Chapter 188
Chapter 188. Sudden Encounter
―― Outside the walls of Evaroti Royal Castle.
“Uwaaahhh!!”
The narrow connecting passage barely accommodates the two standing side by side. Soldiers charge in with blood-curdling screams.
“……..”
In contrast, the blood-soaked Demon Lord’s Prince gazes coldly with terrifying intensity.
He unceremoniously jabs his spear forward, impaling one soldier along with his shield.
“Gaaahh!!”
Even splattered with his companion’s blood, the other soldier doesn’t hesitate. Instead, he pushes down the Demon Lord’s Prince’s spear with his shield and bravely leaps in closer. In the confined passage where long weapons are restricted, a sword has the advantage over a spear—!
Yet, the Demon Lord’s Prince remains unfazed, punching the soldier with his free left hand. The soldier blocks with his breastplate but finds himself winded, as if he had just taken a boar’s charge.
Seizing the opportunity, the Demon Lord’s Prince swiftly pulls back his spear, regripping it short like a dagger, and thrusts it compactly towards the soldier’s throat.
“Gah…”
Clutching his neck, the soldier collapses, spewing blood. The passage is now littered with corpses, barely leaving any space to step amidst the dead defenders.
“……..”
Silently brushing off the blood from his blade, Zilbagias ponders briefly. He can consider the castle tower to be nearly seized. Some may have gone to call for reinforcements. Should he wait here for backup or leap down and open the castle gate quickly?
If he wants to end this war, it would be better to throw open the gate and invite in the Demon Lord’s Army. However, if he aims to accrue more “power”—he should kill as many as he can before others snatch away the prey—
A hard metallic sound.
It comes from behind. He spins around like he’s been jolted. In the dim hallway, someone is there. And in his line of sight, a black dot. Even with demonic vision, it’s hard to see clearly. A chill runs down his spine, sensing ominous battlefield instincts.
Instinctively, he lowers his face.
The clang of his helmet reverberates. Something must have struck him. The impact felt akin to being hit with a hammer. He sees someone at the end of the passage tossing aside something and preparing another—
“[Prohibition of Thrusting]”
With a clang, yet another metallic noise rings out. He runs while raising his blade to shield his face. The projectile is ensnared by the forbidden magic, significantly weakening its power as it strikes his waist. His scale armor, Sindykaioas, naturally deflects the blow, but he feels a dull thud.
“Damn it—!!”
Cursing, he reaches for something else lying on the floor, the soldier at the end of the passage—yet before he can act further, Zilbagias’s blade decapitates him.
“…What is this?”
He picks up a mysterious weapon from the dead soldier’s hand. It’s a metal bow affixed to a wooden base. The Demon Lord’s Prince has no idea it’s a prototype crossbow made by dwarves.
“……..”
He pulls the trigger. The stout short arrow loaded in it is launched with a “whoosh.”
With a stern expression, Zilbagias examines the crossbow in his hands once again. Looking at the archer’s corpse, he notices he lacks an arm from the elbow down.
“A wounded soldier…”
A weapon capable of firing arrows with this kind of force. Even deploying forbidden magic, it still has enough force to puncture a body without armor. (Dwarf-made, hence) the arrow carries faint magical power, but the crossbow is far easier to handle compared to a bow.
“How did humans load this…?”
At the archer’s feet, there are two more of the same weapon. Nearby, he discerns a peculiar large hand-crank device. It seems they used it to wind the string. (Though Zilbagias doesn’t know, it’s not a crank but a pedal operated by both feet.)
“……..”
After thoroughly observing the crossbow’s mechanism and committing it to memory, Zilbagias proceeds to smash the crossbow and the winding device to smithereens with his spear.
――This knowledge shouldn’t spread widely.
Demons likely wouldn’t give it a second thought. Perhaps it could serve as playthings. The Night Elves would surely smash it, enraged that a mere human dares to challenge them! Though they might make a record before destroying it. Beastmen might show some interest, but since it would encroach upon the Night Elves’ territory, they probably wouldn’t attempt to use it openly.
