Chapter 120: Dungeon Competition [2]

Figures in pure white plate armor, their capes fluttering like dove wings, charged out of the mist.

The Holy Knights.

Their blades glowed with golden light, cutting through the Imperial rear guard like a hot knife through butter.

"It’s the Church!" "We’re sandwiched!" "Surrender! I surrender!"

The Imperial morale shattered instantly.

"We’ve won!" "Uooooh!"

The battle ended not with a whimper, but with a roar of triumph. The surviving Imperial soldiers threw down their weapons, and the militia erupted into cheers.

The rugged Militia Leader, his face smeared with soot and blood, roared with joy. He embraced his men, dancing a jig in the mud.

Then, he spotted me climbing down from my perch.

"Mercenary!"

"?!"

Before I could react, the mountain of a man rushed over, grabbed me in a bear hug, and hoisted me high into the air.

"Incredible! Absolutely incredible! How do you pull off such shots?! I saw that Captain’s helm fly off from three hundred paces!"

He spun me around, laughing.

"This victory is practically yours, my friend!"

At the Leader’s shout, the militia turned their attention to me. Though they hadn’t seen exactly what I did, they knew the "Shadow" in the trees had cleared the path. They raised their weapons, cheering my pseudonym.

"Shadow! Shadow!"

I patted the Leader’s shoulder awkwardly until he put me down.

’He saw that?’

I had fired dozens of strategic shots from concealment. For a peasant leader to track my kills amidst the chaos... this NPC had high perception.

"Excuse me."

The celebration quieted as a group of white-armored knights approached.

The lead Knight removed his helm, revealing a stern, aged face marked by battle scars and discipline. His aura was distinct—refined, sharp, and holy.

"I am Commander Valen, of the Holy Church’s 4th Order."

The Commander smiled, a gesture that softened his stern features.

"We heard the commotion and hastened our march. It seems we arrived just in time to witness a miracle."

The Militia Leader wiped the blood off his face and bowed clumsily.

"Commander Valen... wait, just Valen? No surname?"

The Commander nodded gracefully.

"We of the Cloth cast aside our family names when we take the vows. It signifies that we dedicate everything to the Great Order of the Universe, rather than a single house."

"Oh, I see. Sorry, we’re just ignorant country folk..."

"It’s fine." Valen looked over the ragtag group, his eyes lingering on the stolen Imperial armor. "Illiteracy is not a crime, but inaction is. Your militia’s combat prowess was impressive. We expected a fierce battle, but were surprised to only have to clean up the remnants."

"It’s because everyone got fired up knowing the White Knights were coming! Hahaha!"

The militia laughed heartily at the Leader’s jest. Being praised by a Commander of the legendary Holy Church was a badge of honor they would tell their grandchildren about.

In the warm atmosphere, Commander Valen gestured to the captured supply wagons.

"We are moving these supplies to the Allied Forces’ frontline base in the Valley of Ash. It is a three-day march. Will you join us?"

The Militia Leader slammed his fist against his chest.

"Of course! It’s our honor!"

****

The combined force of the militia and the Holy Knights traveled along the dirt roads.

In the simulation, days passed. The sun set and rose. We camped, we marched, we ate.

In reality, maybe 30 minutes had passed in the tournament hall.

The time dilation was disorienting, but I kept my focus. During the transport, I volunteered to guard the rear. It was easier to spot potential pursuers, and more importantly, I didn’t mesh well with the boisterous militia or the altruistic priests.

Occasionally, a Holy Knight or a curious militia member would approach to chat, but I’d excuse myself, claiming I needed to scout the perimeter.

However, I couldn’t avoid them forever.

On the second night, I was called to the main campfire.

"An ’Officers’ Dinner’..." I muttered, adjusting my scarf. "This doesn’t seem like my place."

"Come on, don’t be modest! You’re officer material, Mercenary!" The Militia Leader, whose name I learned was Bardon, waved me over.

"Haha, join us. A sniper needs to eat too," Commander Valen added, sitting on a log.

I sighed and sat between them. A pot of vegetable soup was bubbling over the fire.

I accepted a bowl. My Shadow-Weave Suit’s mask retracted slightly at the chin, allowing me to eat without exposing my full face.

"So, Mercenary," Valen asked, his eyes sharp despite his relaxed posture. "Where are you from? You handle that weapon like a veteran of the Western Wars. Are you a sniper from a fallen nation?"

"..."

I paused, spoon halfway to my mouth.

They were probing. A weapon like the Winchester didn’t exist in this era’s standard arsenal. It was an anomaly.

I considered denying it, but a good lie is built on partial truths.

"More precisely... my father was," I said, my voice low. "I just inherited his teachings. And his tools."

"I see." Valen nodded slowly. "Leader Bardon praised you so highly, I thought you were a retired elite. That gun of yours... the mechanism is unlike anything I’ve seen in the Empire or the Kingdom."

"It’s custom," I said simply.

Valen exchanged a look with Bardon. The intent became clear. They weren’t just curious; they were recruiting.

Bardon cleared his throat, his expression turning serious.

"Here’s the thing, friend. We plan to join the Allied Forces and push back the Osius Empire. People across the land are gathering at General Hamerd’s call. We need every blade, every spell... and every bullet."

He looked me in the eyes.

