Episode 4
Ragna tribespeople running through the forest.
And Kankun.
Behind them, Partas cavalry and warriors clad in golden armor were giving chase.
“This direction… don’t tell me those bastards are heading for where the High Priest is!?”
“They’re heading toward the cursed Sacred Temple!”
“Get ahead of them first! We absolutely cannot let them reach the Temple! We must not incur the Shaman’s displeasure!”
Kankun was convinced by the urgent voices of the Partas tribe.
Even his own uncle who had raised a rebellion had sought permission from the Shaman first when coming to the cursed Sacred Temple.
To that extent, it was no exaggeration to say that the High Priest—the Shaman’s—influence encompassed the entire Nord clan.
Even if the demon did not help him, the Shaman was there, so surely they would not act recklessly—!
But—.
Thwack—!
“Kuaaaargh!”
The Sacred Temple, which had been so close, now felt unbearably far away.
No matter how densely overgrown the forest was with grass and trees, shaking those on horseback was no easy task.
The cavalry charged swiftly, killing the Ragna tribespeople by stabbing them in the backs with spears.
“J-Just a little further—!”
Kankun squeezed his eyes shut at the screams that rang out.
One attack after another.
He truly wondered if he had brought this disaster upon them.
Could it be that the demon had simply sent him away, bringing this calamity upon them once more?
It was when everything was in chaos.
Thudududuk—!
The sound of rough hoofbeats echoed from behind.
It was the fierce neighing of horses.
Even the rough breathing of the cavalrymen could be heard clearly.
And even the sound of a sharp spear blade cutting through the wind!
Kankun instinctively turned back and protected himself with the sword he held in his arms.
Clang—!
Sparks flew as Kankun’s body staggered.
Conversely, the cavalryman who had thrust the spear wore a surprised expression.
“He blocked it? The brat’s pretty good?”
The cavalryman tugged the reins, looked at Kankun, and sneered.
Before anyone knew it, the cavalrymen had overtaken the Ragna tribespeople, blocked their path, and begun to surround them.
The Partas warriors whistled and smacked their lips.
Kankun’s face turned deathly pale as he looked at them.
The Ragna tribespeople had not yet managed to escape.
Now that they were surrounded as well, it was only a matter of course that they would be killed or enslaved.
“By the way… that sword.”
One of the Partas warriors pointed at the sword Kankun cradled in his arms.
All the Partas warriors revealed gazes filled with greed.
“Is that really made of gold?”
Kankun flinched in surprise and cowered. And as if to prevent something precious from being taken, he hid it by wrapping his body around it.
“…I’m just holding onto this for a moment! This sword has a proper owner! Y-You lot aren’t worthy of daring to covet it!”
“It has an owner?”
“That’s right! Someone truly fearsome and noble!”
The Partas tribespeople burst into laughter at Kankun, who was shouting fiercely.
Naturally.
It was the words of a mere brat who had only just come of age.
Who would take those words seriously?
It looked like nothing more than bluster.
One of the Partas cavalrymen approached Kankun.
“Hah, so what? If we kill that owner too, that’s the end of it, no?”
“Oh ho, you mean to kill me?”
“……!”
The Partas cavalryman felt his entire body weighed down by a voice that shook his very soul.
And he doubted his own ears.
Because up until moments ago, there had been no one behind him.
But to suddenly hear such a deep voice!?
‘What…?’
Cold sweat flowed without him realizing it. An unknown fear made him terrified.
The Partas cavalryman slowly lowered his head and looked at Kankun, who had been shouting just moments before.
“…Ah!”
The eyes of the girl who had been screaming fiercely were wide.
There was no longer any fear in that gaze.
Rather, hope and expectation surged within it.
And that gaze… was directed behind him.
Not just the brat before him, but his comrades who had overtaken and surrounded the Ragna tribe were also making expressions of terror.
That’s right—there was something behind him!
The Partas cavalryman gripped his spear with all his might.
And he turned and swung, but—
Smack—!
The spear was caught helplessly in a massive hand.
“……!”
The Partas cavalryman’s eyes widened.
Space was torn open in the air.
A being could be seen, protruding only its upper body from the pitch-black space.
A being wearing a helmet with horns like a goat’s and black armor.
‘…The Throne of Sin!’
The demon slumbering in the Sacred Temple!
That being was now gripping the spear blade with a hook-like hand.
“Wait, let’s have a little chat—.”
“Kuaaaaaargh—!”
The cavalryman screamed and struggled with all his might to pull out the spear.
But the spear caught in the demon’s grip didn’t budge an inch.
“Hey, don’t be scared. I just want to talk—.”
The Partas cavalryman eventually gave up on the spear.
He let go of the spear and drew the crossbow on his back.
And fired at the goat-horned helmet.
Ting—!
But as if fired from a toy crossbow, the bolt bounced off helplessly.
“Listen to me—!”
He reloaded and fired again.
“Haah—.”
“Argh!”
He reloaded the crossbow again.
Loki narrowed his eyes and threw the spear in his hand back at its owner from moments ago.
Boom—!
Crunch—!
Along with the sound of air splitting, a massive hole was torn through the center of the Partas cavalryman’s body.
The cavalryman collapsed on the spot.
“I said let’s talk, you maggot.”
Loki walked out from the pitch-black space, step by step.
Those who faced him.