The problem lies with the Undead. Specifically, the Undead King.
The strength of the Undead army comes from their physical resilience and sheer numbers. Crossbows fit that concept perfectly. In Enma’s case, he could easily create a crossbow-like Undead with an automatic winding feature, potentially forming a ranged unit armed with them.
An army showering arrows with the power comparable to Night Elf soldiers would be a nightmare. Enma feared that the practical utility of the undead weaponry could destabilize their standing in the Demon Lord Kingdom, but that aside, he would likely develop it. If by some mistake it were deployed in actual combat, the sacrifices would be among the human race.
The fewer cards the enemy has, the better.
However, it’s unlikely that the destruction ends with these three.
“…I have more to do now.”
Before the Demon Lord’s Army breaches the castle, he intends to destroy as many of these weapons as possible. It might be impossible to obliterate them all, and sooner or later, Enma will find out, but… the later, the better.
Nodding to himself, Zilbagias dashes along the castle wall’s corridor.
Due to the nature of the weapons, there’s a high likelihood they’re sniping from guard towers. He’ll focus on taking them out…!
“Whoa! Demons!?”
“Already intruded—huh!?”
As he crashes through to take down a soldier he encounters along the way, he presses on through the passage within the walls, ascending stairs as soon as he spots them.
――He hears a metallic clang.
“Bingo.”
Kicking in the door of the watchtower, he slashes into the top platform.
“What!?”
“Demons!?”
“No way!?”
As expected, multiple soldiers are loading crossbows on the winding device. While their eyes widen in shock at the sudden demonic assault, Zilbagias is internally impressed, thinking, (Oh, so they wind it with their feet. That’s far more powerful.)
“!? Die!!”
A soldier, aiming with a loaded crossbow, is startled and fires an arrow at Zilbagias. However, he loses aim due to panic, missing the shot without needing to dodge.
And then—out comes the blade.
The handful of regular soldiers ambushed have no chance to resist, and the watchtower goes silent in an instant.
“……..”
Zilbagias diligently goes about destroying the crossbows and winding devices.
Pausing, he notices a canteen on the belt of a soldier’s corpse and picks it up. He checks his magic ring just to be safe. No poison. He swallows it slowly, dousing himself with the remaining liquid to wash the blood off his armor.
“Well then.”
Descending the watchtower, he resumes running within the castle walls. Above, the angry voices of soldiers and the sounds of fierce battle can be heard. Surely, no one would suspect that demons are already inside, racing through the passage directly below…
Thus, he continues to circle the outer perimeter of the royal castle, assaulting the watchtowers and destroying the crossbows as he goes. Most of the soldiers he encounters are regular footmen, but once, he stumbles upon a priest nursing a wounded soldier.
“Demons!? [Light—”
Before the magic can be cast, he swiftly slashes through both the priest and the wounded soldier. The elite combatants are likely holding out on top of the castle walls. Even as he runs through the connecting passages, he doesn’t encounter them as much as expected.
Zilbagias isn’t actively hiding, but he dispatches anyone he comes across before they can raise an alarm, moving at high speed so that an overwhelming force of heroes doesn’t converge on him.
“……..”
Avoiding the gaze of the priest’s corpse, which looks resentfully at him, Zilbagias hastens forward.
However, the next staircase he discovers is even larger than the watchtower’s.
“Another castle gate tower…?”
It appears he has swiftly run halfway around the perimeter of the royal castle. …But what does that matter? He dashes up the stairs into the guardroom—
“—Nn!?”
As a demon bursts from the staircase, one of the waiting warriors opens his eyes wide.
“A demon!?”
The focused, murderous gazes converge on Zilbagias.
He instinctively freezes, feeling overwhelmed.
Because there, were—
“All units, prepare!!”
As a bearded warrior shouts, short-statured warriors clad in shining magical armor, all at once raise their axes and war hammers with a clatter.
Professionals in weapons crafting and specialists in combat.
――All bodies fortified with ancestral “True Hits,” the Dwarf Blacksmith Warriors.
