Chapter 95

Chapter 95: Chapter 95

"Those are some vicious bastards."

Rickart spoke with his back to the encampment, which remained in disarray after the attack during the night. He was looking down at something—the remains of one of the people who had exploded.

"The Order must have a necromancer. Like the one involved with the Ernberg Five."

Though they had not confronted the necromancer directly, Rickart and Boribori had witnessed the horrific traces and atrocities the mage had left behind.

This was why mages made people so uneasy. There were good reasons for people to dislike them, and Rickart and Boribori felt the same way.

"It wasn’t a necromancer. It was a curse mage."

It was Daisy’s voice.

Rickart and Boribori turned around and saw her standing beside Ice. Instead of a nun’s habit, she wore ordinary, shabby clothes, and her long blond hair hung loose.

"You can’t go, Ricky."

Daisy spoke again. Rickart stared silently at her.

"Then where am I supposed to go?"

"Let’s leave together and go somewhere far away."

"How far?"

"Just far away."

"Sorry, but I’m not running. You don’t have to follow me."

You ran away yesterday, Boribori thought, but he decided not to mention it.

"Ernberg, assemble!"

"They’re calling us to assemble!"

"Assemble! Fall in!"

Shouts summoning them came from the encampment. Without another word, Rickart and Boribori walked past Daisy and headed toward the assembly point.

Once everyone had gathered in front of Volka’s tent, Volka came outside, climbed onto a wooden crate, and began speaking. Rickart wrapped an arm around Marie ’s waist as he listened to his friend and superior.

"As you all know, some fucked-up shit happened yesterday. But the commander says he’s satisfied with how we responded. What else did he say? Oh, right. You saw those motherfuckers playing around with magic, didn’t you? Honestly, I know none of you give a shit about the Order or the Emperor. Truthfully, neither do I. But this crosses the line, doesn’t it? These bastards are nothing but a bunch of cultists and demon worshipers. Are we really supposed to let scum like that live?"

It was a speech that suited Volka perfectly. He sounded as if he were merely talking to his friends.

Quiet laughter broke out here and there, including from Rickart.

"Hey, stop laughing. I’m being serious. Anyway, we have one objective: kill every last bastard inside that temple or whatever it is. Don’t spare children or women. We don’t need prisoners either. But they told us not to touch anything inside without permission and not to set the place on fire. As you already know, we’ll be rewarded with either money or land, so the commander says you’d better listen while he’s still asking nicely. Uh, and..."

Volka examined the piece of paper in his hand.

He was not illiterate, but apparently even he could not decipher his own atrocious handwriting. He frowned at the paper for quite some time.

Eventually, the adventurer who served as his deputy whispered the answer from beside him.

"The sword. The Holy Sword."

"Oh, right. Our operation will advance from the east straight toward the center of the temple. Apparently, there’s a Holy Sword at the center. It must be extremely important to those cultists, so we either smash it to pieces or seize it. We’ll take control of the convent first. Kill everyone you see. They aren’t real nuns. Got it? Anyone not understand?"

One of the seated adventurers raised his hand. Volka pointed at him with his chin.

"I heard we were being divided into squads. What happened to that?"

"That’s been scrapped. They decided it would be better for each clan to operate the way it normally does. The whole force will still be broadly divided into four units that will attack from four directions. We’ve been assigned the east."

It seemed that they had decided to keep the operation as simple as possible.

That appeared to be the right decision, and Rickart had no objections.

"We won’t be working alongside any other guilds?"

"Not our group. That would only make things uncomfortable. Besides..."

This time, Volka gestured toward Rickart and Marie with his chin.

Everyone immediately understood.

With a Sword Master, Rickart, Boribori, and Ice among them, assigning additional forces to their group might simply be a waste.

And as Volka had said, it was better to enter the operation alongside people they already knew.

When unfamiliar people tried to work together, they often failed to coordinate properly. If conflict arose from that lack of coordination, even something that should have been easy could become impossible.

"One last thing. During battle, do whatever Ricky tells you. No exceptions. Understood?"

Everyone nodded without the slightest sign of dissatisfaction.

It was not simply because Rickart was famous. They had personally experienced his abilities.

They knew from experience that Rickart’s judgment, decisiveness, and problem-solving abilities invariably produced the right answer.

"That puts a lot of pressure on me."

Rickart spoke quietly.

He was accustomed to working alone or conducting small-scale operations with a few friends, but even he had never been responsible for so many lives.

