Episode 412

The total number of prisoners mobilized in this subjugation expedition was 522. Around 240 of them were members of the lesser races, and the rest were from the seven races, but this wasn't important right now.

At present, only thirty-two members remained on the strike team advancing toward the carnivorous plant's main body, which was barely one-tenth of their original force. Even so, this was no small number. Thirty people were enough to form a small- to medium-sized mercenary group. However, it was nowhere near enough to kill this carnivorous plant.

Bam!

"Keok...!"

That estimate also assumed that every single one of them reached the target safely. As Leone had mentioned, the carnivorous plant sensed its prey through the vibrations transmitted along the roots beneath the ground. Flying through the air or stepping across debris from the collapsed ceiling could reduce the impact and help muffle their presence, but completely concealing it was impossible. In the end, what mattered most was the number of tendrils.

Quaven had estimated the number of tendrils to be in the thousands, but an ominous feeling told him that it could be one level higher.

"Fight as loudly as possible! Make the ground shake! If the strike team dies, we will be wiped out too!" he shouted.

Those near the entrance made a desperate commotion. Orcs and beastfolk roared while giants pounded their chests and overturned the sand.

Their struggle wasn't in vain. Most of the tendrils flocked toward them. Nevertheless, the tendrils lurking in the central space were so numerous that they couldn't be counted with a single glance. The closer they got to the main body, the more tendrils there were. To make matters worse, the tendrils around the main body sprouted hideous thorns.

"Keuok!"

"N-no...!"

Amid the chaos, the members of the strike team fell one by one. The members of the winged race flying overhead took blows to the head from the wildly thrashing tendrils and dropped from the air. One fairy leaped across the rocks as though hopping over stepping stones, only to have a tendril pierce straight through his chest. At this rate, fewer than ten people would make it to the center.

Could only ten individuals kill the main body?

At that moment, a scream erupted from the rear. "Kuaaaaaaah—!"

Startled, Quaven looked back. This resembled the war cries of the beastfolk, but it was more savage.

Dozens of orcs glared with bloodshot eyes while wildly clawing at their own chests.

It was an act close to self-harm. The thick skin of the orcs was torn, and blood flowed out. Then, they rubbed their blood-soaked palms together and smeared it over their faces as though they were washing themselves. Soon, makeup seemed to be covering their faces.

"Boil your blood! Mars is with us!"

The moment the orcs uttered the name of the War God they worshipped, a contagious heat swept over them in an instant.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!"

The warriors' cries sounded like a drum, and the airflow around him started to change. Even Quaven in the distance could feel the heat.

At that moment, the tendrils blocking their way all surged toward the orcs.

Were they provoked? Quaven wondered.

Drawing the attention of the enemy and forcibly pulling the aggro was the power contained in the orc's war cry.

Of course, that wasn't the only reason. This carnivorous plant was particularly sensitive to blood. Dozens of orcs were bleeding heavily at once, so it was inevitable that the creature's attention would be drawn straight to them.

The excited tendrils no longer tried to restrain the enemy. They lashed through the air like whips, and a constant crackling sound echoed.

The force behind a tendril swung with all its strength was like that of an anchor rope pulled tightly. The result was a blow strong enough to sever a limb, not just bruise or break bones. The blood of the prisoners scattered in all directions. As a result, the tendrils became even more excited.

This is a damn vicious cycle, Quaven thought.

This wasn't the time to look back. The longer they took, the more sacrifices would be necessary and the worse the situation would become.

"Run! Don't let their deaths be in vain!"

Right after shouting this, Quaven belatedly realized that his command sounded like something he would say to comrades he trusted to watch his back. He couldn't understand why he had spoken this way, considering that most of those present were disgusting lesser races that he hated.

By the time the distance to the carnivorous plant was finally narrowed, the strike team had dwindled to barely twenty members.

Quaven himself was bleeding on his side. His intestines would've spilled out if the wound had been any deeper.

I'm not about to collapse yet. Quaven forced himself to raise his head, only to almost sigh in dismay. Now that he faced it up close, the monster's size was much more overwhelming than he had expected. If the tendrils stretched straight up, they could very well reach the cavern's distant ceiling.

For a moment, a stupid thought crossed his mind. What... What should I aim for?

Then, he thought that he should aim for that thick, waist-like stem. Can I cut it?

