Conquistador (2)
Conquistador (2)
The steel bolt fired from the dwarf-made heavy crossbow pierced the body of the fox-human Raksha.
Unlike the ones they had fought in Samur, these were all naked, adorned with nothing but ornaments made of plant stems or animal bones.
Thanks to that, the sound of steel tips biting into bare flesh was crisp and satisfying.
They walked on two legs, their soft chests and abdomens exposed, making them vulnerable to projectiles.
Thunk!
Thuuunk!
The guards had been through countless battles, but this was the first time the sensation of impact had been so deeply satisfying.
"Guuuh—."
It was only after nearly ten of their number had fallen that the Raksha finally grasped the true danger before them. The ferocity faded from their fox faces, and they all faltered.
At that moment, the main gate of the outpost swung wide open.
"The enemy is Raksha."
"We know, Captain. In place of yeti furs, we'll just skin these and wrap ourselves."
Cassandra and the female warriors under her command were the first to finish their charge preparations and rush out.
This speed was possible because they had come armed with nothing but their weapons, without even donning their armor. Repeating crossbows were in their hands.
Fwit-fwit-fwit!
Compared to the heavy crossbows of the dwarf guard, the bolts were loosed with far weaker tension.
"Kiik-?!"
"Kyuit-!"
And simultaneously, the groans of the Raksha resounded.
It was not fatal, but the pain was far too sharp to be called a mere sting. With this torment riddling their entire bodies, even their savage bestial nature could not endure it.
The fox faces twisted into vicious snarls of agony and venom as they clutched at the bolts embedded in their chests.
"Kyaaaah—!"
But after mustering a bit of strength, they gave up on pulling them out. The steel tips were small, but they were made as broadheads, meaning several times the amount of flesh would tear away with them.
In the end, they abandoned the cat-people and all began to flee.
The female warriors of the Caracal Special Forces pursued at the same speed while never ceasing their fire from the repeating crossbows.
Thwack!
Thunk!
Each time the grip held in their right hands pumped back and forth, bolts embedded into the backs of the Raksha. Because they were elves who possessed darkvision, they could land their marks without difficulty even beyond the torchlight.
The insufficient power was supplemented by coating the steel tips with poison.
Thud.
A Raksha fleeing with four bolts stuck in its back stumbled mid-stride, then collapsed outright and convulsed.
-The enemies of the new continent do not wear armor due to limitations in their technology and environment. Even projectiles of weaker power should be sufficiently effective.
In accordance with the new doctrine established before the expedition, Eugene had added the repeating crossbow to the main armament.
Considering the enemy's weak defenses and the limited visibility of the jungle, there would likely be situations where rate of fire proved more effective than the power of a single shot.
'For an army developed beyond a certain level, logistics are more important than tactics...'
Cassandra locked a new bolt magazine into place and recalled what Eugene habitually said.
For most commanders, including herself, the concept of logistics stopped at merely sustaining an army.
But Eugene always prepared his logistics within the realm of tactics. Because of this, he would often bring along not just weapons but all sorts of things that seemed unrelated to combat.
By the time the Raksha had escaped the kill zone and disappeared into the jungle, the war dogs were deployed.
"Fweeeet—!"
"Woof! Woof!"
"Woof-woof-woof!"
The fierce hounds led by Homi had set off belatedly yet swiftly joined the pursuit.
The Raksha, who had been fleeing with their backs exposed, vanished as if sucked into the undergrowth.
"Grrrrr!"
Then, along with the characteristic sound of dogs biting down, screams of agony poured forth.
Perhaps realizing that escape was impossible this way, the Raksha captain let out a shout. At that, the rest of them turned at once and prepared for a final stand.
"Halt!"
Because Cassandra and her subordinates were unarmored, they came to a stop for the moment.
"Fweeeet—!"
Homi too blew her whistle and called back the war dogs that were about to fight.
-We can expect no reinforcements on this expedition. Prioritize small victories without losses over major victories.
It was just as Eugene had ordered. There was no need to clash head-on with enemies willing to fight to the death.
"You've bought us time splendidly."
Through their ranks, Eugene, mounted on Might, charged forward.
-Will you be resting within the fortress, my lord?
-No. I've only just arrived, so I can hardly seek comfort already. I wish to bivouac outside for a few days and adapt to the atmosphere.
He had not expected a raid on the very first night, but it turned out to be a good decision.
In Eugene's eyes, which shared darkvision from Might, a violet flame flickered.
Shraaak!
Each time he swung Blackout, not only the brush and vines but the Raksha themselves were sliced away wholesale.
"...!"
"...!"
An overpowering smell of blood, unlike anything in the battles so far. The bestial aura emanating from Might.
As suits creatures with keen senses of smell, they realized it instantly. That this was an enemy they could not handle.
