Chapter 169
The Cult of the Demon Realm sought to turn the continent into a demonic wasteland.
Why?
“Why is the Demon Realm considered wrong? Why do we refuse to see that our future lies in transformation? Fear of the unknown is natural. But running away doesn’t solve everything.”
Utter nonsense.
So why turn the continent into a Demon Realm?
“Because it is right.”
If ever there was a group that embodied the very definition of fanaticism, it was them.
Reason? None.
Justification? Not even worth looking for.
They believed—simply because they believed.
Absolute, unquestioning faith.
That was what made cultists truly insane.
That was why the inquisitors hunted them down with such fervor.
In truth, the cult had attempted demonization rituals numerous times before. Even in this land, something similar had happened.
A hundred freshly caught young goats sacrificed to summon gnolls—an attempt to transform the region into a land of monsters and beasts.
And no one had expected it.
The cult had begun gathering monsters before the frontier village was even built.
At first, they had planned to create a kingdom of gnolls. Then, at some point, it shifted to attacking the village instead.
A properly constructed settlement, fortified with walls and watchtowers—if done right, it could become a small fortress.
And when such a rich feast walked in on its own—
“The gods have blessed us.”
That was what the cultists truly believed.
A divine command to fatten the monsters and grow their ranks.
The sacrifices were offering themselves willingly. And so began the feast—the swallowing of an entire frontier village.
This was no mere reckless assault.
The cultists had prepared meticulously.
They infiltrated mercenary groups.
They gathered even more gnolls.
Their rituals were deeply entwined with monsters.
Masters of brainwashing and manipulation, they took action. Even lesser priests got involved.
Gnolls, with their pack-hunting instincts, moved in hordes.
It was easy for them to form colonies—so long as they had a leader.
With curses and enhancements, they created one.
And thus, they forged an army of gnolls.
Such a feat—expanding a colony into the hundreds—was not something achieved overnight.
The cultists had poured their blood, sweat, and tears into it.
“We shall build our sacred land!”
They declared their purpose in the heart of the wilderness.
Pouring Krong into arming the gnolls.
Creating a leader, binding it with enchantments.
In terms of resources spent, they had invested more than it would take to build a village.
But it was worth it. Great sacrifices were required for great rewards.
This was merely the beginning of the Cult of the Demon Realm’s grand plan.
While the cultists spent their time and resources, the settlers built their walls.
This was the truth of the situation.
Something Encrid had no way of knowing.
Something no one could have predicted.
But so what?
It didn’t matter.
Knowing wouldn’t change anything.
Encrid didn’t care about backstories. He didn’t ask why.
Monsters were here.
The only thing that mattered was killing them all.
They were beasts and monsters.
They just needed to be cut down.
“What the hell… A horde like this?”
Krys, at least, had a vague sense of what was happening.
A force of this scale, fully armed, appearing out of nowhere?
Spies infiltrating the village?
It was utterly absurd.
After holding the chief hostage, listening to the howls beyond the walls, and tending to Finn’s wounds,
Krys rushed to the watchtower.
He checked the numbers.
He calculated.
His mind raced.
Cultists.
The worst kind of enemies.
The scourge of the entire continent.
Driven by malice, fueled by hostility.
What else could explain this monstrous horde?
Krys could tell—this was built on the cult’s blood, sweat, and resources.
But what did it matter?
Knowing changed nothing.
Survival was what mattered.
And so, Krys thought harder.
No trebuchets. No mangonels.
They had no siege weapons.
They had no large-scale means of counterattack.
And compared to the monsters’ numbers, they were undoubtedly outnumbered.
The walls wouldn’t hold forever.
The gnolls and hyenas numbered in the hundreds.
Could they really withstand this?
Hyena beasts clawed at the barricades, scratching deep grooves into the wood.
Wouldn’t a weak point eventually give way?
A small crack would become a hole.
A hole would become an entryway.
Gnolls wielding weapons slammed the walls.
Axes hacked at the barricades.
Countless scars accumulated on the wood.
Were there any weak points?
If a breach opened, could they hold it?
Probably not.
This was a battle with a time limit.
They couldn’t hold forever.
That was the conclusion.
So they needed reinforcements.
He had seen birds—
Carrier pigeons with blue feathers, commonly used for urgent messages.
If they sent them now, how long until help arrived?
Too long.
The answer remained the same.
Can we survive this?
A deep sense of unease filled Krys.
When they spoke of the wall’s strength earlier, Krys had expected a normal colony attack.
