The Typhoon Left Alone
Ska stopped walking.
At the end of the long sewer passage, a steady vibration was rolling outward in every direction. The filthy water at their feet stirred into ripples. Even the moss clinging to the walls and the droplets falling from the ceiling trembled faintly — enough for him to know the epicenter was right ahead.
"Everyone, hold for a moment."
At Ska's words, the party halted as one. Roy, who had been leading the way, turned back with his daggers still in hand.
"What's wrong?"
"Before we go any farther, I want to check inside first."
Ska raised one hand. A small whirlwind began to spin above his palm. At first it was nothing more than a breeze that tickled the skin, but as it traveled down the passage it grew thinner and more secretive, slipping through cracks, skimming the floor, and finally seeping into the darkness beyond. Riding that wind, the power of his god took form.
Ska closed his eyes and focused on the currents flowing back from the wind's farthest edge.
"There are people. And not just one or two."
Evelyn adjusted her grip on her staff.
"How many, exactly?"
"The winds are tangled — hard to get a clear count. More than ten, at least."
"Understood. Let me double-check."
Evelyn touched the tip of her staff to the floor, and blue mana stretched out along the stone like threads of silk. After confirming the detection magic that had slipped through the water and walls into the epicenter, she frowned.
"Ska is right. Exactly seventeen people. Though there are also a number of corpses mixed in that give off no mana at all."
Roy wet his lips with his tongue.
"Seventeen people and a pile of corpses at the source of the vibration. Something's definitely going down in there."
Ska looked at him.
"We'll need to confirm it ourselves. Roy — if you would."
Roy spun a dagger once and grinned low.
"This is exactly why you brought a thief."
To get a direct look inside, Ska's party hid themselves around a corner a short distance from the vibration's source. Roy the thief took the lead in silence. Even when the soles of his boots touched the water, not a sound escaped. Pressing himself into the wall's shadows, he slipped toward the end of the passage like a ghost.
The others followed at a careful distance.
At the final corner leading into the epicenter, Roy — who had already peered inside — raised a hand and stopped them all. The playful glint was gone from his face as he glanced back over his shoulder. He turned, pressed a finger to his lips, and beckoned the party forward with a gesture.
Ska held his breath and pressed himself against the corner. At the edge of his vision, a vast underground chamber opened up.
It was an underground shelter built for disasters — large enough to hold hundreds. But the spaces meant for refugees were filled with something else entirely. Blackened, desiccated corpses. Strange totems woven from bone and animal hide. And a grotesque ritual circle covering the entire floor.
Figures in black robes were moving the corpses into place at regular intervals, pouring blood into the circle etched across the ground.
The color drained from Saintess Linda's face at the sight.
"It's the Black Hand."
At her low, heavy voice, Ska narrowed his eyes.
"You know them?"
"Warlocks. One of the follower groups that betrayed humanity and sided with the Demon King."
The roots of those who had turned against mankind to serve the Demon King were many. There were the vampires — once bat beastfolk who had accepted the Demon King's power and mutated as a race — and Necrophil, the nation of the dead created by a king who sacrificed his entire population for eternal life. Among them, these were the most vicious: a warlock organization that specialized in offering up lives and souls as sacrifices.
Roy peered inside again.
"Looks like they're running a ritual."
"They are."
Linda's gaze fell on the circle carved into the floor. A faint gold light rose in her eyes, filled with holy power.
"I can't say exactly what kind of ritual it is, but looking at how fast the mana is gathering toward the center, it doesn't seem fully prepared yet."
"How much time do we have?"
"At that pace, quite a bit of leeway. But we can't let it finish. A ritual using sacrifices on that scale could put all of Orten in danger."
Ska's thoughts raced. Seventeen enemies. How many of them could actually fight was unclear, but their presence still hadn't been discovered. If they pulled back now and regrouped with Zick's party, they could handle this far more safely. The problem was that there was no telling what the warlocks might do in the meantime. Trusting the ritual's progress alone and turning their backs carried too much risk.
"Falling back to call for support would be the safer option."
Brock offered his opinion, but Linda immediately pushed back.
"And if they notice and rush the ritual?"
"Better than attacking recklessly and letting even one of them escape."
"We've already come this far. We can handle this ourselves."
