LTTH C63

Chapter 63

8 The True Britain?

 

By the time Britain, where Hansol remained, had found its calm, James and the Tower Master were still struggling within a sea of monsters.

“Damn it. They don’t show the slightest sign of thinning out.”

“If you have the breath to talk, perhaps you should cut down one more.”

“I know! I know already!”

The Tower Master’s sharp rebuke only made James’s tone more curt, though his blade did not falter. Monsters whipped aside beneath James’s strikes, their movements slowed by the Tower Master’s spells. Yet the fragile balance could shift at any moment.

“This is vile.”

James’s gaze swept over the horde pressing in on all sides. Hills of corpses rose here and there, each one their handiwork.

Of course, with one wave of his hand the Tower Master could reduce the heaps of monsters to ash. But rather than erase them, the two had chosen to use every spell and strike to fell just one more enemy.

“Whew. So, what do you think? Do we stand a chance?”

“If we can last ten more hours, perhaps.”

“Perhaps?! We’re barely lasting one hour as it is!”

James planted both feet to the ground in irritation. Unlike at the start, he could no longer rely on level-ups to mend his wounds. His level had risen since their arrival, yes, but strangely the flow of experience points had slowed.

“We’re fighting just as hard—why is the experience dropping?”

The monsters came at them no less numerous, no less ferocious. Their claws were as sharp, their persistence just as relentless.

“It’s unfair. Utterly unfair!”

James scowled, swinging his shield in frustration. A horned humanoid monster screeched as it flew away, opening a small gap in the horde. But no sooner was space cleared than another monster filled it.

An endless cycle. Kill and kill again, yet the tide did not ebb. Was there even an end at all?

Damp with sweat, James felt his optimism being eroded. His limbs grew heavy, a natural toll after such ceaseless slaughter.

And then, as if sensing his weariness, several monsters lunged at once. James thrust his shield up against those aiming for his torso, raised his boot to crush the one at his leg—but the monsters were quicker.

“Urgh!”

Something clubbed his ankle. Bone cracked. The Tower Master’s spell blasted the creature’s head apart, but James fell to one knee, his face pale.

Damn it. Did that just break?

“James! Stay with me!”

“S—sorry!”

The Tower Master tossed him a potion. James caught it with trembling hands and downed it quickly. Strength surged back into his ankle. Not as clean as a healer’s light, but enough to mend such an injury. Still, their supply was dwindling.

“Whew.”

As James staggered upright, water coiled about him, rinsing away grime, then a breeze dried his soaked clothes. The Tower Master’s spells left him refreshed, and James resumed cutting down monsters with steady precision.

“…James.”

“I said I was sorry!”

It had only been a moment’s lapse. Yet this merciless mage spared him no reprieve.

“Look to the sky.”

“The sky?”

Here it comes—another lecture, James thought, forcing himself to listen. But the Tower Master’s low voice held none of that tone. James looked upward.

“Blue…?”

“Something is changing.”

Since the Gate’s eruption, Britain’s skies had been crimson. Monsters of every kind poured from rifts unknown.

Now, in that red sky, a shift was taking place.

Had they managed to close a Gate by sheer slaughter? James wondered. But no—the system would have notified them. It was cruel, yes, but never neglectful.

“…The monsters… is it just me, or are they fewer?”

“No. They are fewer. Certainly.”

The Tower Master’s steady reply made James look again. The once-solid wall of monsters pressing their flanks was half diminished. Countless still swarmed ahead and behind, but undeniably, the numbers were falling.

“So that’s it. Then soon I’ll get back to my darling. She must be hiding safely, hm?”

“She lives, at least. Her life-force remains intact.”

“Efficient, aren’t you? So you didn’t win that ‘Tower Master’ title at poker after all.”

Hope bloomed amidst the gloom, loosening James’s tongue, drawing back his old roguish humor. The Tower Master’s hand faltered mid-casting. He, who had been maintaining barriers and buffing tirelessly, had half a mind to regret giving James that last potion.

“You seem very relaxed.”

“Eh?”

Before James could grasp his meaning, the mana wall that held the monsters back melted away.

“What—what the hell?!”

Of course the monsters surged forward, but strangely, they all converged upon James alone.

“Ah! I’m sorry! I was wrong!!”

“With the world’s number one Ranker here, I daresay you’ll manage alone. I’ll just step aside, shall I?”

The Tower Master backed away as James was buried beneath the tide, his cries pitiful. Surely the world’s top Ranker hadn’t earned that title by gambling—it was time for him to prove it.

“Help me!!”

The mage turned his spells upon the surrounding monsters, roasting them, then rubbed the ring upon his left hand. It was an artifact crafted to share signals with Hansol’s necklace.

A moment ago, Hansol’s life-flame had been flickering wildly. Now it was calm again. He must have reached safety.

…And yet, no matter how I probe, I find only myself and James here.

No matter what scrying spell he used, no trace of human life appeared save their own. Troubling. Perhaps it was time to attempt contact again.

“James. Enough whining. Get up—we’re moving.”

“I’m dying… I’m dying here…”

The Tower Master sighed, then cast a column of fire into the horde crushing James, and turned his steps toward the nearest intact building. Yes. That would do.

Isaac and Kassie returned from their scouting earlier than expected.

Guided by Kassie, Hansol finally stepped out of the white building that had been his cage. He stretched wide, looking about.

Had I truly slept a whole day?

He remembered entering at dawn, yet the world outside still lay in twilight. Surely not mere minutes had passed. No, he must have slept near twenty-four hours.

“Hansol, did you get some rest?”

“Yes, thanks to you.”

Kassie’s warm words drew a small nod and smile. The confinement had been half a prison, but Hansol had collapsed into sleep almost as soon as Kassie had guided him there.

Had Kassie not come, he might still be unconscious. Yes, quite possible.

“Good. Isaac and I went far afield. Luckily, no remnants remain.”

“That is a relief.”

“Indeed. We should be safe for some time now.”

Something in the emphasis Kassie put on safe eased even the faint trace of worry in Hansol’s chest.

Had any of Berthel’s summoned horde lingered, there would have been further casualties. Then it would not have ended with a single death.

“Everything is cleared. It’s safe. Why don’t we go eat that meal we missed last time?”

“The tavern is open already?”

Hansol tilted his head. Wasn’t it too soon? It had been only a day since a battle like war itself. Surely the aftermath could not be erased overnight.

“I made arrangements. Today of all days, people need it. Of course, I paid—bribed them with points.”

Kassie turned toward the dining hall, half boastful about the sum he had spent.

Feeling oddly useless, Hansol offered to contribute points of his own. He had spent much on skills, yes, but still had plenty left.

“What nonsense. You need only eat. Save your points for yourself. Understood?”

No sooner had he spoken than Kassie overrode him, more lecture than kindness. If Hansol pressed further, he knew he would drown in scolding. So he bowed his head meekly and followed in silence.

Lately, Kassie seemed unusually prone to lecturing him. Surely… it was only his imagination?