Quaven had once used this axe to cut down a tree so wide that it would have required twenty grown men to wrap their arms around it, but he wasn't sure he could cut through this plant's stem. After all, even cutting a single tendril required precise concentration of strength. If he made a mistake, the blade might be damaged before he'd even cut it halfway. Nevertheless, he had to try.

He swung with all his strength, and the blade only cut away a small area. In an instant, he felt almost all his strength draining away. He had expected this, but it was incredibly tough.

Quaven swung his axe, as if to shake off the negative thoughts, but it proved difficult to peel away even the outer layer. At this rate, how long would it take to bring down this plant? Would the rear troops be able to hold out until then? The axe blade would break if he mistimed even a single swing.

At that moment, Quaven was pulled violently into the air. He instinctively tightened his grip to hold on to the axe, but the handle slipped due to the damp sweat.

A thin tendril wrapped itself around the axe and snatched it away.

This bastard! It understands the concept of weapons! He realized that, without his axe, he wouldn't be able to harm this creature's body. This plant was incredibly intelligent.

The stolen axe soared to a place beyond Quaven's reach before being shattered to pieces. The blade managed to survive the impact, but it quickly fell into the nest of tendrils and disappeared.

"I-it stole my weapon."

"That coward!"

They knew how meaningless the word "coward" was on the battlefield, but at that moment, they could understand the person saying it completely.

The ones who had just lost their only means of attack stared blankly at the plant. The words "defeat" and "death" flickered through their minds.

The monstrous plant suddenly twisted its body and shrieked, "Kaaaaaack!"

The remaining strike team was still clinging to the trunk and attacking it.

Is it because of the people who still have weapons?

That wasn't it. The ones without weapons, the lesser races, were clinging to the plant tendrils and attacking without weapons. They used their claws, fangs, or tails. If they had none of these, they used their teeth.

As he watched them, Quaven realized that the members of the lesser races had been fighting the monsters without weapons from the very beginning. This situation was hopeless for them as well, but they wouldn't simply sit there and wait to die.

An orc bit into a tendril so hard that his teeth seemed about to shatter. Finally, he managed to tear into the tissue below the outer layer, his mouth drenched in an unknown plant fluid.

"Get a grip! Boar!" the orc cried out with bloodshot eyes. "Are you planning to die just because you lost your weapon? Don't you have arms or legs? Those tusks of yours seem no worse than an orc's. Are they just for decoration?"

Quaven came back to his senses and looked at the wound he had made with his axe earlier. It was just a scratch compared to the monster's massive size, but it was wide enough for him to drive in his most primal weapon.

He sank his teeth into the opening in the stem, and an unpleasant taste spread in his mind, but he didn't care.

Quaven spat out the chunk of stem he had torn out with his teeth and roared, "It doesn't matter if you're bare-handed! Anyone who can damage the tendrils with their body, cling to them and don't let go! Those who lack the strength to do that, support the others however you can! Prevent any other tendrils from attacking!"

Orcs, beastfolk, dwarves, and anyone who could sever the tendrils with their claws or fangs attacked the stem. The winged race members and harpies, along with the quick-footed fairies and lizardmen, protected them from the smaller tendrils that lashed out.

Their coordination was clumsy at first, and mistakes were made. At times, several prisoners suffered serious injuries or were even killed. Before long, however, such incidents became rare. The intense focus demanded by a life-or-death battlefield quickly sharpened their unpracticed teamwork. After all, these prisoners were no small fries. They were seasoned warriors who regularly fought for their lives against monsters that appeared without warning. Risky operations were nothing new to them.

Time passed in a trance.

Baam!

Quaven was hit in the eyeball, and his vision flickered. He could feel that his teeth, or even his jawbone, were likely cracked, and his bite strength had weakened. After that, he shoved both hands into the wound he had made and ripped it open forcibly.

Large and small wounds were inflicted on the plant tendrils. Each individual wound was far from fatal. They were mere scratches on a monster of this scale. However, once such wounds piled up repeatedly, even a huge tree would topple.

At some point, the plant's massive trunk started to tremble. The collapse started slowly, then rapidly accelerated. Once its trunk snapped, the enormous plant could no longer support the immense weight that had once been its greatest weapon.

"The rear! Avoid it! Everyone, brace for impact!"

At Quaven's shout, the fighters who had been savagely chewing on the tendrils scrambled away.

Then, Quaven spotted a lizardman who had been caught by a tendril. "Shit! This idiot!"

