. When I was a child, I used to slip through this side door and play on the other side.”
“…And that was fun?”
“Children like high places. It’s only natural.”
The three climbed the staircase to its end.
At the top was the rusty side door Rombel had mentioned. Above it sat a small sliding panel that allowed them to peer at the other side.
Unlike the red-rusted door, the panel slid open smoothly.
It seemed other dwarves had also used this door to observe the far side.
“Let’s see here…”
Rombel looked first.
His assessment was blunt.
“A few more than I expected.”
“Move over.”
Elbridge and Marcus checked together.
A city similar to Varkuntol but much smaller came into view.
So that’s Bronzimmar…
The first thing they saw was several massive demonic beasts slamming their bodies against the iron gate.
Next they spotted other beasts prowling through the city. Just the ones visible numbered at least two or three hundred. Adding those still out of sight, the total was impossible to guess.
The sheer pressure of the numbers was so overwhelming that the last traces of confidence vanished from Marcus’s voice.
“Like I thought… we should run.”
Elbridge gazed at the far end of Bronzimmar.
There stood a single distinctly different beast.
It possessed two arms and two legs like a human and stood upright.
Its skin was snow-white and slender.
Yet it bore no true resemblance to a human. Its body proportions were entirely different.
Its legs were roughly the length of a normal human’s, but its torso was longer than an average person’s full height, and its arms were more than three times the length of its torso.
Short legs, long arms.
The arms naturally dragged along the ground, and they looked perfectly suited to be whipped about like lashes.
Finally, the head.
On a featureless white face lacking eyes, nose, or ears, there was only an enormous maw.
That maw was not meant for taking things in, but for spitting them out.
It had just vomited up another demonic creature.
“Sir Elbridge. Is that the distortion-type?”
“It is.”
Elbridge and Marcus closed the sliding panel.
The three began their modest council.
Marcus spoke first.
“There’s no chance of victory. We should run.”
Rombel replied.
“Why? What’s the problem?”
“Did you not see how many demonic beasts there are? Never mind the distortion-type or whatever it is—there’s no way to break through.”
Rombel gave a low chuckle.
“There’s no need to break through. No matter how many beasts there are, Elbridge will handle them. The important question is whether I can sever the distortion-type’s head while he holds the rest at bay. If I slip through the side door amid the chaos and eliminate the leader, we succeed.”
“Excuse me?”
Marcus could not comprehend Rombel’s words.
Giving him every possible benefit of the doubt, he could understand Rombel claiming he would face the distortion-type alone. After all, Marcus had witnessed Elbridge hunting the crow beasts.
The odds might be slim, but there was at least a possibility.
The real problem was Elbridge’s part.
Had the gate connecting Varkuntol and Bronzimmar been narrow, he might have been able to hold them off one by one and buy time.
But the iron gate was wide enough for several carts to pass through simultaneously. It was not a situation where one man could stand like a gatekeeper relying solely on personal strength.
“How exactly is Sir Elbridge supposed to hold back all those beasts? That’s impossible. No matter how skilled he is, there’s a limit.”
As Marcus spoke, he looked to Elbridge.
But Elbridge was lost in thought.
Does he truly believe such a plan could work?
At that moment, Rombel spoke to Marcus.
“Marcus. You probably don’t know what role the holy knights of the Rusty Shield Order fulfilled two hundred years ago.”
“Of course I don’t. I only heard the name Rusty Shield Order for the first time this spring.”
“Unlike other orders, the Rusty Shield Order was charged with only two missions. The powers granted by the Goddess of the Rusty Shield to her holy knights were specialized solely for those two duties.”
“What were they?”
Rombel raised his left index finger.
“First. The moment news arrived that a demon or particularly dangerous demonic beast had appeared, they would immediately rush to the battlefield and hold the line until the other holy knights finished preparations and arrived. That was the first mission.”
“Alone?”
“Not necessarily. They would sometimes go with other holy knights or apprentices from the same order.”
Marcus tried to picture himself and Elbridge leaping beyond the iron gate.
No desirable outcome came to mind. They would be crushed long before any reinforcements arrived.
“…Then what was the second mission?”
Rombel raised another finger.
“When a battle with low odds of victory broke out, they would accompany the holy knights of other orders.”
“That much at least makes sense.”
“And when defeat became certain, they would maintain the escape route for the other forces to withdraw before escaping themselves.”
“…”
In short, two things.
Rush into a battlefield where no one waited. Remain on a battlefield everyone else had abandoned.
The words sounded noble, but in truth it was…
“Rombel. Do demonic beasts or demons take prisoners?”
“Never seen it happen.”
“Then it’s just suicide.”
Marcus recalled what the Goddess of the Rusty Shield symbolized.
Devotion and sacrifice. Hidden honor. And never retreating.
The most common symbols of combat orders were victory and glory.
Yet the Goddess of the Rusty Shield and her order symbolized neither victory nor glory.
“You’re not wrong. In reality, the survival rate of Rusty Shield holy knights was exceptionally low. Still, there were those who survived more than once.”
Marcus glanced at Elbridge.
Since Rombel was spouting nonsense, surely the man himself should say something.
But Elbridge’s eyes looked dreamy, as if he were half-asleep.
In the end, Marcus spoke for him.
“That may have been true in those days. But that’s… something only people from that era could do.”
“True enough.”
Rombel smiled faintly.
“Which is why I’m leaving it to Elbridge.”