Chapter 111
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Translator: Prime Works
Chapter: 111
Chapter Title: The Meaning of Digging (2)
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Rumble rumble rumble...
A tremor came rolling in from the east.
Over the soaring ridges of the Eastern Mountains.
Along countless valleys between peaks.
Past rugged foothills and nameless boulders below the ridgelines.
Through hunting grounds, mines, logging sites, roads, and kitchen gardens at the mountain base.
A strange yet heavy quaking spread through the ground.
Finally, it reached the horses' hooves, transmitted through stirrups and saddles, thudding against waists and chests.
"The enemy has revealed itself."
"Hmm."
Sir Blanc, captain of the White Lancers, nodded at his lieutenant's report.
His green eyes turned toward the Eastern Mountains.
The towering range east of Frontera Territory.
From there came the unfamiliar, weighty tremors.
"Mastodons, for real."
Suddenly, Sir Blanc recalled the previous evening.
Lloyd Frontera, eldest son of Baron Frontera, had come to him and said:
"Tomorrow or the day after, Mastodons will overrun our territory."
So he had asked how Lloyd knew.
Lloyd had only given a cryptic smile and replied, "Obvious, isn't it?"
"Obvious? How could anyone predict that so easily?"
It made no sense.
As far as he knew, Lloyd hadn't sent scouts into the Eastern Mountains.
He'd only supervised construction here for the past few days.
Yet he acted like he had eyes on wings.
Frankly, Blanc hadn't fully trusted the prediction.
Even this morning, as he ate and washed up, he'd smirked.
In his mind: "See? Nothing's happening."
But now?
His doubts were proven wrong.
Around noon, as if on cue, low, massive tremors began from the distant eastern mountains.
The distinctive quake of a huge herd of heavy creatures moving at once.
The explosive crashes as they smashed through obstructing trees and rocks.
No doubt: a herd of herbivorous mega-monsters from the plains—Mastodons.
"Judging by the approaching tremors, they'll show themselves soon."
Four-meter behemoths, like rhinos crossed with elephants.
Hundreds of them charging in.
"That's how Mastodon herds move."
Grip!
Sir Blanc clutched his lance.
He envisioned the battle ahead.
"The Mastodon herd will charge straight west from the east into the barony. Our most efficient response with current forces would be a head-on clash of brute strength."
He'd lead the White Lancers at the forefront.
Charge directly at the oncoming herd.
Dodge tusks and horns, thrust lances into foreleg joints.
"Stopping the lead Mastodons is key. Fallen leaders will block the path, sowing chaos in the herd and halting their charge."
Then circle the stationary herd, wheeling endlessly.
Pummel them with mounted shots and javelins.
Peel them away layer by layer, like onion skins.
Strangle the breath from the entire group.
Slaughter them all.
"It's doable. If Frontera's infantry supports properly and holds formation."
Sir Blanc simulated the battle in his head and predicted the outcome.
"Mastodon herd: annihilated. Our White Lancers: twenty to thirty casualties minimum."
Out of five hundred, twenty to thirty losses.
Heavy toll.
But Sir Blanc sealed his lips.
"No matter. If that's the best we can do, I'm satisfied. That's our honor."
On the field by the Queen's order.
Defending the kingdom's land from monster raids.
Death there held no fear.
"All hands, prepare to charge. Hold position here. Advance on my signal."
"Yes, sir!"
The five hundred White Lancers at the territory center roared in response.
They thrust their pristine white lances skyward in unison.
But then.
A messenger came sprinting breathless from the baron's manor.
Delivering unexpected orders.
"Huff, pant, gasp. By order of the Baron: All White Lancers, abandon current position. Proceed to the southern boundary of Marez Reclaimed Land. Arm with lances and shovels. Stand by."
"What?"
Sir Blanc's beard twitched.
"What does that mean? Stand by south? What about the charge?"
"No frontal charge under any circumstances."
"Then how—"
"See that white rock on the eastern ridgeline?"
"I see it."
"Lord Lloyd is there."
