Chapter 757

Chapter 757
The Julien Mercenary Corps had achieved a significant reputation by this point.
This was particularly true among the ranks of the Salvation Order. Many of their secret missions had been thwarted by the efforts of the mercenary group.
The mysterious voice spoke once more.
“I am well aware that the Julien Mercenary Corps is quite capable. However, with the strength you possess, you should have been able to handle the situation, shouldn’t you?”
“Yes, success was nearly within my grasp. I gave up four Inquisitors to mortally wound the High Chief of the Elves. Had I maintained the pressure for just a moment longer, it would have been finished.”
“Then explain the failure.”
“It is difficult to describe. Something similar to a divine intervention occurred.”
“…A divine intervention?”
“The Julien Mercenary Corps had a cleric among them. That individual suddenly cleansed the corruption I had placed and brought the High Chief back from the brink of death. I had no choice but to pull back.”
“Identify this cleric.”
“He appeared to be a low-level priest traveling in their company.”
“…Are you suggesting a common priest worked a miracle? Is such a thing even plausible?”
“I cannot say. Even with immense holy power, it should have been an impossible feat…”
The owner of the voice lapsed into silence. He found it difficult to process.
The Pope himself had not intervened—yet a single, nameless holy man had ruined everything?
Rahmod spoke with conviction.
“Prophet Tagmah. I realize my report sounds unbelievable. However, you must accept it as truth. If you do not, we will face further disasters.”
Fwoooosh!
As the shadows knitted together, the man known as Tagmah showed himself.
Much like Rahmod, he looked to be an elderly man. The distinction lay in his expression, which was far more aggressive—almost savage.
Tagmah locked eyes with Rahmod for a moment before giving a nod.
Rahmod was not a man given to falsehoods. Nor was he someone who could be easily tricked.
Therefore, his account had to be accurate.
Tagmah had resided in this place for a long duration. Because of that, he was even more isolated from the world’s news than Rahmod was.
“If the Julien Mercenary Corps was present for this event… it implies their interference in our prior missions was not a matter of luck, doesn’t it?”
“I cannot be certain of that. But now, it seems a direct confrontation is unavoidable.”
“For what reason?”
“Because the Julien Mercenary Corps is moving to support the dwarves.”
“…You are positive?”
“It is highly probable.”
“And what leads you to this conclusion?”
“They appear to be operating under the Pope’s instructions. Immediately after delivering Ismoken to the Empire, they went straight to the Elven Forest.”
“If that is true…”
“If they visited the elves as the Pope’s messengers, the only motive would be the Sacred Stone. After winning the elves’ trust, they surely obtained a vow for the stone to be handed over. Naturally, their next stop will be the dwarves.”
Rahmod did not think they had already taken possession of the Sacred Stone. It was far too precious for a simple hand-off.
It was more likely they had secured a verbal agreement to deliver it to the Pope later.
At the mention of the Sacred Stone, Tagmah’s features darkened.
“The Sacred Stone…? You don’t mean—they have discovered how to activate it?”
“I doubt that. If they had, the various kingdoms would have already formed a grand alliance. It is more likely the Pope, refusing to surrender the idea, tasked a famous mercenary unit with the collection.”
Tagmah exhaled a small sigh of relief. The energy of the Sacred Stone could inflict terminal damage to their ‘Sanctuary.’
Even the leaders of the Human Alliance were ignorant of how to harness the Sacred Stones. They didn’t even understand their purpose.
However, the high-ranking members of the Salvation Order knew exactly what the Sacred Stones were capable of.
Simply knowing they were hunting for the stones meant Tagmah could no longer dismiss the Julien Mercenary Corps.
“Are they truly a large enough threat to ruin our grand plan?”
“They are a dangerous element. Specifically the one called Astion, who has attained the rank of a transcendent and also masters dark magic. He has managed to call forth as many as 100 Death Knights.”
“Dark magic? And the humans and elves allow him to live?”
“He claims to be… a dark mage of righteousness.”
“…”
“I do not understand the logic behind it either.”
A brief, uncomfortable silence followed. Tagmah could not wrap his head around it, but Rahmod was not the type to play pranks.
After a few forced coughs, Tagmah nodded his head.
“Hmph… Well, that is certainly a nuisance.”
“I have already told the local dark mages to obstruct them if they move. Enforcer Munareff is circulating the word and making his way here.”
“With Ismoken lost and even your mission failing, we can no longer remain in the shadows.”
