Chapter 128

The alley leading from the center of the ruins toward the southwest traced a long, straight line before finally revealing a rectangular terminus.

The closer the sand-colored walls drew, the sharper the smell of dry, parched dust bit at the tip of Mikhail's nose.

Thud.

Mikhail stepped into the first combat zone, planted himself in place, and surveyed his surroundings.

Five magical beasts occupied the center of the room.

Porcupines and lizards—each one built like a full-grown adult—turned venomous glares on the intruders who'd just walked in.

Grrrrr.

Mikhail scanned his teammates as they shifted into combat stances against the encircling beasts, then took a step back.

Now wasn't the time to get involved.

He'd have his own reasons to spend mana soon enough.

Grrrk.

The standoff between the surrounding beasts and the weapon-wielding group lasted only a heartbeat.

The beasts were the first to move.

HSSSS!

A lizard—thick-bodied with hide as tough as cured leather—spat a wind-shearing hiss and lunged with its jaws thrown wide.

Razor-sharp green fangs drove straight in.

Ethan was the one who answered. He launched himself forward and cut across the beast's charge.

CLANG!

Gleaming white steel crashed against jagged teeth.

While the lizard, halted mid-lunge, leaked a frustrated breath through its nostrils, teal-colored fluid dripped steadily from the tips of its fangs.

Tssszt.

Ethan glanced at the floor where the liquid had landed—already blackened and corroding—and shouted with a grimace.

"The front teeth are venomous! Don't let them bite you!"

He drove a hard pulse of force through his blade, shoved the lizard back, and charged forward without pause.

He vaulted clean past the front line and plunged deep into the center of the room.

Nisha's words about fighting side by side echoed in his ears—but the drive pushing him now wasn't something he wanted to stop.

HSSS!

The lizard planted its trunk-thick legs against the floor like braces and thrust its green fangs forward again.

Those lunging teeth were lethal on contact alone—built to shred a victim's skin like paper and flood the open veins with venom.

"……"

But there wasn't a trace of hesitation in Ethan's response.

Eyes locked on the enemy ahead, he drove his sword straight into the gaping maw of the reptile.

CRACK!

His blade pierced the roof of the beast's mouth before its jaws could clamp down on his arm.

Ethan watched the blood erupt like a strangled scream and twisted the steel.

Once he confirmed the wound had deepened to a vivid red gash, he wrenched the sword free and struck another spot nearby.

CRUNCH! CR-CRUNCH!

Ethan thrust and withdrew in relentless repetition. The clinical edge of the blade tore through the writhing mass of flesh without mercy.

Glrrrk….

A bubbling, gurgling sound was its last. The lizard shuddered once, then tilted sideways and collapsed.

THOOM!

Ethan looked down at the motionless hulk. His closed lips held the same measured rhythm of breathing as always.

He flicked the blood from his blade with a couple of sharp taps—then, as though drawn by something he couldn't name, turned his head and swept the room.

"Albin! Burn the quills off this hedgehog, will you?! I can't get anywhere near the damn thing and it's driving me insane!"

"It's a porcupine, not a hedgehog."

"Who cares about the diff—! AAAGH, Hailey! The lizard tail! Watch out for the tail swipe!"

Dian and Albin's voices rang out in a chaotic chorus while the scene had devolved into utter pandemonium.

Every clash between weapons and beasts sent sharp, metallic shrieks ringing through the air in rapid succession.

But one person had stepped back from the fray to observe.

Ethan's eyes found Mikhail.

Their gazes collided across the open air.

"……"

Ethan clamped down hard on the breath trying to quicken inside him.

He shoved the tangle of emotions threatening to surge up back down into his chest and stood his ground, facing Mikhail head-on.

He lifted his chin in a pointed challenge and fired a sharp look across the gap—while his heart hammered against his ribs the entire time.

---

Ethan stood rigid and sent nothing but his gaze.

It was the look of someone demanding an answer. A question and an accusation flickering in the same space—what possible reason do you have for not acknowledging me, tangled with I don't understand what more you could want.

"……"

Mikhail held Ethan's stare in return. But nothing surfaced on the face before him—no expression, no tell, nothing at all.

He simply met Ethan's eyes with a marble stillness, then turned his head away as though he hadn't seen a thing.

"……"

Ethan watched Mikhail's profile—elusive and waning like a winter crescent moon—without moving a muscle.

Then irritation hardened his jaw, and his grip crushed tight around the sword in his hand.

"Hah."

Ethan barely wrestled the breath clawing up through him back down, then fixed his eyes forward.

His overheated skull throbbed with a dull, splitting ache. But he couldn't afford to lose focus with enemies still standing.

Ethan bit down on his lower lip, shook the thoughts loose, and threw himself at the remaining beasts.

The battle was nearing its end. Mikhail watched the situation wind down, beast by beast, then extended his hand.

FZZT!

Mana cracked from Mikhail's fingertips, and the lizard making one last desperate charge at the group crumpled to the floor.

THUD!

Mikhail took a slow, careful look around the room, then turned his ear toward the faint reverberations rumbling from somewhere far off.

Just as he'd expected—the Allied Knight Order was pushing through at a brisk pace.

"Good work, everyone."

A familiar voice snagged his attention. Mikhail pulled his awareness back from the distant sounds and looked at Ethan.

