The Cult (2)
The evangelist Iksion of the Blatian Church stared at the report, his expression hardening.
“What do you mean? Another mercenary party has entered the dungeon?”
“Yes, Evangelist Iksion. Only one survivor made it back from the fourth search team. They claim a mercenary party attacked them.”
“How strange. This dungeon lies in a border dispute zone. Ordinary mercenaries should not be able to enter. Yet these parties keep appearing.”
Iksion wondered whether the situation outside the dungeon had shifted. The evangelist’s aide continued in a low voice.
“Our search teams are well-coordinated, but they are specialized for vampire extermination. Against a standard mercenary party, they stand little chance.”
“Hm. If the mercenaries are roaming in search of something, the odds of encountering our teams are high.”
“True. But there is good news. One member of the fourth team carried ‘Blatian’s Eye.’”
“Oh? Did the mercenaries take it as loot?”
“Yes. It was a gold necklace, so they definitely claimed it.”
Blatian’s Eye was a white gem marked with a single red dot like a pupil—an artifact granted by the Blood God himself, capable of revealing a person’s location.
“It is a shame that even the regional leader has been martyred. Only they are permitted to bear it. Bring the crystal orb and the blood of the oath.”
They sprinkled the stored blood onto the orb. A glowing point appeared within the glass.
“Still on the second floor. Gather every search team into a single unit and follow the mercenaries. If an opening appears, eliminate them.”
“These are the stairs leading to the third floor. Shall we descend?”
Everyone hesitated. Their original purpose had been to recover the belongings of the first mercenary party that had entered.
“Since our fight with that vampire, we’ve only encountered living armors and ghouls. Combat has become much easier. Even on the third floor, I doubt we’ll face anything we can’t handle.”
“As long as we avoid falling into deliberately patterned attacks, we can conserve our holy magic,” another priest added.
There were no traces of the missing mercenaries, and the priests insisted they still had breathing room in battle. After a brief discussion, the decision was made.
“Then we descend to the third floor—but we retreat the moment it becomes too dangerous.”
The third floor looked little different from the second. As they chose a direction and advanced, a human-shaped silhouette flickered for a moment in the blue light radiating from Priest Pellani’s glass vial.
Pyutel, at the front, stopped dead. He raised his shield and peered ahead.
“It’s tall. Looks like a giant coming this way. Only one.”
As he spoke, a massive figure lumbered into view. When it drew close enough to make out clearly, everyone grimaced. Its entire body was raw red flesh, as though burned to the muscle. The skin writhed and bulged continuously, as if parasites squirmed beneath it.
“It’s a Grendel! Physical weapons don’t work on it because of that hide!”
All eyes turned to Sezanne at the mention of ineffective physical force.
“We must bind it with ropes before casting magic. Otherwise it will flee after every hit and return again and again.”
The creature was every bit as troublesome as its grotesque appearance suggested.
“When the shields block it, throw ropes from both flanks to immobilize its body. After that, burn it to death with magical fire.”
While Pyutel and Meni held the front line, the two rangers stepped forward with lassos, spinning them like cowboys. Their years with crossbows and bows gave them perfect distance judgment. The ropes looped around the monster’s neck and arms in a single cast.
They braced from opposite directions, but the Grendel’s strength matched its enormous size. The rangers were yanked back and forth like ragdolls.
Pyutel had seen enough. He drew a bola weighted with stones on both ends and hurled it at one leg. The free weight spun in a wide arc and wrapped the other leg tight.
“It’s falling!”
Even with both legs bound, the Grendel thrashed wildly, lost its balance, and crashed to the ground with a heavy thud.
Sezanne had been preparing a fireball, but with the creature already prone she instead raised a blazing barrier on the spot.
“Fire Wall!”
Flames erupted from the floor and swallowed the Grendel whole. It screamed and tried to rise, but the bola kept its legs pinned. It burned where it lay, unable to stand.
“I knew the standard tactic was to rope it from both sides and finish with magic, but I never imagined using weighted cords like that,” one priest marveled.
Normally, even if you tied a Grendel down and set it ablaze, its thrashing made it nearly impossible to keep in place. Pyutel’s bola method simplified everything. The priests could not stop praising him.
With this new technique, they could handle two or three Grendels at once. The Blatian followers trailing behind them watched carefully, then began crafting their own bolas to replicate the feat.
“People… How did they get here…?”
When a group of humans appeared instead of another giant Grendel, both Pyutel and Meni tensed and raised their shields. In dungeon logic, other humans were treated as monsters; killing them carried no punishment. Human or monster made no difference.
The group opposite them also lifted shields—eight shield-bearers in the front row alone. More figures stood arrayed behind them. At a glance, there were over thirty.
“We did not come to fight. We wish to talk.”