With their fur bristling like chestnut burrs, the Raksha began to flee in utter confusion.
"Now. Resume the pursuit!"
Into the exposed backs of the enemy, the repeating crossbows of the female warriors and the fangs of the war dogs tore ruthlessly.
"Kiyaaa-."
A Raksha pinned beneath a war dog struggled desperately, but it was futile. Once a bipedal primate was pinned down by a four-legged predator, its fate was sealed.
These were fierce hounds with an average bite force of 150 kilograms. The outstretched palm of a Raksha became a rag, and a wrist raised to guard was bitten through and shattered.
The body odor of the dark elves and the Raksha was completely different, making it simple to distinguish friend from foe even in the dark.
In this way, the Raksha pursuit party, which had numbered fifty-three, was annihilated without a single one escaping.
* * *
When Eugene returned to the front of the outpost, the cat-people survivors were gathered and trembling.
"What's this? They haven't gone inside yet?"
"They seem to have been frightened. They fled here in desperation, but then even more terrifying things kept rushing out from that direction."
Cassandra's guess was correct.
Even when the female warriors had first mobilized, the cat-people were flustered, but their legs kept moving.
However, the moment the war dogs came charging at them, baring their white fangs, they stiffened solid on the spot.
-Hik!
The women holding children had even crouched down, thinking they were about to be set upon. And then, as the deciding factor, Eugene had appeared.
A warhorse that had reached the realm of a magical beast, and a giant axe that made one feel like pissing oneself just from a glance.
The cat-people survivors, pushed to the limit of terror, had given up on entering the outpost altogether.
"It would be a problem to leave them outside all night."
A nighttime jungle strewn with corpses and blood was no place to sleep, even as a joke.
But Eugene's deliberation was brief. The cat-people began to sidle closer and then knelt down to bow before him.
"Sharp instincts they have. They've already figured out who the leader is."
When Eugene dismounted from Might and gestured toward the outpost to tell them to go inside, only then did the cat-people move.
They still looked terrified, but it seemed they could not even conceive of daring to disobey.
* * *
When they checked the battlefield after daybreak, the scavengers had already come and gone. A few of the bodies closer to the jungle had only their inedible parts left.
"Is this the captain?"
A Raksha lavishly decorated with coral lay dead, its eyes still glaring wide.
Its posture looked as though it had desperately tried to stem the bleeding from a throat bitten through. It was likely the work of a war dog.
It was the only one wearing armor, a crude thing woven from the bones of all manner of creatures.
"Could these guys actually be crows pretending to be foxes?"
Cassandra laughed as she stripped pearl necklaces and jade ornaments from the Raksha corpse.
The female warriors rummaging through the spoils also let out cheers of delight here and there.
"Captain. These bastards carry stone axes and clubs for weapons, yet they're dripping with jewels."
"They're Raksha, after all."
The Raksha had an even more intensely matriarchal society than the dark elves. Males were smaller and fewer in number, serving as breeding studs and being protected by the females.
Cultivating combat power alone was not enough to win the favor of a male. The females competed against each other while adorning themselves with various ornaments.
"The best weapon among them is an obsidian dagger?"
Eugene fiddled with the dagger retrieved from the captain, turning it this way and that in his grip.
Looking at the ornate dreamcatcher decoration, it seemed more like an object symbolizing a form of authority rather than something for practical combat.
"I don't understand it. If everyone's bare-bodied, a spear would be far more effective. What's the point of using clubs and stone axes? It's not like they're strong as the shorties."
The "shorties" Cassandra referred to naturally meant the dwarf warriors.
"Killing probably isn't the goal. Whether they're taking them as slaves or capturing them as livestock to eat. Unlike dry Samur, this place is humid and the temperature is high. If you kill them outright, they'll start to rot within a day."
Environment profoundly influences civilization.
Unlike the Raksha of Samur who had been so fond of bamboo spears, it was natural for the ones here to prefer blunt weapons.
* * *
There was much they wished to ask the cat-people, but they were exhausted, so they first gave them time to recover physically and mentally.
After giving their wounds emergency treatment, they served egg soup, which the cat-people devoured frantically.
"Hiaang..."
"Uaaa... uh... ung?"
The cat-people children, who had not stopped crying, opened their eyes wide when their mothers began spoon-feeding them.
As their tiny lips quickly chewed and smacked, the last teardrops trickled down their cheeks, and then the crying was over.
Wondering if it was truly that delicious, Cassandra took a spoonful and looked at Eugene with a curious expression.
"I don't see any solid ingredients besides the egg, but the flavor is surprisingly rich. It feels like I'm drinking a fish."
"I used a broth made by simmering four kinds of fish. Since the natives near the landing point are cat-people, I had it prepared to suit their tastes."
