Chapter 236: Escape (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 236: Escape (3)
About a week had passed since then. Alon’s party had raided three more ritual sites, successfully rescuing everyone held there.
“Is our next move to head east?”
“That’s right. It would be best to increase our numbers as much as possible while we move.”
Rangban added that their current numbers were already more than enough to attempt the breakthrough. He looked relieved, yet a flicker of doubt crossed his face.
“Still, while the situation is certainly in our favor, something feels a bit off.”
“Are you talking about the ritual sites?”
“Yes.”
Alon nodded. He had been harboring similar thoughts lately.
“...It is strange that there’s been no movement from them at all.”
Over the past three weeks, Alon had raided eight ritual sites and rescued a significant number of people. Yet, despite such radical activity, he had faced no notable interference or retaliation.
“Should we consider the possibility that they’re aiming for something else?”
Penia spoke up after a moment of contemplation. Beside her, Line remained silent, stroking her chin. Rangban shook his head as he watched them.
“I’m not sure. There are dozens of ritual sites, and the territory they’ve seized is vast, so their response might just be slow. But this level of inaction is bizarre. More importantly—”
Rangban recalled the ritual site they had raided previously.
“They clearly seemed to know we were hitting other sites, yet there were no reinforcements. It’s suspicious.”
As Rangban trailed off, lost in thought, Alon asked, “Is there something specific bothering you?”
“I might be looking at this too optimistically, but it could be because of the front lines.”
“The front lines?”
“According to a soldier we rescued from this last site—one who was brought in two months ago—the clashes at the front are more intense than they’ve ever been.”
“So they don’t have the manpower to spare for this area?”
“Yes. It’s a very optimistic take, but it’s not outside the realm of possibility.”
Rangban added that the situation at the front didn't seem particularly good for their side, either. They exchanged a few more opinions before Alon spoke again.
“...Well, whatever the case, the core of the situation hasn't changed. We’ll proceed with the plan as intended.”
“Understood.”
With Alon’s word, the meeting concluded.
“I’ll take my leave as well.”
Line was the first to stand after Rangban exited. She had seemed deeply preoccupied with something lately, and she quietly slipped away.
Watching her go, Alon let out a soft sigh and turned his gaze inward, contemplating Kalanon’s divinity. Contrary to his worries when they first began raiding the ritual sites, his divinity was replenishing itself steadily, just as it always did.
This struck Alon as peculiar.
Specifically, the recovery of the divinity itself.
Initially, Alon hadn't questioned the recovery because he hadn't realized he was in the past. But now that he knew this was the past, it was undeniably strange. It was one thing for the divinity he brought with him to be stored, but for it to recover was another matter entirely.
‘...What is the reason?’
As Alon brooded, Penia spoke to him.
“Marquis, by the way, are you still working on that experiment you mentioned?”
Alon nodded.
“...I’m trying. However, the consumption of divinity is so massive that I haven't been able to utilize it properly yet.”
Alon and Penia were discussing Transformation. Or, to be more precise, the magic they had originally been researching.
After all, Transformation—Thunder God Form—was merely a byproduct of their research, a stroke of luck. The magic they were actually aiming for was still in the experimental phase.
“I think optimization is the key. How about trying it this way? I’ve noticed a few things while watching you lately.”
They remained in the meeting room for a while, discussing magic.
“I’d love to test it out right now, but I need to conserve as much strength as possible, so let’s leave it at this for today.”
“Alright. I’ll head out then.”
As they finished, Alon’s gaze fell on the book in Penia’s hand.
“...A book?”
“Yes. I found it in an abandoned house we passed during the move. It’s a grimoire. It’s hard to read because it’s in an ancient language, but the content is quite fascinating.”
Penia seemed eager to get back to her reading. “Well then, I’ll be going...!” she chirped, disappearing as nimbly as a squirrel.
Alon watched her go and then began to walk.
“Ryanga.”
“Ah, Boss.”
He soon found Ryanga sitting in a corner of the cave, staring blankly into space. The moment she saw Alon, a faint smile touched her usually expressionless face.
“Were you thinking about Dharma?”
“...Was it that obvious?”
“Yes.”
She seemed much more comfortable talking now, no longer hesitating as she once had. Ryanga gave an awkward laugh and then shook her head vigorously.
“Still, I’m sure everyone is alive. We Ghost Tribe people don’t die that easily.”
