< 160. Survivors of Hazart Palan (1) >
*
It had been two hours since they entered the thick sea fog. The density of the fog, even for dawn, was excessive, making it feel like they were swimming through a dark cloud. Fernandez stared through the fog-drenched deck towards where the port should be.
“The sun’s up.”
“Seems so.”
Leia squinted her eyes and glared at the sky. The sunlight scattered through the fog particles, leaving everything around them a hazy white. It was hard to tell where exactly the sun was.
“No traces of magic. It’s just a weather phenomenon…”
“It’s dangerous to get any closer. Fernandez.”
“No choice then.”
“Are we turning back?”
“Give me a speedboat. I’ll go myself.”
Fernandez spoke while staring at the sea. They had already pinpointed Hazart Palan’s location using Leia’s nautical charts, so there was no chance of going the wrong way. However, Leia’s flagship was too massive to enter the fjord’s narrow strait.
Leia sighed. Even safely escorting them deep into the port wasn’t easy. Her flagship had barely been repaired after being half-destroyed by Abel’s breath. If it were in perfect condition, it might have been different, but in this state, any collision with the inland would cause significant damage to the ship.
Yet, she couldn’t just let the savior of the elf race go like this. Leia turned her head to look at Fernandez.
“How about turning back? If the fog is this thick, the port should have lit the lighthouse by now. But we can’t even see the lighthouse light. If our position isn’t wrong, then this fog isn’t just a simple weather phenomenon.”
“Then we must go in even more. We’re this close to the strait, and the fog is this thick, yet there’s not a single patrol ship. Queen Leia, do you understand what this means?”
“…It means something has gone wrong.”
In a situation where information about the northern region was extremely scarce, the only clan that could be their ally had encountered a crisis.
Thick fog is always a disadvantage for defenders. Especially in a port city, on days with heavy sea fog, patrol ships are always stationed near the harbor. The fact that not a single patrol ship was visible in a port city under the threat of war was far from a positive sign.
So Fernandez had to go. The threat lurking in that area could be clear evidence of something. In his previous life, Sadarkelisa had manifested during the final stages of the war, and now, with the timeline shifted, they needed to confirm the progress of the divine descent happening somewhere in the north.
Even the smallest clue was crucial, as he couldn’t afford to cross the northern sea and head to the southern continent in such a pressing situation. Leia knew this too. She took a deep breath and nodded.
“Alright. But if things go wrong, make sure to head back to the sea. Then sail straight south. No matter what happens, we’ll come to rescue you.”
“Thanks for the words.”
Her nautical charts, crafted by Guimerin, were extremely precise, allowing them to survey the entire nearby maritime area. At least, anything on the sea. Her words meant that she would stay in this area until Fernandez’s mission was complete.
In the middle of the sea, where almost all production activities except fishing were impossible, giving up trade, commerce, war, and plunder meant consuming the nation’s resources entirely during that period.
Fernandez nodded at her kindness and extended his hand. Leia chuckled and shook his hand. After a brief handshake, Leia turned around boldly and shouted.
“Prepare the speedboat! Our benefactor is setting sail!”
*
-Screech. Creak.
Though called a speedboat, it was essentially just a small wooden ship. In the windless harbor waters, they couldn’t use sails, so the journey relied entirely on manpower.
The oars cut through the water as the boat moved forward. Fernandez stared into the fog. He couldn’t sense any magic within the fog. So, this must be a weather phenomenon…
‘The port shouldn’t be far.’
-Look at the shadows.
At Faijashi’s words, he looked up and saw shadows flickering beyond the fog. The majestic fjord cliffs cast long shadows in the morning sunlight.
‘We’ve reached the inner harbor, but I can’t see the lighthouse.’
-Screech, thud.
Then, something lightly bumped against the stern. Kirhas perked up her ears and ran to the stern.
“Your Excellency, there’s debris.”
“Debris?”
“Ship… ship debris.”
