The Lord of the Rust Mountains (Complete)

by Kanata Yanagino

  “Wait...” Menel held a palm out behind him and stopped everyone. He listened out for something at the other end of the gently curving passage.

  “What?”

  “Noise. Something metal jangling. And footsteps, back and forth.” He spoke in a hushed voice.

  “Is there an ambush?”

  “Can’t tell. Something’s there. That’s all I’m sure of.”

  “Rock Hall is very close,” Ghelreis said.

  “Um, so... doesn’t that mean... this is... um...”

  A demon ambush was probably a safe assumption. We all nodded together and gripped our weapons.

  “Ghelreis and I will go in with our shields up and test the waters.”

  We took the large shields off our backs. If we covered each other with these shields which could cover the vast majority of our bodies, we would be able to endure their attacks even if they had us half-surrounded and fired on us all at once the moment we left the passage. After seeing how much power they were packing, we could decide our course of action according to the situation. For instance, we could withdraw, barrage them with magic, or retreat slowly into the passage as we dealt with them.

  “Menel, you provide support from the end of the passage. Al and Reystov, stand by. Use your judgment and attack when it looks right.” Keeping it short, I told everyone their roles. We reorganized our line, cut down the amount of light from our lanterns, silenced our footsteps as much as we could, and continued along the passage in deadly silence.

  Stopping just before the Rock Hall, I made sure everyone could see my hand—the hand gripping my spear—and I raised one finger. Then I raised a second. And at the instant the third was raised, Ghelreis and I started charging forward, our shields held in front of us.

  Once we entered the wide-open space, the miasma thinned.

  It was a vast cylindrical space with a very high ceiling. A spiral staircase ran up the wall, similar to the inside of a screw hole, and at countless places along it I could see passages going off in different directions. And also—

  “Ohhh!”

  “Dwarves! Dwarves are here!”

  “Humans, too, and an elf.”

  “Did Lothdor not fall?!”

  “Are you alright? Did you have to run?”

  “Are you injured? Don’t worry, my brothers, this place is safe!”

  Many voices echoed around the Rock Hall.

  Ghelreis’s face crumpled. I, too, unconsciously grit my teeth.

  “How is the war going?”

  “Come over and talk.”

  “You must have had a hard time.”

  A large number of skeletons were calling out to us.

  Gathered near a sturdy defensive barrier, they stood wearing armor, with axes in their hands and shields on their backs, full of the will to fight. They had been reduced to undead, their rational minds probably half-consumed by the attachments they had held in life, and even now they still continued to fight, not even understanding what had become of themselves, to protect their already long-lost homeland.

  ◆

  Ghelreis pressed his lips together tightly and breathed in and out several times before he finally managed to squeeze out one word. “Everyone.”

  “Ohh!”

  “You, you’re Ghelreis!”

  “I thought you escaped.”

  “What about the people? Are they safe?”

  “Why are you here?”

  Having no eyeballs, the skeletons had no normal sense of vision. They must have recognized him through some supernatural sense.

  “Could it be you snuck away from the group and came back?!”

  “Hahaha. How very like you.”

  “You’ll be in for it when the Captains hear about this.”

  “But you have guts.”

  “Indeed. Having you will be a tremendous help. Come, let us fight together.”

  The skeletons laughed loudly. Ghelreis tried to say something, but the words caught in his throat. Nothing else would come out. Who could blame him?

  I should probably send them on, I thought, and went to take a step forward when someone grabbed my shoulder. I turned around.

  “Al...”

  Al—Vindalfr was there. He had a serious expression unlike any I’d seen from him before. In his eyes dwelt a dignified light. “Let me. I think I should be the one to tell them.”

  I watched him walk towards them. There was no need to lend him a hand. That was how I felt.

  “My lord?”

  “Lord Aurvangr?”

  “No, but it can’t be. His Highness should be in the throne room.”

  Al stepped forward in front of the murmuring skeletons.

