Chương 21: Mine Zimnerudik

Practical Note for Junior Rift Sealing Soldiers (Underground Edition) Any soldier who enters a corrupted underground passage to seal a rift must understand three truths. First: astral lead does not grow like an ordinary mineral. It roots, blooms, creeps, and drinks. If found in clumps upon stone, timber, rail, or salt, assume the surrounding passage has already begun dying. Second: demons guarding an open rift are seldom alone. Kill one and listen. If the walls rumble, more are coming.

Third: demon hearts are valuable, but only to the living. Many junior soldiers forget this after their first successful kill. They see a corpse on the floor, a knife in their hand, and two measures of mana-growth waiting beneath the ribs. Then they kneel. Then the next demon arrives. Then their comrades gain nothing but one more body to drag home. Therefore, seal the rift first and harvest afterwards. This instruction is repeated every year. This instruction is ignored every year.

—Excerpt from 'Common Causes of Death for the Rift-Sealing Corps', Written by Razlom Kuzenov The next midday, the townsfolk of Zimnerudik gathered at the edge of the town square, biting their nails and keeping fabrics wrapped over their faces to stop the metal flakes from scraping their skin.

They didn't need to be here, but they wanted to see Orland, Kazimir, and Miriyela off—because this was, apparently, the first time the Fifth Hero did anything with a prophesied companion, so everyone wanted to get a piece of it. Orland really wished they'd stop staring at him so intently, but they weren't looking at him, he guessed. They were looking at the 'Hero'. … Just ignore them. Gotta focus. The three of them stood before the mine entrance, doing their final checks.

Miriyela was scratching Sharsana's chin, whispering good nothings to the happy little beast, while Kazimir was adjusting the many pouches and satchels filled with delving supplies across his waist. For his part, Orland was the lightest traveler. He only had his mask, his gauntlet, his relic clothes, shoes, and coat, as well as his bloodreturn flask hanging off a cord on his hip. Also, he had a full stomach. That part probably mattered the most.

Last night he'd eaten until his belly physically couldn't take anymore, and then he went to sleep with… well, he'd forgotten the exact number already, but it was around forty demon hearts or something. And he'd digested all of them already. He only had to skip breakfast and lunch earlier to do that. As a reward, he allowed himself to glance down and look at his wrist again.

Name: Orland Grade: Uncommon-1 Title: None Title Ability: None Acquired Skills: None (0/10) Might: 9 (+5) Dexterity: 8 (+1) Resilience: 10 (+3) Clarity: 9 Mana: 151/151 (+5. 6/hr) Relics: Evercoat Coat (Common-5), Regenerating Apparel Set (Common-8), Sylph Shoes (Common-9), Bloodreturn Flask (Uncommon-2), Mask of Identification (Rare-0), Star-Element Gauntlet (Rare-0) The words may not mean much to someone who couldn't read, but by the gods, it was fun seeing his numbers going up.

His mana capacity and mana regeneration had evidently gone up overnight, but he was pretty sure his base resilience level had gone up too. It was only nine when he checked yesterday. Maybe getting his skin scraped by metal flakes, then getting his ass beat by the demons, and then getting his ass beast Miriyela had just toughened his skin and bones overnight as well.

There were still three very glaring lines on his tag he didn't understand, though. He'd have to pester Kazimir or Miriyela about it soon… but right now, his chest was buzzing just thinking about how much his mana capacity had gone up overnight. And if he were to kill even more demons inside the mine…

"If we're not back within six hours, send word to the nearest major Razlom Directorate branch and request reinforcements," Kazimir said, addressing Nikolai and the rest of the soldiers standing behind them.

"Seal off the square, keep the civilians inside, and wait. Whatever you do, don't come in after us." The soldiers were definitely just as pale as the townsfolk were, standing so close to the mine entrance, but Nikolai alone nodded sternly and saluted.

"Understood, captain!"

"Former captain," Kazimir muttered. Then the old wolf turned back around, did one more check of all the supplies he was carrying into the mine with them—food, water, sheathed spatial-restoration blade, ropes, chalk, the seven bulky-as-hell Altars, and extra demon blood for Orland's bloodreturn flask, mainly—before looking at Orland and Miriyela. With that veil on, nobody could see if Miriyela was making an 'okay' face or a 'not-okay' face, but Orland grinned and gave Kazimir a thumbs-up.

Kazimir grunted, then began limping into the mine on his one good leg. Miriyela and Sharsana followed casually, their respective hammer and scaled tail dragging along the ground, but before Orland could start walking himself, the townsfolk behind him started cheering.

"You've got this, Hero!" someone shouted.