Good food was the first step in any exchange.
For beastkin, unlike humans whose palates varied widely, there were common tastes that tended to work across the board.
"Felines generally respond well when fish is involved."
Next to Eugene, Homi was already emptying her second bowl.
First, he fed some to Homi and watched her tail. If it wagged more than twice a second, he could assume it would work on feline beastkin in general.
'He certainly does love wielding a kitchen knife, so unlike a knight.'
Even in the matriarchal Black Hand Tribe, the kitchen was the domain of women.
The sight of Eugene donning an apron whenever he had a spare moment and standing side by side with Homi, slicing vegetables—that image was frequently called up in the gossip of the tribal women.
After the meal, he gave them a little time and then attempted conversation. Surprisingly, among these natives, there were a fair number who knew the Common Tongue of the Old Continent.
"Life and food. We are grateful. We know a debt."
Their speech was clumsy and their vocabulary crude, but communication was entirely possible.
"Well met. Welcome. I am Eugene. Chieftain of this great tribe."
"Your Excellency? Surely you are not mocking us?"
When Eugene replied with the same crude phrasing, the dwarf warriors turned back in bewilderment.
"What nonsense are you spouting? Speaking fluently and quickly to those unfamiliar with the language would be hard for them to understand. Speaking slowly and focusing on key words makes it easier to comprehend."
"Ah, we were fools. We didn't consider that."
An attitude of always considering the other's position. This was likely the secret to leading the perpetually squabbling dwarves and dark elves as a single body.
It was an astonishing notion, considering the privilege and pride of the great nobles.
"Our language. How know you?"
In answer to Eugene's question, a middle-aged cat-person spread three fingers on his left hand and curled his right into a fist.
"Thirty years past. A guest came from the sea. A hairless one like you. He came to bring the word of the Father above the sky. He was clever and healed wounds well. He also taught us the Father's tongue. He said, learn this language and when you die, you will be held in the Father's arms."
"A missionary."
Eugene understood at once.
Watching his interest grow, the cat-people swallowed nervously.
"He said it. That one day, the Father's army would descend from the sky. To bring judgment upon those who had sinned. Are you that army?"
The dwarves listening glanced at one another.
"Well, it's not exactly wrong, is it?"
"We did fall out of the sky riding lightning, so we technically came from the heavens."
Eugene pushed the murmuring dwarves aside and answered the hopeful cat-people.
"No. We are a great tribe from beyond the sea."
"Oh..."
A collective sigh, not quite disappointment but tinged with regret.
"The rakshas are a common enemy. We must exterminate them. We need information on this land."
But at Eugene's immediate next words, they nodded eagerly.
What did it matter if he was a messenger of God or not? So long as he drove out the cannibals, that was all that mattered.
* * *
Everyone looked at the map hastily drawn on a large sheet of square paper.
It was a map based on the testimonies of the cat-people and what had been observed from the top of the Wandering Castle. Hastily assembled, it was woefully inadequate.
It merely showed the cardinal directions and some points of interest, but it was better than nothing.
Eugene's baton pointed to a spot on the map bordering the southern sea. The Ark and the standard of House Meyer were drawn there.
"This is our current position."
The baton stopped at a green circle slightly north of the outpost.
"This is the village of the cat-people who fled here last night. It has been destroyed now."
As the baton moved further up, a large green circle appeared.
"This place is Divide, the largest settlement of the cat-people in the vicinity. It is also where the missionary who drifted ashore thirty years ago now resides."
"Divide? I suppose the missionary gave it that name."
"Yes. Because the rivers branch out from here in all directions."
Countless blue lines connected to the green circle.
"Thanks to that, it became a sacred ground where all the surrounding villages gather and trade. It is said the missionary wisely mediates when conflicts arise between the tribes."
Now everyone's gaze traveled upward from Divide. Vivid red circles, taking up most of the map, were arrayed in every direction.
"One day, the rakshas suddenly invaded from the north. Most of the cat-people's villages, which lived in peace, were overrun, and Divide is all that remains."
The Raksha were merely the strongest faction; small-folk and other monsters had joined the fray as well. The jungle had gone from a green hell to simply hell.
But the news was not all bad.
-The things you desire. There are many here.
On the temporary map, caves sketched in yellow were dotted here and there. These were the gold mines.
-The fox cannibals. They love shiny things. They invaded our land to steal them.
It was the nature of raksha to love adorning themselves more than men. Expanding their domain in search of gems and gold had led them to the easternmost tip of the continent.
"Excellent, Your Excellency!"
"If we sweep away the rakshas, we can claim the treasures they have hoarded for generations!"
Eugene calmed his excited subordinates.
"It will not be so easy a task. They have not scattered into separate tribes; they have formed a proper nation."