"Lloyd Frontera? Why there..."
"He'll command from there. You, Sir Blanc, hold the designated southern position. When a blue flag rises on that rock, advance 'slowly' north. That's the order."
"Slowly? Against those Mastodons? Not full gallop or charge?"
"Yes. Advance while kicking up maximum dust. Clang shovels on lances for noise."
"What in the—"
Sir Blanc's face hardened.
Absurd orders.
Not blocking the Mastodons head-on, but advancing slowly? Dust and noise instead of battle cries?
"Are you sure you got the orders right?"
"Positive. Oh, and Lord Lloyd insisted I relay a message to you personally."
"Insisted? What message?"
"The six days of digging will finally pay off."
"......"
Sir Blanc fell silent.
The past six days of shoveling flashed in his mind.
"...Understood. We'll obey."
"Thank you. Dismissed."
The messenger saluted and withdrew.
Sir Blanc led the White Lancers south as ordered.
He tilted his head the whole way.
"Will this plan actually work?"
A memory surfaced.
Seven nights ago?
Lloyd brandishing a shovel.
Fierce aura pouring from it.
Mana storm shooting dozens of meters skyward.
Unprecedented sight.
More potent than any swordmaster's aura he'd seen.
After losing that duel.
At Lloyd's request, he'd willingly picked up a shovel.
Ordered his men to do the same.
Followed Lloyd's directions.
"And we... shoveled for six straight days."
Pure shoveling.
Dig where told.
Excavate as directed.
Move dirt. Pile it. Tamp it.
At first, no clue what they were building.
By day three, the structure's outline emerged.
"It was a massive ground relief sculpture."
One hundred fifty meters wide.
One hundred meters long.
A flat fifteen-degree incline, higher on the west.
Then more shoveling.
Hauled volcanic ash atop the dirt base. Spread it. Tamp it.
Scraped or thickened per Lloyd's marks.
Poured water to set it sometimes.
Gradually, a colossal shape formed.
A carnivorous mega-monster from the plains: Megalania.
"So I confronted him. Demanded answers."
This wasn't right.
What kind of defense was this?
He'd voiced doubts openly.
Lloyd's response?
"That'll defend better than a dirt wall of equal volume. Guaranteed, this time..."
No way he bought it.
Stopping a Mastodon herd with a floor carving?
"And now no charge either. What’s his plan?"
Tormented, Blanc rode south.
Cavalry charges aren't casual.
Especially against non-human monsters.
Yet Lloyd was wasting a prime opportunity.
"Not buying into superstition, is he?"
Blanc bit his lip.
His worried gaze fixed on the white rock where Lloyd stood.
"Will this really work?"
♣
"Work? Of course."
Lloyd smirked.
The situation would unfold exactly as predicted.
Just like pinpointing Mastodons as the second raiders.
"You were certain of all this?"
"Yeah."
Lloyd nodded.
Haviel asked.
"How?"
"Simple. I'm smart."
"......"
"Kidding. I checked some references."
"References?"
"Yeah. This."
Thud thud.
Lloyd dusted off an old booklet.
Haviel spotted the title on the leather cover: Eastern Plains Monster Guide.
"Found it in the manor library. Lists all Eastern Plains monsters and habits. Analyzed and referenced it."
"And that led to today's plan?"
"Yeah."
Lloyd nodded again.
Truth?
No.
Half-lie, honestly.
He had referenced it, but not just that.
'There's another super useful book: the novel Iron-Blooded Knight. Heh.'
The monster guide he showed.
Alone, it wasn't enough for a plan.
Why lie?
'Need solid, smart-looking evidence.'
Obvious.
Baseless genius?
Just a know-it-all.
Bad image.
Knowing everything without sources?
Predicting futures sans scouts, Zhuge Liang cosplay?
Admired at first.
Later?
'Suspicion. Locals aren't idiots.'
So Lloyd presented "minimal local-understandable references" as basis.
'Life's easier without doubts.'
Doubt-free territory.
Trust-filled daily life.
That motto drove his silver tongue today.
