Chapter 80: To Pass Judgement

The ruins where some of the founders of East River Quarry Village originated was once a much larger town, a fortress town. It was a bunker town, built with an underground complex to shelter residents from monster waves while adventurers killed all the monsters up above. A dangerous silver rank monster nested in the town, which forced the former residents to evacuate until it had been slayed. However, upon death, the monster had released a toxic gas that polluted the area, so the now ruined town was abandoned. The toxic gas disrupted the usual rebuilding activities that followed every monster wave, so the city was reclaimed by nature and decay as the toxins were slowly cleansed by the purgation of time.

It hadn’t been a town worth it enough to call a wide-scale cleanser, who’d free the ruins of the remnants left in the wake of the monster. Perhaps one day, a larger adventurer party would be commissioned to clean the town and reclaim the bunker, but it wasn’t their job.

“The monsters in these ruins don’t have contracts,” John said, “They’re out of the way of transportation routes. East River Quarry Village has become the new local transportation hub, and local traders know to give this ruin a wide berth. The rivers and shore are cleaned out of monsters regularly, so there’s no need to cross this area. It’s even marked on the map as a location to avoid.”

“You really seem into this sort of stuff,” Nara remarked, looking over his detailed notes and well-organized research.

“I am—well, I was an information officer. I’ve always liked pouring over documents for clues, patterns, and threads. You know, it’s interesting how culture and society developed in a world like this…Decennial monster waves creates this unique flow of reconstruction and development. I’ve looked into some of their building techniques and they’re much faster than ours. The people here are highly efficient at clearing land, regrowing nature, and reconstructing buildings.”

“Thanks to magic, though right?”

“Magic is both the cause and the solution,” said John with a surprisingly even viewpoint, “It has its benefits and drawbacks.”

“You’re pretty objective about magic. I’m mainly just excited about it. I mean shit—magic!” She couldn’t help but grin.

John returned it. “I’m excited about magic too. I’mI just a geek for the details. Now come on, let’s see how findings shape up against reality.”

*****

The ruins had monsters here and there, but nothing Nara couldn’t avoid or kill outright. As the most mobile member of the team, she was sent to scout out the ruins. Here, Sage showed her worth; She was fast-moving and incorporeal—she didn’t surpass Nara in straight-line speed, her multiple bodies and sharp mind allowed her to communicate her findings to Nara so that together they covered more ground.

Sage flitted through the ruins like a ghost, entirely undetected by monsters. She could blend herself into walls, but couldn’t cross them if they were too thick. Auras were similarly restricted by dense material, and Nara wondered if it was an extension of that limitation.

No longer maintained, the rituals protecting the fortress town had long faded. Roads no longer maintained, walls long since crumbling. Tree roots split cobblestones, and vines twined stones like the green veins of a living earth. Nara half expected to find an Awakening Stone of Ruin lying about the ruins, just as unassuming and decrepit as the one she once absorbed.

“Benefactor, I have found an entrance to the bunker.”

One of Sage’s bodies stayed with Nara. As long as one body was subsumed within her, Sage could report the findings of her other bodies directly.

The entrance to the bunker was a solid metal door, typical of what one expected from an underground bunker even for a magical world, wrought and heavy from appearance alone. It was concealed with intentionally placed leafy branches, rubble, and dirt, shielding it from solar illumination and curious eyes.

“I think we have a hit guys,” Nara reported, “This looks like purposeful concealment.”

“Do you see any tracks?”

She took a second look around. She herself made no footprints in the mud; her Cosmic Path incidentally prevented it. She wondered if she’d leave footprints in dust, or tracks in sand that’d mark her passage.

“Not that I can tell, but they may at least have the sense to cover their footsteps.”

“How about any recently killed monsters? Some may not have dissolved yet.”

“Sage?”

“I have not seen any, benefactor.”

“So she says.”

“Can you open the bunker door?”

“Is that a good idea? It could be trapped, or they might have a warning system.”

“Can you teleport past it?”

She thought about that for a second.

“Yeah, I might. Hold on.”