Linda's and Brock's gazes locked. Ska listened to both of them and made a rapid judgment. Retreat or attack — either choice left risk on the table. At the very least, he needed a better read on the enemy's strength.
That was when it happened.
The old man seated at the center of the ritual slowly raised his head. Unlike the other warlocks, he wore a tattered gray robe — a shabby, withered elder. His gaunt face was covered in age spots, and what little hair remained was matted to his scalp with grease. But his eyes were different. Two pupils that glowed a sticky green even in the dark.
The old man's gaze turned precisely toward the passage where Ska's party was hiding.
"So the little rats have come sniffing around."
The low voice rolled through the chamber, and the warlocks preparing the ritual immediately stopped what they were doing and shifted into combat stances. The one moving corpses drew a staff from his robes; those who had been kneeling before the totems began drawing up black mana. One of them bowed toward the old man.
"Elder Malkion. We will deal with the intruders."
Malkion — an elder of the Black Hand. At that name, Linda's expression hardened.
"He's an elder-rank warlock."
"Is he strong?"
"He's no ordinary warlock. The ones who lead a Black Hand branch are called elders."
Roy clicked his tongue quietly.
"Bigger fish than we expected."
A twisted smile spread across Malkion's lips.
"No need to leave them alive."
Roy raised his daggers and shrugged.
"We've been made. Nothing for it."
Ska rose to his feet. There was no more reason to deliberate.
"So be it. Everyone — combat ready!"
At Ska's shout, Brock was the first to charge out of the passage. His massive shield slammed into the ground and established the front line, with Evelyn and Linda taking position behind him. Roy melted into the darkness along the walls and vanished from sight.
Ska stepped to the front and thrust a hand forward.
"I'll sweep them clean!"
He swung his arm, and hundreds of razor-thin blades of wind gathered at his fingertips and swallowed the shelter whole.
KRAAAAAASH!
Half a dozen warlocks at the front screamed as they were flung into the air before they could even finish their spells, the wind blades shredding their formation in an instant.
"Block it!"
Some of the warlocks tried to raise black barriers in resistance, but Evelyn's cold spell was faster. She thrust out her staff, and blue mana split into dozens of arrows in midair.
"Frost Rain."
The ice arrows completely shattered the cracked barriers, and at the same moment Brock's relentless shield charge crushed the warlocks blocking the path and drove straight toward the totems behind them.
"Stop that big one first! Protect the totems!"
The warlocks frantically poured curses at Brock. But Linda, already prepared, clasped her hands and invoked a miracle.
"O fierce wind, scatter this wicked power."
A small breeze rose around her. At first it only stirred the hems of their clothes, but the moment it wrapped around Brock it swelled into a massive current capable of devouring every curse. Black mana that touched her holy power melted away like paper held to a flame.
Brock never broke stride. He shoved the remaining warlocks aside with his enormous shield and slammed into the totems head-on.
Through that overwhelming tide of battle, Roy cut through like a phantom. He slashed the throats and wrists of those preparing magic in the blink of an eye, and screams erupted from every direction. By the time they pinpointed his location, a new scream was already rising somewhere else.
"Twelve. Five left, then?"
They had been together for less than a year, but the countless real battles they had weathered proved it — their coordination was seamless. The tide of the fight tilted in an instant. The warlocks were nowhere near the level needed to face the Typhoon Hero Party.
Aside from the elder still conducting the ritual, only one warlock remained. The last of them fired a spear of curse at Ska, but Ska flicked his hand lightly and the wind completely twisted the spear's trajectory. The aimless curse slammed into the wall, and Ska's form vanished with the wind.
"Looking the wrong way, aren't you?"
Appearing right in front of the warlock, Ska crushed the man's chest with a fist wrapped in storm. The warlock spat blood and tumbled across the floor.
And with that, the battle was over.
In the wide shelter, after a fierce storm had swept through once, a pitch-black silence settled in. Roy flicked the blood from his daggers and shrugged as if the win had been a given.
"See? Just like Linda said — we didn't need any other hero's help at all. Completely easy."
"Don't let your guard down, Roy. The leader is still standing."