  “My name is Vindalfr!” He struck the long handle of his halberd against the stone floor. “I inherit the blood of Aurvangr, final ruler of the Iron Country!”

  The skeletons stirred again upon hearing these words.

  “Final?”

  “He will not be the final.”

  “Not as long as we are here.”

  “Yes.”

  “Look at us. Our spirit remains strong as ever.”

  “As long as we remain standing, the Iron Country has not yet fallen.”

  “Yes. It has not fallen.”

  “It has not fallen.”

  Al looked around, not responding to the voices being raised from every direction. “This is a spectacular defensive barrier, well constructed. You must have been mending it and improving it continually for some time.” His face expressed complex emotions that couldn’t be put into simple words. I wondered what he was thinking right now about this sight he’d encountered in the homeland he’d never before visited.

  “Sure is.”

  “We exhausted all our technical capabilities.”

  “We will never allow the demons entrance through the West Gate.”

  “The Iron Country will never fall.”

  “Yes. It will never fall.”

  Voice after voice denied ruin.

  “I understand. I understand.” Al accepted those voices. And then, he screamed, “But even so, the Iron Country has fallen!” It was a pained, heartrending scream. “You warriors all died! Our monarch Aurvangr perished! Lothdor withered pitifully, and the Iron Country became the Rust Mountains, infested by demons and a dragon!”

  Ghelreis, Menel, Reystov—none of them said a word.

  “That... cannot... be.”

  “It will not fall.”

  “The Iron Country will not fall.”

  “It will never fall.”

  But now, some of the skeletons had started to make quiet groans.

  “You know it is true! As brave warriors and dwarves, do not avert your eyes!” Al’s voice beat the truth against them, again and again. And before I knew it, the skeleton’s voices had also begun to wither. Their faces no longer had any expressions, but I felt as if I could see them filling with despair.

  “But still...” Al drew a deep breath and shouted even louder. “But still, you warriors!” The halberd that had once belonged to Ewen the Immense struck stone once again. It had a crisp sound, the kind that called a person to attention and made them stand up straight. “My grandfather Aurvangr did strike back at the foul-dragon and stole away one of its eyes! It is a hero’s accomplishment, praised even by the gods!” Al’s natural voice echoed around the Rock Hall. “And I... I, Vindalfr, have rushed here with heroes of this modern age to carry on his great feat!”

  His back was no longer curved.

  “All you warriors! The Iron Country has fallen! It has fallen without doubt! But may our creator Blaze and the god of the flame Gracefeel hear my words on their holy thrones—”

  The skeletons’ drooping heads began to rise.

  “I swear to you here! That on the names of the good gods and the countless spirits of our ancestors, I will take back the Iron Country and its former prosperity!”

  They were powerful words, words of zeal that lit a fire inside the heart. There was no timid hunched-over
dwarf standing there anymore. Instead—

  “The fire of the furnace still burns! The flames shall spread from your divine torch and purge the rust, and the mountains of rust shall be mountains of iron once again!”

  A lord stood before us.

  The skeletons moaned. But the tone was different from before.

  And then Al walked up to each of them in turn. He held their hands, smiled at them with a face on the brink of tears, and spoke to them. “So... please... enough. Rest now. You have all done well.” Each time, another of the skeletons returned to ash.

  For a while, the Rock Hall was filled with the sounds of axes, shields, and armor clattering to the stone floor.

  ◆

  After the final corpse had crumbled to the floor, Al turned around. His expression made him look like a completely different person. Maybe all the things he’d experienced up until now had changed him, or maybe it was that one instant. Perhaps it was both. People tend to have aspects that rarely change, but sometimes, a person can change into something unrecognizable in a single moment.

  “Well said. Well said, young master.” Ghelreis’s voice was full of emotion. “Let us purge the demons and accomplish this without fail. Young master, this bag of bones will protect you even if it costs him his life.”

