Slipping into a frenzied mood was easy, it was simply a matter of getting carried away by the emotions of a crowd. Retaining that frenzy and keeping a positive upbeat attitude after hours of marching through the wastes? Now that was difficult.
The mood of the army slowly settled, leveling out into a quiet indifference induced by the Mercenary King’s abilities. In spite of the loss of that initial positivity, Rowan was simply happy to see that gloom hadn’t dominated the troops.
Whatever he might say, however hard he might work, it was impossible to guarantee that everyone would be able to return alive.
So, the fact that no one had broken away from the march towards potential death was a relief.
The thought disgusted Rowan. After all, by the same token, the ones most likely to survive were the epic tier classes. There were few things, past the legendary demons themselves, that had a real shot at taking out the two hero parties.
The Mercenary King and Tamara were, of course, in just as good a position. Doubly so considering the fact that they had Rowan’s card to fall back on.
Yet as Rowan tapped into his card to see what his [Knights] were feeling, he found that the emotions from the two were diametrically opposed.
While the Mercenary King marched with a sense of dread and bleak anticipation in his chest, Tamara flew overhead with an overwhelming sense of giddiness. She was eager for what was to come, hungry, almost.
The problem was, Rowan couldn’t figure out whether the source of her emotions was the thought of getting to kill a legendary tier being, or if it came down to her awareness of the scheme brewing on the horizon.
“You really think that the demon who ambushed you is situated close to the spot we rescued you from?” Rowan asked, less for the answer and more for something to take his mind off all the swirling worry.
“Yes. I had a scout under my employ… he was brilliant, and the only reason I felt confident trying to quickly locate and take out all the legendary demons. He said we were close, when the ambush happened.”
“Isn’t there a chance that he was sensing the demon himself, though?” Milena offered from the side, though not in a confrontational tone.
“I’m not sure how his cards worked. He was convinced that we were close to the demon’s base. He said something about a ridiculous amount of demonic energy being located ahead, far more than even a truly powerful demon ought to possess,” Blake offered.
“So, logic would mean that there might be a base with multiple demons there instead?”
“Exactly.” Blake shot Rowan a sunny smile. “All we have to do is track it down, and we’ll have our first legendary demon in our sights.”
“The legendary demon that almost took us both out,” Rowan cautioned, sensing that Blake was eager to prove himself once more.
Blake’s face fell briefly at the reminder, but his optimism came back in force a moment later. “True, but you returned the favor! From what guidance my Goddess can offer, it seems like the demon is hurt. He had to invest heavily into the process of trying to corrupt me. So, when that was disrupted, violently, he took damage too.”
Cautiously, Rowan cast his senses into his bond with Blake. The other hero wasn’t lying, optimism and hope being the predominant emotions he was feeling. Of course, the underlying sense of artificial calm to his emotions betrayed the goddess’s influence too.
“Let’s hope that’s right,” Rowan muttered, casting his eyes on the gloomy jungle ahead.
—
The foliage around started showing signs of trauma and combat. The ground went from being soft with leaves underfoot to being bare, pock marked, and deeply scarred. Charred remains of half dissolved plants were strewn about, and the thicker greenery was tangled and mangled. It was impossible not to recognize where they were. This was where Rowan and his party rescued Blake.
However, the other signs of the conflict had vanished. There was no trace of blood or bone to be found. It was like every last piece of proof that humans and monsters had fought and died there was erased by some higher power.
Or, more likely, by the hungry jaws of The Waste’s inhabitants.
This made it a very convenient spot to set up camp. With the trees and most foliage completely removed, and somewhat flat ground even, the process was easy, too.
As such, Rowan gave out orders for his troops to rest. The only ones who couldn’t afford to rest yet were the soldiers assigned to patrols, but they would be switched out regularly to avoid exhaustion.
“How soon do you think the scouts will return?” Rowan posed the question to the Mercenary King as the other man made annotations on a map stretched over a makeshift table. One of the collapsed trees had been cut to size and dragged into the command tent, allowing for a bit more convenience.
“A couple hours at most, lad. The forward troops had to kill a couple of monsters that were acting out of sorts. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were some sort of early warning system for the demons.”