Alon felt a pang of sympathy at Ryanga’s effort to appear cheerful. Her mood had been dark for the past week because of him.
...More accurately, it was because of the information Alon had relayed to her, gathered from the prisoners rescued at the last ritual site. He had told her that Dharma, her village, had been invaded by Baarma’s forces multiple times as the front lines shifted daily.
“Ahem—and like I told you, Boss, we have hideouts like this one. If they’re all hiding there, they’ll be fine. Or maybe they escaped.”
Alon recalled when he first told her about Dharma. Even then, instead of despair, Ryanga had nodded with a face full of firm belief.
She didn't look like a child at all.
...And yet, it was a faith that only a child could possess.
Alon looked at Ryanga’s slightly trembling hands. Many words of comfort came to mind, but he didn't voice them.
Line, Penia, and Alon all felt it. In this ashen world, countless tragedies were born every day, and despair ran rampant. He knew that the hollow platitudes he instinctively wanted to offer might only end up hurting the child even more.
“Come talk to me often,” Alon said simply, patting Ryanga on the head.
“Okay, Boss!”
Ryanga nodded, her face looking a bit brighter, though the shadows hadn't completely vanished.
Alon suddenly found himself curious about something.
“There’s one thing I’ve wanted to ask.”
“Huh? What is it?”
“Why do you call me 'Boss'?”
It was the title. She had started calling him that a while ago.
“Well... because you’re leading us?”
“That’s true, but...”
“Then you’re the Boss!”
“...Is that how it works?”
“Is it weird? If you’re leading all of us, you’re the Boss.”
It was strange logic, but it fit in its own way. As Alon fell into thought, someone approached, letting out a forced cough as if wanting to be noticed.
“Ahem—”
“Ah, you were here?”
Alon turned his head to see a young girl walking toward them naturally, as if the coughing from a moment ago had been a lie.
Two horns peeked out from her blonde hair. The girl, her pink reptilian eyes gleaming, had her tail wrapped around her waist.
“O Great One, I have specially brought you dinner.”
She proudly held out a sweet potato.
Dinner had already ended a while ago. Though puzzled, Alon reached out to take the sweet potato—
“Here, Boss—”
“Ack—!”
Ryanga snatched the sweet potato and shoved it into Alon’s hand.
“Y-you brat! What do you think you’re doing?!”
“What? I just handed it to him!”
“I was the one who was going to give it to him!”
Alon spoke to the girl, who was jumping up and down in indignation.
“Thank you, Arkul—...kul...”
“Arculainisis!”
“Right, Ar.”
“No—!”
The girl wailed, “It’s Arculainisis!” She let out a frustrated groan and turned her back on them.
“Wow, she’s sulking again. What a crybaby.”
“I am not!”
“You’re sulking.”
“I said I’m not!”
Watching Arculainisis—no, Ar—shout back at Ryanga’s teasing, Alon felt a faint smile form inwardly.
‘She seems to have recovered quite a bit.’
Ar was a Dragonkin girl Alon had rescued after saving Nangwon. From what he heard, she was a Half-Dragon carrying the blood of a Black Dragon.
‘The problem is she’s still too young to be of much help.’
Alon had held some hope when he first rescued her. She had been bound in chains from head to toe as if she were a dangerous individual, so he believed she would be a great asset.
However, contrary to his expectations, she wasn't much of a fighter, being only eight years old—quite young for a Half-Dragon. In fact, for the first week after her rescue, she had spent the entire day crying, her tail wrapped tightly around Alon’s waist, which had been rather troublesome.
‘...I’m glad she’s found her spirit now, though.’
Alon remembered how she had gradually cheered up after his repeated attempts to comfort her. How hard had he worked, saying all sorts of things to soothe the sobbing girl?
“I’ll have my revenge! Do not underestimate the terror of a Black Dragon!”
“Give it your best shot.”
Watching Ar chatter away, Alon felt a sudden doubt.
‘...Was there ever a Black Dragon named Ar in the original story?’
Dragons were a race that lived for a very long time. That held true even if Ar was only a Half-Dragon. Given her lifespan, she should have appeared in Psychedelia, but he had no memory of her name.
‘Was she originally destined to die?’
If so, it made sense why she didn't appear in the novel. But his thoughts continued to spiral.
‘How would Ryanga or Nangwon have escaped if I hadn't saved them? Nangwon aside, Ryanga was in a truly dire situation.’
Alon recalled the moment he saved Ryanga. By his judgment, she would have died if he hadn't intervened. After a moment of thought, Alon eventually pushed those questions aside.