As soon as those words were spoken, shadows flickered somewhere between the fog and the water’s surface. As they got closer, it became clear. Broken ship debris was scattered all around.
The foreigner on board bit his lip and glared at the debris with burning eyes. He quickly picked up a wooden plank. On it was a symbol of a triangular eye.
“Turandar… an allied clan…”
“Don’t rush.”
-Screech.
Fernandez pulled harder on the oars. The boat moved faster. As a result, drifting debris hit the boat more frequently.
Thud, thud. Each time a plank hit the boat, the expressions of the crew grew stiffer. In the distance, the silhouette of the port began to appear.
And beyond that silhouette, no sound could be heard.
*
“Ahhhhh!!!”
The foreigner flipped over a corpse with trembling hands and let out a scream. It wasn’t a cry of pain or fear, but pure rage.
This happened several times. Fernandez walked past the wailing man and down the road. Burnt corpses, burnt houses, hastily erected barricades, and the tangled mess of blood and flesh were scattered everywhere.
Perhaps because the fog was so thick, his sense of smell was dulled. The stench of the battlefield wasn’t as overwhelming as expected. Fernandez pushed aside a half-destroyed barricade blocking the road.
-Familiar sight.
‘Indeed. Haven’t seen this in a while.’
Such scenes of a destroyed village were common during the Great War in his previous life. Fernandez noted that there were no walls taller than his eye level.
Whether it was due to the fire or direct physical destruction, all the buildings in this village had been deliberately collapsed.
As a result, he now walked through what felt like a plain of ruins.
It felt like… I couldn’t figure out the layout of the town, but this place was probably the market. And over there would be the plaza.
Fernandez thought so as he stared straight ahead. In this fog where not a trace of magic could be felt, it was the only direction where a lingering trace of magic could be sensed.
And through it, a silhouette taller than his eye level swayed in the fog. Red eyes glowed within the shadows.
‘A demon.’
-This situation is more serious than I thought.
The smell of sulfur and the magic emanating from the presence of hell could be felt. Unlike Kirhas and Abel, or the northerners, who had been scattering and looking around since they arrived in the town, Fernandez had been walking in only one direction.
Toward where the magic was.
“Who are you?”
A growling voice spoke to him in the northern language. Fernandez reached behind his back, gripped the sword hilt, and slowly moved forward.
“A stranger. What business do you have in Hazart Palan?”
“Is there no one else but you?”
“I made it that way.”
-Swish.
A metallic sound came from beyond the fog. Despite the blurred vision, Diemonica’s hearing, spatial awareness, and Fernandez’s unique sensitivity to magic accurately gauged the distance to the creature.
Fernandez turned his head toward the sound and drew his sword. The blade slid out almost silently, firmly gripped in his hand.
The creature’s glowing eyes rose higher. It was almost at a height that could be called a giant. The glowing eyes, now at the level of a mounted cavalryman, flickered above Fernandez’s head.
“I can feel your fear, stranger.”
“You must be mistaken.”
“Your mouth says otherwise.”
-Swoosh!
Straight to the swordplay, huh? Fernandez chuckled and tilted his head toward the sound. A massive blade, with enough force to feel the wind pressure, slashed through where his head had been.
-Thud!
Almost simultaneously, Fernandez pushed off the ground and rolled halfway. Another blade struck where he had been. The wet ground, soaked by the fog, made a rough sound as it tore apart.
“Quick as a mouse, aren’t you?”
“Haha, this is…”
Fernandez let out a chuckle at the demon’s rough whisper. He felt another blade cutting through the fog, aiming for his neck.
A sense beyond sight. The sound of the sword cutting through the wind, the sensation of the fog swirling, the feeling of magic flowing. All of it intertwined to create a kind of sixth sense.
It wasn’t the first time he had fought blind. Nor was it the first time he had fought an unknown enemy, or a demon. All of it was familiar. That’s why Fernandez couldn’t help but laugh. A mouse, huh?