Ragna tribespeople and Partas tribespeople alike were all frozen stiff with terror.
The stories they had seen and heard since childhood.
The demon slumbering in the Sacred Temple.
The oral tradition that the Throne of Sin, bearing all iniquity, would come to judge them.
Having received their coming-of-age ceremonies from the Shaman since childhood and faced the demon’s statue, the Nord clan could not help but feel instinctive fear toward the being before their eyes.
In childhood it had been an object of fear, but now they had thought it nothing more than a superstition.
Yet that being had appeared right before their eyes.
Everyone froze.
Only Kankun looked up at Loki with an expression of relief.
“To me, you are existences akin to NPCs.”
When Loki opened his mouth, the Partas and Ragna tribespeople flinched simultaneously.
“And this character called Loki—.”
Loki raised his head slightly and spoke in a dignified voice.
“Is very impatient. So you’d better answer what is asked.”
They couldn’t understand what he meant.
But this was a warning.
A warning of what would happen if they ignored his words.
The Partas and Ragna tribes gathered there, understanding that, glanced at one another.
And as silence flowed, creeping anxiety shook their reason.
To the Nord people, fear was something they had been taught to fight against since childhood.
And such brainwashing education eventually—.
“Aaaaargh—!”
“Raise your spears—!”
Led them to ruin.
The Partas tribespeople gripped their weapons to resist the unknown terror.
The Ragna tribe was also shaken by that battle cry and tried to raise their weapons, but….
“Don’t! Everyone get down!”
At Kankun’s words, the Ragna tribespeople could only lower their weapons and prostrate themselves.
“Except for you—.”
Loki turned the gaze within his helmet toward Kankun.
“None of the rest are capable of conversation.”
“Kill him—!”
The Partas tribespeople charged at Loki all at once.
***
Shouts and screams rang out.
Histon laughed as he dragged along Hans, his personal slave.
‘Is it because it’s been a while since a raid? Those guys sure are impatient!’
“Still, they shouldn’t lay a hand on the Temple where the Shaman resides….”
“We’re not so foolish as to do that, are we?”
His subordinates following behind joked in a light tone.
Even if they were nothing but muscle-brains, they could make that much of a judgment.
But if they were excited enough to lose their reason, they would have to accept the risk of clashing with the Shaman.
‘The elders have said since long ago to never clash with the Shaman.’
There were many tales.
That the Shaman, mediator of the Nord people, was a powerful magician.
That if you carelessly touched him, an entire tribe would be destroyed.
The elders claimed to have experienced it themselves, but Histon didn’t believe it.
It was probably half exaggeration.
‘But if even half of it is true, he might well be considered a powerhouse among the Nord.’
Yet such a being spent his time worshipping a demon at the Sacred Temple.
No matter how powerful, to believe in such superstition?
It was absurd.
Lost in such thoughts as he rode forward, Histon was seized by a strange sensation.
The shouts and screams that had been echoing through the forest until moments ago could no longer be heard.
‘…What?’
Histon pulled the reins and stopped.
His subordinates following behind likewise reined in their horses.
‘…Not a single sound can be heard.’
Not the voices of his own men, nor the screams or sobs of the Ragna tribespeople being pillaged.
And that wasn’t all.
The signs of wild beasts, even the chirping of insects, had vanished.
A silent stillness had settled upon the forest swaying in the wind.
Histon broke out in cold sweat.
Even in the biting cold of the northern chill, beads of sweat trickled down his cheeks.
His subordinates, seeming to sense something amiss, watched Histon’s reaction.
And soon, Histon noticed the ‘hidden presences’ within the forest.
“Undead—!”
Those hiding their presence in the forest, bodies unseen.
It was the aura of the dead.
But they were on a completely different level from ordinary low-class undead.
Unlike the aura of death, he could not properly sense their forms or presence.
Meaning they were high-class undead!
Hiiiing—!
The horses seemed to sense their aura as well, rearing and bucking.
Their hair stood on end in fear, their eyes rolling wildly in their sockets.
‘Even the warhorses are terrified!’
“U-Undead?!”
“W-Where are they, sir?!”
The subordinates couldn’t even sense the undead’s aura.
Histon surveyed his surroundings, cold sweat flowing.
‘We’ve been surrounded?!’
And yet, he still couldn’t properly make out their forms.
“M-Monsters—!”
However, there was no one ahead.
It was the direction where his subordinates were.
As if herding prey, the beings of death seemed to be driving them forward.
In the end, Histon had no choice but to go forward.
It felt as if he were caught and dragged by something.
And where the horses’ hooves touched was a frozen surface stained with blood.
“…….”
“……!”
Histon clamped his mouth shut, and his subordinates covered their mouths, struggling to suppress their retching.
A lake of blood.
No, it was a frozen path stained with blood.
Countless corpses were strewn about, and the blood flowing from them had frozen in the biting cold, creating the frozen path.
And standing tall upon that frozen path was a single being.
“…A-A demon.”
Hans, Histon’s slave, stammered.
“A demon.”
The being that should have been slumbering in the Sacred Temple was before their eyes.
A being standing tall in the frozen chill, wagging his finger.
He wore a goat-horned helmet, pitch-black armor, and a fur-trimmed cape.
He stood among the corpses, looking at Histon.
As if he had known Histon would come here.
‘Those undead hordes… is he leading them?’
If so, it meant the being before them was a Necromancer.