Whatever the case, that wasn't what mattered right now.
“...I hope everything goes according to plan.”
Alon muttered quietly, recalling his conversation with Rangban.
* * *
The next day.
Alon officially began leading the people he had rescued toward the East. Along the way, they raided two more ritual sites as planned, saving even more captives.
The situation was better than the party had anticipated. On their way east, they encountered no combat other than the two raids, and they rescued a large number of Allied soldiers from the final ritual site.
Unlike the ashen sky that had been casting a gloom over the world for dozens of days, Alon’s group was moving forward smoothly, their numbers growing. It felt as though they might even be able to break through the enemy’s encirclement at the front without much trouble.
Things were going so well that it started to feel unsettling.
“Heh—welcome.”
And Alon’s intuition was, as always, spot on.
“P-prepare for battle!”
“Front line, move up!”
Alon frowned slightly as he looked around. They were currently at the southeastern edge of the border region, where fierce battles were still raging. Unlike the open plains, this area was a canyon. Normally, Baarma’s believers should have been further inside, past the end of this gorge.
“...I knew something felt wrong.”
“....”
Penia let out a low groan, and Line remained silent.
“Damn it... two Apostles—”
Alon looked ahead as he heard Rangban’s cursed whisper. The canyon was filled with believers.
That wasn't all. Believers were emerging from the top of the canyon and from the caves carved into its walls.
■■■■■—!!
Monsters with bizarrely long limbs let out grotesque screeches, crawling up the cliffs while dripping saliva.
“T-the believers—”
“Even the parasites—”
The laments of the people reached Alon’s ears. Voices filled with despair and grief began to spread like a contagion.
...And above all, the reason Alon realized the situation was dire was—
“Line.”
“Godfather, I’m sorry.”
At some point, creepy red vines had already begun blocking Line’s attacks. These vines looked like throbbing red blood vessels, similar to the ones they had seen when facing Greed. The moment they appeared, Line’s Golden Tube was completely halted.
All because of the Apostle standing before them.
“My, my—I’ve been waiting for you with bated breath. This was certainly worth the wait.”
As Alon glared at him, the man who had been snickering stepped forward. He had strange black horns growing from his head and wore black cultist robes. The man, who looked strangely familiar, bowed with an elegant gesture.
“First, let me express my gratitude. I am Rumurpa, the Second Apostle of Lord Baarma.”
An unexpected word came from the man’s mouth.
“Gratitude?”
Rumurpa smirked and tilted his head.
“For coming all this way exactly as we guided you.”
“...Guided?”
“Yes. Did you really think you reached this place because you were so incredibly talented?”
Rumurpa’s smile widened into a crescent, and his voice began to rise.
“Of course not! The fact that you could raid the ritual sites without any interference...”
“The fact that you could rescue the sacrifices without any hindrance...”
“The fact that I ordered my followers to simply fight and martyr themselves while you ran wild—all of it was—”
He raised both arms as if he owned the entire world.
Heh.
His lips twisted into a smirk once more.
“It was me. I ordered it. All to gather you here.”
“...Even at the cost of such absurd casualties?”
“It is a pity that our great Lord Baarma’s followers were sacrificed, but it was unavoidable. All to obtain the faith and souls He desires.”
Alon remained silent. He vaguely understood what the man was saying. He had heard something similar from Kalanon before.
That faith could be gathered in this manner.
‘Ultimately, the essence of faith is emotion. The more intense the emotion, the more faith is offered. In that sense, mass slaughter is a very easy way to gather faith. You just have to trample them cruelly, horribly, and miserably.’
‘...And if you want to gather even more faith, you give them a little bit of hope.’
‘Hope is like fire. It’s warm when you can control it—but if you can’t, it burns everything to ash.’
Recalling Kalanon’s voice, Alon accepted that they had fallen completely into a trap.
“....”
The situation was the worst it could be. The appearance of the believers. Rumurpa’s words. These sudden events spread despair and grief through the crowd. Every single person was swallowed by that atmosphere.
Line’s attacks were blocked by the red vines. Penia had been preparing a large-scale defensive spell, but her face was contorted as she realized how disadvantaged they were. They were already perfect sacrifices.
However, even in this situation, Alon did not falter.
Instead.
“Penia.”
“...Yes, Marquis.”
He decided to prepare his move. The one move he had never stopped working on, even after coming here.