Mountain City Varkuntol
Marcus couldn’t make sense of Rombel’s last words.
“Rombel. What exactly do you mean by that?”
“Have you ever heard of the Silent Knight?”
“...”
It was only a short time ago that Marcus had first learned about the Silent Knight.
When they first encountered the wolf-type demonic beasts, Marcus had simply thought Elbridge fought with unnatural skill. But when the crow-type beasts appeared, the level Elbridge displayed was on an entirely different plane. In that fight, Marcus became convinced the man was no ordinary mercenary.
That conviction had led to one nagging question.
Why would someone with that kind of ability stay in an order no one’s ever heard of? Even working as a regular mercenary would be better than this…
Planning to tell him to quit the strange holy-knight business and become a proper mercenary instead, Marcus had quietly gathered information about both Elbridge and the Rusty Shield Order.
His methods were hardly sophisticated. He simply bought beers for mercenaries he knew and casually steered the conversation in the right direction.
His efforts had not been wasted.
“The Rusty Shield Order? You don’t know that fairy tale? The one about the Silent Knight.”
“Never heard it.”
Marcus’s childhood had been bleak. No one had ever sat at his bedside telling old stories, so the name had never reached his ears.
“Ignorant bastard. There’s a children’s tale about a holy knight who sealed the demons. The order in that story is the Rusty Shield Order. The knight’s name was El… damn, what was it again?”
“Elbridge?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Elbridge.”
Later, at the Grand Festival tournament, Marcus had heard that Elbridge was said to be a descendant of that very Silent Knight. It had all made sense then. Ah, bloodline really is a thing. No wonder he fights like that. He had accepted the explanation and moved on.
But now Rombel was suggesting an entirely different possibility—that Elbridge might not be a descendant at all.
Marcus found the idea almost impossible to swallow.
Was it because he couldn’t believe a human from centuries ago—neither dwarf nor elf—could still be alive?
That was certainly part of it.
But the real reason ran deeper. Marcus simply could not believe that someone so extraordinary would choose to stand beside a worthless mercenary like himself.
“That… that doesn’t make any sense.”
Rombel didn’t argue the point.
“You’re right. It sounds insane. Truth be told, when I ran into the kid at the Magic Tower, I thought I was hallucinating.”
“Yeah. I’m not buying it. Do you have any idea how many people have tried to fool me over the years? I’m not falling for it…”
Yet as Rombel continued, several of Marcus’s lingering questions found answers.
Why Elbridge’s skill felt so alien and overwhelming.
Why he treated everyone else with formal courtesy but spoke to Rombel—the oldest among them—like an old drinking buddy.
And why the God of the Sunshower would bother sending an oracle to a lowly mercenary, ordering him to stay close to this man.
Rombel grunted. “Believe it or don’t. Doesn’t matter to me. The only thing that matters is whether Elbridge can actually do the job. Hey, Elbridge. Can you handle it? If it’s impossible, I’ll think of something else.”
“Give me a moment. I need to think.”
Elbridge lowered his head and fell silent. The calm, almost serene way he considered the request sent a chill down Marcus’s spine.
Any other holy knight would have immediately declared the task impossible. The very fact that he was seriously contemplating it served as living proof that the legends were true.
Marcus gazed at him with something close to reverence.
What grand, heroic battle must be unfolding inside his head right now…
The truth, however, was rather more mundane.
While pretending to ponder, Elbridge was quietly offering a prayer in a voice only he could hear.
“Goddess. May I borrow your authority?”
The Rusty Shield Order now had roughly a thousand believers. They still held no seats in the assembly, but the situation was far better than when Elbridge had been the sole follower.
Whether that was enough for the Goddess to grant her power, however, remained uncertain.
Elbridge. Thy Goddess has preserved what little power remained for this very moment. Even the scraps left over from two hundred years ago, I have carefully hoarded them all…
Elbridge felt a faint twinge of suspicion. For someone who claimed to have “carefully hoarded” her power, she had certainly sent down quite a few frivolous oracles lately.
“Goddess. Didn’t you tell me last time that even delivering an oracle requires power?”
Elbridge. That could not be helped. For nearly two centuries thy Goddess could neither look upon the mortal realm nor deliver oracles. I endured such terrible boredom and loneliness, you see…
“...”
The important thing is that thy Goddess can still bestow a small measure of power upon her paladin. Elbridge. What authority do you desire?
There were many authorities the Goddess could grant.
But only one was needed now.
“The authority of Blockade.”