Nara’s Dimension Nodes and corresponding teleportation had a few rules. She could teleport within line of sight (to a limit—she couldn’t shoot to the horizon even if she could conceivably see that far), but it was at least further than her aura range. Beyond line of sight, she had a little wiggle room to teleport to nodes within her aura range—to nodes she sensed. She didn’t know if that was a beneficial quirk born of her perception ability, Gaze of the Boundary, or an aspect inherent to Dimension Node. It wasn’t always that clear cut, no matter what her Guide and John’s Magic Camera made it seem.

She stood beside the door, pushing her aura past it to reach beyond the metal. It was like pushing slime through a flour sieve, thick and slow with effort, but she managed it, the whispers of her aura feeling open space beyond, more sensation than fact.

“Seems like I can,” she said, almost unaware that she had spoken in her concentration.

She considered that she may also be able to run through the bunker door while Phase Shifted. The ability worked on intent, preventing her from falling through the earth while she used it (a brief fear before she realized the very first time she used it she hadn’t fallen through the earth), but allowing her to pass through obstacles like swords and trees, as needed.

Teleporting was cheaper, so that’s what she did.

She turned back towards the door, now on its other side in dim light, inspecting it for any signs of mal intent.

“You can search better than I can, Sage, do you recognize anything? Magical traps?”

Sage blended in well with her stone grey surroundings. Normally, her robe felt sparkling and mysterious, but it seemed to be an effect she could control. She was plain and drab now, matching the ordinary stone around them.

“I may be lacking, benefactor, but there is nothing I can detect. I share your sensory capabilities, so I cannot yet detect magic. From my physical observations, I see no indications of ritual lines.”

“I see. I’ll refrain from touching the door then. Chances are, we may not need to.”

The interior of the bunker was lit with soft glow stones built into the corridors of stone. It looked much like the ominous corridors of abandoned, concrete buildings—rectangles that stretched into infinity. The first corridor was short-ish, leading down some stairs after enough space for maybe a guard post or an inspection area. She followed the stairs down. The second floor was the same.

In the same way that essence users used aura to sense their surroundings, monsters had a rougher method of doing the same thing. Iron rank monsters weren’t able to do so, but higher rank monsters might be able to punch down a floor to find evacuees. It seemed the first floor was just a buffer zone to distance the evacuees from hordes above. And perhaps, a floor they could collapse to cut off the advance of monsters, as needed, trapping them inside until rescue arrived. As long as being sealed in was temporary, it was better than monsters slipping through and killing those within.

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The third floor was like an apartment building built in reverse; the underground parking lot flipped with what should have been built above. The stairs led down to a simple lobby area. The utilitarian area was dreary of stone, cold, and silence, long since uninhibited. Stray objects such as clothing, toys, books, and cutlery were strewn about. Bugs scuttled about, but the area was surprisingly clear of cobwebs, at least through the hallway. The corners were still dusted with grey silk.

Someone has passed through. She wasn’t the detective John was, but a trail cleared of dust and cobwebs was clear evidence of trespass. She’d like to think she picked something up from him, or at least had enough intelligence to put a few pieces together herself.

The bunker had five floors in total, including the two that were mostly stairs. There were only two more floors beneath her, the bottom of which her aura managed to detect thanks to its expanded range.

The corridor was lined with doors and lobbies. Doors led to small private rooms, only large enough to fit a few sleeping bags for a modicum of privacy. Lobbies looked of different purposes, such as one that may have served as a dining hall. Clearly, designed with communal living in mind.

Nara traveled slowly, tentatively expanding her aura to sense what was around her. Her aura blended into the surroundings, settling like touches of dust in the already dust-filled corridors, filled with stale air. When Nara descended to the fourth floor, she felt the touches of another aura.

She stilled her mind, focusing. She let her presence fade away, like she had done so long ago to escape from her agony. She felt like a ghost, much like Sage.

She knelt and laid her face down against the dusty ground, pressing her warm skin against cold stone.

“Sage, can you get close enough to listen safely?”

“That is a bronze rank aura, benefactor.”

“I know. Do you think you can hide from it and listen in without getting caught?”

“I may be lacking, benefactor. But the origin of the aura is more so.”

“So that’s a yes.”

“It is benefactor. Allow me to be of service.”

