Chapter 213
Chapter 213
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 213
Chapter Title: Star Crusher (2)
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A coldly chilled wind blew from the north, blooming ice flowers from the dew that had settled on the dry grass.
The boundary slicing across the northern and southern halves of the continent had long since been crossed in the early evening. The winter chill, which had huddled against the mild southern air, now fully stretched its shoulders wide. In its fierce onslaught, even the bridge of one's nose might freeze and snap off, so the grasshoppers burrowed deep into the soil, while trees and vegetation shed their blossoms in silent prayer.
It was the season when even the hardy barbarians, proud of their robust physiques, wrapped themselves tightly in leather garments just to survive. Common sense—known even to children—dictated that to avoid catching a deadly cold, one should lay an extra blanket on the ground before sitting and breathe calmly and steadily.
Yet one man defied that wisdom head-on. He lay sprawled on the frost-covered cold earth, recklessly shoving winter's knife-edge winds into his lungs.
It couldn't be helped. If he didn't gulp down even one more breath, it felt like he'd die. Duncan kept staring blankly at the sky with unfocused eyes, gasping as if he might keel over at any moment.
"Hahk, hahk, heuk, kugh, huuuu......"
Even so, his rebellion against the season was mild compared to his companions. They had stripped off their upper garments entirely, as if trying to freeze to death.
Of course, they could pull off such a stunt because it didn't matter. Unless it was an extreme icy blizzard capable of turning an active volcano into a snow-capped mountain, he no longer felt the cold at all. Kadim lightly brushed the "Blessing of Fire and Ice" engraved on his neck.
Woooong, woooong, woooong—
Melissa's legacy and the dragon's gift more than earned their keep. The gem embedded in the center absorbed mana, and the mystical runes spread a gentle warmth, perfectly offsetting the chill. Well, his body was running so hot right now that he probably wouldn't have felt cold even without it...
He and Duncan had traversed half the continent in just five days.
A distance that would take one or two months on foot for ordinary travelers. It was a blistering march that leaped far beyond common sense. Across the entire continent, the only thing faster might be an Arch Paladin's grand light-mana teleportation spell.
Duncan had endured this absurd pace thanks to his enhanced stamina from ingesting Kadim's blood, lighter steps from offloading his luggage, and superhuman willpower fueled by the desperate need to save his family. Even so, the relentless harshness had left him utterly exhausted, unable even to twitch his toes...
In contrast, steam rose steadily from Kadim's body, but his movements and breathing remained as calm as if he'd just finished a morning stroll. He could probably turn right around and cover the same distance without breaking a sweat.
But today, he'd decided to rest properly.
It was better to recover his companion's strength before reaching their destination, "Delutana."
"We'll rest here today. We'll set out again at sunrise tomorrow and make it to Delutana before noon."
"Hahk, hahk... Y-yes... Understood..."
"Cover yourself with the blanket and lie down, Duncan. Lying on the cold ground soaked in sweat like that will stiffen your muscles."
They spread out blankets, gathered kindling and fallen leaves to start a campfire, and boiled jerky and dried vegetables into a stew for their meal. As they rested, Duncan's condition improved noticeably from his near-death panting.
In truth, this was the first time since his second playthrough that Kadim had moved so urgently, so quickly, so far. Lost in a fleeting sentiment, he murmured offhandedly.
"Definitely would have been nice to have a horse."
"...Pardon? A horse, you say?"
"Yeah, I didn't expect you'd be this wrecked just from that little run."
"..."
Reminding himself that the man had hurried for his family's sake, Duncan swallowed the rude retorts rising to his throat.
"Hoo... Still, pushing on like this seems to have been the right choice, milord... Horses are hard to come by anyway, and in the end, we got here faster than any horse in the world..."
"Maybe, though there are horses faster than this."
"Hm? Oh, ah! You mean those glowing steeds the Holy Knights ride?"
"No, not those. Horses from a place not of this world that drink oil from the ground instead of fodder."
"...?"