He didn't know what he was doing. He moved before he could think and instantly reached the lizardman's side, severing the thick tendril trapping him.

"T-thank you."

"Shut up and run!"

Quaven and the lizardman ran as if they were hurling themselves forward. They managed to barely escape the area where the massive plant was about to fall.

Then, a thunderous impact shook the ground. It was a single, violent shock that made the entire underground space tremble as if another earthquake had struck.

Soil fell from the cracked ceiling again. No debris or rocks came crashing down, but the situation didn't improve. The dust caused by the plant's fall engulfed all of them.

"Be careful! Protect your heads any way you can!" Quaven instructed while clasping his hands together and shielding his head.

More than once, there was an impact that made them feel like their finger bones could shatter, but he never loosened his grip.

Quaven had no idea how much time had passed. In his daze, he suddenly realized that he was still alive and coughed.

Have I been holding my breath the whole time?

Quaven sucked in air like a man who hadn't breathed in a long time. Then, he coughed violently as a large amount of dust filled his airway. He covered his mouth and got up. His fingers were dislocated, but he fortunately hadn't suffered any worse injuries.

"What happened?"

"That damn weed..."

As the dust settled, the surviving prisoners slowly pushed themselves up in an unsteady, disoriented manner. Then, they froze at the sight in front of them. The carcass of the carnivorous plant had collapsed on the ground with its waist completely severed.

"Is it dead?"

"It seems so."

They initially spoke in cautious murmurs. Then, once they grasped what had happened, a strange heat started to spread among them.

"Really? We really killed this monster?"

"I-it was a legion-grade monster!"

"We won."

At someone's quiet declaration of victory, the dam holding back their emotions finally burst.

"We won! We won!"

"That damn bastard! It served it right!"

"Uhahahaha! It turns out it wasn't a big deal!"

"Say that after you clean your wounds, you idiot!"

Triumphant shouts erupted from every direction.

Quaven watched with an exhausted smile. His body was a mess, but he had been able to survive. Now, they had to take care of the survivors and figure out how to get out of this damn underground area.

At that moment, they felt a faint vibration.

Quaven frowned. "Hey! I understand that this is exciting, but be quiet. The cave is on the verge of collapsing."

Just as a careless shout in the snowy mountains could trigger an avalanche, raising their voices here for no reason could get them crushed to death under a landslide. Of course, the probability of that happening was low.

Those who had been talking finally shut their mouths, but the strange vibration didn't subside.

Just as Quaven started feeling uncomfortable, the ground turned over and terrible screams echoed everywhere.

"Kieeeeeek!" The severed plant suddenly twisted its body as if it were having a seizure.

That bastard is still alive!

This was merely the final thrashing motion of a dying creature, but there were thousands of tendrils, so it was an unbearable disaster.

"D-dodge!"

"Dodge? This time, I will completely kill that bastard—"

"You bastard! Why approach it? This damn thing will die on its own if we just leave it be!"

Chaos erupted again among the prisoners who had just started to celebrate their victory.

Quaven was in the middle of assessing the situation when he suddenly shifted his gaze toward the ceiling. Someone was standing there.

He stared at the sight above him with a stunned expression. At first, he thought he was mistaken, but that wasn't the case. A petite figure dressed entirely in black was standing in the air and looking down.

Strangely enough, the sound of the figure drawing his sword clearly reached Quaven's ears. Then, a purple flash appeared.

Baaaaaang!

The figure dropped straight down from the cave ceiling and attacked the top of the carnivorous plant. This was the end. The monster that the strike team had risked their lives to chip away at for so long died with a single strike. It wasn't cleanly cut, but it was crushed and split grotesquely down the middle.

This time, the monster had truly died, but there was no cheering. Breathless silence filled the place. The gloomy, oppressive aura surrounding the figure who had appeared out of nowhere forced everyone to be silent.

The person who had killed this monster with a single blow looked like a mere boy with shabby, torn clothes, but there was a dignity and authority reminiscent of royalty in his gaze, expression, and movements.

The boy wiped the blood from his face and looked around with red eyes that didn't show goodwill or hostility.

"You survived longer than I thought. This may be sudden, but all the members of the lesser races here... I don't hold any grudges against you, but you have to die. If you don't fight back, I'll let you die without any pain." Delac wiped the blood from his sword and asked, "Who will die first?"