It can be granted. Yet the situation is far from ideal, so I can only bestow the authority itself. How long it lasts will depend entirely upon you, Elbridge.
“I understand. Thank you, Goddess.”
Having finished his silent conversation, Elbridge raised his head and answered Rombel.
“It’s possible.”
The reverence in Marcus’s eyes grew even deeper.
*
Even so, three people could not possibly open the colossal iron gate.
Elbridge’s party went straight to Mayor Baldrek. Rombel took the lead and explained the plan.
The moment he heard it, the mayor turned deathly pale.
“You wish to open the iron gate?”
“That’s right.”
“Absolutely not. That is completely out of the question.”
“Didn’t you say we could ask for anything we needed?”
“I never imagined you would ask for that. This concerns the lives of every dwarf living in this city. Besides… even if something goes wrong, we have no way to close the gate again.”
It wasn’t that Elbridge and Rombel couldn’t understand the mayor’s terror. They themselves knew how dangerous the plan was. If he had agreed easily, that would have been suspicious.
“If you’re so opposed, you must have a better alternative. Some clever scheme, perhaps?”
“Wouldn’t it be better to use the side gate and have the three of you cross over?”
“We don’t have that kind of time.”
“Then please wait a little longer. Just as you came to our mountain city, others who wish to help may yet arrive. The iron gate still stands firm.”
Rombel hesitated.
After all, he had been the one who sent the volunteers away. The dwarves of Varkuntol didn’t know that, of course…
No. If I hadn’t sent those fools back, our group would never have gotten inside. Elbridge and I will be far more useful than all of them combined. I have nothing to feel guilty about.
While Rombel muttered excuses to himself, Elbridge asked the mayor another question.
“Mayor. How long can the iron gate hold?”
“At the very least, three months. At most, over a year.”
“Are you certain?”
“If you had seen the thickness of the gate, you would surely agree with me.”
“Understood. Nevertheless, prepare for the worst. Gather everyone who can fight and begin building defenses immediately.”
“I will. As soon as urgent matters are settled—”
“This is the most urgent matter. Set everything else aside and begin today. Right now.”
“...Understood.”
After leaving the mayor’s office, Elbridge spoke quietly as they walked.
“It won’t last ten days.”
Marcus glanced at him. “Why do you say that?”
“Places that claim they can hold for three months usually fall within five days. Places that boast they can last a year rarely survive more than ten.”
In Elbridge’s long experience, things rarely went according to plan once demonic beasts or actual demons became involved.
He expected the same this time.
*
Great cities are always noisy, but the clamor of Varkuntol was louder than most.
Part of it was the city’s sheer scale, but the main reason was that the sounds bounced endlessly off the surrounding cliffs. Noise that keeps reflecting never truly fades.
These past few months had been even louder than usual. On top of the normal din came the constant pounding of demonic beasts against the iron gate and the ceaseless hammering of dwarves building barricades.
Then, without warning, the sound of the beasts striking the gate stopped.
“...”
Normally, noise devours silence.
But on rare occasions, a small silence can swallow an enormous noise instead.
That was exactly what happened now. The sudden cessation of months of racket caused every dwarf working on the barricades to freeze and stare at the gate.
The deepened silence spread across all of Varkuntol. The vast space itself seemed to hold its breath.
What’s going on?
At that exact moment, Marcus was climbing the stairs to check beyond the side gate.
He hurried to the top and looked out.
The first thing he saw was the distortion-type beast.
Until now it had stayed far in the distance, as far from the gate as possible.
Now it had drawn close. Meanwhile, the other beasts had stopped hammering the gate and retreated.
Marcus understood instantly.
This was the moment Elbridge had predicted—the moment the gate would fall.
The distortion beast’s maw opened far wider than before. In the past, that sight had always preceded it vomiting up new beasts, but the malice radiating from it now felt entirely different.
A massive black arm burst from the beast’s throat. The limb writhed as though made of dark flame.
Dear gods…
Marcus had never seen anything like it.
Yet instinct told him at once: that arm did not belong to any demonic beast.
It’s a demon’s arm.
The demon’s arm, now emerged nearly to the shoulder, thrashed about. An unlucky reinforced-type beast was snatched up in its grip.
The insectoid beast, its entire body covered in thick carapace, let out a hideous shriek and thrashed violently, sensing its doom. But it could not escape the demon’s grasp.
The next instant, the demon hurled the creature at the iron gate.
BOOM—!
The impact was deafening. The demon’s strength was so terrifying that the insectoid beast exploded on contact.