“Cocky brat.”
-Slice.
Just before the creature’s blade struck his neck, Fernandez sharply bent his waist and spun the greatsword halfway around. Perfect timing, perfect distribution of force. The creature’s blood splattered in all directions, and a purple hand flew through the air.
“Guh?!”
“I’ve got a lot of questions.”
-Slice.
The other arm, reflexively swung by the creature, met the same fate. Fernandez spun the greatsword once and lunged toward the flickering glowing eyes. Thick magic and fog collided with his body. Soon, the creature’s face came into view.
A look of half-panic, half-rage. Purple skin covered in scales. The creature bared its sharp teeth and let out a hiss.
-Demidrako.
‘These guys are familiar too.’
A lizard’s lower body with four legs, a human torso, and a lizard’s head. It was an adult Demidrako. The creature, now missing both arms, staggered back.
“A mere human dares?!”
“A mere demon dares.”
Fernandez replied briefly in the northern language, then kicked the creature’s legs and climbed onto its back. Sitting astride it like a horse, he thrust the greatsword precisely between its ribs.
Despite the Demidrako’s tough scales, the greatsword slid in as easily as cutting through tofu. He could feel the creature’s muscles contracting and its organs bursting at his fingertips.
The creature coughed up blood and slumped. Fernandez grabbed the back of its neck, crushing it, and twisted the greatsword lodged between its ribs.
“A mouse, in front of an Inquisition Officer?”
“Vaitas’ dog…!! How did a southerner get here?!”
“I ask the questions, you answer.”
-Crunch.
The creature’s chest was nearly split open, its organs spilling onto the ground. But demons are beings half-made of magic, their bodies existing somewhere between manifestation and flesh. While such wounds were fatal to demons—
‘It can’t die?!’
The forced magical transformation, the loss of physical form, wasn’t happening. It was as if the soul was fixed to the body, like mortals. The demon writhed in pain, drooling.
“I can’t let you off that easily.”
A fatal wound that would normally send it back, but the opponent wasn’t good. Fernandez—no, Faijashi—was a master of demonology, and among those he had dissected with his own hands were Demidrakos.
Fernandez stepped on the creature’s heaving back and slowly twisted the blade. The creature convulsed, frothing at the mouth.
“You couldn’t have done this alone. Where are the others?”
“Do you think… I’ll answer?”
“I think you will.”
-Crunch.
Fernandez twisted the greatsword, widening the wound, and whispered.
“You’re not the first uncooperative Demidrako.”
Both Faijashi and Fernandez were experts at getting uncooperative demons to talk. Perhaps the only ones in the material world. Fernandez smirked at the thought.
*
A blood-soaked head rolled in front of the northerner, who was rummaging through corpses and debris, consumed by pain and rage. The northerner stared at the lizard’s head with bloodshot eyes.
Soon, Fernandez emerged from the fog.
“I heard your yarl is still alive.”
“Did this thing do it?”
“One of them.”
“They’ll pay for this.”
The bodies of his brothers, family, and friends numbered around thirty, and if the fog lifted, they would likely find even more corpses.
The only thing keeping the northerner from going mad was his thirst for revenge and the hope that there might still be survivors.
He opened his tired, old eyes wide, took out a hand axe, and brought it down on the lizard’s skull. Fernandez shook his head as he watched the man’s thin arms and trembling muscles.
“You’d be better off tending to your family here.”
“There’s an old saying among our people, southerner.”
-Crunch.
Once again, the axe struck the demon’s skull. Dead blood splattered. The northerner smeared the blood on his face, drawing a strange pattern.
“No one lives forever.”
“I know your faith. But if the Einherjar has already fallen into the hands of demons, even if you die in battle, you won’t reach Valhalla, will you?”
“At least I won’t die in shame.”
The man stood up, axe at his waist. Despair was no longer visible on his face. Only well-contained anger remained.
Fernandez nodded and turned away.
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