Standing six or seven paces away, Ethan had sheathed his sword and was checking the magic tool on his wrist.

[120pt]

Mikhail glanced at the score on his own display the same way Ethan had, then raised his eyes again.

The moment he focused on Ethan's silent profile, what surfaced was the scene from just minutes ago.

Ethan tearing through the beasts with far more ferocity than expected.

Hmm.

Mikhail replayed the earlier moments, folded his arms, and tilted his head to one side.

Well… there's no need to rein him in just yet. It's still within the bounds of the original progression.

Besides, they'd soon be trading blows with the Allied Knight Order, learning each other's attack patterns in the process.

He didn't want to create unnecessary complications and scatter the focus they'd need for that.

Come to think of it, the Knight Order guys—at the rate they're going, that burst of momentum won't last much longer.

Mikhail was brushing his chin, mapping out the point where he'd engineer the encounter with the Allied Knight Order, when a faint fluttering caught his ear. He shifted his gaze upward.

A butterfly-shaped broadcast magic tool was drifting through the air above them.

"……"

Mikhail watched the wings beat with an almost impatient urgency, then let a loaded smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. He turned to the group and spoke.

"If everyone's wrapped up, let's move on. The next room shouldn't be far from here."

---

Meanwhile, inside an open chamber on the western side of the ruins.

KA-THOOM!

A massive scorpion collapsed, gurgling fluid from its body as it fell.

The shell encasing its frame must have had some structural quirk—the instant it struck the floor, the impact rang out far louder than it had any right to.

"Hmph! Nothing but small fry in here!"

The noise had barely settled when the voice boomed through the space.

Tibeau Ringer—trainee captain of the Allied Knight Order—scrubbed the bridge of his nose with a satisfied swipe and looked down at the magic tool on his wrist.

[160pt]

"Oh!"

Tibeau pumped his fist at the score's sharp jump.

He spun toward his knights with a face practically glowing.

"Great work, all of you! That's three rooms cleared, so we're moving on to the next! Everyone, disper—! No, wait—don't disperse!"

The knights, who had already begun scattering the instant the first order left his mouth, snapped back into tight formation with seamless precision.

Tibeau surveyed the ranks assembled before him and planted his hands on his hips.

"Ahem! The next room's bound to be close anyway. Holding formation while we move is less hassle all around, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes sir, Captain!"

The knights answered in a roaring chorus, eyes bright with energy.

Tibeau was beaming at their unanimous agreement when one member shot a hand straight into the air.

"Captain! I have a question, sir!"

"Hm? Go ahead. Speak."

Given the floor, the knight pointed at the shallow burrows pocking the ground and spoke.

"Those moles that keep running away from us, sir. Their numbers seem to be growing the further we push in. Is it really all right to just leave them?"

Tibeau glanced downward, then shrugged as if the matter couldn't have been less important.

"Yeah. Don't worry about it. One look at their pathetic little builds and the way they scurry around, and you can already tell what kind of beast we're dealing with."

Murmurs of admiration rippled through the group. Tibeau set both hands on his hips and declared.

"Sand moles! Notorious for being the most skittish, timid beasts out there. They creep around testing whether they can take you, and the second they think they're even slightly outmatched, they bolt at ridiculous speed. Famous for it."

"Ohhh, is that so?"

"That's right. Just to be safe, I managed to cut one down earlier, and sure enough—its offense and defense were both pathetic."

Tibeau shook his head with a derisive chuckle and rapped his knuckles against the wall.

"Still, every beast in our zone translates directly to points! We'll have to clear them all eventually, no question. But there's no reason to waste energy chasing them now. As they keep fleeing from us, the terrain will box them in on its own—and once they've got nowhere left to run, we'll wipe them all out in one sweep!"

"Excellent plan, Captain!"

"As expected—the Captain had it all figured out!"

Tibeau basked in the shower of cheers and praise with a look of supreme satisfaction, then turned toward the corridor leading to the next room.

Flutter.

The butterfly-shaped broadcast tool latched onto Tibeau's retreating steps and trailed close behind.

Tibeau stole a glance at the fluttering device, then curled the corners of his mouth into a rounded grin.

He cleared his throat with a string of deliberate coughs and let his voice ring out at full force.

"Pick up the pace, everyone! We clear our zone, corner those beasts, and wipe them out! We need to put on a dominant showing in front of every eye watching us!"

The Knight Order's members surged forward like a gale and reached the fifth room.

The space where they now stood was vastly wider than anything they'd passed through before.

Grrrrk.

And far more threatening.

The sand moles—which had only ever appeared in ones and twos—had swelled to dozens, encircling the knight formation from every direction.

Grrrrrrk.

Shrill, razor-edged cries erupted from all sides.

The sand moles bristling with killing intent looked nothing like the specimens the knights had observed before.

The fur that had been limp and coarse now stood rigid as iron needles. The paws that had only been good for digging through dirt now sported claws honed to a blade's edge.

And the way they'd hemmed in the knights without leaving a single gap—their encirclement was as thorough and disciplined as a drilled military formation.

WHIIIIRR─

Tibeau, standing at the head of the formation, stared at the shattered remains of an ancient machine rolling across the floor in pieces.

He swallowed hard at the threatening scene laid out before him and took one step back.

…N-no. How did these things end up like this?