  “Please don’t let it cost you your life,” Al said with a wry smile. “There are still many things I need you to teach me. About these mountains, and about battle.”

  As Al said this without a hint of tension, Menel clapped him on the shoulder. “The revival of a country. Brother, what a pain-in-the-ass oath you made for yourself. You didn’t need to get so serious about it. That was dumb.”

  Al shook his head. “No, it wasn’t so dumb.”

  “Oh?”

  “Unlike the oaths that you two made, Menel, Sir Will, mine has an end. So who’s the dumb one?” he said mischievously.

  “You got me.” Menel laughed.

  Reystov nodded, completely cool as always. “To fulfill that oath, first we need to win. And survive.”

  “Right!” Al nodded, then looked back at me. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Sir Will. Shall we go? I await your instructions.”

  Hearing how humbly he prompted me, I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “No more ‘Sir.’”

  “Huh?”

  “Having royalty as my squire would be a little too much, don’t you think?”

  There were appearances and authority and things like that to think about. If Al was going to set his mind on taking back his country and becoming its ruler, I couldn’t always have him bowing his head to me. So I decided to tell him that now was a good point to end our relationship as knight and squire, master and disciple.

  Al suddenly got all flustered. “What?! B-But, um, Sir Will!”

  “Look, I said no more ‘Sir.’ The determination you just showed and that oath, you meant them, didn’t you?”

  “Of course!” His answer was instant. He strode up to me and looked directly up at me. “I will not break my oath to the gods and my ancestors.” Then his tone became even stronger. “But Sir Will, you will still always be Sir Will to me. You are my one and only master, and I respect you.”

  His imploring eyes took the wind out of my sails. In his hand, he was gripping the handle of Blood’s dagger, which I had gifted him.

  “Is that so...”

  “Of course it’s so. Just because I call myself a ruler doesn’t change my feelings of respect.” Al’s determination looked firm.

  “I guess we’ll have to keep it, then.”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, and Al?” I smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “You did well. I’m proud of you. And they must have been happy, too.”

  “Thank you!” Al nodded, smiling brightly. Then, as if he had suddenly realized something, mixed feelings showed in his expression. “I wonder if I should be a little bit grateful to the god of undeath, too.”

  As someone serving the god of the flame, it was a little hard for me to agree with that. But still, there was no doubt that the reason the warriors had been able to pass on happily was because of Stagnate’s blessing. The only problem was that it was also due to Stagnate’s blessing that they had gotten so lost and spent the last two hundred years suffering from their obsession. I could only make the same kind of complicated expression myself.

  “J-Just a little is probably okay,” I said to him.

  He laughed nervously and offered a small prayer to the god of undeath as well. I got the feeling that my god was making an incredibly sour face, but I apologized in my mind, asking for her understanding. “Right then,” I said, after a breath.

  “Ya.”

  Our conversation reached a stopping point, and everyone took that as a cue to take hold of their weapons again. I could hear sounds in the distance, coming through all of the Rock Hall’s passages, that seemed to be getting closer. Among them were heavy footsteps and light footsteps, dragging noises, grating noises, and eerie cries.

  “It was necessary, but it seems we’ve taken a little too long.”

  It seemed that the demons had finally picked up on our intrusion. But it was too late now.

  “Let’s go,” I said, holding up my spear. “To take back the Iron Mountains and the country of the dwarves.”

  From here, the task was simple. Push forward, farther and farther forward, and cut and kill and slash and slay.

  “On the flame of Gracefeel!”

  ◆

  The first thrust of my spear pierced the bat-like wings of the wiry demon in front of me. As it fell, I kicked it as hard as I could. A strong impact shook my greave. I had definitely shattered its skull. Not stopping to check, I swung Pale Moon around again with a shout. I swept aside several smaller demons in one swing, smashing them into a wall and destroying them.

  These were strikes with no technique, just pure muscle power, but in a melee like this, going wild and never letting up was a better idea than overthinking things. Get ripped, and you can solve pretty much everything by force.

