Chapter 204: Voice Beneath the Ground
The continental Alliance Force began their march southward. Master Serin Abra, Captain Arankell, and other newly arrived heroes exchanged belated greetings. Yet more than anyone else, it was the Mountain Rabbits who had awaited this reunion.
"My brothers! Still looking absolutely wretched, I see!"
"And look at yourself!"
Gregor burst into hearty laughter and threw himself into the arms of the Silver Shield Legion. A moment of reunion. It hadn't been all that long, but the joy of seeing one another again hadn't diminished in the least. It was the same for Master Belmar, his disciple, and Adrian.
"Your eyes have become useful."
"Is it that obvious?"
"The strength of the soul shows in the eyes. You cannot hide it no matter how hard you try."
"……That's a problem. When I return to Latia, the old men of the senate will come swarming at me like cats after a mouse."
"……."
Whether from having picked up the rough manner of speech common among mercenaries, Belmar wore a look of utter disbelief—but Adrian paid it no mind whatsoever.
"Well, I'll manage somehow."
Those words said everything about Adrian's journey up to this point.
He silently turned his gaze to Calix. The young man, having reunited with the mage Yelayen, was quietly conversing on horseback.
‘Destiny be damned—all there is to do is keep moving forward.’
Adrian had watched the way Calix pressed on. And at some point, he himself had stopped speaking of destiny altogether.
He thought he understood it a little now. The power to glimpse the future was both a blessing and a curse. Even if it was an imperfect ability.
Without thinking, he let a small smile cross his face. It was different from his usual expression—a genuinely heartfelt one.
The reaction from the dwarf Basim, on the other hand, was considerably more dramatic. After the Viale reinforcements arrived, he came face to face with a legendary elven master—and blew a loud, contemptuous snort right in their face.
"So what do you want from me?"
"……I beg your pardon?"
"Join Viale, just like that? Why should I?"
The elven warriors exchanged uncomfortable looks. To them, it had seemed a matter of course. But to Basim, it was anything but.
"……You know the meaning of that mask. Basim of Bandipa is still very much a member of Viale. Even if they have fallen, you carry the duty to uphold their legacy—"
"What a load of rubbish."
"……."
He treated the elf to the signature Mountain Rabbits bluntness, right to their face. It was excessive at times, but it was also more honest than anyone else could manage.
Since stubbornness ran equally deep on both sides, Basim settled the matter by asking a single question.
"If you want to convince me, answer just one thing."
"What……."
"What is my name?"
The elves glanced at one another at the odd question. They knew the answer—but had never said it aloud until now.
"……Basim of Bandipa."
Looking exactly as though he had expected that answer, Basim turned his back without a second glance.
"I don't fight alongside those who don't even know my name!"
He had a new name now.
***
Small disturbances broke out here and there, but the Alliance Force' march did not stop. Moving southward under Calix's direction, they soon came upon a village reduced to ruin.
There were no signs of a struggle in the abandoned settlement.
No broken spears, no blades embedded in stone walls. Instead, it was the ground itself that was wrong. As though some enormous hand had wristed the plains—the borders between homes, roads, and fields had all been warped out of shape.
"Nothing surprises me anymore."
Zahira dismounted and looked down into the sunken center of the village. Where a well should have stood, only a round hollow remained, and the inner walls bore layered marks twisted together like the rings of a tree.
"It wasn't dug out with shovels. It wasn't broken by force either."
"No. It looks like it was naturally pulled inward."
"The bodies?"
Volga asked quietly.
"None."
Kotchap answered in a word.
There was nothing piled inside the houses or in the depths of the alleyways. Beds sat half-buried in walls, dried and fixed in place. Tables had hardened as though fused into the floor beneath them. The spaces where lives had been lived remained intact—only the people were gone.
"It ended in an instant."
Royce muttered, dragging a finger across the marks. He wanted to believe the residents had fled in time, but he knew full well that wasn't so.
Every building had been buried exactly halfway into the earth.
He bowed his head and stepped back outside.
"Nothing to salvage here."
Everyone nodded at that. It was useless as a supply base or a defensive position. It wasn't just the people who were gone—the space itself had been broken.
Calix stared wordlessly toward the far edge of the village. Along the path leading out to the fields, dark mana stretched in a long trail. The mark of something that had passed through. Not footprints—more like the groove left by an entire body dragging itself across the ground.
Then Yelayen gave voice to what it was.
"The Trampler……Saulak."
The air hardened in an instant. Merely speaking the name caused the mana blanketing the village to vibrate in fine tremors, as though it might begin to writhe at any moment.
Calix took one last look at the village and turned his horse around.
"We record this and move on. There's no time to linger."
As they quickened their pace, the alliance soldiers thought to themselves.
‘To fight things like this, we can no longer fight as human beings. To face a monster, we must become monsters ourselves.’
Or perhaps—that was exactly what they were being made to think.
The village fell further and further behind, silent to the last. As though it had swallowed everything whole, and sealed its mouth shut.
***
After several days' march southward, the Alliance formation spread itself across the plains.