Ska kept his winds gathered and fixed his eyes on Malkion. Even as his subordinates were wiped out, Malkion had not left his place. Head bowed, he continued to move his dry lips without pause.
"Don't know what he's muttering, but we just cut his throat before he finishes the spell."
Roy clicked his tongue and closed in quickly on Malkion from behind, intending to sever the man's life for good before the ritual could be completed. His dagger flashed as it swung toward Malkion's nape.
Ignoring the blade coming for him, Malkion's withered lips never stopped moving.
"With living blood I sow the seed. With dead souls I set the roots."
In that instant, a chill ran through Ska's entire body. Instinct blared a violent alarm through his mind — do not kill that man.
"Stop! Roy!"
Ska shouted urgently, but Roy's already-swinging dagger could not change course.
Shhk!
The blade cut deep into Malkion's neck, and blood sprayed like a fountain. But the old man did not fall. Clutching his severed throat with one hand, he wore a grotesque smile.
"The final blood has been filled. Thank you, little rat. Now we shall pay the remaining price with our flesh and souls."
That was the signal.
The bodies of the warlocks strewn across the floor began to wither at terrifying speed. A grotesque sound — something between screams and weeping — filled the chamber. Blood, flesh, and even souls were all sucked into the ritual circle carved into the ground. Malkion's own gaunt body crumbled from the inside out. And still he smiled, as if he could not feel the pain at all.
"The eyes that trusted one another shall be stained with hatred."
The circle covering the floor blazed with a dark crimson light.
"The hands that protected one another shall turn against each other's throats."
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!
The ritual circle etched across the entire shelter split open all at once. From the fissures, black fog thick with malice exploded outward in every direction. It was a nauseating sensation that seemed to burrow into the mind before it even touched the skin.
"The living shall tear apart what they hold most dear with their own hands."
Malkion's ruined mouth stretched wide.
"Doubt. Hate. Stain this city with one another's blood!"
The black fog burst outward in all directions. A sharp ringing filled Ska's head.
"Urgh—!"
The moment the fog touched him, his vision blurred, and the companions standing right beside him began to look like enemies intent on killing him. Brock's massive shield seemed ready to crush him flat. Kill them. Kill them first or you die. A voice from somewhere scraped through his mind.
Brock was breathing hard behind his shield. Magic had gathered at the tip of Evelyn's staff. Roy clutched his daggers and glared around him. Even Linda was clutching her head, letting out a pained moan.
If this continued, they would attack each other. Ska recognized it instinctively, gritted his teeth, and stepped forward. He raised the storm wrapping around him and desperately held back the black fog reaching for his companions. Wherever his power touched, the black energy burned away and vanished.
The authority granted by a god was, at its core, a divine force — and it held strong resistance against the warlocks' curse. But even so, black capillaries began to rise along Ska's arms as he wrung every drop of power from himself. Bearing the curse alone with his entire body was too much.
"Everyone — get out of here!"
Ska spread both arms, and the wind roaring from every side formed a massive barrier between his companions and the black fog.
"Ska!"
Linda staggered toward him, but Ska roared at her.
"Don't come closer! Get out of here now! If you stay, I won't be able to hold on either!"
The black capillaries spread further up his arms as the fog punched through the wind and dug into his mind. Voices telling him to kill his companions rang without rest. The more they did, the harder Ska pulled on his power. And for a brief moment, he looked at Linda and forced a gentle smile onto his strained face.
"Go. Bring support from the other heroes. I'll hold this place until then."
Linda's lips trembled. Brock caught her by the shoulder, and Evelyn clenched her jaw. Even as they hesitated, the black fog kept swelling. There was no time left to think.
Brock pulled Linda toward the passage, and Evelyn followed. Roy stayed until the very last, looking at Ska.
"I'm sorry. If I just hadn't killed that old man—"
"Regret changes nothing now. Look after the others."
Roy bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and shouted,
"I'll bring support for sure — so don't you die! Hold on!"
Ska did not answer. He only smiled as he listened to his companions' footsteps growing farther away.
In the fog around him, countless voices whispered.
Doubt your companions. Kill them before they betray you. Trust no one.
Amid the ear-splitting demonic whispers, the corner of Ska's bloodied mouth twisted upward.
"You think you can shake me with hallucinations this cheap? This doesn't even itch."
