Chapter 340 - Tyrant (2)
The more people gather, the more shadows are cast.
When it reaches the scale of a city or a nation, it is called by names like the underworld, a realm that runs by its own rules.
A backworld that values power and money over morals and ethics.
All sorts of savage and vicious folk swarm there, yet, of course, there is a limit.
No matter how many gather, in the end it is nothing but a single organization.
If a nation mobilizes its army, there is no need to measure anything, it would be annihilated at once by magical bombardment, airships, and high-level tactics.
However, the reason they do not do so is because the losses far outweigh the gains.
You cannot raze an entire village to catch a bug.
In that sense, Roafra was special.
Rooted in a sealed subterranean city, the swollen influence of its colossal underworld was enough to force the state to coexist.
Thus, in the shadows of the Eastern Continent, one could not help but watch their eyes.
If Vintert, the ruling power of Roafra, did not stop at a kingdom and reached its hands into the underworlds of other nations, they would be swallowed whole...
Blood and violence would inevitably follow.
"King of the underworld, what brings you here?"
Gerbon, though frightened, asked with courage.
His intent was clear as day.
He must be worried that Southern Pit will end up like Roafra.
'I hadn't planned to settle in the kingdom to begin with, so it was a throne I didn't need.'
Strictly speaking, it might as well not have existed.
That is why he hadn't bothered refusing Robert's insistence, and remained at the apex of Roafra.
Yet it was more valuable than he had thought.
So this is why the world says reputation matters.
'No, infamy would be more accurate.'
Call it whatever you like.
What mattered was Gerbon's reaction.
All the more since he disliked disputes... in a flash he sensed how to play this card.
Verden jerked his chin.
Adrian, who had already finished his tea before anyone noticed, answered in his stead.
"Then I'll state our business. We are looking for the one who murdered a High Councillor."
"If you mean a High Councillor..."
"If you hold any seat in Southern Pit, you would know. In the terror attack that occurred in the Special Council Chamber, one of the High Councillors who was gravely injured was, of late, butchered by his own guard."
Of course Gerbon knew.
Because of that incident—more precisely, because of that culprit—Southern Pit had been in an uproar that changed by the day.
'But why is Roafra looking for him?'
A direct request from the state... surely not.
If that were the case, they wouldn't be sitting here, they would be moving with the Republic's Executioners.
Then what is it.
Is there some hidden inside story?
If not, does the councillor's killer have a personal connection with Asher?
He entertained several possibilities, but none seemed likely.
He could not grasp their objective at all.
Yet evasion or silence were not options.
This was no time to weigh and measure.
Not only would such things never work on them, Gerbon did not in the least wish to see his district destroyed.
At the end of an almost instinctive judgment, he confessed everything he knew about the case.
"First, the guard's name is 'Jack'. A man whose whole body is covered in scars, who wields a heavy sword, I heard he fled to Southern Pit, and I was thinking, that by now he's probably been caught..."
"By whom?"
"There are so many chasing him that it's hard to specify. This district has many who look out for their own bowls, so they're not inclined to share information readily, still, broadly speaking, they split into three forces."
Gerbon continued.
"The most prominent is the direct unit of the High Councillors."
The Republic's Executioners.
Men without blood or tears who devote themselves solely to the state, if you become their target, you can assume you will die in most cases.
"Next are the money devils prowling the streets at every opportunity."
Southern Pit's bounty hunters.
So selfish that for money they would sell even their parents, their wives, their children, the sort you are better off never dealing with.
"And the last are two guests from the Central Continent. I hear they are called the 'Flayer' and the 'Lone Wolf' respectively, I don't know much about the Central Continent, but it seems they're not riffraff."
"The Flayer, and the Lone Wolf..."
Adrian folded his arms and sank into brief thought.
Verden asked.
"Names you know?"
"I've heard of them."
First, the Flayer, Donovan.
A veteran mercenary who mainly operates in the conflict zones between humans and demi-humans.
"They say he skins the demi-humans he captures or kills and makes ornaments from their hides. And that there is a circle of enthusiasts who purchase them."
"A foul hobby."
Even if their appearance differs, in many ways demi-humans are not so different from humans.
And yet to peel off their skin and sell it.
It is an atrocity one cannot commit unless one is thoroughly lacking in humanity.
"And the one called the Lone Wolf?"
"His name is Romer. He was a rookie who made a noisy splash back when I was active, so I remember him."
A warrior who wielded sword and shield, hired for duels between nobles.
They say he stood out by easily subduing seasoned knights, but that was not what truly set him on the path to fame.
"After winning the duel, he spent a night with both the daughter of the victor and the daughter of the defeated."
"Good grief."
Gerbon shuddered.
Receiving the two men's gazes, he flinched and dipped his head slightly.
"S—sorry, it just slipped out..."
Adrian accepted the simple apology and carried on.
"It was not forced but consensual, of course the nobles would not tolerate it. As a result, the two rival nobles joined forces and sent out a pursuit party, but he slipped the encirclement with ease and fled in one piece."
"He's lost his mind."
"Even so, by these standards he's on the decent side. Though, the Flayer is an exception."
What sort of place is the Central Continent.
Well, being the largest continent, there must be no end of strange things.
Anyway.
'So one of those forces knows Jack's whereabouts.'
The clue had grown clearer.
In exchange, the paths had multiplied.
Which one was the route toward the destination, he could not tell, but that hardly mattered.
"If we lure them into one place, it becomes simple."
"O—one place, you say? However would you..."
There was bait.
The common thread among those pursuing Jack was that they were after a high-value bounty.
"The bounties sitting in this room alone add up to a total of six billion Elk. That much should be more than enough to draw every eye."