"The gods walk with you!" another shouted. More men and women joined in with blessings that sounded half-prayer, half-plea. The soldiers joined in as well, lifting their weapons with stiff arms, and while it was obvious all of them were nervous, that anxiety was quickly getting whittled away seeing the first prophesied companion strut into the mine so confidently. So for one, uncomfortable second, Orland glanced back with guilt crawling up his throat. They weren't cheering for 'him'. …

Even still, he lifted his gauntlet high and clenched his fist, forcing a grin onto his face.

"You called for a great slayer?" he shouted back. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. The town square erupted with cheers this time.

"Great Hero!" someone yelled.

"Bless thy name!" someone else shouted. It was obvious once again most people weren't entirely sure what the hell it was he just said, but hearing most of them giving him encouragement either way was enough to get his feet moving. He jogged into the mine after his party. The cold was the first thing he noticed about the mine. He'd stepped into the salt mines of Rusalka before, but there the mine was almost always stuffy with sweat and heat from the bombs they used to excavate salt rocks.

Here, it was clear in an instant the mine had been overtaken by something… out of this world. Astral lead flakes drifted through the air in slow spirals, scraping faintly across their clothes and skin. While Orland tugged his coat closer around his shoulders, Kazimir and Miriyela both touched the manalight lanterns hanging at their hips.

Soft blue light bloomed from the relics at will—they were passive-type Implement-Class relics, Kazimir had said, which could be lit at will for a small amount of mana regeneration per hour—but since Orland hadn't wanted to put a damper on his mana regeneration, he'd elected to just let the two of them be the light-men. His job was just to look around and stay alert.

"... Why do you keep saying that phrase, anyways?" Kazimir muttered, eyes tracking the drift of astral lead flakes as they walked.

"What does that even mean?"

"Whatever it is, I like it," Miriyela said casually, cozying up to Orland's side.

"Strange words they may be, but they lifted the people's hearts. A Hero must always carry courage in his mouth as much as in his hand." Orland only chuckled nervously and looked ahead instead of answering. Descending deeper into Mine Zimnerudik—which was yet another salt mine, as were most mines in this region—they travelled through uneven stretches of tunnels braced by timber supports and old rails that ran off into darkness. Pickaxes leaned abandoned against the walls.

Half-loaded minecarts sat overturned near many bends, spilling dull salt chunks across the tracks. Every few dozen steps they'd come across lanterns still burning on iron hooks, but their flames had gone sickly weak. There were even strange metallic growths on the walls, giving them a weird shimmer whenever his eyes drifted past them. It didn't take long for them to reach their first expanded chamber.

The chamber was wide, high-ceilinged, and supported by thick pillars of natural stone and wooden bracings everywhere. There weren't any minecarts on the rails here, nor were there any tools scattered anywhere, but that was probably because this entire chamber had already been strip-mined of all the salt and it was just an intermediary for mineshafts that led into deeper chambers…

but now, new mineral deposits glinted across the walls in bright red, blue, and grew veins, shimmering through the different colors slowly. One look at them and Orland gulped. Astral lead… clumps? They bulge d from the walls, floor, and ceiling like toxic organic growths, shimmering through their oily colors. Some had spread over the rails, while others crawled across the ceiling in jagged patches.

Wherever they grew, the stone they infested looked sick and cracked around the edges as if the world itself was trying to reject the infection—and failing at that. And, wandering among those clumps mindlessly, were elkkin demons. Orland counted sixteen of them quickly. Like the ones they'd fought on the surface yesterday, the demons were dragging their heavy bone clubs across the floor, but these ones were muttering and rasping in broken, senseless noises.

He couldn't make out a single word they were saying, if they were even trying to say anything. The nearest demon immediately turned towards them, dull silver eyes fixing on the three of them. Then its jaw opened in a wet, furious rasp.

"T̵h̶e̶y̷ ̶w̴h̷o̶ ̵t̷h̶r̴e̷a̶t̷e̴n̵ ̶o̸u̸r̷ ̴d̶e̸a̵t̴h̴s̵! ̷"̵" the demon screamed. Orland didn't get a word of that, but the others immediately snapped their heads over as well, and one by one they lifted their clubs, cracked their necks, and began to charge towards the three of them with their antlers lowered. They came so fast and so sudden Orland's pulse gave a hard kick, but then he took a step back as well and clenched his gauntleted fist. Alright! He forced himself to grin. Let's have a real fight this time!

He visualized the loose rocks behind him, pressed two gauntleted fingers together, and shot his arm out like a blade. In a near instant, two ten-mana rocks shaved themselves into spikes and launched forward, one of them punching through an advancing demon's throat and out through the back. The other pierced straight through another demon's eye and came out through its skull, dropping both of them mid-charge. Orland grinned so hard his cheeks hurt.

