Ambush in the Fog Wall
"Haha, any discomfort anywhere?"
"It's not like we're on vacation. Adventurers never fuss over beds. And you're the employer—speak casually."
"Oh, don't say that. How am I an employer? I just handed over a commission. Right? Heh heh heh."
After glancing once at Lugal Shazan, Adel smirked at Pausa Gwahl's fawning attitude toward him.
"Well, the bed was comfortable. You take good care of your ship."
He meant that sincerely, at least. Cove wasn't the sea, but its massive lake was sea-like in scale. And thanks to the Forbidden Zone's unique distortions, the lake's currents rivaled any ocean. Whether from years of sailing experience or a skilled navigator aboard, Pausa's ship had been the smoothest ride Adel had ever taken.
The sea folk Gonu couldn't handle a ship this well.
"Who's the navigator?"
"A guy who joined recently—he's pretty good. My brother brought him in. Not enough experience for main duty yet, though."
"At this skill level, you should give him a cut of my pay. Haven't slept that soundly in ages."
"Whoa, if you say so, it makes my day. I'll handle the bonus myself."
"You will?"
"Don't worry. But... what's your connection to the Explosion King?"
Pausa sneaked a glance at Adel's face as he asked. He'd probably tossed and turned all night, dying of curiosity.
"Just owed him a debt, paid it back. That's all."
"...A debt to the Explosion King?"
Pausa stared at him with eyes full of confusion, unable to grasp what Adel meant.
"Anyway, we're here now. The Fog Wall."
Brushing off Pausa's urge to probe further, Adel pointed ahead. The wind spirits he'd sent out returned, chattering around him. Low-grade spirits incapable of human speech, but their frantic buzzing suggested danger.
The Forbidden Zone lives up to its name.
Even without their warning, Adel sensed the sinister aura seeping from the thick fog.
[That's rift energy.]
Adel nodded at Kalderet's words. Rifts from primordial creation, birthplace of gods themselves—pure origin.
No matter how many times I enter, it chokes the breath right out. Dad stayed here alone for days at a time?
Even with a high god's blessing, traversing the Forbidden Zone solo repeatedly—Haien was incredible.
Me, contracted to an ancient god, struggling this much... and hunting monsters inside too...
Lugal was one of the Eight Armies, but Haien clearly outclassed him.
Squeeze.
A spark of rivalry ignited in Adel. In his past life, by the time he'd gained power, Haien was long dead. Just vague admiration then. But now, he'd surpass him—pure skill, no borrowed divine might.
[Love-hate, eh?]
He gave a wry smile at Kalderet's remark.
Just a goal.
[Focus. Your father's impressive for crossing it, but think of those living there.]
Adel got the point. Among the continent's three great Forbidden Zones, only Cove had inhabitants.
The southernmost desert one linked to the demon realm, crawling with demons. Primitive Cove housed savages. The North Sea's remained unexplored.
"Everyone, stay sharp! Real Forbidden Zone starts now!"
Pausa bellowed at his men.
Shwaaa—!
The ship plunged into the dense fog like it was being sucked in. Moments ago, clear skies; now, not a speck of light pierced the gloom.
"How is it?"
Pausa muttered tensely.
"Spirits found Sea Wave Island's position."
"Good. Stay quiet like this, no problems. Hurry and find it."
He sighed in relief at Adel's words.
Kwaaaaang—!
"Wh-what?!"
The ship rocked violently.
"Damn! Mouth runs ahead... Always trouble right after jinxing it."
Pausa slapped his own mouth and dashed across the deck.
"What happened?! Check now!"
His stubby arms smacked his crew into action.
"Can't see shit in the fog!"
"Rudder's jammed!"
Creeeak... Crreeeak...
Thud...!
The ship lurched again, bottom scraping perilously.
"Vice captain! Ship's grounding!"
"She's stopping!"
"Nooo!"
Panic gripped the deck. Not frontline newbies, but Pausa's handpicked veterans—yet acting like first-time storm rookies.
"...Everyone, hold on tight!"
They flailed, useless.
"Wh-what the hell's wrong with you idiots?!"
Pausa gaped at his trembling men huddled on the deck or clinging to rails, fury mixing with shock.
"Snap out of it! This is the Forbidden Zone! Quit yapping and grab the rudder!"
"...It's poison!"
"...What?"
A crewman rushed up, pale and sweating, clutching Pausa's shoulders—no trace of joking.
"C-cannon fire!"
Pausa's face twisted. The man shook like he was in scorching heat, terror-stricken.
"G-get off me!"
Pausa tried shaking off the clinging guildmates, but his gnome frame couldn't manage.
Grind...
The ship swayed dangerously. Their largest vessel, laden with Sea Wave Island repair materials—heavy, unstable.