"...They exist. Made of iron with wheels, fast enough to mock even the Holy Knights' mounts. If we'd ridden one at full speed, we could've covered what took us days in under two."
The merchant blinked in bewilderment. What was this—a myth from Atalain legends? It sounded like utter nonsense, but the inexplicable hoarseness underscoring his voice made it impossible to question.
The barbarian from another world stopped there and shut his mouth. It wasn't the right time to spill his complicated backstory. Hearing it would surely ruin the merchant's peaceful rest tonight.
A brief silence, pierced by the seeping wind, followed by the crackling fire scattering into the night.
Whooooosh...
Duncan, idly replaying the past few days, suddenly changed the subject.
"Um, milord. About your... condition... that 'berserk mania.' How has it been... lately?"
"...Why do you ask?"
"Well... You seem much better than before. No more muttering to yourself or slashing at your body, no need to stockpile blood, and yesterday you even just killed that demon and moved on... I wondered if maybe the 'berserk mania' had improved a bit..."
As if. He hadn't taken blood yesterday because it was just a worthless lesser demon...
...Kadim was about to say, but he closed his mouth and thoughtfully stroked his chin.
"..."
Come to think of it, that was true.
Lately, he hadn't struggled much against the encroaching madness. His thirst for blood had weakened to a tolerable level. The symptoms of 'berserk mania' hadn't vanished entirely, but they were undeniably much milder than before.
'What's going on? I thought berserk mania only worsened irreversibly...'
A first, even across both playthroughs.
Silently pondering, two likely causes came to mind.
One was gorging on demon blood in hell to his heart's content; the other was Gale, as a lump of light, purging his blood rage and madness.
The former satisfied his insatiable craving to bursting; the latter cleansed the blood's side effects thoroughly. He'd nearly recovered all his first-playthrough power, yet his berserk mania had eased... Perhaps this was his best state since falling into the game world.
But relaxing his guard would be foolish.
The visions that flashed every time he overindulged in blood were still fresh—the demon realm turned into a chaotic mess from his endless digging. If the 'mysterious entity' buried beneath grew stronger with each revelation, this peace was surely... the calm before the storm.
Kadim concealed his inner thoughts and replied calmly.
"Must be that hell's air did me good. Next time, you should definitely come along."
"..."
Duncan inwardly cursed his past self from a minute ago for asking such a pointless question.
To swiftly change the topic, he brought up people who might be in Delutana: the emissary Enrico, who went there to handle Remtana affairs; the soldiers he'd grown close to; old Iron Hammer Gullak, full of anticipation for reuniting with his family; and even Goltaran, who had shed his old name 'Agon's Furious Horn'... He mumbled about wondering if they were all okay.
But suddenly, Kadim clicked his tongue.
"...Maybe your family isn't in Delutana after all."
"Eh? W-what do you mean, milord? You don't think they made it safely...?"
"No, not that. Didn't you tell your wife to seek out that Goltaran fellow? He might have heard about the war ahead of time and taken your family to evacuate to another city."
"...Ah!"
Admiration was fleeting. Duncan quickly sank into panic.
"Th-then what do we do, milord? If they've left, who do we ask about their whereabouts...?"
"We'll have to inquire through the emissary or old Iron Hammer. Once we find out where, we just dash straight there."
"..."
Considering his family's safety, an early evacuation would be cause for joy... but at this moment, the merchant who had crossed half the continent in five days couldn't help but pray fervently.
Yulia, Duncan Jr.... Please, please stay safe in Delutana and wait for me...
Delutana's crisis arrived in a way no one could have foreseen.
Not the pro-empire faction's coup by war-opposing congressmen, nor the citizens' uprising against military supply requisitions, nor the surprise attack by Holy Knights and crusaders breaking through the border like a tidal wave. None of those. The root that turned the resplendent golden city into a hellscape was this.
First, dogs as massive as gleaming white wolves.
- Kyaaang, kyeong, kyeong!!
- Grrrr, kruk, kruk—!