It was a bronze rank aura, which usually should have detected Nara before she detected it. However, there were a few factors that tipped the scales towards Nara. Nara’s soul had several changes that affected both her aura strength, control, and range. In particular, her unique experiences made her aura more difficult to detect than most, and aura strength itself made it harder for those with less aura strength to detect you.

The second weight on her side of the scale was how untrained the origin of the aura was. The owner had not trained their aura at all. They had awoken the ability, but had not done much else. They were provincially trained (calling it ‘trained’ was generous), not Sanshi trained.

Aura manipulation was more important for scout and detection roles and for adventurer etiquette. For a provincial bronze rank bandit, they likely never heard of aura training nor participated in it. Sen had unusually good aura control for a frontline role, but most in his position just learnt aura control to an acceptable standard.

The third factor was the stone between herself and her adversary. Without training, the bronze ranker had no way to detect beyond it.

And the fourth—her Moonlight Raiment. She hadn’t an idea exactly how it made her less likely to be detected, except that it did. It was one of those things Sen would probably badger her to understand if he knew that she didn’t quite know. Did it make her feel like stone if she was around stone, or just forgettable? She didn’t disagree with Sen that she should know—it was just one of those things she put on the back burner while she juggled more pressing survival skills.

She felt around, careful not to trigger the aura of the bronze ranker. The bandit group was pretty large, seven iron rankers and a single bronze ranker. The bronze ranker was clearly the leader of the group. In Erras rank-based society, there were few exceptions. She didn’t expect to find an upending of the social order in a bandit group.

*****

Graff sorted through the pile of loot before him, tossing away the pieces he deemed too unique to sell or too cheap to bother with the effort.

“This mark’s a bust,” he said, “Trash, all of it. What a worthless iron ranker, not that I expected much from such a backwater village. Put that down, Chester,” he snapped at his dumb younger brother.

“Oh, sorry big brother,” Chester said, dutifully setting down the object he had been messing with. It wasn’t something he’d ever understand. Graff didn’t know why Chester bothered.

“I told you to call me boss.”

“Sorry, boss.”

“We’ll have to strike again soon. This trash had nothing on him.”

“Where next, boss?” A sweet voice said. It belonged to a woman of dark skin and purple runes, a runic. Lala was the sort of cheap woman that thought she was higher class than she really was, but at least she was worth the food she ate. She chased worthless ideals of beauty she’d never achieve, but she had no morals nor compunctions, which Graff thought was more valuable than beauty anyway. She was useful.

His dumb brother Chester was far too slow and indecisive, and was grating on his nerves.

“We swing by Shanyin to pawn our goods and buy some more supplies and monster cores. Then, the same as usual.”

The usual was, of course, marking those young and fresh-faced solo adventurers that headed off on their own with no understanding of the real world. He’d avoid the ones with fancy backgrounds and famous last names. Graff has gotten good at marking those with quality-enough equipment to be valuable, but not so high as to get him in trouble.

“How about we strike a duo, Graff?” Scar Throat suggested.

“You’re questioning this operation, Scar Throat?” Graff said, even though he thought they could handle it. He’d suggest it, or not at all.

Scar Throat smirked, “Eight on one, Graff? Where’s your shame? You’re scared they’ll turn it around? Two brats? Lost your touch, have you?”

Graff was unamused with the challenge to his authority, but his considered Scar Throat’s suggestion. He had some respect for the man: like Lala, he had more skill than the rest of the worthless bunch.

“You’ve said something smart for once, Scar Throat.”

“You’re really going to consider it.”

Graff knocked a fist against his own armor, “We have some decent goods now, and I’m bronze rank. If I can’t handle two measly iron rankers, I should hand the boss position to you, Scar Throat. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course not Graff,” Scar Throat relented, offering an olive branch. “When I’m bronze rank, I’ll respect you the same.”

Graff scoffed. What respect? They were bandits. Respect was only valuable in that it made the others listen to him. Respect or fear—he didn’t care. “We’ll leave at night, after a rest. Pack your things and prepare.”

“Yes boss.”

Sage crept around the group, giving them a wide berth. She partially shared the properties of Nara’s aura, since she had become an extension of Nara’s own abilities by familiar bond. The bandit group made no attempt at silence, so naturally, Sage heard.

