The Warped Hunting Ground
Time passed, and the mercenaries who had accepted the commission to reclaim the dimensionally warped royal tomb gathered at the appointed place near the capital.
Because too large a force would create problems during the breakthrough, the mercenaries culled their ranks according to the contracts, whittling themselves down to an elite force of two hundred fifty to three hundred.
Among them, the Wolf Mercenary Group was the smallest in number — yet no one dared look down on them lightly.
The members of the Wolf Mercenary Group felt the weight of being the fewest and the weight of every other gaze upon them, but not a trace of intimidation showed on their faces. They took pride in the fact that their two captains had both reached the realm of Master.
With the flow of the age and the advance of technology, Master-rank powerhouses had grown more numerous than in the old days — but that did not mean their value had been cheapened. And with a mage among them, the kind of asset others envied, they had no reason to bow their heads simply because their numbers were small.
"So those are the Wolf Mercenaries."
"Tch. What are Masters doing scraping for coin as mercenaries?"
"Right? Planning to become Mercenary Kings or something?"
Other companies that had intended to crush the Wolf Mercenary Group with sheer presence the moment they met were forced to scrap those plans the instant they learned the captain and vice-captain were both Masters.
In Zelsdad, it had long been said that a Master could stand against a thousand elite soldiers. Of course, military weapons developed by absorbing technology from other worlds had rendered that unit of measure largely meaningless — yet with proper support, a Master still made a decisive difference on the battlefield. If an Origin was a one-man army that could settle everything alone, a Master was a special-operations unit built for missions no ordinary force could handle.
"Heh heh heh. Listen to them whispering."
"They wanted to put us under their boot. Now they can't, so of course they're stewing."
The Wolf mercenaries seemed to sense the mood perfectly. They snickered and savored the atmosphere, already full of hope that once this commission was finished, they too would become a famous major company and rake in even greater coin.
We're about to break into an unknown dimensionally warped zone, and they're this excited? Isn't that a little much?
Watching them, Kaisent fretted over the complete absence of tension — then decided it was still better than a company hanging their heads. Once we step into the warped zone, they'll find their nerves again on their own.
And if they were still giddy after entering a region ruled by an entirely different order of existence, Lillian and Priscilla would issue the warnings themselves.
That aside… magic items…
Kaisent was turning a private problem over in his mind. While Lillian and Priscilla had revealed their Master-rank power and thoroughly dismantled the Coralrez Mercenary Group, Kaisent had been discussing a certain issue with Skynet inside the dimensional warehouse.
It has grown cramped.
"Yeah. It's gotten tight."
Rather than keep a carriage — which cost money for Lillian to maintain and became a mess if the horses died — they had shoved their provisions into Kaisent's dimensional warehouse. That alone would have been fine. The problem was the tamed undead. They could not openly drag those around, so the undead had to be stored in the warehouse as well.
There was still room for now, but as time passed and he dominated more undead, the warehouse would inevitably grow too small. Kaisent asked whether there was a way to expand it.
"Isn't there some method?"
If it were Master, he could enlarge the dimensional warehouse with his own power. Unfortunately, Young Master cannot.
"I figured. That's why I'm asking you, Skynet. Is there any other way?"
Skynet considered something for a moment — 0.0012 seconds — then spoke again.
This dimensional warehouse is expanded and maintained by the permanent energy built into me.
"So if we can increase the scale of that permanent energy, we can expand the warehouse?"
Correct. This world possesses things called magic items. If you provide me with a permanently operating magic item — not a rechargeable one — I will attempt to use its power to enlarge the warehouse.
Only a permanently usable magic item would allow the dimensional warehouse to be stably maintained and expanded.
"Got it. If I find something like that, I'll bring it."
I said that… but those items are all expensive as hell.
He had gone around several magic-item shops asking about permanently usable pieces rather than rechargeable ones. Every permanent magic item was ruinously priced. A piece with only a single enhancement enchantment might be within reach somehow, but something that weak would hardly expand the dimensional warehouse to any meaningful degree.
Still, it wasn't a total waste.
As expected of a national capital, the shops stocked a wide variety of magic scrolls. Knowing he would have to enter the dimensionally warped "unknown place," Kaisent purchased several.
Protective magic of various elemental affinities. Whirlwind, to raze toxic terrain. Mental wards against psychic assault. A magical shell that absorbed enemy spell attacks. Curse Removal, to lift magical curses. Poison Removal, to purge toxins.