“Doesn’t that mean we shouldn’t be here?” Blake asked immediately, standing up from the spot he’d claimed on the floor. “They could be marching on us right now.”
The Mercenary King offered the other hero a kind smile and a shake of his head. “I doubt that. These are at best the outskirts of their claimed territory. They wouldn’t count on simple beasts if we were deep enough in their lands.”
“These are not their lands,” the princess snapped, then winced when all eyes went to her. “We are still within the territories that our kingdom used to own,” she added, more quietly.
“Be that as it were, does anyone actually know what we might be able to expect to see out there? What do the demons do when they take over an area?” Rowan ventured, trying to rather blatantly change the subject.
“Depends on the species,” the Treagon offered, looking thoughtful. “Some tend to create burrows and spawning pits. Others just amass, living in herds or prides with or alongside wild animals. Some never really settle down, choosing to haunt the countryside, devouring all they come across.”
“So, we can expect anything from an immediate full-scale battle to what amounts to embattlements and traps,” Rowan concluded.
“That’s accurate, yes lad,” the Mercenary King confirmed, looking troubled. “Be warned, though, there are… stories about demons. Some say the subjugation armies come across odd things when they venture into the wastes during a demonic surge. Disturbing things.”
“Disturbing how?”
“No one seems keen to discuss that. Couldn’t find a single report that made a lick of sense,” Lucius admitted, then shrugged his shoulders. “Didn’t look too hard, of course. Didn’t think I’d ever need that sort of thing. We always played defensive roles in wars and battles.”
“That’s not going to be an issue, is it?” Olivia asked, perhaps a bit more sharply than necessary.
“No, I don’t anticipate it will.” The Mercenary King’s smile turned downright bloodthirsty. “With how long we were stuck in Rest’s Remorse, I suspect my men are eager for combat.”
There really wasn’t much anyone could contribute to the discussion past that, letting them all fall into a companionable silence.
Things might have been different, had Tamara chosen to join them. However, the Mage was still with her disciples, hovering high above the tents. There was talk of sending them out to scout, but the woman turned down the suggestion quickly, reluctant to expose them to ‘unnecessary risks.’
It was a bit over three hours later, just when a string of unease was starting to underline the mood in the tent, that the scouts finally stumbled into camp.
Dale had led the scouts in their outing, and it was him who approached the main tent to give their findings.
“Welcome back, soldier. At ease. Your report?” Rowan rushed through the greetings, eager to know what had put the slightly dazed look on the man’s face. Dale was by no means unflappable, but Rowan swore the man had taken facing down an epic without batting an eye.
“I-I don’t really know how to describe it, my lord,” the man spat out, looking pale. “They’ve definitely dug in. There’s, I hesitate to call it a settlement, but… they have a solid presence just ahead. A defensible presence.”
“Do you mean to tell me they have actual defensive positions? That they’re prepared for our army?” the Mercenary King growled, pushing for more information.
“Well…”
They settled in, eagerly listening to the man’s report.
—
Rowan’s army, by virtue of being an army, wasn’t capable of traveling stealthily. Sure, their numbers weren’t heaven defying, or enough to cover the horizon, or anything like that.
Their chances of approaching the demons’ base of operations without being spotted were slim.
It was a good thing that Rowan was now in a world where that wasn’t a prerequisite for victory.
Frankly, in the context of the Rhys kingdom, Rowan’s army was in a very solid position. Having a predominantly rare-tier army catapulted Rowan leagues ahead of most noble houses, no matter how comparatively ‘small’ their numbers were.
As such, they advanced proudly, and struck down every monster, beast, and whatever else they came across in their march quickly and efficiently. Those that fled before them were allowed to get away. After all, why take the unnecessary risk of letting a party stray too far from the main group?
Yet, in spite of their blunt approach, no army marched out to meet them. No surge of demonic beasts tried to wash over them, either.
They were, in large part, uncontested.
Even the Mercenary King believed that their approach would be involve costly battles, and the contrast to what was happening put him on edge.
When they finally reached within sight of their destination, that became the least of Rowan’s concerns.
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“A part of me genuinely thought the scouts were hallucinating,” the Stalwart Hero mumbled, eying what was ahead.
The only way to describe it was as an unholy amalgamation of castle bits and massive mansions, with a very small castle town.
