Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 022
Chapter Title: Not All Kin Are Trustworthy
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The first night in the Demon Realm passed more peacefully than expected.
It made his worries about monsters bursting out in the dead of night seem unfounded.
As Shan and Roden breathed sighs of relief, Jerpo warned them.
"Don't let your guard down too much. This is just the outermost edge of the Demon Realm, after all. The deeper you go, the more powerful monsters will swarm out in droves."
It didn't take long for Shan and Roden to grasp the true meaning of his words.
"Huh."
"What?"
"The compass is busted."
At Roden's words, Shan looked down at the compass he was holding.
The black needle, which should have been pointing north, was spinning wildly.
"Do you know why this is happening, mage?"
"It's embarrassing as a scholar, but in the Demon Realm, 'why' doesn't mean much. Just think of this area as one of those zones."
"Don't worry too much. Compass disruption fields aren't that big a deal, even if they are annoying."
Roden nodded at Priest Bent's reassurance, but he still felt uneasy.
A compass was supposed to reliably show the way no matter the situation, so having it neutralized was disorienting.
And in the Demon Realm, where the sky was perpetually shrouded in clouds, they couldn't even navigate by the stars. It only heightened his anxiety.
After heading east by memory for a while, over a dozen lesser vampires suddenly sprang from beyond a hill and lunged at them.
Their shriveled skin suggested long starvation, and their red eyes were half-mad with hunger.
"Damn..."
"Everyone, back to back!"
With enemies swarming from all sides, Shan didn't charge out like before. Instead, he took point at the front, facing the largest group.
He cleaved the head off the lead vampire with his longsword, kicked another aside with a leg sweep, then thrust into a third's chest and yanked the blade free, spraying thick black vampire blood.
In the meantime, the others handled their shares.
Roden claimed territory with his large shield and mace, shoving back three or four vampires. Priest Bent wielded sword and shield adeptly, while Jerpo blocked approaches with his long staff.
As they pressed on, such ambushes grew more frequent—sometimes five or six monster encounters in a single day.
Considering that even one or two attacks per day while roaming Pendia was considered a lot, this was an brutally harsh environment.
Life-or-death battles brought immense fatigue and pressure; any ordinary person would have collapsed long ago.
And with compasses rendered useless for some reason, losing their sense of direction entirely? Panic would be understandable.
Yet the seasoned explorers, Priest Bent and Jerpo, seemed unfazed, treating it like routine.
They were the surprised ones, seeing how smoothly Shan and Roden adapted.
Especially Roden—they found it astonishing that he showed such solid warrior skills.
Though they hadn't voiced it, both had quietly suspected Roden was just a pretty face with no substance.
"You're pretty good yourself."
"Haha, compared to Shan, that's nothing."
"True enough."
Roden chuckled off Jerpo's blunt, straight-to-the-point jab without a hint of deflection.
Humans couldn't breathe fire or fly like dragons, but that didn't make them lacking.
After two days of fighting, sleeping, and advancing, the erratic compass finally stabilized.
It meant they'd reached their first planned waypoint.
Roden perked up at the distant mountain.
"Oh, that's it?"
"Yes. Delepon. Though it's better known by its nickname, the Mountaintop City."
True to the name, the city they beheld was built atop a towering stone peak.
Shan couldn't even imagine how they'd hauled building materials up such sheer cliffs to construct it.
Probably some transcendent magic from the ancient Alto Empire.
The group wound up the narrow path spiraling around the base of the crag and soon entered the city.
It looked like it could house around a thousand people. Most buildings were three stories at most, all faded and weathered as if bleached by time.
Shattered windows caked with dust, empty interiors, heaps of trash left by fleeting occupants—a ruin through and through.
Shan pictured the Altoins who once called this home long ago.
"Explorers have been coming and going for centuries. Don't expect anything from this city."
Jerpo spoke coldly as Shan and Roden looked around.
As he said, this place had drawn countless adventurers since Arman Empire days. Anything worthwhile was long gone.
They'd come only to use its elevated position for scouting weather shifts ahead.
The watchtower at the city's heart soared well over a hundred meters.
Narrower than the Magic Academy's crystal spire he'd seen before, but its sheer, unreal height dominated the surroundings.
And it leaned precariously, even from the side. Roden gaped, glancing between Priest Bent and Jerpo.
"We can really climb that? It looks kinda dangerous..."
"It's fine. It's stood for nearly a millennium. It won't collapse just because we climb it."
"If it has, the Goddess has forsaken it. What can we do?"
Since these two—who'd scaled it multiple times—said so, Shan and Roden shrugged and followed them up.