The strength of curse- and poison-removal magic scaled with the user's power, but Kaisent was confident that at his current level he could purge most poisons and curses he was likely to encounter.
A dimensionally warped region is unknown space. Better prepare for the worst.
With two Master-rank swordswomen, a battery of offensive spells and techniques, and his undead, their striking power was more than sufficient.
Before long the appointed hour arrived, and the regular army of the Halrot Kingdom made its appearance. The soldiers were armed with firearms; the knights wore full plate and carried distinctive personal weapons. There were also war engines for fire support, and griffin riders.
Ordinarily they could have fielded far greater strength, but their objective was not to conquer the dimensionally warped zone — it was to destroy the Outer God's relic. The longer dimensional warping persisted, the more complicated the situation became. Having resolved to smash the relic as quickly as possible, the kingdom had stripped away every heavy, oversized, cumbersome weapon.
Hm? Who are those people?
Among the royal forces, however, figures of a clearly different nature also appeared — men and women armed with weapons and armor steeped in holy power. Since an Outer God had invaded, the churches that served this world's own gods had apparently sent support as well.
The problem was that while some of them looked clean and radiant, others looked as dark and forbidding as the devotees of Nozgna. And even among themselves, they did not appear to get along.
"So the cults of the evil gods have shown their faces too."
"Tch. Those bastards give me the creeps. Don't like them one bit."
The Wolf Mercenary Group and the other companies recognized the worshippers of the evil gods and muttered in open distaste.
"Still, if this world falls to an Outer God, it stops being someone else's problem for them too. Not much choice."
"As long as this world is held by the gods we serve, they can keep preaching and scheming. If it isn't, none of that matters."
The mercenaries were right. If an Outer God seized dominion over this world, every faith would share the same annihilation. Against Outer Gods, therefore, questions of good and evil were set aside — they had to join forces and stop the destruction.
More time passed, but no further arrivals appeared.
"I am Viscount Otto Royden, overall commander of this subjugation force!"
At that moment a griffin rider in full plate so extravagantly gilded it could only be called dazzling swept down in front of the entire assembly and announced himself. Ordinarily a speaker would need a raised platform for an address — but in this world, with airships and griffins available, no such thing was required.
"I'll keep this short! One day! We will not spend more than a single day destroying the Outer God's relic!"
He spoke without the ornate flourishes expected of a noble, delivering only what was necessary in clipped, hard sentences — more soldier than aristocrat. Once inside a dimensionally warped zone, things that did not belong to this world would come pouring out. Put a vain, theatrical noble in command and the odds of him freezing in terror and dooming the mission were high. That, too, was a lesson paid for in countless lives over a hundred and fifty years.
"Ordinary enemies will be handled by the mercenaries and the rank-and-file! But if the enemy fields a true powerhouse, or if their numbers swell past what can be ignored, the knights and the holy knights of each church will be committed! Detailed orders will be explained during the rest stop before the King's Hunting Ground!"
"Advance!"
The regular army moved first; the mercenary companies fell in behind them. For now the royal troops led the way — but once they entered the King's Hunting Ground, the mercenaries would take the point.
After several hours of marching that carried them well away from the capital, the force settled near the King's Hunting Ground and took a final rest before the assault.
"What is…"
"What the hell?"
"The trees…?"
What they beheld was a forest that should have stood straight and tall — trees bent and twisted, tangled into one another in a grotesque, knotted mass.
"Representatives of each mercenary company, assemble!"
"Move, damn you!"
Knights began shouting one-sided orders at the mercenaries as they rode through the ranks, tossing in unnecessary insults for good measure. The mercenaries, long accustomed to such treatment, showed no particular resentment. Company leaders left their seconds in charge and made for the temporary camp the regular army had pitched under canvas.
Once the representatives of the various churches had also arrived, Viscount Otto — who had hung a full map of the King's Hunting Ground against the tent wall — opened his mouth.
"As I said this morning, I do not intend to waste more time than necessary, so I will go straight to the point."
He had already marked their present position and the location of their objective: the Royal Underground Tomb.
"According to scout reports, the dimensionally warped King's Hunting Ground possesses a property that seeks to absorb every living thing — animal or plant — into a single whole. The problem is that the meaning of 'becoming one' is… comprehensive."
With church representatives present, Otto chose his words with care as he continued.