“Precisely. Our window is closing. The suspicion of the kingdoms is rising fast. That is why the mission with the dwarves must be a success—we must finish it and retreat to the Sanctuary. That is why I ignored the Julien Mercenary Corps and came here at once.”
Tagmah agreed. Even though the arrangements for the strike on the dwarves were incomplete, the crisis left them no alternative.
“Understood. We might be lacking in preparation, but with your assistance, we should prevail.”
Tagmah shut his eyes.
They needed to assassinate the Dwarf King and wipe out the Eternal Forge. If they did, it would be a devastating blow to the Human Alliance.
One of the primary foundations of the Human Alliance would crumble.
And even more crucially…
“They must never trigger the power of the Sacred Stone.”
That was their ultimate goal.

—

Tucked away across the land were numerous dwarves, residing in concealed settlements carved deep into peaks or buried underground, usually where rich mineral deposits were found.
Among these, the most famous location was Vallscrum, the home of the Dwarf King.
Vallscrum was a gargantuan mountain fortress, where the outer ramparts and the natural peaks merged into a seamless line of defense.
Within the stronghold lay a labyrinthine network of dwarven homes, smithies, and excavation sites.
Essentially, the entire mountain served as both a metropolis and a bastion.
At the base of the mountain sat a human town established for commerce with the dwarves. That town was significantly larger than most standard human hubs.
Dwarves were not like elves.
They didn’t create things just to look at them. A work was only deemed finished once it was put to use.
Because of this, dwarves frequently traded with humans who appreciated and utilized their craftsmanship.
Since premium dwarven goods were available here, countless traders from across the land converged on the city.
In exchange, the dwarves obtained high-quality ale, fabrics, and enchanted items made by humans.
With both groups profiting from the relationship, the city naturally grew in scale.
And now, the Julien Mercenary Corps had reached that city.
“Yeeees! We finally made it!”
“I thought I was going to collapse from exhaustion!”
“Seriously… that path was the most grueling we’ve ever endured.”
Upon arrival, the mercenaries dropped to the ground and complained loudly.
They looked less like warriors and more like displaced persons—unwashed and ragged. Even Ereneth, who usually stayed spotless, looked like a vagabond elf.
Kyle whispered with a burnt-out expression.
“I never realized there were so many dark mages in this world. You never see them normally, but they kept appearing like pests.”
It wasn’t just the mages. Beasts they commanded and roving outlaws had also appeared without end.
The foes weren’t exceptionally strong, but they had to fight incessantly—and that took a toll.
Ghislain ran a hand through his tangled hair and gave a brief chuckle.
“We arrived. But it was quite an experience, wasn’t it?”
It had been a stimulating trip, in its own way. The opponents weren’t overwhelming, but constant battle for days served as excellent practice.
The group stared at Ghislain with blank expressions. Even Ereneth, who craved high-stakes adventure, was at a loss for words.
Paying them no mind, Ghislain took a step forward.
“Alright, let’s find a place to stay. We are covered in filth. Fortunately, it seems the siege hasn’t started yet.”
The dwarven stronghold was famous for being impossible to take. It wouldn’t be easy for the Salvation Order to break in, so they were likely still in the planning stages.
The team began walking through the city at a leisurely pace.
The avenues were teeming with activity, and the ringing of hammers hitting metal never ceased from the smithies.
The Julien Mercenary Corps had just stepped into the dwarven commercial hub.
Paved stone paths stretched out neatly like a tiled floor, bordered on both sides by businesses. Some shops even provided areas where patrons could test out blades and armor.
Many human traders could be seen debating prices and swapping goods with dwarven smiths.
This city had been constructed by humans for the sake of dwarven trade—yet the dwarves fit in so naturally, it felt as though the city belonged to them entirely.
One dwarf was bluntly gulping down a bottle of ale, while another was—surprisingly—trying to sell items by grabbing at passing human men.
“Hey! I crafted this belt myself, me—a genuine dwarf! I’ll give it to you for only 1 gold! You’re still not interested?!”
“I told you no! What kind of belt is worth that much?”
“I’m telling you, a dwarf made it!”
“Like there’s a single thing in this town not made by dwarves! And look at it—it’s clearly garbage you threw together while wasted!”
“Agh, fine! I’ll trade it to you for a bottle of spirits!”
Even then, the man declined. He pried the dwarf’s hand off and ran away.
The dwarf spat in the direction of the fleeing man.
“F**king idiot! So picky for a damn human! In the old days, I could sell any piece of scrap and they’d be thrilled to have it. Now their standards are all fancy and arrogant. Ptew!”
