Purging the Groluks
Plunging through the enveloping darkness, I ascended the mountain path. From what I'd confirmed on the map beforehand, this area was likely the Groluks' habitat.
Once I'd ventured deep enough into the woods, I untied the strap on the leather pouch I'd prepared. Opening the sloshing bag, I splashed its thick pig's blood in every direction. The metallic tang and fishy stench filled the air.
Now all that was left was to wait for them to come.
How much time passed? The sound of trampled underbrush and snapping branches began to echo. Through the foliage, massive black shadows—rough and sinewy—loomed into view, swaying as they approached.
Under the moonlight, the Groluks revealed themselves and froze upon spotting me. Their bulging, muscular shoulders, brutish fists, and long-clawed feet made them truly hideous monsters. Their faces were so grotesque it was like someone had slapped eyes, nose, and mouth onto a lump of clay and smashed it against the ground. They were so enormous I had to crane my neck just to see their visages.
No wonder no army or legion had reclaimed the northern road—with packs like these roaming free.
There were five in total, apparently just part of the group. Flaring their flat, gaping nostrils, they greedily inhaled the pig's blood scent.
"Didn't bring the little ones, huh?"
Of course, no reply came. I scanned them coolly. Amid the hulks stood one notably smaller Groluk, baring its teeth in a snarl. It was still a bit bigger than me, though. Groluks took subadults like that on hunts to teach them the ropes.
After a brief staring contest with me, the Groluks grunted among themselves in squeals like pigs being slaughtered. Then, abruptly, they charged.
I drew the Holy Sword. The blade ignited in pure white flame as it left its sheath. The blinding radiance made the Groluks falter and halt.
Gripping the Holy Sword, I lunged forward. Bursting through their midst, chunks of Groluk rained down in wet thuds. Overwhelmed by a power they'd never encountered, the subadult collapsed to the ground.
"Today's your last day."
I swung the sword down, severing its forearm.
"Greeeeaaargh!!"
The subadult's scream reverberated through the forest. Dragging the bleeding creature by its legs, I pressed deeper up the mountain path. Groluks had fierce maternal instincts and pack loyalty—they couldn't ignore a cub's agonized cries.
Sure enough, enraged Groluks began bursting from all sides, rationality lost. I swung the Holy Sword in wide arcs, heads and limbs tumbling free. Effortlessly massacring them, I delved further into their lair.
How much farther did I go? The endless onslaught suddenly ceased.
The moment I'd been waiting for had arrived. I'd tossed the subadult aside—it had already bled out.
A thick dead tree snapped with a crack, and a colossal shadow emerged. Far larger and more muscled than the others, this beast exuded undeniable authority. No one could doubt it was the chieftain, its eyes flashing with fury. A sharp horn protruded from its forehead—the mark of an alpha.
"Hiding while your family got slaughtered, and now you show?"
Playfully, I stabbed the dead subadult's corpse with the Holy Sword. The chieftain's eyes rolled back as it bellowed—a nauseating pig-squeal that pierced my ears.
Some say one way to commit suicide is to kill a Groluk cub in front of its parent. Watching the frothing, berserk charge, I could see why. Not that it applied to me.
I sidestepped slightly, calmly raising the sword to shoulder height before thrusting. The blade pierced half the chieftain's flank. Twisting it in a grinding arc like a millstone, I yanked it free from the spine. The chieftain's upper and lower halves nearly parted as it crumpled lifelessly.
"Whew."
Sheathing the Holy Sword, I eyed the corpse. Guts spilled from the severed waist, reeking horribly.
"Your good times are over."
I drew a dagger from my belt and slit its throat. Grasping the horn like a handle, I stuffed the head into the leather pouch that had held the pig's blood.
That finished the Groluks. Without their leader, the survivors would scatter by nightfall, fleeing me as their predator and seeking distant lands to survive. Some unlucky territory would get them next. Not my problem.
Slinging the heavy pouch over my shoulder, I descended the mountain.
Hildeva rose from bed early that morning.
"Ugh..."
Her body ached all over. Lightning had struck the northern mountains several times last night, jolting her awake repeatedly.
Groping for her glasses, she heard someone pounding fiercely on City Hall's door.
"Administrator! Administrator!"
Wondering what was wrong, Hildeva rushed over and flung the door open. The militiaman who'd been hammering away shouted frantically.
"The Groluks... the Groluks..."
"They came down again?! Right now?!"
"No, it's not—!"
"Woooaaah!!"
Cheers erupted from the streets.
"What the hell's going on?"
Hildeva shoved past the militiaman and dashed outside. Most of the townsfolk had already gathered. In the center, one militiaman thrust a long spear aloft, bellowing.
"We're free! Free!"
Adjusting her glasses, Hildeva peered at the spear. At its tip dangled a weathered, brownish hunk of meat, dripping blood.
"What... is that?"
"The chieftain Groluk's head!"
"...What?!"
Hildeva pushed through the crowd.
"Administrator! Take a look!"
The militiaman lowered the spear for her inspection. The cleanly decapitated Groluk head stared blankly at her, a single sharp horn jutting from its forehead. She knew exactly what that meant.
"Chieftain Groluk..."
"Yes. With this one's death, the rest will have fled. The northern road is open!"
"Explain. Where'd this come from? Who killed it?"
The militiamen on dawn patrol had found it first—plopped right in the central crossroads. Nothing else was known.
Hildeva examined the precise cut. No accident or infighting.
"What... how...?"
"Administrator, shouldn't we send word to Central now?"
The reminder snapped her back. "Right!"
She hurried inside, grabbing writing tools and paper.
'Chieftain Groluk head discovered. Pack dispersal presumed. Request immediate garrison dispatch.'
A militiaman bagged the head and galloped south to Bue with the dispatch. It would reach the palace via official courier from the Bue garrison commander.
Hearing the jubilant clamor outside, Hildeva pondered. How had an army-proof monster gotten its head chopped overnight? Nothing had changed... except one thing.
Bertrand at the Crossroads Troll Inn.
She knew how ridiculous that suspicion was. Storm a Groluk lair at midnight for the chieftain's head? That'd make him the incarnation of the war god Halla. So who...?
Donning her coat, she headed to the inn.
The Crossroads Troll Inn looked unchanged from yesterday.
"Mr. Bertrand! You in?"
No answer to her knocks. His horse was gone too. With all those buildings bought, he couldn't have fled...
She circled the inn but found no trace.
The next dawn, I returned to the inn and crashed in my picked third-floor room until hunger woke me around noon. I whipped up a quick meal in the kitchen, ate, and headed to City Hall.
The town buzzed with cheer, the opposite of my arrival. Freedom from Groluks seemed certain. Even strangers like me got friendly greetings.
At City Hall, Hildeva was outside chatting with townsfolk.
"Administrator."
Her face stiffened slightly at the sight of me.
"Mr. Bertrand. Out and about?"
"Huh? Just from the inn. Anyway, I'm hiring."
"Hiring? For inn cleaning?"
"Tried solo, but need help. Can you recommend some?"
"Sure. Daily wage?"
I named my figure. Hildeva blinked in surprise; the listening citizens clamored to volunteer. I selected five men and women on the spot.
"Oh, Mr. Bertrand. By the way..."
Hildeva seemed about to say something.