The final monster had been a Rank 7 Poison Zombie Giant, comprised of multiple Poison Zombies all mushed together. Heinz chopped it down with his burning blue blade as it bellowed, checked to make sure no new foes had appeared, and gave a sigh. This last monster had been significantly stronger than any of the others, formed around the core of a zombie who looked to have been a middle-aged woman.
“That’s the end of this undead rampage. Everyone still with me?” Heinz called out.
“Yeah, still here. Worn out but alive.”
“Not a scratch on me . . . but worn out for sure.”
Heinz and his party had been put to the test. The monsters in the rampage were mainly between Rank 4 and 5. There were also fewer of them than average for a monster rampage, somewhere between a few hundred and one thousand. It should’ve been no challenge for the Five Hue Blades. In fact, normally, such a horde would hardly be worth the time of day for them. The fighting should have been totally one-sided—that was the power level of a Grade A party.
However, the monsters that had swarmed into Niakki had not been normal.
More than seventy percent of the horde were undead, with the remainder made up of plant and bug monsters. All with the capacity to speak repeated just one phrase, like some kind of curse: “Kill Heinz.” A horde of monsters led by one with the “King” title could sometimes move almost as a single organism, but this was a hundred times more extreme.
On balance, though, it could also be called a good thing. The horde hadn’t been interested, specifically, in entering the town of Niakki. The guardsmen, knights, and adventurers present gathered to form up an emergency force, but the horde ignored them and the town completely, instead charging directly for one particular individual standing on the frontline of the defenders: Heinz himself.
Even if there were wounded, immobile soldiers within reach, and even if there were exhausted adventurers practically dropping their shields, the monsters ignored them to strike at Heinz instead.
The monsters were also far stronger than their Rank would have suggested and continued the attack, regardless of the numbers they lost—and regardless of whether or not they died. When the living bug monsters were slain, they promptly turned undead and pressed the attack. The bones of the defeated undead gave off bacteria and mold, in turn creating plant-type monsters like Poison Mushrooms and Venom Molds. When the plant types were chopped down, bugs emerged from their bodies and turned into new monsters.
Faced with this endless cycle of monsters, Heinz and the other defenders had in actuality faced a horde more than ten thousand strong.
“Someone really hates you, that’s for sure,” Jennifer said. She was the human fighter who had joined Heinz’s party after he moved his base of operations to the Olbaum Electorate Kingdom. “What did you do to deserve this?”
“We do kill a lot of monsters in our line of work. Plenty of reasons to upset someone somewhere. But this still felt pretty extreme,” said Diana. She was an elven priestess of the Sleep Goddess Mirl.
Before Heinz replied, he turned to look back in the direction of Niakki.
Because the monsters had only targeted the Five Hue Blades—only targeted Heinz, to be exact—the town walls were untouched. The same could not be said of the defenders, of course. But while there were some serious injuries, only a handful of unlucky ones had died.
It was a while before Heinz responded. “If I had to make a guess, I’d say that dhampir kid,” he finally said.
“The one who suddenly flew out of the adventurers’ guild?” Jennifer asked. “Can you think of any reason you might hate him?”
“I doubt that boy and this monster rampage have any connection at all,” Diana added.
Heinz wasn’t sure how to explain this to them, but he opened his mouth to try.
“I agree, for the most part. It’s just . . . his name was Vandal.”
The two women didn’t understand what his answer meant and just blinked.
Heinz honestly wasn’t sure himself. However, the dark elf “witch” he had helped captured in Milg had been named Dalshia. That incident was about seven years ago, too. On the sign in sheet at the adventurers’ guild counter, there had been the name Vandal and the age 7.
“I think he might be—”
“You’re overthinking things, Heinz.”
“Edgar?”
“There’s no way the non-vamp parent of that dhampir was a dark elf,” Edgar said. “His skin was white as snow. Impossible! Heinz, it’s just your guilt making you feel that way.”
“You . . . might have a point.”
The classic characteristics of a dhampir were their different-colored eyes, with one of them always blood-crimson in color, and their freely retractable fangs and claws. Everything else about their appearance was derived from their parents, like any other child. With a parent as a dark elf, that wax-like white skin made no sense.
Furthermore, there was no way an infant could hope to survive alone, out in the wilds. And definitely no way such a child could have managed to cross the Boundary Mountains and reach the Olbaum Electorate Kingdom.
“Yeah. I’m overthinking it. Thinking a kid like that had something to do with this rampage—I guess I’m worn out too. It’s not like he’s the Demon King reborn or anything like that.” Heinz muttered the rumors that had been on the lips on many devout to Divine Alda in recent times.
Edgar gave a chuckle, nodding along. But, behind his agreement, he had already decided to check into Vandal some more once they got back to the town.
The flow of information in Niakki is handled by that group calling themselves the Night Fangs, Edgar thought. I’ll have to reach out.
This decision by Edgar would eventually lead to the shocking Night Fangs Incident, in which it came to light that the head of the organization and other key figures were continuing to run it even after dying and becoming undead.
“More importantly, after getting back and resting up, we need to come and check out the dungeon those monsters all came from,” Heinz said. “The horde didn’t come from the direction of any known dungeons in the vicinity, meaning there must be a new one out there. It might even be Zakkato's Trial.”
Zakkato's Trial was the only confirmed so-called “wandering” dungeon in the world. It was first confirmed around 100 years ago, and it would appear somewhere on the continent, without any warning, and then vanish again after about one month. It was impossible to rate or classify, and one had never returned from it alive—excepting Heinz and the Five Hue Blades, although doing so was a feat that had reduced them to four. It was said that Zakkato’s treasure, along with the undead Zakkato himself, lay on the bottom floor and that the one who defeated him would become the true successor to the Hero Bellwood.
“If that’s the case . . . we’re going to clear it this time,” Heinz declared. “For Malti’s sake, too. First things first, though. We need to get back to the inn. Seren will be worried.”
“No, first we need to report to the guild . . . Okay, okay, I’ll do that. Just don’t blame me when the guild girls start to only look in my direction.” Edgar gave a wry grin at his leader, who, he knew, was anxious to return to the dhampir girl’s side.