An elderly man pushed through the shields. His black cloak was pulled up to his neck, leaving only a pale face and white hair floating in the gloom.
“We are servants of the Blatian Church—”
“Silence, traitors! Apostates who defy Lord Blatian’s teachings—close your filthy mouths!”
Dozens more suddenly poured from the rear, shields raised, closing the distance. Torches flew in every direction, flooding the cavern with light.
“Where is the apostate Carol? Kill that one and this ends. Will you follow the traitor to the last?”
“Evangelist Iksion! That is nonsense. We left the church because those who twist Lord Blatian’s oracle are in the wrong.”
“What nonsense is this? The oracle ‘A new vampire has been born’ simply means we must select a vampire of a new generation, as we have always done. How is that a distortion?”
“The oracle foretold that a new hybrid would arise—not between human and vampire, but between elf and vampire. You interpreted it as generational replacement and tried to murder Lord Carol. That is why we cannot accept it.”
“Hmph. Disagreements over oracles should be settled inside the church. Instead you flee into a dungeon and drag outsiders into our shame? Do you truly wish to disgrace us all? Ah, my apologies to you, friends. We are servants of the Blatian Church.”
It was exactly the internal church conflict our priests had feared. Our party now stood awkwardly between two hostile factions. The smartest move was to read the room and withdraw.
“We are searching for the mercenary party that entered before us. If they are dead, simply hand over any belongings they left behind and we will leave at once.”
“Then ask those vampire bastards for the items. They are the ones who killed the mercenaries.”
“Lies! It was the opposite. They attacked the mercenaries. We only struck from behind while they were finishing the job. That is why we hold the belongings.”
The old man had several objects brought forward, insisting they were not framing anyone.
“Filthy apostates even resort to lies now.”
“It is you who twist truth into falsehood to deceive others.”
“Do not believe that old man. The words of apostates who deny the church’s legitimacy are nothing but empty falsehoods!”
“Hmph. We have a survivor from the mercenary party.”
When the old man glanced back, a woman carrying a bundle stepped forward.
“Who attacked the search party that entered the dungeon?”
“It was those people from the main branch who attacked us. These ones saved us after we were ambushed.”
She showed her mercenary badge. Pyutel examined it and confirmed it belonged to one of the original party members.
“It’s a lie! The apostates planted a fake!”
Both sides screamed accusations. Truth had become impossible to discern.
“Mercenary badges of B-rank or higher contain a magic circle that can verify identity. Hold the end of the badge. I will examine it.”
Sezanne stepped forward. She had them grip the badge facing each other and channeled mana into it. Electric sparks danced across the metal, but neither Sezanne nor the woman flinched.
“This is indeed the mercenary Melani named on the badge. Anyone else would have been shocked. So… the vampire side is the one telling the truth?”
“Then the ones who followed us from behind are…”
FWOOSH! FWOOSH! FWOOSH!
Arrows whistled through the air and slammed into the woman holding the badge. I pulled Sezanne into my arms to shield her and reached for the woman, but it was already too late. Five arrows had pierced her skull, heart, and vital points.
There was no time for a healing buff. Watching a person die instantly before my eyes tore a curse from my throat.
“You fucking bastards!”
The attackers had greater numbers and the advantage of surprise. Several people on the vampire side collapsed in the opening volley. Meni and Pyutel rushed forward with shields to cover our retreat while I locked eyes with the priests.
Both Priest Pellani and Priest Louis saw the fury in my gaze and slowly shook their heads.
“Interfering in the church’s internal affairs will only exhaust everyone involved. We should withdraw.”
“They have not attacked us. There is no need to involve ourselves.”
The priests’ coldly pragmatic words amounted to one simple command: do not interfere even if people are dying right in front of you.
No matter that this was a fight within their own church, I struggled with the idea of simply watching it unfold.
“It’s Carol! Kill him!”
A vampire dropped from the ceiling like a shadow, snatched a crossbowman, and soared upward. Arrows and bolts filled the air, but the one called Carol used his captive as a living shield, then hurled the corpse to the ground and vanished into darkness.
He reappeared moments later, seizing another victim. This time, instead of arrows, they hurled water. Where it struck the vampire, his flesh hissed and smoked as though splashed with acid.
“It seems vampires can be exterminated easily enough if you come prepared,” Priest Louis observed. “Once holy water strips their power, they fall quickly.”
As he said, the shield-bearers were being pushed back, and Carol’s flight grew slower and more labored each time he was splashed.
Suddenly the old man appeared directly before us, his face gaunt with desperation.
“I have a request for the paladin and the priests. If time continues like this and we are defeated, everyone who followed us will be burned at the stake. Could your order possibly take them in?”
Harhil, seeing the battle turning against them, had come to beg Jinwoo’s party to save his people.