Towers, walls, crenelations, and more were right there alongside ornate windows, beautiful eaves, and several grand doors for ease of access to the various parts of the massive building. It was all done up in tasteful grays, blacks and midnight blues. Frankly, the whole thing looked like something Picasso would come up with if he were an expired gothic architect.
And there was also not a soul guarding the place.
In spite of that, it was hard to mistake the estate for a ghost house or an abandoned castle. Vague figures of people swept past the windows in industrious fashion, clearly visible yet difficult to make out.
It reminded Rowan of looking at low-resolution videos back on Earth, where the screen let him see something was there, yet the limitation of the device prevented him from understanding more.
“Well, I suppose none of us expected things to be easy,” Rowan commented. “Let’s proceed the way we planned.”
At his command, a student chosen by Tamara began to mutter into a large crystalline ball they were carrying in one hand and the collection of mages overhead burst into motion. The field of force that bore them spaced out, and the chanting picked up. The light show that followed was something Rowan found inspiring.
In front of each group, a spark quickly became a conflagration, growing in power and intensity. The red of the flames was quickly overtaken by white, then blue, as they pumped more and more mana into the spell.
None, of course, were as impressive as Tamara’s spell. While most of the fireballs grew to at most a yard in diameter, hers quickly grew to the size of a small house, and then every time it fluctuated past that, it kept condensing.
Rowan could feel the heat of the flames all the way on the ground and wet his lips in nervousness. More than the flames, he was getting a pretty good idea of the excitement roaring within the banished mage’s chest.
Then, finally, the projectiles streaked through the skies.
Their passage scorched and warped the air, leaving mirages in their wake. The explosion that followed the impact was almost enough to swipe the front lines of Rowan’s army off their feet.
In fact, had the Mercenary King not roared and broken out in a dazzling aura that left Rowan feeling heavier and more rooted to the ground, the hero suspected that’s exactly what would have happened.
With the impressive display, Rowan couldn’t help the anticipation that bubbled up inside of him at the presumed level of destruction the mages had wrought.
As the dust cleared, Rowan faced a near pristine building.
The only sign of the assault at all was a long, winding crack that stretched over one of the windows, and Rowan was fairly certain that was the impact area of Tamara’s own spell.
“That’s not good,” Milena muttered quietly, and it was all Rowan could do not to curse and agree.
He did curse when the crack in the glass sealed over, then vanished completely.
“We’re going to have to go in,” he announced bitterly, eying the entrance to the mansion.
It wasn’t like gaining access seemed like it would be difficult. If anything, the grand gate into the mansion was wide open, providing a generous view into the interior.
The dazzling decorations inside, especially the twisted forms of various statues sprinkled throughout the hall, all glittering in what was suspiciously similar to gold, almost seemed like they were taunting him.
“What would you have me do, my lord?” the Mercenary King stiffly inquired, eying the entrance. “It’s going to be difficult to march inside in full force. Still, I request that you let me send a few squads of my men ahead. They’re familiar with tight fighting.”
Rowan mulled that over for several seconds, but he couldn’t come up with anything objectionable to the suggestion. “Very well. They can go right ahead of us, then we’ll follow. I want you to understand that we’ll be rushing ahead to support them if it seems like they can’t handle whatever’s in there.”
“Thank you for your consideration of my men, my lord.”
The Mercenary King barked out orders, and a few squads of men slipped across the divide between them at the mansion.
Rowan felt like every step closer to it was making his skin crawl.
There was something deeply unnatural about the sight of the grand structure, simply plopped down right in the middle of the dense jungles. Some of the nearby trees were even reaching out for the mansion, nearly touching its walls.
Far worse was the realization that drawing nearer did not allow him to peek into the structure any better.
The figures flitting past the windows remained frustratingly vague, and space seemed to stretch between them and the grand hall, keeping its interior to what they originally gleaned.
Even when the front-line troops stood just a few yards away from the gates, that didn’t change.
“Forward, march!” the Mercenary King yelled, realizing that the entire army had frozen in anticipation.
The front-line soldiers bravely marched forward in lockstep, eight entire parties plunging past the gates and into the demonic domain proper.
And then they vanished.
