Chaos - 3
“Squelch….”
The blade sank deep into flesh. It carved through bone and severed the windpipe clean. When I wrenched the sword free, pitch-black blood sprayed across the floor.
Monsters that had been completely overrun—hiding even their origins inside their own bodies—had to be killed without the slightest chance of recovery.
“Including the one Master just finished off, the sweep is complete.”
“We got every last one…?”
“Yes. We even double-checked with confirmation kills. There’s no mistake.”
“Good work.”
I wiped the filth clinging to the blade and slid Frach back into her scabbard. The ice pillars I’d raised to cut off their escape had served their purpose, so I shattered them—monsters still trapped inside and all—into glittering shards.
Every nearby abomination had been dragged in and dealt with. We wouldn’t be seeing their kind for a while.
I set my feet toward the deeper levels once more.
“You’re not going to rest at all?”
“It was a fight we couldn’t avoid, but it still cost us a lot of time. We have to hurry.”
The monsters themselves hadn’t been especially strong—B-rank magical beasts at best. The sheer numbers, though, had made the cleanup a slog.
Maybe I should’ve used more magic. I could’ve wiped them out faster…
Magic in a cramped space is more likely to backfire than help. Your judgment was not wrong.
What if I’d dialed the power down?
Then the two nearby would have suffered the side effects.
Yeah… that tracks.
Fire and ice shift the temperature. Water and earth reshape the terrain. Wind and lightning turn the battlefield chaotic. Any magic rewrites the conditions of the fight, so holding back had been the right call—unless the space was wide open or the enemies were already spread thin.
Do not grow impatient. If haste ruins everything, that truly is the worst outcome. Always choose the lesser evil over the greater. Forgive me for saying this of my own father, but losing you would wound this body far more deeply than losing him.
…Got it.
I forced a wry smile and eased my running pace just a fraction. Frach wasn’t the only one fretting—Rene was worried too. Showing a little composure would let them breathe easier.
“Master.”
Lin’s call made my hand snap to Frach’s hilt on pure reflex. She hurriedly clarified before I could draw.
“Not an enemy this time! There’s no need to prepare for battle.”
“Not an enemy…?”
“Yes. The mana feels pure—untainted. I believe it’s a survivor.”
A survivor in the depths where most of the population had already turned into monsters. Only one person came to mind.
“Lead the way.”
“Understood.”
Lin, who had been covering the rear, took the lead and broke into a run. After a long stretch she suddenly stopped, studied a stretch of wall in silence, then drew her sword.
Sssshk—!
A sound like a snake slithering across stone. Thin lines scored the wall, and the stone crumbled along those seams.
Her swordsmanship was as sharp as ever. This time, though, she did not sheathe the blade.
“Wooooooah!”
From beyond the collapsed wall a stocky dwarf bellowed and heaved a greatsword the size of his own body high overhead. Lin didn’t flinch; she simply deflected the blow with her blade. The massive sword whistled through empty air and slammed into the ground to her right.
“Not bad, girl. Didn’t expect you to stop that.”
“Your attack was so straightforward it was practically telegraphed.”
“Then how about this?”
The dwarf spun in place, using the momentum to whip the greatsword around in a vicious arc. This one would be harder to simply redirect, so I stepped between them and drew Frach.
Clang—!
A clear, ringing note of steel on steel echoed outward, sparks flying. I stopped the heavy strike, but both arms throbbed with numbness. His raw strength was equal to—or greater than—Bern’s own.
“Master! Are you all right?!”
“I-I’m fine.”
I shook my arms a couple of times to loosen the locked muscles and settled back into a ready stance. The dwarf with the greatsword simply stared at me—or more precisely, at the magic sword in my hand.
“Ha! What a ridiculous coincidence. Never thought I’d see one of my own magic swords down here.”
“Does that mean… you’re the Dwarf King?”
“Name’s Bulmond. Those other dwarves didn’t even bother telling you my name?”
“They did not.”
“Tch. Typical. Always dumping the hard jobs on me.”
He pulled a thick pipe from his chest pocket, clamped it between his teeth, and flicked a tiny magical spark into the bowl. Dense smoke curled out.
“You came this far, so you already know what kind of mess we’re in, right?”
“Of course.”
“And the ones outside the mine—did they know about this and still let you in?”
“No. We sensed something wrong inside and forced our way in on our own.”
“Hrm…”
Bulmond shot a sidelong glance at Rene, then simply nodded. He had already figured out how we’d entered the mine without drawing the dwarves’ hostility. A king who had held the throne this long was sharp about reading people and situations.
“Haaah… so you heard the plea to save me from the magic sword, eh?”
“That’s part of it, but I also have another request for you, Lord Bulmond.”
I rummaged through my pack and produced the Polymorph Magic Sword I’d taken from the Jealousy Dungeon. Bulmond gave it a cursory once-over and clicked his tongue. From the way his face twisted, the sword’s condition was worse than it looked.
“Looks fine on the outside, but the insides are completely wrecked. Two days to fix it, minimum.”
“You can tell just by looking?”
“Kid. Do you have any idea how many years I’ve spent hammering iron? One glance and the estimate’s already done.”
Fair enough. He stood at the absolute peak of the dwarven race—the finest smiths in existence. When it came to weapons, refining, and ore, his word was law.
“So you mean to restore the third magic sword and complete the Primordial Magic Sword.”
“…”
“If you’re about to ask how I knew it was the third, swallow the question. I can tell without being told that your sword has already absorbed the Sword of Blood. Kid.”
“As expected of the living legend.”
“Save the cheap flattery. Let’s just get the hell out of this miserable hole.”
Bulmond limped out from behind the wall, and only then did I notice that half his thigh had been chewed away.
I reached for a healing potion, but he raised a hand and waved me off.
“Useless. This is a bite from that damn mongrel nesting deeper in the mine. Potions and healing magic won’t touch it.”
“At least let me stop the bleeding—”
“Once we’re topside I’ll just cut the whole leg off at the wound. Replace it with a prosthetic and be done with it. Now hurry up and get us to the surface. What’s taking the rescue team so long?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
The Bulmond I’d known was tougher than anyone. He’d lost half a leg and treated it like a minor inconvenience, enduring the pain without a word of complaint. He looked like Zhang Fei from the Three Kingdoms, but acted more like Guan Yu.
Father was born in a volcanic region, so his temper is fiery and wild. When he first forged this body he hated the design so much he nearly melted me back into the lava…
That’s why you said you’d be less sad if he died?
I won’t deny it. Even a great father is still a bastard who once tried to kill this body.
A burning child and a father who literally tried to burn his child. What a wonderfully dysfunctional family.
In any case, Father has always been like this. You will simply have to accept it.
Understood.
The stubborn back that refused every offer to be carried was pure Bulmond. Was there anyone in the world who could make him listen?
I was still chuckling at the thought that no one could when, without the slightest warning, a freezing killing intent stabbed straight through my spine.
Bulmond, Rene, and Lin all whipped their heads toward me at once. Shock, terror, and contempt mixed on their faces.
I swallowed hard and turned around.
Not far away, beneath a flickering torch, a shadow stretched. From within it a jet-black dog with six eyes slowly pushed its head forward. Its jaws split open all the way to the cheeks as it came for me.
My vision went black in an instant.