Chapter 15
At Danforth’s determined words, Erich rubbed the corner of his mouth and muttered.
“Go down to the lower floors… How far?”
“As far as we can go.”
“That sounds like you’re saying you want to die.”
“I’ll worry about that when the time comes.”
“…You’ve changed, Danforth. I never thought a man who cared about his own safety more than anything would decide to do something this crazy.”
Danforth gave a self-mocking laugh.
“You had me all wrong, Erich. Safety, my ass. If I really valued my life that much, I wouldn’t have entered a Dungeon three times when merely going inside shaves years off your lifespan.”
Erich frowned and asked,
“Then is it for honor? For the Corsi family?”
“As if. What the hell have those bastards ever done for me?”
“…Then what is it? What could possibly be worth risking your life for?”
“The Mad Savior, Johan.”
Danforth grinned as he answered Erich’s question.
“That bastard is inside the Dungeon right now. Here, on the first floor.”
After that, the two talked about everything that had happened during the past year.
Erich told him about the residents living on the Dungeon’s first floor and the followers of the Black Demon Cult, while Danforth explained what had happened in the Ascartier Empire and the Holy Land.
As for Johan Blake, what had happened with him was closer to an accident that had taken place only a few days ago, so there was not much to add.
One of Danforth’s subordinates had accidentally gotten involved with him, which brought Johan to the Holy Land.
Now, he was moving alone.
That was the entire explanation.
“He’s such an unpredictable man that it’s hard to learn anything more than that.”
“Hmm… Is there a chance he made contact with the other races?”
“No idea. But I doubt he contacted the Were side. Not after what he did to them. And he didn’t seem interested in causing more trouble either.”
“Then perhaps he caused some incident outside the Holy Land. The Mad Savior carried out one of his acts of salvation and angered an Inner God… Something along those lines. That would explain why the magical beasts suddenly became stronger right after he entered. Am I right?”
“Haa… That does seem like the most likely possibility.”
Watching Danforth sigh deeply, Erich tilted his head.
“Why are you going so far just to stay with Johan? It isn’t as though he’s cooperating with you. His combat strength may be overwhelming, but… I’m certain he won’t care about any of you.”
“Well… We’ll have to wait and see about that.”
“Hm?”
Danforth rested his chin lightly on one hand.
“You could say he saved Dexter because his role as the Savior left him no choice. But there was no reason for him to come looking for me personally. Not if he truly had absolutely no interest in the expedition.”
“…Ah. So that’s how you see it.”
“And more importantly… there are quite a few crazy oddballs in this year’s expedition too. The kind of lunatics who genuinely believe the Great Remains actually exist.”
At the mention of the Great Remains, Erich’s expression hardened.
“Oddballs… you say.”
“If those idiots and the Mad Savior work together, maybe we can reach it one more time.”
Danforth’s eyes shone brighter than ever as he spoke of something that sounded like a dream.
“The world of the Inner Gods and their followers beyond the Dark Swamp.”
Erich answered his bright expression with a bitter smile.
“That isn’t particularly good news for me. If the offerings you bring every year disappear, my position within the Black Demon Cult will become unstable as well.”
“You’ll have to figure that out yourself. We aren’t captain and subordinate anymore, are we?”
“Kukuku. You really are a cold-hearted man.”
Erich stood up and held out his right hand for a light handshake.
“Still, since you came all this way, rest properly before you leave, Danforth Corsi.”
With that bittersweet conclusion, the two went their separate ways.
Danforth began resting several hours later than his men, while Erich headed beneath the temple.
It was a place that no one except the followers was allowed to enter.
Most of the underground area was being used as storage.
The warehouses were packed with all kinds of offerings that had been forcibly taken from the survivors when they first settled in the village.
Erich passed the warehouses lining both sides of the corridor and headed toward the altar in the center.
It was already deep into the night, close to dawn.
Yet more than fifty followers were kneeling before the altar, offering prayers.
The pitch-black demon statue standing in the center gave off a strange gleam, almost as though it were responding to their faith.
Erich offered a short prayer just like the others, then walked around to the other side of the statue.
Above the enormous painting depicting the demon Naberius stood a hexagonal coffin bearing the same image.
And there—
A tall man stood quietly, watching the followers perform their ritual.
“What tribute has the Ascartier Empire brought this year, Erich Parvus?”
It was Anton Yates, a candidate to become Naberius’s Apostle.
Erich bowed his head and listed the main offerings.
“Alcohol, jewels, weapons, and medicinal ingredients.”
“Offer the jewels. Store the rest.”
“Yes.”
Anton continued.
“And spread the revelation that I, Anton Yates, received from God to every follower in this land. Then carry it out exactly as commanded.”
Erich raised his head.
“A revelation… you say?”
“God has spoken.”
Anton slowly spread his left arm toward the followers.
“He said the time has come for us to rise to the surface once again.”
Then he declared,
“Kill every living creature that is not one of our followers, and fill the altar with their blood.”
“Burn their homes and bury their corpses within the temple.”
“The younger they are, the better. But do not spare the old either.”
“Build a mountain of screams through death.”
“Fear shall grow, and reverence shall deepen.”
Anton’s pupils began glowing with the same pitch-black light as the demon statue.
A moment later, the eyes of every follower present—including Erich—changed in the same way.
They stopped praying.
One by one, they rose to their feet and drew the many different swords hanging from their waists.
Anton raised his voice.
“Naberius, the Black Demon who shall become the greatest among all demons, will personally bestow His power upon me, Anton Yates!”
“That power exists for all of you!”
“And soon, it shall bring salvation to this land!”
From that moment onward, Erich was no longer a former member of the expedition.
Nor was he Danforth’s old companion.
The same was true for the other followers.
The faces that had once belonged to the villagers’ friends and companions had already transformed into those of fanatics who desired nothing but death.
Anton, the Apostle candidate, praised the sight with delight and shouted until the veins stood out on his neck.
“KILL!”
“KILL THE LIVING!”
“ONLY DEATH SHALL GRANT THEM REST!”
“Kill!”
“Kill!”
“Kill!”
Every time the followers repeated the priest’s words, the altar and the demon statue at its center released waves of corrupted mana, as though thirsting for blood.
Before anyone realized it, an inverted demon symbol—the mark of the Black Demon Cult—had appeared on each follower’s forehead.
It was the mark of submission and worship.
A declaration that, for as long as their lives continued, they would obey every command of the Black Demon without question.
Not one of the followers, Erich included, could resist that forced contract.
The command was absolute.
And so, without any further delay, they rushed from the underground chamber to the surface.
The moment they arrived aboveground, the followers began carrying out their orders, starting with the houses closest to the temple.
Crash!
“D-Dave?!”
“Aaaaargh!”
“W-What the hell?! Have you lost your mind?!”
“K-Keugh…!”
“Honey!”
“Run! Hurry! I’ll hold them back, so just—!”
