The Fall of Weathers Village
A middle-aged man emerged from a small stretch of woods, a net sack slung across his back. Half of his brown hair had already gone white. The sack was packed full of chestnuts — large ones, their shells gleaming with such a healthy sheen that they looked delicious at a glance.
"Neji!"
He called the name up toward the iron gate set in the center of the stone wall.
"Huh?"
A young face, no older than his twenties, poked out over the top of the gate.
"Uncle Joren. You're back early. Makes sense, though — everyone else is taking the weekend off."
The young man named Neji grinned down at him.
"Figured I ought to head into the city, so I wrapped things up quick. Still managed to fill it pretty well, though."
The middle-aged man called Joren jerked a thumb at the sack on his back.
"Wow, those chestnuts look incredible. We'll be just fine this year too."
Neji smiled and nodded.
"Not just the chestnuts. The raspberries are ripe and sweet as anything."
"Prices have been good lately too. Shouldn't we be expanding the village soon?"
"That's what I'm going to look into."
"R-really?"
"Yeah. We'll need a lot of hands for the work, so I'm heading into the city early to hire some laborers."
"Woooah! What are you standing around for! Get in here already!"
The sound of Neji dropping down came an instant before the iron gate split down the middle and swung open.
"You're the one who just opened it, you brat."
Joren was smiling, about to step inside, when heavy footsteps sounded from behind him.
He turned. People wrapped in robes as black as pitch were coming toward the village.
Those people...?
Weathers Village was famous across the continent for its wild raspberries and chestnuts, so tourists did wander through from time to time — but there was not a trace of a sightseer's anticipation coming off these people.
Dangerous...
Instincts honed over more than thirty years as a mercenary whispered at him to run. But he could not fall back and leave his home and his family behind.
Joren slammed the opening gate shut and planted himself in front of it.
"Wh-who are you people?"
"......"
There were a great many of them, yet not a single one answered. They did not break stride. They came all the way to the village entrance.
The man at the front lifted his head. Eyeballs so black they looked charred to cinders. The moment Joren saw those eyes, a crawling shiver ran through his entire body.
"Ah — Uncle! Those people—"
"Don't come out!"
Joren waved Neji back and pressed his shoulders to the gate.
"Is this Weathers?"
The black-eyed man's mouth opened. His voice resonated as if it were rising from deep underground, soaked through with some unidentifiable pitch-black energy.
"Ah..."
Just hearing it made Joren's heart drop in his chest. Strength drained from his whole body. He could not do a thing.
"Y-yes. It is."
Joren bit down hard on his lip and nodded.
"How many humans live here?"
"Why are you asking that?"
"How many?"
"I don't know who you people are, but—"
"Your chance is over."
The black-eyed man flicked his hand as if shooing a fly.
"What are you talking abou—"
"Ah!"
Jet-black claws erupted from that gesture and tore Joren's body into four pieces.
"AAAAAH!"
"Noisy."
Neji, still up on the wall, screamed and lunged for the alarm bell — and the man's hand descended as smoothly as a conductor's.
CRAAAAASH!
The black claws riding that hand fell on a diagonal. The iron gate and the stone wall exploded outward in their entirety, and Neji, who had been standing on top of them, poured down as a spray of blood.
"Haaah..."
"Ah..."
"Wh-what is this..."
The people of Weathers Village behind the wall, crushed beneath the black-eyed man's dreadful aura, could not keep their feet. They sank to the ground.
"Gather every human in the village."
"Yes."
At the black-eyed man's command, the freaks in black robes scattered like ghosts.
"Aagh!"
"L-let me go!"
"Ugh..."
They treated the villagers like livestock. Hooks flowing with black energy punched holes through people's bodies, and they were dragged into the center of the village.
"There was one rat hiding."
The black-eyed man waved his hand to the right. Dark nails unfurled from his fingers and fell. A solidly built house was crushed flat, and a massive scar was carved into the earth.
SPLUUURT!
From behind the collapsing wall, a savage quantity of blood spilled out, and someone's shoulder and strips of flesh slid down onto the ground.