"I’ll protect you."

Marie whispered to him.

"Ricky, do you want to say something too?"

Volka asked.

Rickart smiled and shook his head.

"Good. Then the operation begins in three days. Some of you might think that’s too soon, but the people who arrived early have already spent more than ten days eating and drinking here. Besides, we should take advantage of the momentum from successfully repelling the night raid. Everyone, maintain your personal equipment, and cut back on the drinking. Dismissed."

Volka waved them away, and the adventurers dispersed in small groups.

The participants were veteran adventurers hardened by all manner of assignments, so they did not look particularly nervous about the coming battle.

Still, their objective was total extermination.

Rickart understood the reasoning, but it left him feeling uneasy.

He suddenly wondered how things had come to this.

God or demon—it did not matter. He was growing sick of people who saw only what they wanted to see.

To both the Order of Judgment and the imperial family, Ricky’s previous life might have been nothing more than an excuse.

An excuse to justify their own actions.

Rickart pulled Marie closer and held her. It comforted him, if only slightly.

Once the operation had been decided, the drinking and revelry diminished considerably. The adventurers steeled themselves and meticulously maintained their weapons.

One adventurer had apparently grown so attached to a prostitute that he confessed he would marry her if they met again.

Three days passed.

Rickart and the adventurers departed at dawn. Naturally, they had no siege equipment. All they carried were ladders.

Daisy came with them as well.

The closer they drew to the temple, the more visibly anxious both she and Ice became.

After walking for five or six hours without rest, they saw a large fortress standing in the middle of the distant plain.

Several figures were visible atop its walls. When they spotted the approaching adventurers, they quickly disappeared from sight.

What sort of defensive forces could a cult possibly possess?

The fortress itself was fairly imposing, yet there was not a single soldier guarding its walls.

Rickart followed Volka to the eastern wall. The small gate through which Daisy had escaped had already been sealed and packed tightly with stones.

That did not matter.

There were no enemy soldiers to stop them from setting up ladders and climbing the wall.

There were few clouds, and the sunlight was bright. Yet for some reason, the cool breeze felt desolate.

Now that they had actually reached the Order’s temple, Rickart sensed a strange incongruity.

No one else readily stepped forward, so Rickart strapped a heater shield to his left arm and climbed the ladder first.

Upon reaching the top of the wall, he surveyed the interior. He saw residential buildings and various auxiliary facilities.

Rickart gestured for the advance party—Volka, Marie , Boribori, and the others—to climb up. He then issued his instructions.

"Open the gate, then carefully check those buildings over there and there to see whether anyone’s inside. We were told to kill everyone we see, so if you find anyone, kill them. First, we secure this area. Then we advance toward the center. If anything goes wrong, we retreat here. This will be our rallying point."

"Got it."

By now, Volka immediately understood what Rickart meant with only a few words.

They descended the stairs into the fortress and opened the gate. Forty adventurers surged inside.

Volka divided them into groups by clan and ordered them to search the buildings.

Rickart continued carefully examining their surroundings in case an ambush had been prepared.

Daisy was terrified that the nuns she regarded as sisters might be harmed.

But whether fortunately or unfortunately, they were not there.

The entire area was empty.

"Why isn’t anyone here? It doesn’t look like they fled."

"Maybe they’re preparing to make their final stand farther inside."

"Daisy, do you know the layout of this place?"

Rickart asked.

"No. The nuns were almost never allowed to leave this area. I was the only one who occasionally traveled outside."

"What about you, Ice?"

"I’ve never been to the convent, so I don’t know either. The holy knight training grounds are near the southern gate."

The broad, rectangular fortress appeared to be divided into separate sections.

Tall walls blocked the way, meaning they would have to pass through another gate-like entrance to reach the central area.

The place was unnaturally quiet.

Had they given up, or were they preparing to make a final stand, as Marie had suggested?

Rickart took his time and thoroughly inspected the area. He climbed back onto the wall to check whether anyone was hiding outside and looked for a way to contact the other infiltration teams.

But the strangely designed fortress prevented them from seeing the other groups from a distance unless they followed the wall all the way around.

"Leave about ten people here, and let’s open that gate. Make sure someone keeps watch outside from the wall."

"Got it, Ricky."

At Rickart’s command, the adventurers brought over something resembling a massive log. Four people took position on either side and prepared to batter the gate.

But it apparently had not been locked.

It simply swung open.

A dark interior corridor stretched out before them.

