An arrow flew past, grazing the side of his head.
"Why are you shooting arrows in such a cramped space?"
"Ah, it's fine! Don't you trust my skills?"
"This isn't a matter of trust or not—ah!"
Tarkiev screamed. A wererat had raised its claws and scratched his breastplate. He had managed to avoid the hatchet the wererat swung, but he couldn't dodge its claws.
Though he wasn't injured, the terrible sound of his armor being scratched and the ferocity of the wererat that he could feel beyond the metal made him cry out.
"Kekeke! Humans are weak! We, who are blessed by Mezeri, are the true rulers of this era!"
Boasting, the wererat launched a relentless attack on Tarkiev.
"Uwaaaagh!"
Tarkiev let out a sound that was somewhere between a scream and a battle cry as he kept stepping backward.
A wererat's reflexes were faster than a human's. Moreover, it was foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog, relentlessly striking with both hands. It was a terrifying sight.
A barrage of continuous attacks kept pushing Tarkiev back. He blocked the wererat's assault with his longsword, but the opponent was so fast that he had to retreat with each strike. Every time the claws and the iron club in its hands clashed against his longsword, blood splattered.
The wererat was striking with its bare hands, completely unafraid of its fingers getting cut or injured, lashing out like a mad dog.
"H-help me!"
Tarkiev screamed, but the passage was too narrow for anyone else to assist him.
—Thud!
Tarkiev wasn't a knight for nothing. As he parried the wererat's attack, he managed to counter with a stab to the neck.
"Krrrk!"
As the blade pierced its throat, even the crazed wererat couldn't endure it. It clutched its neck and collapsed. Small scratches healed quickly due to its rapid regeneration, but when suffering a fatal wound like this, that same rapid healing only prolonged its agony.
The wererat wheezed, choking as blood flooded into its lungs, drowning it alive.
"Alright! I won!"
Tarkiev cheered. But even in this situation, the wererat did not die. The one that had been shot by Midiam's arrow managed to yank out the projectile, despite having its brain punctured, and stood up again.
"Incredible! We need to finish this quickly!"
Determined to put an end to it, Tarkiev stabbed his longsword into the back of the wererat's head, severing its cervical vertebrae and driving the blade all the way through. But at that moment, the wererat tightly gripped the blade.
"Ugh?!"
It was heavy.
Tarkiev, caught off guard by the sudden resistance, found himself frozen in shock. The wererat, having pulled out the arrow and recovered, lunged at him. He was completely exposed.
At that moment—
"Move."
Azadin grabbed Tarkiev and yanked him backward, tossing him aside as he lunged forward, swinging a hand axe.
—Thud!
The charging wererat's head exploded from the bottom up, spraying brain matter backward. No matter how resilient a wererat was, there was no surviving such an attack. It died instantly.
"Wha…?"
The wererat, still clutching the sword lodged in its body, looked at the scene in disbelief. A mere hand axe had struck it, yet the power behind it was unreal. Then, Azadin gripped the hilt of Tarkiev's longsword—
The wererat, still holding onto the blade, buckled at the knees. It couldn't withstand Azadin's strength and collapsed.
'Ugh… What, what kind of monstrous strength is this? What the hell is going on?'
Cold sweat dripped from the wererat's brow.
"Now, let's talk. What happened to the people you kidnapped? Where did you take the noblewoman?"
Azadin interrogated the wererat, which was still gripping Tarkiev's sword.
"We ate them all, keheheh. If you want to find them, you'll have to dig through the piles of shit we left behind."
"That's a useless answer."
Azadin didn't bother responding further. He simply tightened his grip on Tarkiev's sword and swung it upward.
The wererat's throat was torn open, and its fingers were lopped off.
"Krrrkk."
A grotesque sound gurgled from its throat as half of its neck was severed. The wound was too severe for even its regenerative abilities to save it. It died instantly.
"Y-you killed him? But we needed to find out about my mother…."
"They wouldn't have told us anything useful anyway. These are just underlings."
Azadin handed the sword back to Tarkiev and moved forward. After walking a bit, they came across a barred iron gate blocking the exit.
"Ah."
Beyond the gate, he could see a dry riverbed leading outside. A small trickle of water flowed along the bottom, merging with the river, and near it, a refugee camp had been set up.
A familiar voice echoed through the air.
"The day of judgment is approaching! When Jupiter draws near, its pull will cause the Netherstrom to boil, awakening the ancient demon gods that have slumbered within! Older than the Kurt Divine Clan, these demon gods shall rise, and on that day, the line between the living and the dead will blur, and all shall face judgment! Repent! Share your wealth with the poor and prepare for the reckoning!"
It was the doomsayer they had seen preaching passionately from the hillside.
"That doomsayer again?"