So blunt force really is a terrible idea against them, but sharp things are still sharp! Got it! Before he could take a deep breath and visualize shaving a whole bunch more ten-mana spikes behind him, though, Miriyela charged forward with her hammer." Kamennaya krov, dezhi udar!" she roared. Her molescale armor flashed blue as the first demon's club struck her bracer. Then she swung her flashing red hammer in a wide arc, and the impact detonated the demon—and through the rest of the charging line.

Three of them lost their torsos outright. Another two were hurled sideways so hard they smashed into an astral lead clump and broke against it. She advanced with the momentum with a second swing and crushed the sixth demon from shoulder to hip. Sharsana shot past her legs a breath later, pouncing onto two demons and slamming them to the floor so she could rip them apart with her jaws.

Another demon tried to swing down at her, but the mole-drake burrowed underground in the blink of an eye before bursting up behind it, dragging it down screaming. For his part, Kazimir just kept limping forward slowly—having never stopped at the mouth of the chamber like Orland did—but when the remaining five demons charged him, he whipped his right arm out.

Orland didn't even see him unsheath his chainblade, but something whipped through the air in a flash of silver anyways, and the demons' heads came off while their bodies crumpled past him quietly. … Huh. Two from his earthspikes. Six by Miriyela's hammer. Three by Sharsana's teeth and claws. Five by Kazimir's blade. Just like that, the entire chamber was cleared.

While the chamber trembled a little—almost as though in response to the sudden death of over a dozen demons—Sharsana started eating before Orland could even blink. The mole-drake waddled over to the nearest demon corpse with a happy little rumble and bit straight in, crunching through lead-reinforced pelt like it was made of glass. Kazimir and Miriyela, meanwhile, were already stepping over the corpses and moving towards the mineshaft at the far end of the chamber like this fight meant nothing to them.

"Try not to destroy the torsos next time, princess," Kazimir said, frowning at one of the mangled demon corpses he passed by.

"The soldiers can't help us harvest their hearts if they don't have any hearts to harvest. Decapitation works best, for your information. Many demons in the north can still fight for a while even with their hearts completely crushed." Miriyela coffeed proudly.

"The Kamengrad way is to utterly annihilate all who stand before our royal march."

"Then the Kamengrad way is stupid."

"Hah?"

"The Bratstvo Morosov way is to get clean kills and obtain as many demon hearts as we can to strengthen our comrades. Fight not for honor or glory—fight to make us even stronger for our next engagement."

"Then you kill the demons before they get to me." And it was that easy to start another round of bickering between the two of them, which was good, because Orland immediately saw his chance. While the two of them argued about whose method of killing demons was correct, he shuffled towards the nearest demon corpse that still had an intact chest, knelt, and unsheathed his hunting knife. He'd carved open many magic beasts for their raw meat before.

Surely carving a demon's chest open wasn't that much more difficult, but before he could start grinning to himself in anticipation of getting to eat more demon hearts, Sharsana growled at him from the second-closest demon corpse. He stared back at her, furrowing his brows.

"What?" he whispered.

"You've got that one. I'm taking this one." But Sharsana gave another growl, placing one claw possessively on the demon she was currently eating. The noise got loud enough that even Kazimir and Miriyela finally stopped arguing. For his part, Kazimir glanced around, saw Orland and Sharsana fighting over the corpses, and clicked his tongue with irritation.

"Leave the hearts, brat," he ordered.

"We can come back for them after the rift's sealed." Orland looked up sharply.

"But what if something eats them?"

"What the hell else is in this mine? And are you competing with the princess' pet for an afternoon snack?"

"No I wasn't."

"Sharsana is not my pet," Miriyela said sternly.

"She is my blood companion, my—""Chisel me blind, I don't give a shit," Kazimir muttered, turning away and unsheathing his own knife: the 'spatial-restoration blade' Nikolai had given him. The blade was short, glowing faintly bluish-green, and vibrating as he pointed it straight ahead.

"The knife's pulling towards that mineshaft, which means the rift's in that direction. Our first and foremost priority is sealing it… unless the 'Hero' would prefer to explain to Zimnerudik that he stopped to butcher corpses while more demons kept getting spewed out." Orland grumbled under his breath, but there wasn't much to say against that, so he got up and followed Kazimir down the mineshaft. Of course, he didn't forget to shoot Sharsana a glare as she followed Miriyela as well.

Sharsana gave him the stink-eye back. Greedy rat.