It was midday outside, yet the corridor was pitch-black. Sunlight illuminated the area near the entrance, but farther inside, it was as dark as a demon’s throat.

It could not have looked more ominous.

"Bring the sandbags."

The adventurers brought over the ones they had prepared in advance. Rickart hurled the heavy sandbags down the corridor one after another, testing for traps.

Sure enough, when he threw the third or fourth bag, sharp spearheads shot out of the floor with a metallic clang.

"Nasty bastards..."

Boribori muttered.

He had never seen such an elaborate trap before, and it sent a chill through him. There was something insidious and malicious inherent in the very nature of a trap.

Once they confirmed the presence of traps, adventurers carrying two-handed hammers stepped forward. They advanced slowly, methodically smashing the floor and walls as they went.

The walls were adorned with intricate carvings of gargoyles and monsters, elaborate enough to qualify as works of art.

It was strange that people who claimed to believe in God would create things like these.

Since they were effectively testing every stone before stepping on it, their progress was inevitably slow. But this was necessary for their safety.

The adventurers worked as though each had an assigned role. When those carrying hammers grew tired from smashing their way forward, others relieved them. They also mounted torches along the walls.

Around halfway down the corridor, they discovered a door leading into a room.

Rickart ordered the adventurers to move back, pressed himself against the wall beside the door, and quietly listened.

He was checking for signs of anyone inside. He did not stand directly in front of the door because someone might suddenly thrust a spear through it from the other side.

Once his keen senses had determined whether enemies were present, Rickart abruptly kicked the door.

Crack!

The hinges shattered with a single blow, and the door flew open.

"Gasp!"

The moment the interior was revealed, Rickart sucked in a sharp breath.

Curious about what he had seen, Boribori, Volka, Ice, Marie , and the other adventurers leaned over to look inside.

They were just as horrified as Rickart.

"Ah!"

"Fuck!"

It was impossible not to swear.

The room was a laboratory for human experimentation.

Horrors they had never witnessed even in their nightmares unfolded before their eyes. There was no physical attack, yet the sight alone was nearly more than their minds could endure.

Bizarre diagrams had been drawn on the walls in blood. Discarded body parts lay piled in a corner, while dreadful instruments of torture, caked with dried blood and hair, were scattered across the tables.

Maggots writhed everywhere. The stench of chemicals, filth, and rotting corpses blended into something indescribably foul.

Because their profession routinely exposed them to horrific sights, adventurers generally possessed a strong tolerance for brutality.

But this was different.

Unless they were completely depraved, even the roughest adventurers and mercenaries had boundaries they would not cross. A man might enjoy plundering yet refuse to touch a monastery, or he might spare infants and pregnant women.

But this went far beyond any reasonable boundary.

If people were capable of doing such things, how could anyone distinguish humans from demons?

"They are holy martyrs."

Someone suddenly spoke from beyond the darkness of the corridor.

Everyone present immediately snapped their heads toward the voice.

A figure wearing a tall, conical hood stood there, staring at them through two eyeholes.

"I know that’s complete fucking bullshit."

Rickart spoke through gritted teeth, his voice seething with rage.

His eyes burned so fiercely that they seemed ready to emit beams capable of piercing the other man.

"Whether you understand it or not, the Resurrection draws near."

With that, the hooded figure turned and attempted to disappear into the darkness.

"Kill that son of a bitch!"

Volka shouted.

The crossbowmen reacted first. They simultaneously fired their already-loaded crossbows.

Thrum! Th-thrum! Thrum!

Two or three bolts struck the man in the back.

Astonishingly, he continued walking as though nothing had happened.

The adventurers moved to pursue him, but Rickart stopped them.

"Don’t go!"

They turned toward him as though asking why.

"We haven’t cleared all the traps yet. He may be trying to lure us in."

Even amid his fury, Rickart remained remarkably composed.

Unable to contain his anger, Volka issued an order to the adventurers.

"Hey, bring torches. Burn it all."

"The commander told us not to start any fires."

"Fuck that. I’ll take responsibility. Burn everything."

The adventurers wanted to do the same, so they did not hesitate. They poured oil throughout the human experimentation chamber and set it ablaze.

What in the world had they been experimenting on?

That wicked curiosity passed through everyone’s mind.

But the flames soon rose as though purifying such thoughts. With nowhere else to escape, dense smoke poured out into the corridor.

At that moment, cultists carrying bows and crossbows emerged from the darkness.

They swiftly assumed their prepared positions and fired a coordinated volley.