The black arm continued its rampage.
The demonic beasts fled in terror, but the arm simply seized the next one, then the one after that, and flung them at the gate.
BOOM—! BOOM—!
Marcus practically flew down the stairs.
“Demon! It’s a demon!”
The gate itself still held, but the point where it met the rock wall was not nearly as sturdy. Stones around the edges cracked and crumbled, sending debris raining down.
BOOM—! BOOM—!
Marcus realized the truth: the distortion beast—and the demon beyond it—had never been unable to break the gate.
It simply hadn’t bothered to until now.
Elbridge, Rombel, Marcus. The dwarves building barricades.
Every dwarf in Varkuntol now stared at the iron gate.
No one spoke. They simply listened, ears pricked, to the thunderous crashes.
A moment later, Elbridge murmured, “It’s opening.”
The massive iron gate toppled forward in its entirety.
KUUUUUUUUNG—
A cloud of dust exploded upward with the impact.
In exchange for never opening the gate, they had created an even larger breach than if they had simply opened it. Nothing now stood between Varkuntol and Bronzimmar.
Beyond the settling dust, the distortion beast’s silhouette wavered. For a moment they glimpsed a gigantic arm being sucked back into the beast’s maw.
And from the place where the arm had vanished, from within that gaping maw, a pair of enormous eyes appeared.
Pitch-black sclera. At their center, sulfur-yellow irises swept across the dwarves of the mountain city.
In that instant, a brand was seared onto every dwarf’s forehead.
“Huh…?”
To the dwarves, it felt like a verdict. A death sentence—and a declaration that their souls would be devoured by the demon.
Terror swallowed Varkuntol whole.
Having completed its task, the distortion beast smiled with an incomplete, half-formed face and slowly withdrew.
While the dust still hung thick in the air, several beasts burst through the fallen gate.
In a city drowning in fear, only two people remained unbowed.
Elbridge leapt forward, sword flashing. One of the beasts that had charged into the city had its belly torn open and tumbled across the ground.
Rombel clicked his tongue. “Told you it’d be better to just open the damn gate, but nobody listens… Elbridge. I’m counting on you.”
Elbridge gave a small nod and stepped up onto the fallen gate.
He now stood alone, blocking the path of countless beasts.
Behind him rose the screams of dwarves. The beasts that had slipped past were already hunting.
Yet Elbridge knew that worrying about his back would only make the situation worse.
So he kept his eyes fixed forward, staring at the horde that had not yet crossed over, and spoke.
“Marcus. Go after the beasts that have already entered the city and deal with them.”
“R-right!”
Elbridge set his shield on the ground and laid his sword across both palms.
He whispered softly.
“Goddess. Grant me the authority of Blockade.”
The paladin’s prayer reached the high heavens.
Marcus ran through the city, thinking furiously.
Deal with the beasts? Me? Can a worthless mercenary like me actually do that?
He didn’t know. He had no confidence he could succeed.
In truth, he thought it was impossible. He had faced many beasts on the way here and had never once prevailed.
But he couldn’t run away without even trying. That wasn’t the kind of man Marcus was.
Let’s just do it. If I fail, it’s not my fault. If I die because I’m unlucky… damn it, I’d die anyway. Stop thinking about it.
He chased after the beast that looked the weakest—a creature that resembled a floating clump of dust.
Screams echoed from every direction.
They weren’t screams of people being attacked. They were simply screams of pure terror.
Aside from a few brave dwarves, almost everyone had lost their minds.
Then something strange happened.
Just as an unnatural silence had earlier blanketed Varkuntol, a different kind of silence now fell. The screaming gradually died away.
Marcus looked at the dwarves. They stood motionless, staring at something in awe.
What now?
He turned as well.
And saw a pillar of light.
It was not a blinding radiance. A soft, moonlight-like beam descended upon Elbridge.
Within that pillar, Marcus saw a human silhouette.
A woman wearing armor covered in countless scars, with long golden hair flowing down her back.
In her left hand she held a shield, in her right a sword.
Marcus recognized her instantly.
The Goddess of the Rusty Shield…
He had seen paladins wield divine power many times.
But this was the first time he had ever witnessed a god revealing their form.
In fact, he had never even heard of such a thing happening.
The Goddess of the Rusty Shield spoke, her voice gentle yet resounding throughout the entire mountain city.
To my paladin Elbridge, I bestow the authority of Blockade.
It was only a quiet whisper.
Yet not a single soul in Varkuntol failed to hear it.