A ripple of worried chatter swept over the army when no one could catch even a single glimpse of the soldiers that should have been standing just within the hall. For the second time that engagement, Rowan wanted to curse.
“My lord, if we employ a scout and a mage, we can…” the Mercenary King broke into a suggestion immediately, but Rowan raised an arm to forestall him.
“No. Thank you, Lucius, but… no. We’re not just going to feed more people to this thing. We need to go in, sure, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to risk reckless losses like this. You and Tamara are here to do your part. Now, it’s our turn.”
The two hero parties immediately stepped forward in lock with Rowan, determination on each and every one of their faces.
Even Blake’s harem members looked determined, even if it was obvious that fear had a considerable grip on them.
As if she were summoned by the mention of her name, however, Tamara came floating down.
“Heading inside?” The simple question somehow came out as a sultry taunt as she sent Rowan a smirk. “I’m coming with.”
“I, of course, shall also be accompanying you,” The Mercenary King proclaimed, giving leave to the [Knights] which were still nominally Rowan’s to step forward as well. Rowan even saw a couple of the scouts bravely venture forth, eyes shining with determination.
Unfortunately, they all just made him sigh. “I’d like to remind you that we’re not sure this will be all that our enemies have to throw at us. Wanting to help is well and good. However, if all our strongest combatants venture inside, what’s stopping the demons from ambushing our army?”
The Mercenary King faltered, but the rest, even Tamara, looked as determined as they were at first. “There is no shame to doing your part out here,” Olivia declared imperiously, clearly picking up on her fiancé’s reluctance to take along so many people.
“It’s like she says: We need you out here. Your people especially, Dale. I’m counting on you to scout out the vicinity and eliminate any chances of an ambush. Lucius, I’d appreciate it if you could do what you can to bolster the army in preparation of monsters boiling out of this… thing. Finally, Tamara, keep trying to bring it down? It can’t just regenerate forever.”
“Actually, depending on how it was built, it can,” the mage corrected, her face slipping into one of the rare focused and serious expressions she was capable of. “If the structure taps into the ambient mana or even some kind of local mana well, then yes, it might well be indestructible. I’m better off following you inside.”
Rowan tilted his head, closely examining the woman’s expression. It was calm, cool, even a little teasing, like it usually was. Using their bond, however, he could feel the swirling mess of desire and envy.
The banished mage wanted to get into a fight. To earn experience and rare cards no doubt, but it was still something that Rowan could rather safely take advantage of.
At least he could still not detect any nefarious scheming from the woman.
“Fine. I guess we could use a mage’s wisdom,” Rowan conceded, much to the obvious delight of the woman.
“Gather around me!” Blake proclaimed the second they were all done double-checking their equipment. When everyone complied, they erupted into light.
The light felt heavy, somehow. Like it was weighing down Rowan’s shoulders. It also felt soft, nourishing, protective, like a hug on a particularly cold and gloomy day.
With that, Blake plunged into the gate, and the group faithfully followed.
The second Rowan’s leg was over the threshold, the world rippled, stretched, and snapped around him. He couldn’t stop himself from stumbling, light nausea sweeping through his system.
“Welcome, one and all, to my master’s estate,” a voice rasped ahead, and Rowan tensed when he realized that someone had managed to get so close to them without them immediately spotting them.
When his eyes snapped onto the speaker, the sight made him pause.
The creature wasn’t quite like any they’d faced before. Its skin was charcoal black, with a texture that resembled the material as well. Not a single spec of hair could be seen on it, and the only color that stood out against the darkness was the gold of its eyes.
Light smoke wafted from every inch of its skin, too. Enough that it obscured its dimensions and features a little, making the creature look ethereal.
It was also wearing a dashing gray suit with a red undershirt and purple tie, like it had stepped out of a wedding or some historical drama piece.
“Who are you, fiend, and what do you want?” Blake demanded harshly, eyes focused on the creature.
Rowan could feel Blake’s roiling disgust, distrust and instinctive desire to hurt the creature. What annoyed the Stalwart Hero was the plastic feeling the emotions had.
“I am but a humble servant to my master,” the creature assured them in its raspy voice, a smile that was almost invisible due to its peculiar characteristics still fixed firmly on its face. “He is waiting for you in the audience room.”
