Chapter 174 – One Who Could Not Become the Mountain
The interior of the gorge was in total chaos. The cliff had collapsed and blocked the path for a moment, but the monster Bandipa had forced it open again. The Corrupted poured in like a flood, and the Alliance Forces drew their swords to meet them.
Every time Bandipa's hammer came down, boulders burst apart. Metal and heat collided, and through every crack, scorching molten iron surged upward. In the air, shattered stone dust and blood mixed together to form a red haze. The hammer, the explosions, the blood, the silence—those four things took turns rolling across the battlefield.
Royce had already coughed up blood twice. Each time the taste of iron spread across his tongue, a flash of light burst at the edge of his vision. But this was not an external anomaly—it was an internal one. The Neural Accelerator was overheating, burning white spots into his retina.
The muscles of his right arm trembled like torn cloth, and the sword he gripped had chips along its edge in several places. His knees had been buckling for some time, but he did not lower his blade.
Not to win.
'Survive.'
He looked at things the mercenary way—broadly. Without fixating on what was immediately in front of him, he first considered the ultimate goal he needed to achieve.
Right now, what was it that Calix needed from him?
He had to hold on.
Just then, the rock beneath his feet vibrated and split apart. His reaction was slow, but a shadow cut in from beside him. It was Basim.
The dwarf regulated his short breaths as he lunged in, driving the blade of his axe beneath Bandipa's hammer. A collision rang out like a thunderclap, and fragments scattered in all directions. A crack formed at the tip of the weapon, and the next moment it twisted and shattered into pieces. The knuckles of Basim's hand snapped along with it. Flesh and bone cried out together.
Even so, there was no fear in Basim's eyes.
He looked down at his trembling fingertips, still clutching the broken axe handle. Within it, there was something alive and breathing. Not the grain of the weapon itself, but a force that had seeped into a far deeper place.
Yet it seemed almost visible—but not quite.
"The Bond of the Craftsman……"
Basim muttered in a low voice.
Bandipa paused his attack for a moment. A low, flat voice filtered out through the gaps in his metal helm.
[You seek recognition from the mountain, yet you cannot even speak your own name.]
His words landed heavily.
Uam Bandipa, the forgotten king of the dwarves, continued in a mocking tone.
[Who are you? What, exactly, do you seek to understand through the Bonds and Flows that run through the mountain range?]
Basim still said nothing. He neither spoke his name aloud nor denied it. He simply stared at his own hands.
Beneath his skin, the breath of the dwarf craftsmen flowed faintly. Skin as hard as stone, muscles that writhed like the current of a valley stream—all of it resembled the Viale Mountain Range.
'The Bond and the Flow…… are connected by will.'
Suddenly, a new 'Bond' made itself felt between his palms. Thin but distinct—not born from a mere weapon, but from something far greater: the breath of the mountain. Unmistakably, it had been sleeping within his body.
[The mountain has acknowledged you. But you still do not know how to unfurl its meaning.]
The moment Bandipa finished speaking, he swung his hammer. The Alliance knights who had rushed to his side were knocked away in a single blow. Weapons, armor, human flesh and blood flew through the air.
In that instant, Basim understood.
That he still did not know who he was.
He was a dwarf, and a Mountain Rabbit, and a descendant of Uam Bandipa. Basim was all of those things—yet at the same time, he was none of them. He had not yet decided what he would be called.
It was like a mountain.
Always standing in the same place, called by many names—
'And yet its true form must be shown by itself alone.'
Just then, Bandipa's hammer rose again. The arc the hammer traced followed the Bond—slowly, but surely—as it bore down on Basim. He stepped back, steadied his breath, and reversed his grip on the broken axe. This time he did not swing carelessly. Using the handle of the axe, he aligned his body with the flow of the Bond he had just felt.
Not collision—but joining.
Instead of the sound of impact, a brief resonance arose. There was no ring of metal. It was a deep, heavy reverberation, as though boulders were rolling along together.
In that brief moment, everything changed.
The weakened axe body did not split, and Basim's knees did not buckle. The eyes of those around them went wide with astonishment. Something—impossible to tell whether it was a cheer or a curse—seeped out through the gaps in the stones.
***
They exchanged several bouts of attack and defense in quick succession.
Basim held the front, while Royce circled to the flank to look for openings. When the Alliance knights joined in, a fleeting balance came to the battlefield.
But at a certain moment, Basim could no longer absorb the enemy's blow.
Kwaaang!!
The moment Bandipa's hammer came crashing down, the air tore apart and a thunderous boom erupted. Basim's body was hurled through the air and slammed into the cliff face. As the rock shattered, blood and stone dust surged up together.
Royce catching him as he was flung away was the most he had managed.
"It's too early to die here, Basim!"
His shout jabbed at the dwarf's ear. He had prodded the pride of an old comrade.
"Needless worry!"
Basim gasped for breath and pressed his fingertips against the ground. Then, suddenly, his brow furrowed. A vibration was spreading from beneath the earth.
This time it was not an artificial shock. The Bond of the earth was trembling. It was the sound of the mountain crying out in pain.
"……The mountain is weeping."
In that moment, light flickered at the corners of Basim's eyes.
Through his fingertips, and through the instinct of his innate bloodline, he felt the 'difference'.
What he had felt before had been Bandipa's power. It was not a part of the mountain. No—to be precise, it belonged to one who had failed to become the mountain.