RUMBLE!
As the building came down, the person whose arm had been severed could not even scream before they were buried in the wreckage.
The black-eyed man looked at the collapsed house, then turned his head. The villagers, their faces a bloodless blue, could only stare at the dirt.
"Thirty-nine. A sufficient number for sacrifices."
He nodded as he looked them over.
"The work?"
"It's finished. We've implanted demonic energy into all of them."
A woman so short her robe dragged along the ground bowed her head.
"We're taking them all."
"Yes."
The short woman who had received the order stepped in front of the people. A bizarre resonance that was not a human language spilled from her mouth, and the villagers' eyes went slack.
They rose like zombies, swaying on their feet, and began walking toward the Zamari Mountain Range.
The black-eyed man watched them go, and the corner of his mouth curled up.
Raon could not hold it in. He turned to Denning Rose.
"What is that supposed to mean? Why would they attack Weathers Village?"
Weathers Village was close to the Zamari Mountain Range, that much was true — but it was not on the way. He could not understand why they would go out of their way, circling far to the right, just to raid that village.
"I don't know either. One of our agents was stationed there, and it seems they got him too. All we received was a contact saying it was a Black Tower attack, and then nothing."
Denning Rose kept her head down, her fist clenched tight. For her to let the emotion show at all, the agent must have been someone she cared about.
"That's... I mean..."
Dorian, too, had clearly never imagined something like this. He clasped his trembling hands together.
"This is only a hypothesis for now."
Denning Rose slowed her steps and glanced slightly aside.
"Go on."
"I think they intend to use the villagers as sacrifices."
"Sacrifices?"
"They implant people with dark mana and feed them to the Drake, stacking negative energy inside it before they try to take it down. That's my guess."
"Negative energy..."
Raon touched his lip and nodded.
She's right. That's the most likely explanation.
Just as Denning Rose had said, there was no other reason the ones hunting the Drake would suddenly raid a village. No — he had to hope that was it. If they had taken the people as sacrifices, then a great many of them might still be alive.
"Dark mana, you say?"
Wrath ground his teeth with a harsh scrape.
"You mean those lowly wretches who borrow the power of demonkind dared to interrupt This King's dessert time?!"
He seemed furious that the village had been attacked and he could no longer eat the food he had been looking forward to. He ground his teeth and drew up a wave of wrathful energy.
It's a little different.
"What's different?"
The Black Tower does use dark mana — but it isn't ordinary dark mana.
"Then what is it?"
They absorb dark mana into their own life force and use it that way.
The Black Tower did not simply wield dark mana. They used a deranged method of fusing dark mana with their own vital energy — their life force itself. That was why, whether in magic or martial arts, they produced far greater power than anyone using ordinary mana.
"They're not even demonfolk, and they mix dark mana into their life force? Is that some new way to kill themselves?"
Unfortunately, they don't die from it.
Raon let out a breath and looked at Wrath.
Raspberry pie, braised chestnuts — if you want to eat any of it, then help me.
"Of course! Leave it to This King!"
Wrath clenched his round, ham-like fists tight, as if telling Raon to just leave everything to him. He was a glutton on any ordinary day, but at times like this he would be a genuine help.
It'd be better to leave Dorian behind.
The Black Tower had moved first, and with hostages in play there was no guarantee anything would go according to plan. Taking a timid Dorian along might only create a bigger problem. Leaving him here seemed the wiser choice.
"Dorian. You should—"
Raon turned — and his eyes went wide.
What?
He had expected to find Dorian shaking in fear. Instead, Dorian was looking straight at him, his hand locked around the hilt of his sword. His hands were still trembling, so it was not as if the fear had vanished. But his eyes were clear and bright.
"I-I'll go too."
Dorian took a step forward.
"There's definitely something I can do!"
Raon met those eyes and smiled faintly.
He's grown.
Even when Dorian had reached Expert Peak-Class, it had not really registered. Looking at those eyes now, though, Raon could feel it. Dorian had truly grown.
"You should take him."
Yeah.
