Chapter 110
Chapter 110
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 110
Chapter Title: The Tomb-Seeking Wraith
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Clop, clop, clop.
Having gained no significant leads from the ambush site, we pressed on along the path toward High Mountain Village, nestled at the very edge of the mountain range.
As the village came into clearer view, it grew evident that the tax collector and her soldiers' disappearance had been caused by some outside force.
The barren Northern Mountains left little choice but to rely on wooden palisades for protection and voluntary militia patrols.
Yet the village we reached too late lacked even a single vigilante on watch. Parts of the palisade and the main gate lay in ruins.
They certainly hadn't done this to themselves.
The investigator's face hardened as he ordered the soldiers to arm themselves. Then he turned to me.
"...It looks like they were attacked."
"I'll take point."
The lifelong residents of High Mountain Village were simple, generous souls.
They were even hailed among pilgrims as the only guides to the holy site.
I had no idea why anyone would assault these innocents, but it was unforgivable.
I drew my sword and surged past the charging soldiers, straight into the heart of the village.
Clop! Clop! Clop!
"No one's here!"
"Search for survivors!"
The razed village interior bore only ancient traces of violence. No armed foes or signs of the attackers anywhere.
Had reinforcements arrived too late?
The investigator's expression darkened. After scouring the palisade area for a while, he approached me.
"Same culprit."
"Not multiple?"
"...Yes. Definitely a single entity. I hope my eyes are wrong."
The gashes on the wagon matched those on the palisade perfectly, without a single deviation.
Not only was it the same unknown assailant—it was likely one individual.
Individual? Cognitive dissonance hit me. We'd instinctively sensed that humans hadn't attacked the tax collector or the village.
"Investigator! Found something!"
Just then, a soldier searching the village interior urgently called out.
Hope lighting our faces, we wheeled our mounts toward him.
"- - - - - - -?"
We hurried to a wooden building used as the village hall, surrounded by countless bonfires and heaps of ash.
These weren't for mere warmth.
The villagers had used fire to ward off 'something' approaching.
Pointed barricades and broken weapons made it clear: this hall had been their last stand.
Clinging to faint hope, the investigator bellowed toward the hall.
"Anyone there?!"
Murmurs and frantic movements stirred inside.
But terror kept them from emerging recklessly.
"We're from Northplomb! Soldiers with us—come out safely!"
Frustrated, the investigator called again to the hidden villagers.
A woman reacted to "Northplomb," hurriedly clearing barricades.
"Fr-from Northplomb?"
"Tax collector! You're alive!"
The first to emerge was none other than the missing tax collector.
Spotting the investigator and soldiers, she collapsed in tears.
Her injuries and mental shock seemed worse than expected. Needing firmer measures, I rummaged through my gear.
"Got any medicine?"
"Yeah, the chancellor packed a bit."
"Pull it all out."
The Memory Bird wouldn't have sent me empty-handed. I grabbed the small herb pouch from Black Arrow and dismounted.
Thud.
Whoooosh - - - -!
"Hm?"
Suddenly, an indescribably fierce wind rocked the air currents.
Dark clouds shifted, briefly eclipsing the sun.
The mountains, dim even in sunlight, plunged into twilight gloom around the village.
"Aaaah...!!"
But the change didn't end there.
Startled by terrified screams ahead, I placed a hand on my sword hilt.
Clop clop!
Snort!
The tax collector, rising with the investigator's aid, trembled violently.
The deer sensed the unnatural currents too, stamping and bucking wildly.
An ominous wind, a chilling atmosphere.
The ruined hall area now swirled with ferocious gusts, as if mocking its former desolation.
Something imperceptible circled the mountains and village madly.
Black Arrow and I instantly knew: this was the attacker of the tax collector and village.
"Hurry! Get over here!"
Sure enough, High Mountain villagers familiar with this phenomenon rushed out, urging our group inside.
Men, women, elderly, children—they passed torches and oil, igniting bonfires and barricades around the hall.
Whoosh!
"Ev-everyone, to the hall!"
The sinister aura peaked.
The investigator snapped to action, gathering flustered soldiers in the hall clearing.
Snort! Snort!
The deer went berserk, warning of the approaching threat.
Soldiers nocked arrows, gulping dryly.
Twang.
Something approached at high speed.