Thirty to fifty gnolls at most.
But this?
This was ten times that number.
“This is bad.”
Dread settled in Krys’s gut.
He instinctively looked for his squad leader.
Encrid.
He found him.
Walking calmly up the wall.
Not a hint of unease.
If anything, he almost looked… relaxed.
Steady.
Purposeful.
Krys knew—his commander was too obsessed with training to be called a strategist,
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t sharp.
If Encrid was acting this calmly, he must have had something to believe in.
That thought crossed Krys’s mind.
But there was nothing he could do now.
He had already treated Finn’s wound, surveyed the watchtower, and—
“Hey, I’m still in pain, you know.”
Finn called up from below.
“I’m coming down,” Krys sighed.
Finn’s wound had been bandaged, but there was still a hole in her stomach.
Somehow, her organs had remained intact.
“I used the Aile Carraz Style’s ‘Intestinal Evasion Technique.’”
“…Is that even real?”
“Just kidding.”
Even in this situation, Finn had enough energy to crack a joke.
Krys snorted.
“You sound like Rem’s wife.”
“That’s an insult. I challenge you to a duel.”
“Sure, sure.”
Krys inspected Finn’s wound again.
Moving too much would be difficult, but at least it wasn’t fatal.
“You won’t die.”
“For now,” Finn muttered.
She had realized it, too.
The wall wouldn’t hold forever.
“Yeah, well.”
Krys brushed it off.
If things went south, she had an escape plan.
Her earlier scouting around the village wasn’t for nothing.
She always prepared for the worst.
And she had already found her way out.
—
The top of the wall had a long battlement.
Below it, gnolls and hyena beasts howled, their numbers thick as a writhing sea.
“This is a goddamn monster farm.”
“What the fuck.”
“Why are there so many? Where the hell did they all come from?!”
“Pam? Pam is dead—wait, Ralph too?!”
Monsters swarmed below, while the corpses of fallen comrades lay above.
When Encrid arrived, the guards hadn’t even drawn their bows.
They were frozen.
At least none of them were wailing or pissing themselves.
Boom!
“Guuuuhhh!”
A gnoll slammed against the gate, howling.
The barricade trembled under the impact, but it didn’t collapse.
Not yet.
They rammed their shoulders against the wood, kicked, hacked at it with weapons—
But the wall held.
For now.
It was sturdy.
The same couldn’t be said for the guards.
The sheer force of the gnoll horde had broken their morale.
They were already losing.
“What the hell is this?!”
One of the guards shouted.
This wasn’t the kingdom’s central territory. It wasn’t even the northern frontier, where the Border Guards held the line.
This was further out.
Pennhanil was in the north, where monsters were common—
But even so, this was not normal.
This was something no one had ever seen.
Fear.
Oppression.
That was the power of a monstrous horde.
A few gnolls—clearly mutations—grabbed large stones from the ground and hurled them.
Not pebbles.
Rocks the size of human heads.
They slammed against the barricade with heavy thunks.
Smaller stones soared over the wall, landing dangerously close to the guards.
“Shit—!”
They ducked behind the battlements.
One thing was clear:
The walls were strong.
Even Krys had been certain—this barricade wouldn’t fall to a normal monster colony.
But no one had accounted for this many.
And if they just stood here waiting—
It would eventually collapse.
The shaking gate.
The frightened guards.
This wasn’t going to work.
If fear consumed them, they were dead.
If they hesitated and waited for the inevitable, all their efforts this morning would have been for nothing.
“If you’re not going to shoot, give me the bow.”
Encrid’s voice cut through the tension.
He stepped onto the wall, holding out his hand.
“Huh?”
“If you’re just going to stand there, hand it over.”
Before the baffled guard could react, Encrid snatched the bow from his hands.
A shortbow.
Short arrows.
Not ideal for long-range shots, but when there were this many monsters, accuracy barely mattered.
“It’s been a while since I used one.”
He had trained with a bow before.
Testing the string, Encrid took a moment to refresh his movements.
Left hand extended, gripping the bow.
Arrow nocked, string pulled back.
The bow creaked as it bent under tension.
Power wasn’t an issue.
Encrid aimed at a gnoll and loosed.
Thunk!
Coincidentally, at that moment, another gnoll rammed into the barricade.
His arrow sailed through the air—
And landed squarely in the dirt.
Trampled.
Broken.
By the very gnolls it was meant to hit.
“Huh. Missed.”