The bandits had set up camp in a lobby, a small fire built in the center of the room casting a warm, crackling glow that they didn’t deserve. She made no sound, skimming the walls as she explored the rooms around the lobby.

Most were as empty as the rooms of the floors above. The room Sage found herself in broke the pattern in a lamentable way.

The room had been food storage, a pantry of sorts. Wooden shelves were emptied, the food either consumed by the bandits or long rotted away. The tops of crates were dashed onto the floor, scattering splinters. What was stuffed within them was not food, but bodies.

Adventurers had been stripped naked; their mangled bodies disrespectfully shoved into those crates. Their bodies had already begun their process of decomposition. Bugs and maggots crawled within their exposed flesh, wriggling in the darkness. One body was fresher than the rest, just a few days old. Dried blood caked onto his flesh; his torso torn open by a large claw mark that exposed his human innards and flesh to cold, uncaring air.

If twenty adventurers had been killed, this was not all of them. There was eight bodies within this storeroom, their stony grave.

*****

“…Sage had found the body,” Nara said through voice chat, “It matches the picture we were provided. She found his body, and seven others.”

“The abandoned bunker is one of their bases,” said Sen. His expression was unusually stiff.

Eufemia knew his expression did not match the emotion that roiled within him. The Wrath Confluence—Eufemia didn’t think it fit the proper young man, but she was mistaken. She sensed his wrath now, both biting frost and unquenchable flame, enduring and preserving in the worst way.

“Sen,” she reflexively said, not sure how to console him, or even if she should.

His eyes flickered to hers.

“…I can probably retrieve the body without them noticing,” Nara said, “The bronze ranker hasn’t spotted me or Sage, so I can attach a body of hers to follow them without issue.”

“They have a bronze ranker?”

“Yeah, one bronze and seven irons. It’s a pretty big group. It’s no wonder adventurers were overpowered. They gang up on one of them, all eight of them together. I don’t think anyone can survive that. I don’t really want to ask this, but what now?”

“You don’t want to ask?”

“I think the answer leads to a situation I’d rather avoid.”

“If you cannot kill,” Sen said, “I will.”

“I will as well,” Encio said.

“We’re taking justice into our own hands?” asked John.

“Justice? We’ve long past that. This is cleaning up filth,” Encio said.

“This is murder,” John said, aghast.

“What they do is murder, John. If you are concerned over legality in this world, there is no need. Adventurers are free to execute criminals.”

“Legality isn’t the issue here.”

“Isn’t it? Whether or not they’re captured by someone else, they’ll end up dead, John. Haven’t you seen the bandit extermination contracts on the contract board? We’ll even be rewarded without the contract.”

“We’ll be accessories to murder!”

Encio stared at him, “So, let them free and report them to the guild?”

“We don’t need to kill them. We don’t have to be the executioners.”

“I said Sen and I would do it,” Encio repeated, in an oddly stony tone for his usual relaxed charm. Or maybe it wasn’t odd—what was the right tone for this discussion?

“I don’t really mind either,” said Eufemia, “I’m for it.” She shrugged at John’s accepting observation, he’s known this part of her already, “I don’t have your weirdly restrictive outworlder morals, John. I’m not some stone-cold killer—” Or maybe she was, Eufemia was never quite sure of herself, “—but they’ve already done enough that I won’t feel a lick of guilt.”

“Aliyah? You’re okay with this too?”

“I don’t like to kill; I wouldn’t say any of us do—but the alternative to let them live to report them poses potential complications. While Nara could report them quickly, it’d still take time for the Adventure Society to dispatch another group. They’d just do what we’ve already done, but take the last step—track them down, then kill them. During that time, who is to say what further crimes they could commit?”

John had experienced many culture shocks over the course of his year plus stay on Erras, but this was perhaps the largest one. Adventurers were the highest authority on Erras, except for rulers themselves. They were judge, jury, and executioner.

Nay, that was inaccurate.

Essence users were the highest authority on Erras. Kings and Queens were gold and diamond rank; their will was judgement. Adventurers shared a similar authority in their own activities.

Rank was authority, and they could pass judgement.