"A nation? Made up of mere sain?"
Everyone was dumbfounded by words that were tantamount to saying goblins or orcs had founded a dynasty.
"Ah!"
But soon they stiffened as they realized something. Because they had witnessed such a thing become possible several times while fighting alongside Eugene.
"A champion has appeared among the rakshas."
It was the period of the spiritual tide, when the mortal realm and the Otherworld drew closer.
That a certain raksha great chieftain, who reveled in blood and war and practiced human sacrifice, would then hear the voice of a god—was, in a sense, inevitable.
"Divide needs warriors. We welcome you all."
When Eugene requested to be guided to Divide, the cat-people raised both hands in welcome.
* * *
Ahead of their departure, Eugene inspected his troops' equipment.
"Iron plate armor is unnecessary."
If the Hammer Brotherhood wore their usual heavy armor in the hot and humid jungle, they would not be able to endure.
"The enemies here are armed only with stone-age weaponry, so chain and leather armor will suffice."
Thanks to their frequent monster subjugation campaigns, Eugene's forces possessed a large stockpile of high-quality leather.
Aside from the knight-class fighters clad in hydra hide armor, the regular soldiers were also issued top-grade leather armor.
"Combining leather armor with chainmail looks a bit mismatched, doesn't it?"
"It's light and doesn't make you sweat, so what does it matter?"
The dwarves had followed the armor change without complaint, but everyone grew sorrowful when it came time to change their weapons.
"Your Excellency! You mean for us to set down our hammers?"
"Our enemies are practically naked. A thrust will sink in anywhere, and a slash will cut them open. There is no reason to insist on blunt weapons."
"That is true, but... Still..."
"We are outnumbered, so we must take every advantage we can. Broken legs and bruised flesh give off no scent. But the limbs your axes hack off will effectively stimulate the rakshas' sense of smell."
Rampage could not think of a counterargument.
After two years of following Eugene, Rampage had seen firsthand just how much such considerations mattered beyond pure combat technique.
The only one clad in metal armor in the Divide expeditionary force was Homi. She wore the dullahan's armor.
"Isn't it hot?"
She shook her head.
It was living armor. Its texture and hardness were of metal, but it had shifted its shape to conform to Homi's body.
When necessary, it created gaps for ventilation, and its cool spiritual energy protected Homi's flesh from the humidity and heat.
"Doesn't it chafe your skin?"
She shook her head again.
In exchange, it only functioned properly when in direct contact with its wearer's body. Thus, she had to don the armor over her bare skin, without any undergarments.
'Metal armor that clings to the body like leggings.'
The figure of Homi, with her full chest, slender waist, and long, firm legs revealed as they were.
She was a steel flower blooming on the battlefield. One that severed everything that touched its petals.
"The condition of the castle residents?"
"Everyone is healthy. It has only been two days, after all."
"Venomous insects could be hiding somewhere. Maintain the barrier."
The tribal witches burned special incense throughout the Wandering Castle and cast protective spells. This was to prevent any infiltration by dangerous bugs.
"Activity beyond the outpost is strictly forbidden."
"No one dares defy the Castle Lord's command."
The witches smiled and paid their respects.
"If you remain inside the castle, you need not fear any endemic disease."
True to its nature as a single living castle, the Wandering Castle possessed its own homeostasis and immune system.
Just like a human body, its temperature and humidity were maintained at a constant level.
Unless it was a specially cultivated environment like the cultivation rooms or the foundry, not even a tiny mold could grow.
Whether insect or pathogen, all unwelcome intruders were firmly blocked from entering the castle's habitat.
* * *
Upon arriving at Divide after a forced march, the troops were bewildered by its appearance.
"This sort of place is a sacred ground?"
Divide was gloomier than any place they had seen during their mercenary life. Not a trace of sanctity could be found.
A sticky humidity weighed down their clothes, and nowhere could dry ground be seen.
Even the huts were built atop meter-high wooden pillars to avoid the wet earth.
"Welcome to Divide. I beg you, please do not think this current, powerless state is all that Divide is."
The person who greeted Eugene at the entrance was the missionary the cat-people had spoken of. His face was gaunt and full of weariness.
"If defeat, fear, death, and sorrow keep pouring in, any radiant city will become like this. This is the last place in this land where reason and mercy remain. I welcome you once again to Divide."
At that moment, a sharp scream rang out.
It came from the jungle across the river that bordered the village. Fishermen mending their nets on a moored boat clutched their heads and crouched down.
"Even now, innocents who have not yet reached this place are being massacred. Small ponds have filled with blood and become red lakes, and monsters the eldest here have never seen in their lives stalk about freely. The only salvation left to us is you."
The missionary was so overcome with grief that he had not even managed to introduce himself yet.
End
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