“Well, I think we should expedite things and…”
“Blake, please,” Rowan snapped, stepping forward to place a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Rowan wasn’t exactly about to suggest they trust the creature. However, a single glance around instilled some amount of caution in him.
Servants, some dressed like maids in practical dresses and aprons and some in suits of lower quality than the messenger’s own, lined the walls of the place. They all watched them intently, some clearly whispering to each other.
It was, perhaps, the singular most disturbing thing Rowan had ever seen because it meant that the creatures had a true civilization.
No, not creatures, the Stalwart Hero corrected himself. Demons.
Because that’s the only thing he could imagine the servants were. They were far too humanoid in appearance, and far too capable of reason. Yet, not a single conversation with the baron couple, Olivia, or any of the other natives so much as hinted that demons could be so organized.
They were almost… human.
After all, it wasn’t as though the servants were sneering and jeering at the humans like normal demons would. If anything, most looked quite thoroughly bored. Like people, stuck at a job and trying to get through a day.
“Before we commit to anything, I have a question. Where is the previous group, that came in before us?” Rowan asked as he stared straight into the demon’s eyes, intent on catching him out in a lie.
“They were simply not granted access to this place,” the demon answered smoothly and with a smile. “They have been detained, until our master concludes his meeting with you.”
“I see. May I assume they haven’t come to harm?”
The demon shrugged, making Rowan’s eyes narrow in consternation. “Are you perhaps ready to follow me now, sirs, madams?”
Blake was shooting Rowan a look somewhere between pleading and disapproval, making the Stalwart Hero’s lips twitch into a smile.
“Ah, not quite,” Rowan quipped, and before anyone could otherwise react, rammed his glowing spear straight through the demon’s stomach.
To the hero’s slight shock, the strike smoothly slipped past the demon’s skin, and the following explosion rained blood and guts onto the grand staircase and doors that stood behind the demon.
The demon’s eyes widened to comical proportions, before his body seemed to lose its coherence. He fell apart before their eyes, collapsing into a cloud of rapidly fading smoke.
The attack signaled a shift all around the room. The servants sprung forward, fingers lengthening into claws and jaws unhinging to reveal rows of obsidian-like fangs.
Most were aiming directly for Rowan, screams of rage on their lips.
And then they slammed straight into barriers courtesy of the de Vort, buying everyone precious seconds to react.
Milena and Tamara were the two fastest to respond, spells bursting forth in a variety of colors and to a variety of effects. Almost every spell that Tamara cast was purely offensive, burning, freezing, slicing or blowing the servants apart. Milena’s repertoire, meanwhile, left most of her victims writhing uselessly on the ground. Most of them died still shortly, expressions of pain, fear and anguish fixed on their faces.
Naturally, the others burst into action too.
Olivia’s assault was even more destructive than the other two, bolstered by her ever-increasing mastery of alchemy. Blake’s party, meanwhile, focused on support and buffing, the strength welling up within Blake’s body proof enough of their competence.
To Rowan’s surprise, mopping up the servants didn’t take long at all. There were nearly fifty of the demons in the hall with them, yet they fell all quickly under the onslaught of attacks from the humans.
In fact, for all their intelligence and seeming sophistication, Rowan could tell that perhaps only the head butler was at the epic tier, and at very early levels too. After all, his ambush was enough to speedily take out the monster all on its own.
When the final enemy fell and quiet fell over the hall, everyone tensed, expecting some kind of retaliation or reinforcements. Instead, everything remained silent and still. Not a single new combatant joining the fray.
“Do you think they’re all deeper in? Is anyone even watching us?” Marcus asked, confusion evident in his voice as he looked around.
“They either didn’t expect us to do that, or they just don’t care,” Rowan supplied, sighing as he stretched out his shoulders.
The weirdness of the whole situation was freaking the Stalwart Hero out, and the discomfort of killing the polite demons was immense.
In spite of that, he couldn’t bring himself to regret his actions.
He didn’t know a lot about the demon kind. There was, however, one invariable fact: demons did not do diplomacy. Demons didn’t take hostages. Being near a demon meant a person was either in the process of getting corrupted or dying.
He would show the demons exactly the same amount of mercy and consideration, civilized beings or not. All he had to do was his job.