His aim had been perfect.
But the arrow had still missed.
“You fight well, but is this your first time with a bow?”
A familiar voice.
The squad leader.
The same one who had refused to attack earlier, but had also been the only one to stay calm in past encounters.
He was still calm now.
Encrid turned to look at him.
“Didn’t hear you,” he said, cupping a hand to his ear.
“You definitely did.”
Encrid just shrugged.
The squad leader sighed, then pushed past him—
Only to stop, take a deep breath, and bellow.
“DO YOU ALL WANT TO DIE?!”
The sheer force of his voice slammed into the stunned guards.
“Forget about Pam! Stop staring at your dead comrades! Can’t you see what’s in front of you?! Pick up your damn bows!”
Krys had been right.
These men had discipline.
They had been trained.
They just needed someone to snap them out of it.
Just then, on the opposite side of the wall, Deutsch Pullman appeared.
The former mercenary leader.
What had they called him before?
The One-Armed Glaive?
No, it was the One-Eyed Glaive.
His single remaining eye locked onto Encrid.
Fierce.
And then—
He roared.
“Fire! The walls won’t fall! Shoot before those damn rocks crush you!”
Encrid wasn’t sure how many guards there were, but they had plenty of arrows.
And at least twenty archers.
“Uh… can I have my bow back?”
The soldier from earlier hesitantly approached.
Encrid handed it over without protest.
Bows just weren’t his thing.
Another skill to add to his training list later.
Soon, over twenty archers loosed their arrows.
“Guuuuuhhh!”
A gnoll’s earsplitting shriek tore through the air.
Boom!
They slammed their bodies against the barricade.
Twudududung!
Bowstrings twanged in unison.
Thunk! Thunk!
Unlike Encrid’s failed shot, these arrows found their marks.
Gnolls and hyena beasts took hits in the head, arms, and legs.
Some wore crude, rusted armor, but many were bare-skinned.
How had they even acquired these weapons?
There had to be at least five hundred of them.
Arming five hundred soldiers would break a lord’s treasury.
Something was seriously wrong here.
A conspiracy?
Who cared.
All that mattered was that the guards had regained their composure.
Encrid watched arrows rain down and monsters fall.
For the first time since arriving, he had time.
The barricade was holding.
There was no need to dodge and weave through snapping hyena jaws.
So now, he could look.
And there it was.
A single, smaller gnoll standing atop a small mound.
The colony’s leader.
Every gnoll horde needed one—someone to enforce the law of strength.
A figure that stood apart, commanding from an elevated position.
The rest howled, charged, swung weapons wildly.
But that one remained still.
Encrid had died to that bastard many times before.
He had learned to recognize its face.
At this point, he could probably tell gnolls apart by beauty rankings.
“This side is yours.”
Encrid spoke, then descended the wall.
Something felt missing.
He paused.
“No matter what happens, don’t stop shooting! If you see an ally, don’t shoot them!”
“What the hell was that?!”
Deutsch Pullman snapped his head toward Encrid.
He had been shouting for his men to aim at the heads of the enemies near the gate—
And then Encrid had just yelled that.
What the hell was that lunatic thinking?
He had already killed some of his own men—
Yet the squad leader insisted they had been acting strange.
And one of his men was missing.
The smart one.
But this wasn’t the time to argue.
Deutsch was a veteran mercenary. He knew priorities.
First, kill the monsters.
Then, deal with that lunatic himself.
He would make Encrid explain—
With a sword at his throat, if necessary.
—
Encrid had no way of knowing what was going through Deutsch’s mind.
Not that it mattered.
He had just reached the men stacking wood and stone to reinforce the gate.
“Esther.”
The panther, still standing guard, trotted to his side.
Encrid spoke politely.
“Can you watch my back?”
One of the guards turned.
…Is he talking to the leopard?
“Grah.”
Esther nodded.
What the fuck is that?
Even in this mess, it was impossible to ignore that scene.
“Hey! What are you doing?!”
Another soldier yanked the distracted one back.
“Coming!”
They resumed stacking.
If the gate broke, they would have to hold it themselves.
Which meant close-quarters combat.
One soldier swallowed hard.
Could he do it?
He had trained, but only been in two real fights.
His knees shook.
There are monsters beyond this wall.
Then—
“From now on, you follow my command.”
The outsider.
The newly appointed squad leader.
The madman who talked to a panther.
He stepped forward and spoke.
“Can this gate open a little?”
What the hell kind of order was that?