"Kaaaaaaaagh!!"
And second, the "gospel" propagated by the monstrosities.
"[O unbeliever, recite this 'gospel' with fervent sincerity. Thus shall your soul and flesh be saved from the valley of death, and you shall don the 'garments of light' bestowed by Elga...]"
"Ah, aaaaah..."
The white hounds rampaged through the streets, tearing and shredding every living thing in sight. Before those who barely escaped death's jaws could hide, freaks with glowing hides sprouting from their backs appeared without fail. They thrust a sheet of paper forward, demanding recitation for survival.
"Fr-from the beginning of time, this land, haak, guh, has been watched over, watched over by... the rightful lord of all the world... guh, solely Elga..."
But mere recitation wasn't enough.
"[You impious unbeliever!! I told you to recite it with true sincerity!!!]"
Shing—!
To survive, one needed genuine faith that the 'gospel' would save them. Those reciting half-heartedly or without desperation all met the same fate: their heads severed by the freak's blade of light.
But the greater problem arose when someone recited the 'gospel' with true sincerity.
"[Ah, aah, this is truly the true gospel... Elga alone is the rightful lord of this world... From this moment, I gladly become a vanguard of light to spread this blessed word...]"
Woooong, woooong, woooong...
Such a person lost their original personality as a hide sprouted from their back, transforming into the same existence as their propagator—a "Gospel Body."
Thus, the 'gospel' spread through the city like a plague via these Gospel Bodies.
Opinions varied on why this was happening, but there was no time to pinpoint the cause. Dealing with the immediate catastrophe was priority.
Of those on the brink of death who became Gospel Bodies, it was one or two out of ten. Yet Delutana was the Free City Alliance's most populous metropolis. From the epicenter near the north gate alone, hundreds of Gospel Bodies were born.
Numbers didn't mean weakness. The freaks and white hounds overpowered not just ordinary citizens but even emergency force soldiers. The only forces in the city that could stand against them were the lingering warriors of the "Indomitable Legion" or wizards who hadn't returned to the Magic Tower.
"Atalaaaa!!"
"Glory to the Father of the Wilderness—!!"
"[Graden, mol, delgsium, samilakto...]"
- Kyaaang, kyeong, kyeong! Kyaaang!
"[The judgment of Elga awaits these profane heretics!!]"
But their numbers were pitifully few compared to the enemy. While Gospel Bodies multiplied, their side dwindled with each injury and death.
In this situation, defending every district was impossible. Emergency Council Chairman Pellico Turis designated the east gate area as an evacuation zone and concentrated all survivors and forces there.
They had to abandon the council hall—the city's head— the central plaza—its heart— and every vital facility and residence... but there was no choice. Children, adults, citizens, blacksmiths, soldiers, congressmen—all cast aside everything and fled desperately to the evacuation zone to save their lives.
Yet somewhere in the city, one man threw himself into duty even amid death's threat...
In northern Delutana, a workshop in a district already overrun by freaks and hounds.
Clang, clang, chirr...
The workshop's iron door, locked and chained tight, suddenly swung open.
Rumble, crash—bang!
Soft backlighting poured into the dim workshop. A hammer left haphazardly on the anvil, a scattered sledgehammer, weapons fallen from racks, a heap of collapsed ingots... The chaotic scene of the blacksmiths' frantic flight was laid bare.
"Tch, blacksmiths my foot... They spent their lives feeding these tools scrap iron, yet not a shred of gratitude..."
The old man clicked his tongue as he entered. He roughly tidied the abandoned tools and weapons, then headed to the forge.
His limping gait swayed more precariously than usual today. A severed heel was burden enough, but now the screams of the dying in the streets and his granddaughter's sobs begging him not to leave the evacuation zone weighed on his ankles too.
But even so, it was a task he absolutely could not leave unfinished.
"Hoo..."
Iron Hammer Elder Gullak composed himself and gripped the hammer.
Then, he resumed work on his masterpiece, just one step from completion.