"Yeah."
Azadin turned back and examined the corpses of the wererats he had just slain. Searching their bodies, he found a few scattered coins, a filthy piece of leather marked with the insignia of the Kurt Divine Clan—the emblem of 'Mezeri, the Rat King'—and a key.
"This leather… it's human skin?"
Azadin clicked his tongue at the wererats' grotesque habits and took the key to unlock the iron gate.
"Your mother disappeared last night, right?"
"Yes."
"Let's hurry and search. She should still be alive for now, but once night falls, it will be dangerous. If we had more time, we could take a detour instead of going through this gate…."
If they stepped outside the iron gate, they would be fully exposed to the eyes of the hidden enemies among the refugees. The enemies could easily blend into the crowd, while they would be completely visible. By investigative protocol, they should have returned to the original path and approached from another angle.
However, if they wasted time, the baroness could become food for the wererats. To save time, Azadin leaped through the iron gate.
***
The area beneath the bridge was a riverbank. Normally, this was a flood-prone zone where no buildings were allowed, but since not a single drop of spring rain had fallen and the drought had persisted, the river had significantly receded, leaving the riverbank completely dry.
The refugees there lay about, wrapped in ragged blankets, surviving by catching and eating rats, moles, and various other creatures. The air was thick with the scent of blood, as people skinned and cleaned the rodents they had caught.
"There are too many people. This will be difficult."
When Tarkiev, a knight, stepped forward, the refugees looked at Azadin's group with fear and hostility.
'This is bad.'
With all the refugees showing either hostility or terror, it was impossible to tell which among them might be part of the organization responsible for the kidnappings. Then, Midiam asked,
"The Knights of Salvation provide aid to these refugees, don't they?"
"They should. I can see blankets marked with their emblem."
"They take in volunteers among the children, right?"
"Yes, just as our clan recruits attendants, merchants, and servants."
To sustain the Holy Knights, a large support network was necessary.
"Then the only ones here with a system for relocating people would be the Knights of Salvation."
Saying this, Midiam pointed at a building. Near the riverbank stood a church belonging to the Knights of Salvation. It appeared to have been originally established to help the lower classes who lived in flood-prone areas. Among the refugees lying on the ground wrapped in thin blankets, it was the only relatively decent wooden structure with a roof and walls.
"...."
If the baroness had been kidnapped and was being held or transported, that building would be the ideal place. In fact, there was nowhere else that could serve such a purpose.
Unless all the refugees were wererats or Kurt cultists, that was the only place secluded enough to hide someone.
"Wait, are you saying that the branch of the Knights of Salvation is actually a front for the Kurt cultists? Hmm… That seems unlikely…."
"...?"
"Huh?"
Midiam and Ismail were taken aback by Azadin's reaction.
"Are you serious?"
"I-I mean, looking at the circumstances, I understand that you might be right, but… believing it is a bit difficult."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You're a herald, not a Knight of Salvation."
"I know. Even I think it sounds absurd."
Azadin sighed, then approached the doomsayer who was walking among the refugees, holding a sign.
"Excuse me."
"Oh! Repent, young one! The age of Jupiter is upon us!"
"Have you had a meal yet?"
When Azadin asked this, pulling a biscuit from his backpack, the doomsayer flinched.
"T-that…?"
"Despite the sacrifices of the Archangel of the Trinity, the world has strayed far from virtue, and tribulations continue without end. In such times, your voice is a beacon of conscience, awakening people's awareness. Please accept this small offering as a chance to accumulate merit."
Azadin expertly imitated a devout believer of the angelic faith. No, it wasn't an act—Azadin truly was a follower of the angels.
His demeanor was so convincing that even the doomsayer felt a pang of shame.
"Ah, what a fine young man. Truly devout! You put me to shame!"
Azadin handed the biscuit to the doomsayer. With the drought and hardships driving up food prices, offering food while expressing gratitude for the opportunity to perform a good deed deeply moved the doomsayer.
"May the Archangel of the Trinity bless you. You will find a good place in the afterlife."
The herald clan was condemned for the great sin of killing the Divine King, believed to be soulless and incapable of reaching the afterlife—merely ceasing to exist upon death. Yet, the doomsayer, completely unaware of Azadin's heritage, blessed him as though he had a place in the next world.
"By the way, is that relief center still operational?"
"Oh, that place was shut down because the building was too old. Now, volunteers from the parish in the warehouse district come here to provide aid instead."
"I see. Have you been inside recently?"
"I went in a long time ago, but not recently. That relief center may look like a small hut from the outside, but it was built over an old wine cellar, with underground tunnels. They stopped using it because of the toxic fumes rising from below."
"I understand. Thank you."
After hearing the doomsayer's words, Azadin sighed.