  After smashing and destroying the remainder of the mob as well, fully repulsing the attack from the rear, I turned to look at the others. The group of demons attacking us from the front were being overwhelmed. Pincer attacks are a powerful strategy; however, lacking the power to make the pincer lethal, they had achieved nothing more than splitting apart their own forces, making each side a target for being individually destroyed.

  The wide stone passage continued to fill with the crumbling dust of defeated demons. Reystov in particular was displaying incredible fighting skills at the front of the line. He was unstoppable death incarnate. The moment he encountered an enemy, he leaped into range and killed it with a swift thrust straight out of his normal stance. In the rare case that they survived the hit or that several foes charged at him at once, he would chain together attacks and kill them all before they had any say in the matter.

  That was all he was doing when it came down to it, but that simplicity was his strength. No matter what kind of enemy came or from where, he would get the first strike and make it lethal. He would crush his opponent with the strongest attack at first encounter, never giving them the chance to dictate the pace of the fight. It was a simple style of relentlessly forcing his greatest strength onto his opponents.

  To undo his strategy, one would either have to unleash an incredibly cunning scheme or use simple strength or numbers to give Reystov more than he could handle. But Reystov was a solidly high-level master of the sword, and on top of that, his favorite weapon now packed extra ferocity, having been strengthened by Gus’s Signs among other things. Just now, a few demons had attempted to shoot him and cast magic at him from outside his range, but they crumbled to the ground after being impaled through the throat and spinal cord by his sword’s “extending thrust.”

  Reystov was untouchable. And now, Al was learning a lot from him about how to fight. Al had always been quick at absorbing knowledge, picking up techniques and attitudes like sand absorbi
ng water, but I’d never felt it as strongly as right now.

  As if he had copied Reystov’s boldness and simply imprinted it on himself, Al leaped into dense patches of enemies and swept them away with his Immense halberd before they could manage a response. Its thick and bulky blade was sized like a traffic sign or something from my old world. The sight of Al bellowing as he sliced demons in half with it was pretty amazing to behold.

  No matter what enemy appeared, Al would force them to face his phenomenal physical strength and heavy weapon, obliterating all their defenses and sending them flying. That was probably the bedrock of Reystov’s fighting style, and Al had picked it up from him.

  Three demons had just come charging at him at the same time. One giant swing of his halberd cleaved them all through the chest. He was like a small tempest.

  “There should be a branch coming up next. Take the right.”

  Ghelreis, on the other hand, wasn’t getting directly involved much. He just gave us directions as he watched Reystov and Al grow the pile of demon corpses at a frightful pace. From time to time, he would lumber into action and deliver a mighty finishing blow to a demon who was still breathing or use his large shield to cover a tiny gap in Reystov and Al’s defense.

  There was absolutely nothing flashy about his work, but it was a great source of relief to know that we had backup waiting, with strength in reserve, who could trade places with us if needed. The reason Reystov and Al were able to go so wild was a result of Ghelreis’s intelligent support. He truly was quietly brilliant.

  “Got it nice and easy back here thanks to our tough-as-nails front line,” Menel said casually while firing his bow. Silver-string produced an airy note, and the glint of the mithril arrowhead shot through the air. At the end of the passage, beyond the darkness and miasma, something gave up a mortal cry. We made our way forward and discovered, in the process of turning to dust, the remains of a Commander-ranked demon shot through the heart.

  At a whistle from Menel, winged fairies danced playfully through the air, retrieved the arrow that had come to the end of its flight, and carried it back into his hands. Menel’s gaze as he accepted it was the complete opposite of his casual expression.

  He manipulated the elementals of earth to trip up dangerous demons, and he used the elementals of air to prevent his enemies from being able to utter Words. The support of the fairies was extremely precise, striking directly at critical points and demonstrating Menel’s full potential as the linchpin of our defense.