"I said it: Monster domino effect. After locust bugs, next raiders? Obvious. Herd-dwelling, mobile, low food chain, tough enough for mountains."
"Mastodons."
"Exactly."
That's where the guide ended for him.
Rest?
'From Iron-Blooded Knight, naturally.'
No genius here.
Not Zhuge Liang either.
Just slightly more info than locals.
'Anyway, orc hunting customs mentioned briefly helped tons.'
Novel snippet recalled.
Orcs hunt Mastodons using huge slabs carved with Megalania images. Dumb, wary Mastodons suspect it real, flee opposite "just in case."
Alert first, judge later.
Orcs exploited that.
Ambush traps in flight path.
"So the trap starts now. Watch."
Lloyd chin-pointed.
Tremors intensified. Closed in.
Hundreds of trees shook. Toppled.
Mastodon herd appeared.
"Groooaaar!"
Crash! Rumble rumble—!
Four-meter bulk.
Rhinoceros horn, elephant tusks, bison head: herbivore monster, Mastodon.
Hundreds thundered down Eastern Mountains' base.
Trampled hunting grounds, logging sites, kitchen gardens.
Lead bull Mastodon snorted excitedly, thinking:
Nice flat spot after mountains.
Greener grass than plains everywhere.
Graze wild here, no breeding worries.
Bull eyed barony hungrily.
Then spotted it.
"...Grooo?"
Territory center.
A predator.
Their nightmare prey-eater: Megalania.
Elongated crocodile jaws.
Jagged teeth protruding.
Impenetrable scale armor.
Claws shredding bellies.
And this one's thrice the size of known foes.
Crouched toward them.
Classic Megalania kill pose!
"Grooo, grok!"
Bull panicked.
Why Megalania in human turf?
Unbelievable.
Irrefutable.
Dirt-and-ash relief too lifelike. Like it'd lunge, snap his waist.
Terrifying.
Maybe fake.
But if not...
Didn't want to die.
Bull chose instinct: safety first.
"Grooook! Ook!"
Crunch crunch!
Halted westbound charge at Megalania.
Entire following herd too.
Herd lost direction, plunged into chaos.
Then.
"Now! Blue flag up!"
Lloyd shouted.
Haviel raised the tall pole.
Blue flag fluttered over white rock.
Visible clearly to Sir Blanc waiting at Marez Reclaimed Land entrance south.
"......"
Who knew it'd work.
'A mere ground carving halts real Mastodons...'
Unbelievable.
Even after shoveling it himself.
'Maybe the eastward-sloping ground?'
Fifteen-degree dirt base.
Mastodons' downhill view angle.
Combined, Megalania looked hyper-real.
That crossed his mind.
But no time for musings.
Blanc recalled orders, bellowed.
"Trot forward! Lances and shovels up!"
Clack! Clack!
Five hundred White Lancers moved.
Trotting steadily, kicking dust clouds as ordered.
Clanged lances on shovels.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Noisy, dusty northward creep.
Herd reacted unexpectedly again.
"Groooaaar!"
Bull bellowed long.
Turned north, fled.
'Threat working?'
Indeed.
Blanc unaware: full charge would've provoked counterattack via defense instinct.
But this?
Gentle pressure: dust, noise.
Perfect.
Distant Megalania terror.
Plus encroaching southern dust/sound.
Drove herbivore Mastodons fleeing.
'Wait. Their escape route... that massive north-south trench we dug.'
Blanc realized.
Flight path: six days of mad shoveling.
Not intentional.
Just followed Lloyd blindly.
Dig, excavate.
For Megalania base.
Result?
Canal- or moat-like long pit.
'And its ends nearly touch the river by Marez Reclaimed Land... so?'
Flash insight.
Overlooked puzzle pieces.
Clicked together.
Revealed: trap's true form.
Blanc shivered.
Turned head.
Stared at white rock east.
Huge white flag waved, affirming hunch.
Simultaneously, colossal water balloon—no, fantasy beast—barreled from south at herd.
"Hamang!"
The flood attack began.