Ghislain’s group, being experienced travelers, picked up on the vibe immediately.
“They’re crafting things while drunk and selling them?”
“Dwarves turn into this when they spend too much time around humans, I guess?”
“Humans are clearly the bad influence here.”
Still, the sight of different cultures mixing so openly was oddly captivating and even pleasant to observe.
As they walked along, searching for an inn, they noticed a crowd congregating in one area.
A few dwarves were yelling energetically, pulling people in.
“Come one, come all! Crack this engineering riddle, and you’ll win ‘Gramdir’—a legendary blade known only among us dwarves! If you don’t like blades, take 100 gold instead!”
The sword resting near them looked basic and incredibly plain at first glance. There were no gems, no embellishments at all.
Actually, calling it “plain” was a kindness. The metal was covered in rust—completely neglected.
Still, because a dwarf had presented it with such confidence, some onlookers wondered if there was a secret to it. The dark metal, unlike common swords, might suggest something deeper.
Merchants and warriors with a sharp eye looked over ‘Gramdir’ closely, curious about the potential.
But before long, their whispers turned to disappointment.
“Ugh, it really is just a decayed old blade.”
“Yeah, as if a legendary weapon would ever be sitting out in the open at a street bazaar.”
“These dwarves are getting more full of themselves every day.”
“Still, it looks solid. You’d get a fair price just for the scrap metal.”
Any decent smithy in the city would have better weapons for sale. Taking the 100 gold was clearly the more logical choice.
The engineering riddle the dwarf held was a spherical mechanical contraption.
Circling the round device were seven metallic rods.
All over the machine were countless small openings, each engraved with digits and various icons.
When the crowd looked puzzled, the dwarf began his pitch.
“This mechanical orb can be gripped at the top and bottom, and spun horizontally! Every time you spin it, the digits and icons shift places! Each rod is engraved with its own unique set of digits and icons!”
“So what the hell are we supposed to do with it?”
Someone yelled out in frustration, and the dwarf clicked his tongue.
“The objective is to discover the hidden logic behind the icons and digits! You must calculate the right sequence and place the rods accordingly! If you try to put a rod in the wrong opening, it won’t fit!”
“Sounds like a swindle to me! What if you fixed it so nothing ever fits? Didn’t a dwarf get busted recently for running a scam like that? Dwarven con artists are getting bold these days!”
The dwarf flared up in anger.
“You clueless human idiots! You dare suggest I’m a cheat?! Observe!”
He grasped the top and bottom of the orb and started turning it.
Click. Clack. Creak.
With every turn, the positions of the digits and icons moved.
The dwarf then snatched up one metal rod, checking its engravings carefully, and slowly slid it into the device.
Clack.
It snapped into place perfectly. Anyone could see it had seated correctly.
The dwarf then grabbed a different rod at random and tried to push it in. It went in slightly before hitting a wall—clearly obstructed by something.
He stuck out his chest and yelled with pride.
“See? As long as you do the arithmetic right, it’ll fit! If you’re wrong, it won’t!”
“Ooooh…”
Now the onlookers were genuinely intrigued.
Dwarven craftsmanship was renowned as the best on the continent. It wasn’t strange at all for them to build something like this.
Of course, finding the pattern among all those icons and digits was no simple feat. Only someone exceptionally bright had any chance of cracking it.
Glancing around at the crowd again, the dwarf yelled,
“Participation fee: 1 gold! You get three attempts! I’ll allow you to miss up to three times! But a word of warning: if any of you try to force it using mana, don’t bother! Even if you manage to shove it in, if it’s the wrong spot, the internal mana circuit will explode!”
People paused. One gold was a high price for a simple game.
But with three tries and the opportunity to win 100 gold, it seemed worth the risk.
Soon enough, a few people who thought themselves geniuses stepped forward to accept the challenge.
“Fail!”
“You failed as well!”
“Whoops! Another loss!”
Every competitor failed. The dwarf smiled widely as he watched the stack of coins at his feet increase.
Even after witnessing others fail, more people lined up. The traders visiting this city had plenty of coin—and plenty of ego.
But nobody succeeded. Failure followed failure, and the pile of money next to the dwarf grew bigger and bigger.
When someone yelled that it was a fraud, he simply showed the solution again—and they went quiet.
As Ghislain watched the dwarf collecting the cash, he finally remarked,
“Let’s give it a try.”
His eyes sparkled with interest.