There was no chance they would cower in advance and hide.
They will come, whether to gawk or for something else.
All the more since even the Glory of the Dead is involved here.
"So, Gerbon. I need your cooperation."
"...!"
"If things go as I intend, I can't say for other places, but at least this district will remain unscathed. And that's what you want, isn't it."
Gulp.
Gerbon swallowed his spit.
"Your answer?"
The back of his neck grew cold.
Faced with a question that rang like a threat, there was only one answer.
***
The base that Haldirn had found, where the Glory of the Dead was positioned.
The force to subjugate it had already left Quorail.
Rumble, rumble, rumble...!
Over a dozen wagons, large and medium mixed, thundered in line along the main road.
On the surface, it looked like the procession of a great merchant caravan, but inside, it was not so.
The Archbishop and two paladins.
And priests, plus no less than three entire paladin orders, the military force of the Church of Luas.
They had marched without rest, day and night, and now they settled on a hill in the forest.
Thud───thud.
Concealment and protective barriers, formed by magic items and miracles.
Within them, tents were pitched and an organized temporary camp was swiftly completed.
Supplies were more than sufficient, packed to the brim inside spatial bags rather than wagons.
Paladin Shane.
And three scouting teams led by the two paladin commanders, the moment their missions were complete, the assault would begin.
Until it was fully finished, the expected time limit was within days.
During that time, another plan was about to be put in motion.
"Then, I shall depart as well."
Leira, fully prepared, stood at the entrance.
Her mission was to search for the enemy's still undiscovered bases.
Moving alone was what she was most accustomed to, so she had declined any companions.
"Please return safely, Lady Leira...!"
Bishop Lena lifted a prayer, wishing her fortune.
She should have remained in Quorail, but had volunteered to join the subjugation of the base.
As a high-ranking bishop.
"I know your skill, so I will not say more."
Archbishop Joseph, standing beside her, nodded his chin.
"Do your best to avoid relying on that power. Even if you have resistance, we cannot know what will happen if you abuse it. In an emergency, do not hesitate to send the signal."
"Yes, Archbishop."
Leira nodded and turned her back.
She pressed her toes into the ground, activating the magic item [Eternal Path].
Once per day.
For up to 24 hours it continuously reduced physical fatigue, a rare item.
If struck in the meantime the effect would cease, but for long-distance travel it was exceptional.
With light steps, Leira dashed into the forest.
Soon, the figure of the high-ranking adventurer vanished into the dark.
Bishop Lena gazed after her with worried eyes.
"Lady Leira... will she be alright?"
"She will. Her outward self, and her inner self, are both admirable."
Joseph smiled, and headed toward his tent.
"So it is better for us to focus on what we must do. Others are devoting themselves as well."
"Y, yes! Archbishop!"
Bishop Lena hastily followed behind him.
***
A day in Southern Pit is complicated.
Crime and daily life are one, the streets are always noisy.
But today was somewhat different.
In just one night, a piece of news had spread to countless mouths.
───The ruler of Roafra had come to Southern Pit.
What's more, with daybreak, even his clear location near the central plaza of Southern Pit had been revealed.
The shock was enormous.
"I, if we get dragged into this... shouldn't we run right away?"
"But today's business───"
"Business, now?! You'll throw away your life for pocket change? Shut up and both of you follow me!"
Ordinary folk hastily gathered their belongings and fled to the outskirts.
They didn't know what Roafra was, but they knew that a wanted man worth billions of Elk was roaming their streets.
Meanwhile, those who knew about Asher, the King of the Underworld, were shaken beyond words.
"Why in the world has Roafra come here...? Don't tell me they've come to take Southern Pit?!"
"Not likely, if only two came. If that were the case, wouldn't they have brought a larger force?"
"But is it really true they only came with two? And are they really at the center? No, who spread this rumor to begin with?"
Each tilted their heads, trying to guess the reason, but it was useless.
Some doubted the truth of the rumor, but there was no gain from that either.
The conclusion was one.
"...Shall we go see?"
Thus, a not small crowd gathered.
Out of curiosity for who the new King of the Underworld truly was.
Out of greed for the massive bounty.
Or to learn why he had appeared here at all, the reasons were many.
The sun climbed to its zenith.
They even skipped meals, rushing down the streets toward the center.
Before long, the number of people exceeded hundreds, surrounding a small plaza with a large building.
At the center, two figures stood.
A man with ashen hair, wearing a robe of full platinum.
And beside him, another man cloaked in a robe of deep blue, wearing a metallic mask of near-black that covered his lower face.
The first sat in a chair, eyes closed, leaning against the wall of the building.
The second stood with arms crossed, guarding his side.
From behind a roof, hiding and peeking, someone whispered softly.
"That person, no, that man is Asher...?"
Exactly as the descriptions had said.
And yet, not one dared to step forward and ask.
At that moment, a group broke through the crowd into the plaza.
Men and women, their pauldrons engraved with the symbol of the Republic, emanating a chilling presence, the High Councillors' direct unit.
"T, the Executioners of the Republic...!!"
"What?!"
The crowd around them scattered back in waves.
Regardless, the man who seemed to be their leader, a grim figure, narrowed his eyes.
The end of his gaze fixed on the target.
"So you are Asher?"
His voice dripped with hostility.
In the silence that gripped the entire plaza, Verden opened his eyes.
Blue eyes shifted faintly.
The Republic's Executioners gathered in the square, Southern Pit's bounty hunters.
And... even the two who had been watching closely from nearby.
"They're all here."
What came next was still unknown.
Whether everything would be smashed to pieces, or end neatly.
The situation ahead depended on their answer.
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