Spotting the incongruity in the darkness, I leveled my sword. Black Arrow gripped his bow, ready to react.
I didn't know what beast it was, but it had pushed these villagers and soldiers to the brink.
Resolved to end it here, we caught the faint presence.
'Here.'
It closed in right before us.
Black Arrow loosed an arrow without missing a beat.
Fwung!
Aura-infused, dead accurate.
Even off vital spots, it would shred or snap anything hit.
Confident in the hit, I lunged forward, sword raised.
But then, a scene defying all logic unfolded before my eyes.
Shhhwhoosh - - -!!
Rustle!
The aura arrow pierced the black silhouette harmlessly. No—'passed through' fit better, inflicting zero damage.
Whoosh!
My strike, aimed at a realistic path, cleaved only empty air.
The black form streaked past me toward soldiers and villagers.
"Fire!"
The startled investigator commanded the pre-nocked soldiers.
They unleashed a volley at the fast-approaching foe.
Fwung! Thunk!
Shhhwhoosh - - -!!
"Wh-what?!"
The barrage proved futile; arrows passed through emptily.
The aura arrow's failure wasn't coincidence.
Terror, fear, despair, darkness, murkiness.
Nullifying every attack, it finally revealed itself.
Kiiiiiiek!
Squelch!
Guh—kheh!
Kaaaah!
Earsplitting shrieks echoed as black branches lanced everywhere.
Exposed soldiers were impaled dead or screamed in agony.
"Get aside!"
A foe beyond common sense or reality.
Grasping the gravity, I charged, madly slashing incoming thorns.
Clang, clang!
Whoosh!
Parry after parry. Attacks were erratic, menacing, barely perceptible.
But what shook me more was its grotesque body.
Kreeeeeeee - - - - -!!!!
A black mass of tangled roots and leaves, like a living root system.
Within swirled ear-piercing screams and swirling black emotions.
Whoosh, clang! Whoosh!
No matter how I swung, it wouldn't cleave.
Like slicing water with water—space merely passed through space, my blade glancing endlessly.
It existed yet didn't.
Facing this legendary horror, I gritted my teeth.
Crackle!
"Kyung! Fire!"
Then flames roared, and it began shrieking horribly.
Brave villagers amplified the blaze to rescue soldiers.
The investigator tossed me an oil-soaked torch. I caught it and swung at the shifting target.
Whoosh!
Kiiiiiiek!
Hot oil and fire amplified its screams. Arrows and blades failed, but fire it couldn't ignore.
Sizzle! Crackle!
"- - - - - - -!!"
Body moved before thought.
Eyes flashing, I transferred dripping oil and flame to my blade.
Ignoring agonizing burns, I charged and horizontally slashed the indefinable form.
Kyaaaaaaaah!!
Foul matter splattered free.
Ominous currents roiled; it fled in superhuman speed.
I extinguished my blade and silently glared into the darkness it escaped to.
High Mountain—Northern holy site and Former King's tomb—was under threat.
What interfered with our journey? An unknown fog.
With the culprit identified, ascending High Mountain or returning was impossible.
We had no choice but to merge with the village and treat the wounded as best we could.
It had haunted nearby peaks for a full month already, they said.
No wonder the tax collector couldn't contact Northplomb, let alone return.
Trapped, unable to fight or flee, the villagers endured isolation.
Scarce food and water made it pure despair and suffering.
Fortunately, they had a wise leader from ancient times: White Gravekeeper, the elderly village chief guarding High Mountain Village and the holy site entrance.
"To see this old body again before death... Truly grateful, Sword Saint."
"...We were too late. I have no face."
Like me, he revered the Former King, spending life aiding villagers and pilgrims at the holy site entrance.
Even he, seeming eternal between living and dead, suffered mortal wounds from the sudden intruder.
I prayed the chancellor's herbs helped. As he painfully swallowed medicine, I asked,
"What is that thing?"
He'd discovered its extreme fire weakness.
Seeking any clue, I tapped his long wisdom.
"...First time in my life. Not a creature of High Mountain. What madness in Mother's Northern holy site?!"
Cough cough!
No records existed, not even for the village's longest-lived chief.
But one thing: like a forest wraith, it had purpose.
The chief warned me.
"The wraith seeks the tomb."
"...What."
"It's after the Former King's grave."