Startled, Rickart pressed himself tightly against the wall to reduce the area exposed to attack and raised his shield.

"Everyone, get against the walls!"

But those who failed to evade in time were struck by arrows.

Fortunately, there were few casualties. Still, the darkness and the mental shock from what they had just witnessed caused fear to seize them.

"Aaagh!"

"Fuck! I’ve been hit!"

"Shields! Raise the shields!"

"Bring a potion!"

The scene descended into chaos within moments.

Nevertheless, the adventurers protected themselves as best they could, stubbornly held their ground, and refused to flee.

Yet the horrifying sights they had witnessed, combined with their present situation, allowed fear to creep steadily into their hearts.

Then an urgent shout came from the direction through which Rickart and the adventurers had entered.

"Boss! Boooss!"

Volka’s eyes widened at the ominous feeling that seized him.

Rickart reacted the same way.

"What is it?"

"There are enemies outside! One of them is a Sword Master!"

Rickart immediately sprinted toward the entrance, with Marie and Boribori following him.

But the enemy holy knights killed the adventurer who had delivered the warning. Apparently having no intention of fighting them there, they slammed the door shut.

Then a massive stone gate dropped with a thunderous crash.

The sunlight vanished, and a crushing darkness descended upon them.

They had mounted torches along the walls, but those only dimly illuminated the areas immediately around them.

At that moment, everyone had the same thought.

We’re fucked.

Everyone except Rickart.

Just as the hopeless situation threatened to crush their will to fight, Rickart defiantly drew his sword and shouted.

"If the way behind us is blocked, we’ll break through the front! Good! Let’s finish this!"

Without caring about the traps, he charged toward the enemies by himself.

The enemy archers and crossbowmen were still loading their next volley.

"Let’s finish this!"

Boribori and Marie shouted as they followed him.

Fear had only just begun to overwhelm the adventurers, but the courage of those three drove them half mad with excitement.

"LET’S FINISH THIIIS!"

More than thirty grown men roared in unison. Even the darkness itself seemed startled into retreat.

For that moment, they felt no fear.

They surged forward in a mob behind Rickart.

The enemies loading their next volley panicked, and their hands became tangled.

They managed to fire, but they failed to produce the same concentrated barrage as before, and the volley was far less powerful.

Rickart charged at the front with his shield raised and hurled his entire body into the enemy.

There was a heavy impact as he collided with one of them and tumbled to the floor.

Then he sprang upright and swung his sword.

His movements appeared wild, but every strike was executed with precision.

Enemies dropped one after another.

He kicked, head-butted, and brought his sword down with all his strength. The blade split through flesh and ribs from an enemy’s shoulder all the way to his heart.

By the time Rickart planted a foot against the corpse and pulled his sword free, his allies had arrived and swept through the remaining enemies.

Normally, people could not demonstrate their full abilities in a chaotic melee.

Rickart was the opposite.

Once the battle descended into chaos, he thrashed through the enemy like a fish returned to water.

Compared to the muddy hellholes where he had fought during the eastern campaigns in his previous life, this was as comfortable as lying in bed.

The adventurers slaughtered the enemies in an instant.

In the blink of an eye, the corridor became a sea of blood.

At this point, it was difficult to tell who the demons truly were.

Rickart knew how one became a demon in hell.

His lungs throbbed with pain, but it was nothing.

In his previous life, he had continued fighting while cauterizing his wounds with red-hot blades. He had watched fellow soldiers who had lost limbs continue burning with the will to fight until the very end.

He would not whine merely because he was having difficulty breathing.

So what if he died?

Rickart unfastened the shield riddled with arrows and threw it onto the floor.

A metallic clang echoed through the corridor.

His friends and the other adventurers, all drenched in blood, turned to look at him.

In their eyes, Rickart now appeared different from usual.

He was no longer the relaxed swordsman who displayed overwhelming genius.

He looked more like a savage warrior.

But that was closer to his true nature.

His eyes seemed to burn, and his lips looked ready to curl back in an animalistic growl.

Perhaps gazing into the horrific depths of humanity and being placed in mortal danger had naturally awakened something that had long lain dormant deep within Rickart.

Rickart pulled over the edge of his cloak, casually wiped the blood from his sword, and spoke.

"Let’s go."

Then he walked into the pitch-black darkness that resembled a demon’s throat.

His friends and the adventurers followed behind him.

As Rickart had said, if there was no way back, all they had to do was break through the path ahead.

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