"R-rudder... gotta hold..."
Even the helm crew collapsed trembling; Pausa yelled from the pitching deck.
Thud.
Someone shoved the slumped helmsman aside and took the wheel. Pausa's eyes widened.
"Hold tight."
Adel cranked the rudder with all his strength.
Groooan—!
The hull screamed as it veered sharply.
Slash... Shwash—!
The ship broke forward through waves again.
"Hah... hah..."
"Heugh..."
Breaking through the thick fog wall once, the groaning guildmates on deck and below finally exhaled.
"Hallucination magic in the fog. Probably the Forbidden Zone's barrier."
Adel steadied the helm, helped Pausa up, and eyed the recovering crew.
"Damn, that explains it? Everyone going mad..."
Pausa wiped sweat beading on his brow, rattled.
"Lucky. Gnomes have innate nature resistance. Hallucination's mental, but Cove's fog is more curse than magic."
Adel raised his palm; low spirits whipped up a breeze. Tiny particles danced within.
"Spores mixed in. Spirits freaking out—strong narcotic effect."
"These cause the hallucinations?"
"Yeah. Unlike gnomes or elves, unprotected humans inhale and go ten times delirious."
"Heh... Brother must've fallen to this too."
Pausa swallowed dryly, eyeing the floating spores. Fair point—Leviathan Guild was gnome brothers' creation, but mostly human members.
"Scared me shitless. Cannon fire outta nowhere... Kid, you ever even seen naval combat?"
Tension easing, Pausa irritably smacked a guildmate's head who'd grabbed him.
"Cannons were real."
"...Huh?"
Kwaaaang—!
Bang—!
Kwaang—!
Explosions rocked the ship; water erupted around them.
"Move."
In the crisis, Adel shoved Pausa's face aside and drew his bow.
Twang...
String taut, black energy gathered at the arrowhead.
Pang—!
Releasing, the sonic boom made Pausa flatten and duck.
Desert Archery — Swallow Blade.
The arrow curved through fog.
"Urk—!"
A scream echoed from the haze ahead.
"P-people?"
"Looks like Cove's savages came to greet us."
"S-savage... Battle stations now—"
"Wait. Just passed one fog wall. Don't know numbers—moving recklessly is suicide."
Adel restrained him.
"Ship's half-unarmed for repair cargo anyway."
"Then what?"
"Defensive gear on board?"
"O-of course. Engineering rig with mid-grade mana stones. Physical and magic shields."
"Strong enough for cannon fire?"
"Mana limit, but... two, three shots maybe."
Adel nodded.
"Good enough. Everyone duck and cover with anything solid."
"Wh-what about you?"
"They came to greet—gotta say hi."
He planted a foot on the rail, facing Pausa.
"I know where they are."
Adel leaped toward the scream's direction without hesitation.
"Kyaa! Kyaakcha!! Kacha!!!"
Savage tongue from within the fog wall. The leader raised a battered spear; dozens of cannons behind him readied.
"Kakacha!!!"
He lifted his crude sword; fuses lit.
Bang—!
Bang—!
Kwaang—!
Guns blazed; the lead savage warrior swung his sword wildly, bellowing at gunners.
"Ka!! Kyaak...! Urk!!"
But his neck snapped mid-cry. An arrow pierced his forehead clean through the fog.
Instant death.
"Kura! Kukakara!!"
Savages shrieked in shock at the unforeseen kill.
"What're they saying?"
A voice from the fog. Adel stepped off the deck, planting his foot on the fallen leader's head, voice low.
"Kyrak! Kya!! Kyakki!!!"
"Kya!! Kyakki!!!"
Undeterred by their fallen chief, savages raised weapons higher toward him.
"Hm..."
Adel eyed the rusty cannons on their ships, nodding. Old enough not to fire now. Relics from past challengers, likely.
Lucky.
Still using ancient captures meant low civilization—and poor accuracy.
"Plenty of time."
He faced the rust-spear-wielding savages on deck.
"Any of you speak continental?"
"Kyrak!!"
"Kyatoomrak!! Kyatoomrak!!"
"...None, huh."
Meaningless savage babble—clearly hostile. Adel nodded.
Pop—!
He vaulted the deck, side-kicking the lead savage's ribs with his sword's flat. Twisting, he snatched another's spear, thrust the shaft into its owner's chest.
"Gack—!"
"Keurk!!"
He stabbed the rusted spear into the sprawled savage's thigh.
"Kaaaaak...!!!"
Scream rang out. Rust worse than poison—sticky sludge mixed with blood from the gash.
"Even without words, there's ways to communicate."
Adel knew well: sometimes, swords spoke clearer than speech.