They tethered their two horses near the entrance and stepped through the broken door.
The tower's interior was hollow in the center, with spiral stairs stretching endlessly to the top.
Narrow and steep, they made the eldest, Priest Bent, grumble about his aching knees.
The panoramic view from the summit was breathtaking.
Not just the whole city—the peak itself was so high that dozens of kilometers stretched out clear below.
"Whoa..."
"Alright, let's check it out."
Jerpo pulled a long cylinder from his pouch, chanted a spell, and peered through one eye.
After scanning around, he nodded with a hum and lowered it.
"North: sandstorm. East: frost. South: swamps."
"Can I take a look too?"
"Be my guest."
Shan took the cylinder and held it to his eye.
At first, focus was blurry, but it soon sharpened, revealing distant vistas in crisp detail.
Sure enough, swamps sprawled south.
Maybe due to the Demon Realm's ashen soil—gray ash floated over stagnant pools, looking utterly toxic.
A few water ghosts dripped ashen water as they sloshed about.
Shifting gaze: east whipped with blinding snow, ice spirits bobbing above; north choked by thick dust, visibility near zero.
"And this changes every week to a month?"
"Yes. No one knows when or to what."
A barren ashen wasteland turning to snowfields or swamps—it was pure magic.
And rumor had it, this was tame; deeper in, firestorms or lightning rains ravaged the land.
That was why Demon Realm expeditions were so tough.
Past surveys might find mild sandstorms one trip, hellfire or thunder the next—forcing route changes.
With supply lines strained, skimping on provisions could mean starvation if return paths blocked.
Even Shan's sword skills were powerless against such natural disasters.
Without pricey fireward or lightningward talismans, breaching them was impossible.
"Then we'll punch through the sandstorm zone. We've prepped for that one."
Ice storms were obvious no-gos, and swamps bred plagues—easy to end up combat-ineffective from mishaps.
All agreed with Roden's call.
Four hours north from the city.
Sand from who-knows-where began whipping up. Everyone donned face veils; they even muzzled the horses.
Shan grimaced, about to ask Roden for water.
"Ugh, sand in my mouth..."
"Talk less. More'll get in."
The sandstorm—his first ever—was far more irritating than imagined.
Squinted eyes stung; every breath dragged grit into nose and throat.
Worse: such conditions drew adapted monsters.
Giant scorpions bursting from dunes, wind-riding harpies hunting prey, sand-formed giant spirits.
Vision, smell, hearing hampered—it was a hassle, but manageable.
Soon, severed tails, feathers, and cores loaded the saddles.
Even battling monsters and harsh nature, Roden noted odd structures, terrain, shelter spots.
If compasses failed on return trips, they'd rely on this intel.
On the third day, free of the storm at last, a werewolf lunged as if welcoming them.
Shan realized how foolishly he'd mistaken them for mere gnolls.
"Whoa, they're not even vaguely alike."
Unlike dumb-looking, bipedal gnolls, werewolves were grotesquely twisted monstrosities.
Slightly shorter than trolls, with hook-like claws too long for weapons, huge bat ears.
Blessed by Priest Bent, Shan gripped his silver-plated dagger and shortsword against the charging beast.
Werewolf Encounter
Silver vulnerability / Rapid ethereal regen
[Kaaak!]
Werewolves were corporeal yet ethereal, regenerating physical wounds swiftly.
Like troll fast-heal, but without self-consuming flesh—more vicious. Silver wounds, however, wouldn't heal properly.
Shan slashed the lunging forepaw, stabbed the chest deep and withdrew, then jammed the silver dagger into the same spot to gouge the heart.
The werewolf thrashed with stubborn vitality for a final spasm, but Roden's mace flattened it.
"...Every time, I just can't get used to it."
"These are the ones that take groups of seasoned explorers risking life and limb. And they drop like flies."
Jerpo and Priest Bent exchanged hollow laughs, stunned.
First expedition this easy? Werewolves—troll-level threats—felled like gnolls. Absurd.
They skinned the valuable pelt and scouted for its lair—werewolves hoarded shiny things, maybe loot from dead explorers.
Half an hour's search yielded a trove far beyond expectations.
"What the...?"
"Looks like it wiped out a whole party. A successful one, too..."
Inside: rusted weapons, packs of monster parts, odd metal artifacts—Alto ruins relics, per Jerpo's appraisal.
"Not legendary stuff, but together? Hundreds of gold coins easy. Perpetual magic items have fixed value."
"Whoa..."
This was why adventurers flocked to the perilous Demon Realm.
Most died as dust on ashen plains, but rare drops or relics could make commoners rich beyond dreams.