"Slimes that dissolve bodies and fuse them together. Trees that swallow people. Undead that devour corpses. Creatures merging into one another like chimeras. In short — plant or animal, everything is the enemy."
"Nngh…"
They had expected to fight devotees of an Outer God. None of them had imagined that every living thing in the forest would turn against them. Soft groans escaped from more than one throat.
"That is why our objective is to receive the aerial support that should be arriving shortly, punch a path through to the underground tomb, and strike in a single rush. Questions?"
After a moment, one of the mercenaries raised a hand. Knights scowled and began to radiate killing intent, but Otto lifted a hand and forced them to settle.
"What is it."
"I— I'm…"
"No introductions. State your business briefly."
"Ahem! Then… if we're receiving aerial support, couldn't we simply fly the airships all the way to a point directly above the underground tomb?"
The church contingent seemed to have been thinking the same thing; several nodded in silent agreement.
"We thought the same at first. We moved that way — until several airships were intercepted and half-destroyed."
"Intercepted?"
"You're saying the enemy has the firepower to cripple an airship?"
The moment the mercenary finished, a holy knight from one of the churches took up the thread.
"We do not know their identity, but the enemy has a powerhouse among them. They loosed arrows strong enough to wreck airships. Reaching a position above the tomb by air is not feasible. The airships currently en route for fire support will likely be intercepted as well and forced to withdraw mid-approach."
In other words, they could move with relative safety only as far as the aerial support covered them. Beyond that point, they would be fighting the entire natural world.
"Any other questions?"
A few minor points were raised and answered, but Otto's brief explanations closed the question period quickly.
"If there are no further questions, I will now explain the combat formation we will use while advancing and fighting. First…"
He began to lay out how they would fight their way to the underground tomb.
"Apostle, the kingdom's subjugation force has appeared outside the hunting ground."
A man of unnaturally massive build addressed the Outer God's apostle within the underground tomb.
"How pitiful — the sight of unbelievers who cannot comprehend our profound purpose."
Strangely, a woman's voice answered from immediately beside the man. When the candlelight of the underground tomb fell across him, a form of pure horror was revealed.
Male and female hands jutted from the torso. Seven legs of mismatched size and length sprouted from the lower body. Another mouth was fused to the man's temple. It was a monstrous shape by any measure — yet they regarded it as a blessing.
"Heh heh heh. Do not blaspheme them. How could one ever explain the greatness of Unity to those who have never experienced it?"
Before the man waited an even more grotesque presence. A vast bulk as if hundreds of human beings had been crushed into a single mass, with hands and legs writhing from its shoulders, back, and belly. Unable to support that bulk, it could only remain seated — yet atop the mass sat an elderly man with a benevolent face, holding a staff that radiated an uncanny power.
"Just like those gathered here."
"S-save me!"
"Please, save us! Please!"
They must have raided nearby villages and dragged people in. Common folk in filthy, tattered clothes — no armor, no weapons — lay bound on the floor.
"Save you? We have no intention of killing you."
The old man who had become a monstrous mass turned a truly kind smile upon the villagers — no hypocrisy, no falsehood in it.
"Has it not been hard? Now the undead, before that war — always suffering, always tormented by troubles that have nothing to do with you. And it will continue until the day you die."
He made a light gesture. Flesh-masses like slimes, bristling with randomly attached arms and legs, began to crawl toward the villagers.
"U-uaaaaaah!"
The people thrashed desperately, trying to flee, but the cultists who had bound them shoved them straight into the masses. The flesh-lumps swallowed them in an instant, absorbing them inward. Arms and legs began to sprout one by one from the exterior, thrashing as if begging for rescue.
The old man watched with a look of rapture, then turned back to the man who had made the report.
"I am truly glad. Once they achieve Unity with us, they will understand how joyful it is to become one."
"As expected, Apostle — you are truly merciful."
"We too wish to become one with you, Apostle, but there is still so much to be done…"
"Unity can wait for any time. For now, even for the complete Unity of this world, our first priority is to grow our influence upon this land."
Their purpose was for every existence to merge into one — and at the last, to achieve Unity with the God of Unity itself. To become one with a god! The ecstasy of rising from a lowly human to live forever as a fragment of the divine was the force that drove them.
"The kingdom may send airships again this time. I leave it to you, outsider."
The apostle spoke toward a corner of the chamber. As if in answer, a dark-skinned elven woman standing there narrowed blood-red eyes and irritably tightened her grip on a bow that gleamed like silver.