At the very front stood Niboria's Silver Shield Legion. Great shields interlocked to form a single wall, and the emblems carved into their faces blazed with light in unison. At a gesture from the commander, angles snapped into perfect alignment. This was not individual combat—this was legion tactics in its purest form.
Behind them, the Mountain Rabbits scattered.
No formation, no lines. Utterly individual, every one of them. And yet the spacing between them was oddly consistent. Without a single order, they filled one another's blind spots. Light equipment, soundless footsteps. Viewed from the front, they looked sloppy—but the way they enveloped the flanks and rear was genuinely cunning.
Latia's forces moved further back still. Equipment caught the eye before armor did. Hooks, ropes, and small powder canisters hung in clusters from their belts. They looked less like soldiers and more like pirates out for a stroll on land.
"That sort tends to cause trouble."
An old veteran of the Silver Shield Legion muttered, and a Latian soldier grinned and shrugged.
"You're not wrong, old man. But it's that trouble-causing that's kept us alive this long."
The Elvra Holy Knights held the absolute center of the formation. Prayers rang out without pause. Each time the sacred hymn rose, the very texture of the air across the plains shifted ever so slightly.
The Viale elites, by contrast, were not easy to spot. They drifted through the ranks like a band of wanderers who had simply mixed in. Look away for a moment, and those who had been standing right there were gone.
So it was that beings with entirely different rules found themselves placed upon the same ground. A strange arrangement.
Calix surveyed it all from horseback. Royce, holding the reins at his side, asked quietly.
"They're approaching now?"
"Yes. Closer than I expected."
At his certain reply, the others turned—but the Mountain Rabbits' eyes had yet to pick up any sign of the enemy.
Then it happened.
The ground shook. Or rather—feet slipped first. Just barely. Not enough to lose balance, but the ‘sensation of standing’ was wrong. The soil of the plains seemed to flow like water. Soldiers took one more involuntary step to test it.
Immediately after, the wildgrass of the plains collapsed all at once. It folded over, all in a single direction. Stalks didn't break; roots didn't tear free. It was as though something had thrust upward from below all at once—and for one brief moment, the plain bowed its head.
"……It's coming."
Volga whispered.
At that instant, soldiers at the front of the line clutched their heads.
"Wait—my eyes……."
"Where am I?"
"No. I'm sure I've never been here before……."
Eyes trembling, memory lapsed for a moment. Hallucinations and phantom sounds blurred human reason. It was a familiar sensation.
Ella raised her hand immediately.
"Keep the hymn going! Don't stop!"
Sier stepped forward as if in answer. Light spread outward from the center of the Holy Knights. The anomaly didn't vanish instantly, but the pressure in the air changed. The soldiers' breathing gradually steadied. The brief confusion lifted, and the view ahead cleared.
But whatever lay beneath the ground did not stop.
‘It's passing through.’
That was exactly the sensation. Not an attack, not a collision. Something enormous was moving through the earth, passing beneath them. It drove straight through the heart of the plains, shifting its direction in small degrees.
And then—
A voice rang out.
There was no way to tell where it came from. It seemed to rise from beneath the ground, and yet at the same time to fall from the sky.
[Little one, where are you hiding.]
The newly joined soldiers sucked in sharp, hollow breaths.
It was a wicked whisper.
[It's all right, everything's just fine.]
The wildgrass reversed direction and pressed flat the other way.
[I'm very good at finding things that hide.]
At the far edge of the front line, one soldier readjusted his grip on his shield. His hand was drenched in sweat. He had tightened the shield strap several times already—it made no difference. His heartbeat sounded unnaturally loud.
He did not look up. He watched the ground, watched his feet, then looked back at the shield.
‘Hold out just a little longer. Then we can win.’
Just as he always had—if he did the same this time, he told himself, everything would be fine.
But the presence stirring beneath the ground moved with an unhurried ease, as though the likes of that resolve had never even factored into its calculations—so unhurried, so very unhurried.
At that moment, Calix pulled at his reins.
He knew he could not afford to listen to that voice. Without losing track of the enemy's presence, Calix shot out toward the rear of the formation like an arrow.
"Mountain Rabbits—reverse! The enemy is at the rear!"
No small questions came back. The moment the order fell, the Mountain Rabbits turned their bodies around in one motion. A thousand cavalry moved as one, following the back of a single man.
"Calix!"
Sevi Belgrado at the front raised his sword and called out. In that same moment, the vanguard of the enemy—numbering in the thousands—revealed itself from the front.
They carried weapons, but they were far too loose to be called a proper army. Their forms were not distinct enough to be the Corrupted, and they were advancing as though crawling along the ground.
"We'll handle the front!"
The wall erected by the Silver Shield Legion let out a low rumble as it completed its preparations to advance. They beat swords against shields, converting anxiety into aggression. They looked neither left nor right.
The plains held its breath.
The battle had not yet begun. But everyone felt it. Beneath this earth, the Trampler—Saulak—lay coiled.
Ready to reveal itself at any moment.