“It’s not really like that.”
If I’d been on my own, I was sure that I’d have built up so much mental fatigue that I’d definitely have made some kind of mess-up by now. The only reason I was able to push myself so far was because I had allies whom I could leave the other side to.
“Ghelreis, how far along are we now?”
“We’ve avoided the main route where we’d have been more easily surrounded and descended to the third level through the side paths. Soon will be the Hall of Light, and I expect the dragon will be in the Great Cavern beyond that.”
We pressed onward, calmly crushing our enemies as they came. I had no idea where the leader of the demons would be; however, there were only a limited number of places in the dwarves’ underground kingdom where a dragon could indulge in a long slumber.
“Long ago, our forefathers drained the stagnant water from an underground lake and created the Great Cavern. It lies at the very core of the Iron Country.”
There the dragon was entrenched, and in all probability, he was waiting for us
— Calamity’s Sickle, with its golden eye.
“The demons should work out that we’re heading towards the dragon.
Assuming they lie in wait for us, where would that be?”
“The Hall of Light, I imagine. It’s the throne room where Lord Aurvangr gave his last speech so many years ago.”
“We have to take it back,” Al mumbled.
I nodded too. “Yep. Let’s take it back.”
We meant the throne — and also the crown. They were just symbols, but that was also what made them important.
“All that work for a symbol? Whatever floats your boat, I guess. I’ll back you up.”
“Me, too. Everything taken should be taken back.”
Menel and Reystov nodded and continued forward, beating the hell out of even more demons. They poured out in great swarms, but the majority of them were Soldiers, or Commanders at worst. Pitted against accomplished warriors, they might as well have been scarecrows.
We traveled through dim stone passages one after another that twisted and branched, sometimes into up and down routes and sometimes with stairs.
Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of light.
“Huh?”
A strong, warm light, at odds with this underground space, spread out from a rectangular doorway. It looked like the entrance to a world of light. When we stepped inside, a bright space was there, a vast space with lines of many pillars.
There was a chalk ceiling, and a smooth floor in which I couldn’t see any joins.
All over the ceiling were lines of magic lights cut from clear crystal with Signs carved into them. It was beautiful, dazzling lighting, as though the light of the sun had been replicated within the room.
I didn’t have to be told to know that this was the Hall of Light, the seat of the monarch. And dead ahead, opposite the entrance and at the other end of the rows of pillars, was the throne. It was beautiful and decoratively carved, and sat on it was a single demon.
How could I describe that classless demon sitting brazenly upon the throne?
The first words that came to mind were “humanoid insect.” The green shell like a jewel beetle’s that encased its two-meter-tall muscular body made it look almost like a samurai in full armor. In its hands was a horrifyingly thick, spiked club. The demon had the mouthparts of an insect, complete with mandibles. And like some kind of sick joke, on top of its head, in addition to a pair of feelers, sat the crown.
If I remembered correctly, this was a General-ranked demon: a Scarabaeus.
“Sir Will…” After looking at the figure of the demon for a while, Al’s expression turned serious. “Let me do it.”
“Al — no, Vindalfr. Good luck.”
“Thank you.” Al marched forward, no longer turning around to reply.
“Wh — Hey!”
“It’s okay, Menel. Let him go.”
“You want to talk about it first?! That’s a fig General! His chances are—”
“Even so, this is Al’s fight.” I said it so strongly that Menel fell silent. “It’s the fight of a king for his throne.” Menel didn’t look at all happy about it, but a warrior’s pride was at stake. This was a battle in which none of us could afford to interfere.
In the chalk pillar hall filled with light, Al marched confidently towards the throne, which was placed on a slightly higher level than the rest of the room. The beetle-demon — the Scarabaeus — languidly rose to its feet.
I could feel a prickling in the air as mana converged on the spiked club in its hands. And I could tell even from its emotionless, bug-like exterior that it held strong contempt for its diminutive challenger and had confidence bordering on arrogance in its own power. Even though its forces had been thoroughly slaughtered and its territory encroached upon, it was probably convinced that it could simply deal with us itself and there would be absolutely no problem.
As Ghelreis watched Al march forward, he took a fresh look at the demon and muttered, “I don’t like the look on it.”
I thought the same thing. But the demon’s arrogant confidence wasn’t without basis. Even though it may have borrowed the power of the foul-dragon to do it, this beetle-demon had in fact been the fall of the Iron Country, wiping out an entire army of dwarves who were prepared to fight to the death.
“It’s strong,” I replied.
If this was the supreme commander of the demon army that the High King had dispatched to the Iron Mountains, it would most likely mean that it was at least the equal of the horned demon called a Cernunnos that I’d fought in the Lord of Holly’s domain. It was probably stronger.
With humans, a commander’s rank and their prowess in battle don’t necessarily match up, but when it came to demons, the ones of higher rank were generally stronger and smarter. If it were me fighting it, the odds would likely be in my favor. The beetle-demon did look solid and had magical armor I couldn’t identify, but I thought I’d still be able to overcome it. For Al, though, this might yet be too difficult an opponent.
“You’re gonna let him die ’cause of some pigshit warrior hang-up?” Menel said with a very sour look on his face. “You’re not the only one who taught him, you know.”
“Yeah, I agree.” Reystov nodded. “But either way…”
“Yes. We probably won’t be able to find the time to get involved.”
Just as Al began to close in on the Scarabaeus, the demon raised a sickening cry from its mouthparts. At the same time, the Hall of Light’s dazzling illumination dimmed. The light from the Sign-engraved crystals had been obscured by winged demons descending on us from all angles.
“Fig!” Menel shot through several of them in such quick succession that it would have been impossible to follow the movements of his hands. Demons fell one after another onto the highly polished floor.
This was what it came down to. Demons didn’t possess the poetic sense to entertain the idea of a one-on-one fight in any case, and there was no advantage to them in doing so. It was obvious that they would surround us here and go for the kill. That was the real reason I had allowed Al to go alone.
“Now I get it,” Menel said. “Hey, Al! If it looks like it’s not working out, hold out till we win and keep him on his own! Don’t you die!”
The best case would be if Al won, of course, but even if he didn’t, so long as we could just keep their “strong piece” occupied with our “weak piece,” we could turn the tide of battle comfortably in our favor. If Blood had been here, he might have recommended a one-on-one battle without that kind of calculation behind it, but as for me, I didn’t romanticize battle like that. It was simply a calculated decision.