Raon nodded and turned back to Denning Rose.
"Time is short. We'll leave at once."
"It's a remote area, so there's no dimensional gate. I've arranged for you to change horses along the way. I'll leave it to you."
Even in a situation this urgent, Denning Rose had already prepared the next step. She was an extraordinary woman.
"Thank you."
Raon nodded, took the horses, and rode out of Lokan.
Just in case.
He approached a thicket outside the city and called for Merlin, low enough that Dorian would not hear.
Merlin. Merlin!
Unlike usual, there was not a hint of her presence. Apparently her claim that she still had unfinished business had been the truth.
"Those kinds of madwomen are never around when you actually need them."
Wrath scowled, as if that were simply a defining trait of lunatics.
Nothing I can do about it.
They would have to go as they were. Raon let out a short breath and swung into the saddle. It would slow them down a little, but right now this was the only way.
"No rest until we arrive."
"Yes, sir!"
Dorian swallowed dryly and nodded hard.
Raon looked at him — still trembling, and still refusing to fall back — and smiled.
"Let's go."
Creak.
Derus Robert was sitting across from a man with a light, idle air about him, the look of a wastrel, when the office door opened and Rezel stepped in.
"My lord."
Rezel straightened his posture and bowed at the waist.
"Confirmation is complete. It is true that a Drake's nest sits at the peak of the Zamari Mountain Range."
"So Phalen Sefia's words were the truth."
Derus offered Rezel a cool, thin smile.
"Yes. There is no need to let our guard down, but the points of suspicion may be considered resolved."
Rezel lowered his eyes and nodded.
"Loctan."
Derus turned his gaze to the middle-aged man standing beside him.
"Yes, my lord."
The man called Loctan answered in a heavy voice at odds with his frivolous face, and bowed his head.
"Can you eliminate Raon Zieghart?"
The end of Derus Robert's sentence was shaped like a question, but it was not a question. It was an order to get it done, no matter what.
"Of course."
Loctan nodded, uncowed by the weight of that command.
"A kid who can swing a sword around a bit? I can play with him while I kill him."
"He is not someone you can dismiss like that. The boy has the gift of reading an opponent's martial arts at a glance."
Derus frowned, recalling the swordsmanship he had seen from Raon in the arena.
"A genius enough for you to acknowledge him, my lord. That just makes it easier."
Loctan rolled his wrist in a lazy circle and smiled.
"I'm a genius at hunting those kinds of wet-behind-the-ears pups."
"I'll trust you."
"Thank you."
"Just don't indulge in pointless slaughter."
"Naturally. I'm not some pleasure killer."
"Says the slaughterer who melts entire villages every time he carries out a mission."
"Haha. That was when I was young..."
Loctan scratched his cheek as if embarrassed. His eyes, however, still gleamed with a bloodlust that would never wash out.
"Do you need anything?"
Derus looked down at Loctan with cold eyes.
"One thing."
"What?"
"Gathering information delayed me a bit, so I might arrive after it's all over. Could I trouble you for some transportation?"
Loctan scratched the back of his head, muttering that even walking was a bother.
"Rezel."
Derus Robert nodded not at Loctan, but at Rezel.
"Tell him to make the preparations."
"Yes."
Rezel bowed and left the office.
"As far as the foot of the range would be impossible, but he should be able to get you nearby."
"Thank you. If you're putting this much trust in me, I'll make certain it's handled."
Loctan smiled and lifted a hand. Energies of different colors slowly unfurled from his fingertips.
"That genius they call the next greatest on the continent will have his breath cut off without even knowing why he's dying."
He would melt the brat's corpse and bring the Drake Heart back as a gift.
Raon changed horses without stopping and even used his footwork at full power, and they arrived near Weathers Village.
Ghastly.
The Weathers Village he had seen before had thick walls, but a warmth had shown through the scenery all the same. The village visible in the distance now was a ruin, collapsed in on itself — as if a dragon had stamped it flat with its claws.
"Let's go."
"Yes..."
Raon let out a deep breath, steeled himself, and entered Weathers Village.