He was a being who had hurled himself into the abyss where no light reached, among the discarded stones beneath the mountain. He had lost the Bond, left the mountain range behind, and surrendered his body to the darkness.
'It was all a lie.'
The mountain had not acknowledged Basim. Bandipa had used false authority—as though he possessed the right—to deceive him.
He pressed against his trembling legs and rose to his feet. Blood covered his eyes, but through the far edge of his vision, the massive shadow of Bandipa fell across him. His hammer gleamed red, but that color was impure. It was not the light of a dwarf's making—it was an ominous radiance that had stolen the echo of one.
Basim muttered quietly.
"You……Are nothing more than an imitation."
[……What did you say?]
Bandipa raised his head. From the metal helm, dark magical energy stretched outward in tendrils. It looked like smoke seeping from an abyss.
Then Basim planted the axe handle against the ground and took one more step forward.
"Our ancient king—you roll like a massive boulder. You feed not on the reverence of mortals, but on their fear, stirring up blood and dust wherever you pass."
This time he used formal speech. Within that courtesy lay sorrow, contempt, and tangled emotion, laid bare without restraint. The one speaking was Basim, but he spoke on behalf of all dwarves.
"But…… You can never become the mountain."
When those words ended, the entire gorge fell still for a moment, as though holding its breath. In that instant, a crack formed in Bandipa's metal mask. Something—impossible to tell whether it was light or blood—billowed out through the gap. A sound like tearing metal pierced the eardrums.
It was like a scream, and yet like absolute, pure rage.
The shouts of the dwarves who had been watching that sight erupted.
"The mask has cracked!"
"The coward who fled beneath the mountain has shown his true face!"
Bandipa's massive frame clutched his hammer and convulsed in small, rapid tremors. Above his shoulders, black light materialized and rose like smoke.
[How dare you…… Presume to measure me!!]
Bandipa charged in an instant. His movements were like a tempest. His form blurred, and everywhere the hammer touched, the terrain of the gorge burst apart.
Royce and Basim could not stand against him head-on—they were barely managing to dodge. Now their attacks served no purpose beyond helping each other survive.
A moment of crisis.
Sswaaeaaeaae-aek!!
A fire arrow shot into the sky and exploded with a great burst.
It was the signal to retreat.
Royce immediately seized Basim's arm.
"Move! We pull back!"
The eyes of the blood-soaked dwarves flashed with resolve. Someone hoisted an injured comrade onto their back; someone else threw down their axe. The Alliance soldiers also broke into a run, all rushing down through the gorge.
Behind them, explosions rang out one after another.
The hammer Bandipa had swung was smashing apart the layers of the cliff face. Red smoke surged up and swallowed the gorge whole. It looked, vaguely, like he was venting his fury by destroying the mountain ridgeline.
Royce shook his head from atop his horse.
"That isn't a mountain…… It's a tomb."
Basim ran without answering, steadying his breath. At his fingertips, the aftershock of the 'Bond' still lingered. Incomplete—yet the direction he needed to move forward was clear.
A short time later, as they reached the end of the gorge, the view suddenly opened up before them.
Where they needed to go was unmistakable.
Beyond the mist, a riverbank came into view. A shallow ford—neither wide nor deep. The current flowed with an oddly weak pull. Near it, the main body of the Alliance Forces was being steadily pushed back.
Marik's banner was visible. He was being driven back continuously by the monster Brawk, yet he was holding on to the last.
"That's the extraction point!"
At the knight's shout, the soldiers quickened their feet toward the river. Not for a single moment did they rest, fearing they might fall behind or be caught by the horde of monsters.
"Hurry! They're giving chase!"
"Marik!"
Royce held the rear until the very last.
When Basim lost half his consciousness, he handed the shoulder that had been supporting him off to a veteran Mountain Rabbit.
In the distance, the earth rumbled. The sound of Bandipa's hammer—the brilliance pouring from Brawk's Rite-Stone axe—drew ever closer. The vibration in the ground spread across the surface of the river.
The Alliance Forces that had split into two groups merged back into one. Those on horseback and those on foot ran together toward the opposite bank.
"Do not slow down!"
With Calix nowhere to be seen, Royce shouted in his place. In that voice, an iron smell thicker than blood was embedded.
Chwaaaaak!
At that very moment, the monsters set foot in the water. Bandipa's form sent ripples spreading across the surface, and Brawk howled like a beast and followed in after him.
At the appearance of those two great monsters, tens of thousands of the Corrupted began crossing the river as well.
And then.
Ssseusseusseusseu.
The speed of the current quickened. What had barely reached ankle height at first had swelled, before long, to soak through to the thighs. There were no ocean-like waves, no whirlpools—but the color of the water deepened steadily.
Basim looked upon that sight and opened his mouth.
"The mountain's weeping…… Has moved. The river is in fury."
From the far edge of the riverbank, a wind of unsettling scale clawed across the rocks as it passed. That resonance was the same as the vibration he had felt at his fingertips.
He stared at the riverbank, transfixed.
The enemy's vanguard had almost entirely crossed, and Bandipa and Brawk had just reached the center. It seemed as though they would bear down on the rear of the Alliance Forces at any moment.
In that instant, something beneath the surface of the water inhaled, as though drawing breath, and plunged downward. Dozens of the Corrupted vanished from sight in an instant.
The Rodir River had awakened.