Even as pain surged through him as if every capillary in his body were about to burst, Ska gritted his teeth, bluffed through it, and stared the fog down head-on.
In the storm that shook the entire chamber, the lone hero's desperate struggle began.
At another sewer entrance in Orten, Drake wrinkled his face hard and clamped a hand over his nose against the stench that stabbed at his nostrils. With a goblin's uniquely sensitive sense of smell, it had to be several times more agonizing than it was for a human.
"Damn, that reeks. The Demon King's forces aren't sewer rats — why the hell do they always hole up in places like this?"
"Maybe that's exactly why. Places people don't want to go near make it easier to work without being discovered."
Reno answered flatly, pressing himself against the wall to avoid the channel of filthy water. Drake clicked his tongue.
"If someone told me to clock in here every day, I'd give up on the world and the Demon King both."
"Do you really think they have a concept of regular office hours?"
While his companions kept up the light banter, Zick said nothing at all. He simply walked on in silence, holding the sewer blueprints he'd received from the branch office. His eyes stayed on the map, but he didn't look like he was actually checking the route. His brow was furrowed, as if he were turning something over and over in his mind.
Drake sidled up and jabbed Zick in the ribs with an elbow.
"What's with you, hero? Worried you'll embarrass yourself in front of the Hero of Typhoon?"
It was the kind of jab that would normally get a rise out of him, but Zick didn't react. He opened his mouth slowly.
"Something's off."
At the unexpectedly serious response, Noah tilted his head.
"What do you mean, Hero?"
Zick looked around at his companions.
"That suspicious vibration that started right before we got here."
"What's strange about that?"
Drake asked, not following.
"We already found Demon King army activity here. Weird signs like that are only natural, aren't they?"
"You're not wrong. But the timing is weird. Why the day before we — or the Hero of Typhoon — arrived? If Orten had discovered their movements and they were scrambling in a panic, I'd understand. But that doesn't seem to be the case."
Reno fiddled with the frame of his glasses.
"Couldn't they simply have been underprepared, and only just finished getting ready?"
"I thought about that too. But if they'd already been found out while still unprepared, the smart move would have been to abandon Orten and pull out."
Gerard stopped walking.
"And yet they stayed."
"Exactly. They didn't run. They waited here until heroes were deployed — and then, right before those heroes arrived, they started acting strangely. Almost like a trap designed to draw heroes into this place."
Everyone fell silent. The enemies' unnatural behavior was slotting together with a chill that raised the hair on their necks.
Gerard gripped his sword hilt and asked coldly,
"Then we should withdraw. There's no reason to walk into a place that might be a trap."
Zick thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"No. We can't pull back. If this really is a trap aimed at heroes, the odds they were targeting a low-tier hero like me are slim. What they were after is almost certainly the Hero of Typhoon."
Ska stood alone even among the Rookie Heroes. A rising star watched by both the Administration and the Empire — someone who would become a serious threat to the Demon King's forces in the years ahead.
"The Hero of Typhoon has already gone inside. If we turn back now, his party walks straight into the heart of the enemy without even knowing it's a trap."
"Heh heh. Putting it all together, there's only one conclusion, isn't there?"
Heinz tapped the floor with the tip of his staff.
"Whatever trap they've prepared, we need to link up with the Typhoon Hero Party first."
"Yes. We can't turn our backs on people who may already be in danger."
Noah drew his scripture and held it to his chest. Reno opened his pack and pulled out the supplies he needed. Drake drew the dagger at his hip. Gerard no longer objected either — he drew his sword and moved to the head of the formation.
RUMBLE-RUMBLE-RUMBLE!
As if on cue, a massive vibration unlike anything before roared up from deep underground and shook the entire sewer. Stone dust rained from the ceiling, and the filthy water churned. The vibration did not stop easily — if anything, it was growing, rising from deeper and deeper below.
An ominous resonance, as if announcing that something had begun. A cold sensation ran down Zick's spine.
Don't tell me. Was my grim theory actually right?
From deep underground, a storm-like vibration roared again. Zick's dark premonition hardened into certainty.
They were too late.
"We might not have much time. Hurry — move in!"
At Zick's shout, the party charged as one into the darkness, racing toward the epicenter.