With loot packed, talk turned to heading back.
Light provisions for a short jaunt, now overloaded with unexpected gains.
Further in, they'd have to pass monster parts just to carry more.
Return via new route: west then south, not retracing steps—to map more terrain.
Variety in paths was key for novices.
Hilltop recon showed northwest of sand zone was gale territory.
No sand, but fiercer winds; weasel-shaped wind spirits occasionally swooped to slit throats—threatening.
Half-day through the hazy buffer zone brought them to the outskirts, where they spotted a weathered building and approached eagerly.
Likely an Alto-era barn or village hall.
Squatters inside.
"Huh?"
"Oh."
Eight explorers, battle-worn gear unlike the 'Green Eyes'' cleaner set—hard fights.
All Altoins.
Pale blood gave eerie hues; some with elfin ears, cat ears atop heads—strikingly odd looks.
'Ah, these must be those...'
Shan recalled hearing of all-Altoin explorer bands—clannish outfits.
Two women too: lightly armored, likely mages or scouts. Surprising even to Shan—men and women had vast physical gaps.
Veterans, they knew Priest Bent and Jerpo; greetings flew.
"Priest, huh? And the unlucky mage..."
"Save the slander for not schooling you on what you didn't know."
Jerpo grumbled, but amiably. Brief chatter, then eyes on Shan.
Day-night cycle persisted despite clouds; nearing dusk, his green eyes softly glowed.
"Who's the kid? I know most Altoins around Shedil."
"New from the west. Our party's ace. Impressive kid."
Priest Bent's praise drew disbelieving laughs from the Altoins.
They'd been deep in Demon Realm during Shan's Shedil fame—unthinkable.
"Haha, sure."
"More importantly, you all look rough. Something happen?"
Post-expedition rags were normal, but faces grim.
The apparent leader sighed deeply at Roden's question.
"Yeah. Thought we had a great haul this time, then ran into Ajun bastards. Lost it all. Barely escaped with our skins."
Now Shan noticed: too lightly packed for a returning party.
Food depleted fine, but long stays meant monster trophies—none here.
"Ajuns?"
"Yeah."
"You went that far north."
"Don't remind me. Farthest we've ever gone since forming! Lucky to live, but lost loot keeps me up nights..."
Ajun Kingdom—northern snow realm of Arman Alliance, Old Faith bastion hating Altoins and magic.
Yet they prowled Demon Realm for holy war: find Alto capital, seal monster gates.
To them, Altoin parties were devil spawn to slaughter.
Lucky indeed they'd survived.
Mid-rant on Ajuns, Shan spotted odd moves: some Altoins eyeing their packs, subtly encircling.
Before the net tightened, Shan nodded overt.
"So why block the entrance?"
Silence crashed into the once-lively building.
Jerpo glanced around, realizing the encirclement, face paling.
"You guys, don't tell me...?"
Shing—blades drawn, weapons trained on them.
The leader looked conflicted.
"We go back empty-handed, we're done. No apologies."
"Stop. The Goddess won't forgive this!"
"That mighty Goddess doesn't care about filthy Altoins li—!"
The leader's growl cut short.
Headless men don't talk.
"Huh?"
A dazed Altoin blurted amid confusion.
Why'd a speaking man's head fly off?
Green flash across vision answered: glowing green eyes, innocent-faced Altoin boy.
He'd struck first!
"Grab him!"
Screeched shout; Shan's swing spilled a second Altoin's guts.
Zero-to-max acceleration like inhuman.
These were pros holding against big game—yet the Green-Eyed Devil felled them in one exchange.
Their strikes? Useless.
Spears sliced mid-thrust, flying swords deflected barehanded, mace arms kicked loose.
Trickier blows slid off chainmail expertly.
"Aaaagh!"
"What the hell is that!?"
"Della! Subdue him! Hurry!"
"[Glaciothrapresa-]"
"Glaciothrapresa—"
⟨ Ice Binding Grip ⟩
Della, the called-out woman, chanted desperately, burning her last catalyst for the spell.
But pointing at Shan, her face twisted in shock and despair.
Rebound like punching a metal wall.
It had stalled trolls before!
"It bounced!"
"What!?"
No time to gape—Shan carved through six in a blink, closed on the sneaky caster.
Left hand snapped up temple-side, snatching an unseen arrow midair.
The dark-corner archer gasped.
"S-spare—"
Mage's eyes rolled back, cat ears drooping limp.
Shan drove the intercepted arrow into her temple.
Archer already sword-pierced in chest, shuddering.
Priest Bent murmured finishing.
"Hah... you foolish souls..."
A deep sigh filled the quiet ruin.