"Even a cat’s paw might make a difference in this war. But a tiger’s claw like yours? It could change a battle. We wanted to know if you’ll stick with us."

"I..."

I looked at Bardon. He was a decent commander—charismatic, brave, if a bit simple.

And this was the Quest Objective: [Join the Main Force].

"If there’s room in the vanguard," I said, finishing my soup. "I’ll join."

Bardon grinned, slapping my back hard enough to rattle my teeth.

"Hah! I knew it! Welcome to the revolution!"

***

[The Next Day]

The sun was high as we neared the Valley of Ash. The terrain had changed from forest to rocky canyons.

I moved from the rear guard to the vanguard, riding a borrowed horse alongside Commander Valen and Bardon.

Suddenly, a chill ran up my spine.

[Skill: Detection - Triggered]

I frowned, leaning forward in the saddle.

Valen, noticing my shift in demeanor, looked at me.

"Mercenary? Is something wrong?"

"...Someone’s coming."

"Coming?"

Valen looked at the empty canyon road ahead. "I don’t see anyone."

"Three hundred meters. Closing fast."

Valen squinted. "I still don’t... ah!"

Far off, a cloud of dust appeared. A single soldier on horseback galloped urgently toward us. He was slumped over the horse’s neck, and even from this distance, I could see three black arrows lodged in his back.

"...Something’s wrong," Valen’s voice hardened. "We need to hurry."

"Let’s go!"

We kicked our horses into a gallop, meeting the rider halfway.

The horse slowed to a halt, foaming at the mouth. The soldier slid off the saddle, hitting the dust with a thud.

"Soldier!"

Bardon jumped down, quickly checking the man’s pulse. He snapped the shafts of the arrows to prevent further damage.

Valen dismounted, his hands glowing with the soft white light of Divine Force.

"He’s losing blood fast. Healing!"

I slapped the messenger’s cheek lightly to wake him.

"Hey. Soldier. Stay with us."

The man’s eyes fluttered open. They were glazed with pain and terror.

"Ugh... ugh..."

"Soldier, what happened?" Bardon demanded. "Where is the forward scout unit?"

The soldier grabbed Bardon’s tunic, his bloody fingers leaving stains on the stolen Imperial armor.

"An... ambush..." he wheezed, blood bubbling past his lips. "The Valley... it’s a trap... We need... support..."

His head lolled back.

Valen looked up, his face grim.

His head lolled back. The light in his eyes faded.

Commander Valen withdrew his hands. The soft, golden glow of Divine Force—the sacred energy granted only to the faithful of the Church—faded from his palms. It was too late. The wound was fatal before they had even arrived.

Valen closed the soldier’s eyes with a solemn expression.

"May the Goddess guide your soul to the Eternal Garden."

He stood up, his white cape stained with the dust of the road. His expression, usually calm and benevolent, hardened into something resembling a statue of judgment.

"The Allied Base is under attack," Valen stated, his voice vibrating with suppressed fury. "If the Valley falls, the rebellion loses its foothold in the North."

Bardon, the Militia Leader, punched his palm.

"Then what are we waiting for? We have to move! My boys are ready to bleed!"

I looked toward the canyon ahead. Black smoke was billowing over the ridge, staining the purple sky of the simulation darker.

"Mount up," I said, swinging back onto my horse. "If we ride hard, we can hit their flank in ten minutes."

****

[The Ridge Overlooking Ash Valley]

We abandoned the horses just below the crest of the hill and crawled to the edge of the cliff.

Below us, the Valley of Ash lived up to its name.

The Allied Base—a wooden fortress built against the canyon wall—was burning.

Thousands of Imperial soldiers swarmed the valley floor like black ants. Siege engines pounded the gates. Arrows flew in clouds so thick they momentarily blocked out the sun.

"By the Goddess..." Valen whispered. "There must be three thousand of them. The Osius Empire has committed the 7th Legion."

"And we have... what? Three hundred militia and fifty Holy Knights?" Bardon grit his teeth. "This is suicide."

I scanned the battlefield through the scope of my Winchester.

The Allied forces were holding, but barely. The main gate was splintering. I could see the defenders on the walls—mismatched rebels and a few Holy Knights—desperately pouring boiling oil and casting rudimentary spells.

But the real problem wasn’t the infantry.

It was the Battle Mages stationed in the rear.

I zoomed in.

Five Imperial Mages stood on a raised platform, channeling a massive spell. A ball of fire, easily ten meters in diameter, was forming above their staffs.

"Siege Magic," I noted. "Once they launch that, the gate is gone. And everyone behind it turns to ash."

Valen drew his sword. The blade hummed, engulfed in radiant Divine Force.

"We must disrupt them. Bardon, take your men and charge the infantry flank. Create chaos."

"And you, Commander?"

"I will lead my Knights straight down the center. We will draw their attention."

Valen turned to me.

"Mercenary. Can you cover us?"

I looked at the chaotic battlefield, then at the Mages in the back. The distance was over 800 meters. With the wind and the elevation difference, it was a shot most snipers would pray over.

I racked the bolt.

"Just keep them off the ridge," I said coldly. "I’ll handle the magic."

"Good."

Valen turned to his men.

"KNIGHTS OF THE WHITE ORDER! FOR THE GODDESS! FOR FREEDOM!"

"UUUUOOOOOH!"