Chapter 192 - 187: Undercurrent
Knight Roland departed, continuing his journey across the Duchy. With him went the legendary tale of Velin, the "Serpent Slayer."
Although Velin had strictly suppressed the details of the successful hunt for the Level 5 Magical Beast in the Grey Marsh Territory, with all participants signing a Magic Contract to ensure not a single detail would be leaked.
However, no secret can be kept forever.
「Half a month later.」
White Whale Port, the most prosperous city in the Seven Ports Alliance.
Inside the "Rotten Fishtail" tavern, an old sailor was holding court, spittle flying as he boasted to the surrounding crowd. He stank worse than the tavern’s dishwater.
"...You should have seen it! The whole swamp was shaking! I swear on my life, I saw countless vines shoot out of the mud and wrap that giant snake up tight!"
He paused to take a long swig of ale, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
"Then, seven or eight rock giants stood up, taller than the lighthouse! They were holding steel spears and chucked ’em from a long way off. One after another, they ran that bastard through!"
The surrounding patrons erupted in derisive laughter.
"Give it a rest, Flynn, you’ve had too much to drink," a Mercenary scoffed. "Last time you were this drunk, you claimed you saw a whole school of the Sea Race in the shallows."
"This time it’s real!" Flynn shouted, growing flustered as he slammed his tankard on the table. "I have a nephew who does business south of Sword Tooth Province, and he told me in secret! That Baron Klein, he knows Magic that makes vines come alive like snakes and can even pull steel right out of the ground!"
"A Pioneer Knight taking down a Level 5 Magical Beast? Flynn, if you told that story to a bard, they’d probably pay *you* for the material."
The crowd roared with laughter again, dismissing it as just another drunk’s rambling nonsense.
In a corner, a man dressed a cut above the sailors paused his meal.
He didn’t raise his head, merely adjusted the angle of his dinner knife on the tabletop. The flat of the blade clearly reflected Flynn’s flushed, indignant face.
The man canted his head toward the attendant standing behind him.
The attendant, understanding immediately, rose and moved silently through the boisterous crowd, heading for the old sailor who was still babbling on.
...
Soon, thousands of miles away, at a secret stronghold of the Blackstone Hand Merchant Guild deep within the Duchy.
The air was thick with the smell of blood.
On a torture rack in the center of the stone chamber, a former guild deacon hung suspended by iron chains. His skin, curled and scorched black by branding irons, had not a single patch left unscathed, and he could only manage weak, intermittent groans.
This was the last of his brother’s subordinates who remained loyal.
Hector Este sat in the shadows to one side, leisurely trimming his fingernails with a small knife, deaf to the wretched screams filling the room.
"...The ledgers. Where are they hidden?" the executioner beside Hector asked in a low voice, the red-hot tongs in his hand radiating heat.
"...Kill me..." The deacon’s voice was a barely audible whisper.
Hector was dissatisfied with the interrogation’s progress. He needed those ledgers. They were the preliminary glaze he had to apply before painting his grand masterpiece.
Just then, a black-robed Scout strode in and dropped to one knee.
"My lord."
Hector paused, raising his eyes to scrutinize the uninvited guest who had interrupted his work.
"Speak."
"There is unusual activity in the Gray Sea Marsh. Our last pair of eyes there confirmed that the aura of the ’Lord of the Gray Swamp’ vanished half a month ago. Simultaneously, the Grey Marsh Territory has begun a large-scale recruitment of artisans and displaced people. The amount of weaponry and equipment they’re purchasing far exceeds the allotment for a mere barony."
Hector blew the nail clippings from the blade of his knife.
"’The Lord of the Gray Swamp’ has been dealt with?"
"Y... Yes, my lord." The Scout replied, not daring to raise his head.
Hector’s fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the tabletop. TAP. TAP.
"Velin Klein..." He mulled over the name.
’How did he manage it?’
’That was a biological weapon at the peak of Level 5, on the verge of metamorphosis. Even if I led the assault myself, I would have paid a heavy price.’
’It seems that Imperial Mage’s experiment wasn’t as impressive as he boasted.’
"Since he’s the one who screwed up, let him clean up his own mess."
Hector commanded the Scout.
"Send a message to Master Ausen. Tell him his ’pet snake’ is dead, and the ’core asset’ he was supposed to be guarding is now exposed out in the open. Also, let him know the guild is currently cleaning house and is too short-staffed to offer any assistance."
Hector turned his attention back to the "work" at hand.
Soon, even more bloodcurdling screams echoed through the stone chamber.
However, Hector was unaware that he and his "partner" were not the only ones with their eyes on the Grey Marsh Territory.
「Far from Sword Tooth Province, at the edge of the continental plate, deep within the North Sea.」
An underwater city, constructed from the twisted keels of countless shipwrecks and living coral, emanated a phosphorescent glow in the crushing dark.
In the city’s center stood a palace built from the skull of a colossal beast.
Upon the throne, a massive form stirred the surrounding water.
Its head was humanoid, and its skin was the inky blue of the deep sea.
Its lower body consisted of eight immense tentacles, each covered in hard suckers, writhing slowly upon the throne’s base.
This was the ruler of this place, chieftain of the Bone Tribe, "Shipwrecker" Unas.
"Great Chieftain... the life brand of the ’Land Worm,’ the one entrenched in the filthy lands... it has been extinguished."
Unas opened his eyes.
In the center of the golden-red sclera, his pupils were the horizontal slits characteristic of an octopus.
"That foolish worm? It guarded that ’land of flesh’ for nearly a hundred years. Which of those soft-bodied land dwellers could possibly have killed it?"
"I do not know, Chieftain," the Priest said, trembling. "But with the worm’s demise, the scent of the ’Earth’s Blood,’ which its aura had long concealed... is now exposed!"
"The Earth’s Blood..."
The patches of color on Unas’s skin shifted, his inky blue flesh turning the deep crimson of desire.
’His people required vast amounts of life energy to reproduce and evolve.’
’And that place, which the land-dwellers called an "Original Blood Crystal Mine," was known in the ancient legends of his Sea Race as the "Earth’s Blood"—a gift left by the Life Mother Goddess at the dawn of creation.’
"Those fragile, two-legged races are not worthy of the world’s gifts."
Unas floated up from his throne, his eight massive tentacles unfurling and stirring up a dark current.
"However, any being capable of killing that foolish worm cannot be underestimated. We cannot charge in blindly like those land-dwellers."
He turned to the Priest.
"Dispatch the Scouts. Have them find out exactly what has transpired on the surface. I want to know who killed the worm, and whether they are worthy of being called our enemies."
One of Unas’s tentacles tapped gently against the throne, as if he were already contemplating the division of his spoils.
"Tell them their primary mission is reconnaissance. But if the opportunity presents itself..."—his skin flickered with color—"...they are to seize the ’Earth’s Blood’ by force."
"As you command, Great Chieftain!"
The Priest withdrew and produced a small horn.
It produced no sound.
Yet in the city’s darkest corners, dozens of figures lurking in the shadows opened their eyes in unison.
Their skin did not turn the Crimson Red of war. Instead, it deepened in color, becoming so dark that they nearly merged with the shadows.
They were the sharpest daggers of the Bone Tribe, the chieftain’s most secret Scouts.
The deadly squadron quickly and silently assembled, then began their clandestine journey toward the strange, alluringly scented land.