"Urgh..."
The moment they stepped inside, Dorian clapped a hand over his mouth and groaned. He could hardly be blamed. Human corpses had been torn apart like sheets of paper, and the split flesh had already begun to rot. A stench as foul as fertilizer, and a strange, sick energy, wrapped the entire village.
Raon looked at the blackened, rotting bodies and clenched his molars.
Dark mana.
It had not even been long since they were killed, and yet they looked as if they had been rotting for months. That was the mark of those who had been touched by dark mana.
"A filthy smell. Just as you said — something has been mixed into the demonic energy."
Wrath frowned, clearly displeased.
"Hah..."
Raon did not look away from the cruelty or the stench. He surveyed the village.
Too few bodies.
Given the size of the village, there should have been at least thirty people, maybe fifty. The corpses in sight numbered fewer than ten. Which meant the others had not died here.
Then they really were taken away—
Wait.
Breathing?
Just as he was thinking Denning Rose's prediction had been right, the sound of a person breathing came from a collapsed building. It was thin and faint, a thread that looked ready to snap at any moment.
Raon crossed the ground with his footwork, ran, and lifted the wreckage. Beneath a massive chunk of stone, a man with one arm severed and a hole torn through his abdomen forced his eyes open with terrible effort.
This is...
The Carbon Cultivation Method.
A technique used when you had been mortally wounded but still had something that absolutely had to be said — you killed your breath and played dead. The moment the breathing method ended, death was certain, and while you held on you had to endure agony so vicious that even people who knew the technique refused to use it.
This man had been waiting for someone to come, enduring pain so fierce he must have wanted to die on the spot.
"Are you with the Black Market?"
"Th-that's right."
As expected, the man was the Black Market agent Denning Rose had stationed here.
"L-Lord Raon, isn't it."
The agent's voice trembled. His breath was on the verge of breaking.
"It is. If you have something to say—"
"Th-the Black Tower's Black Claw Leader came and took the villagers. He said they were s-sacrifices to feed the Drake, and he implanted dark mana into their bodies."
The agent went on, clutching his own throat with the one hand he had left.
"H-he said if you feed people poisoned with dark mana to a Drake, the dark mana stacks up inside it. They... they seem to be putting the people up in the nest to feed the Drake, then taking it down..."
"Drink some water first."
Dorian held water out to the agent, but the man smiled faintly and refused.
"N-nails of demonic energy come out of the Black Claw Leader's hands. Even if you defend, you can't stop them. There's a short mage too. Her magical power is... extremely strong."
The agent had even grasped the Black Claw Leader's method of attack and the level of his subordinates, and he passed it all on.
"P-please."
He did not give his name. He did not ask to be saved. He only asked them to save the people, took Raon's hand, forced a smile, and let his head fall. The thin thread of breath that had been holding on snapped.
Raon gripped the agent's hand as the warmth left it.
This agent had been dispatched here. He would not have known the villagers well. He would not even have been close to them. A request made because he was human. The last request of a man who had held on so that he could live as a human being.
Raon bowed his head to the nameless agent.
"Dorian."
"Y-yes, sir!"
Dorian wiped at his eyes with his sleeve and ran forward. He had plenty of fear, and even more tears — but he was someone Raon could trust now.
"I have something I need you to do."
"A-anything."
Raon listened to that answer and unfolded a map. He pointed to the far side of the highest peak, where the Drake's nest sat.
"Climb the cliff on the back side and get up to the nest without being seen by the Black Tower."
"Y-you want me to scale the mountain range?"
"Yes. Protect the villagers from the Drake and from the Black Tower."
"That's... I-I understand!"
Dorian, who would normally have shaken his head in terror, bit his lip and nodded hard.
"You can do it. Put on every presence-killing artifact you've got."
"I will."
Dorian pulled piece after piece of equipment from his Belly Pouch and strapped them to his body.
"What will you do, Vice Leader?"
"I..."
Raon folded the map and looked up at the highest peak in the Zamari Mountain Range. In eyes that stared straight into the dark, a flash of crimson lightning flared.