Chapter 223 – Eastern Marshlands
There are many reasons why the Eastern Marshlands have been designated a forbidden zone.
First of all, the sheer scale — vast enough to occupy a significant portion of the map.And yet, despite that size, the environment is so harsh that human habitation is utterly impossible.
The dense jungle clouds visibility and fills onlookers with gloom. Beneath it, the swamp water rises high enough to submerge a person's lower body.
In that murky water, unsafe to drink and likely to cause illness, one cannot easily discern what lurks within. The stench of rot overpowers every other scent, intensifying the sense of disgust.
Restricted senses in such a place bring nothing but pure fear.
And then there are the residents of the swamp.
Alligators lurking beneath the surface seize prey and spin it mercilessly, strong enough to rip apart even a seasoned warrior's lower body.
Mosquito swarms drink blood without distinction of day or night. Gigantic snakes live to swallow humans whole. Carnivorous plants, venomous insects, and toxic herbs are all commonplace.
On top of that, multiple rulers dwell in the Eastern Marshlands.
Survivors have left records of notorious demi-humans and abnormal species. Encountering them in the middle of the swamp and living to tell the tale belongs to the realm of sheer luck.
Hidden quicksands are yet another danger.
Step wrong, and the clay and sand will drag a victim down without mercy. There is no bottom. The more one struggles, the deeper the nightmare spiral.
A Mage might escape by means of flight, but without such an option, there is no salvation.
The suffocated corpses remain buried in the mud for millennia, not even rotting — as if they had just died.
Pioneering this land is exceedingly difficult.
Worse still, the benefits of doing so are negligible. It simply wasn't worth the cost. The Kingdom already held vast territories.
At best, one might shorten travel time. But practically, taking the long way around was far more economical than attempting to traverse the swamp.
The Eastern Marshlands.
From a human perspective, it was nothing more than garbage land.
And it seemed the Elves thought much the same.
***
"Behold this diseased forest, brother. This is no true nature. Nature, by definition, should overflow with vitality. Here, it is nothing but rot."
"There still seems to be plenty of life, though."
Insects alone made the density overwhelming.
"Life and vitality are entirely different things. What Elves value is harmony — a land that can serve as a dwelling. From that perspective, this marshland is barren. Moreover, the spirit I've contracted is of the forest, not the swamp. This environment suits neither me nor the spirit."
"I see. Then do swamp spirits exist?"
"They do not. Unless a forest spirit happens to settle here by chance — and even then, it's nearly unheard of. That shows just how detested this swamp is. If not for your request, I would never have set foot in this place. I would rather live among humans."
So that's how much he hates it…
At present, Karans was traveling upon roots shaped by spirit magic, unwilling to dip even a toe into the foul waters. His aversion to the swamp rivaled his distaste for humans.
'Well, I feel the same way.'
Verden was maintaining altitude with flight magic. Instinctively, he was reluctant to risk his fine robes and equipment sinking into the marsh. Who wouldn't be?
"Do other Elves feel the same way?"
"Not all, but I believe the majority would agree with me. At least, if my elder sister saw this place, she would want to overturn it completely. She despises rot and foul waters even more than I."
His sister — that must mean the World Tree's caretaker.
'Her name was Serendia, wasn't it?'
Verden recalled the Elf from Karans's memories.
It seemed Elves, too, had a variety of tastes.
That was natural, but Verden had assumed their collectivist culture would make their dispositions more uniform. Apparently not.
Still, the majority hated rot. That much was clear.
Verden stored that away as he sought to better understand the Elves.
***
As they pressed forward, they discovered a massive tree.
Unlike the other flora of the swamp, this one radiated vitality. Judging it suitable for communion, Karans pressed his hand to its trunk.
He closed his eyes, and instantly, sound vanished.
In the swamp's sudden stillness, Karans spoke.
"As I thought, the power of forest spirits doesn't manifest properly here. Even with concentration, deep communion is impossible."
"Meaning pursuit is difficult?"
"Just barely possible. The humans you're tracking did pass nearby. But if we delay, the swamp will erase their trail. We should hurry."
Fortunate, at least.
Verden and Karans quickened their pace.
Whenever they reached the end of a trace, Karans would seek another suitable tree to resume pursuit. Thanks to his efforts, Verden did not lose the trail.
But of course, not everything could go smoothly.
The residents of the swamp were closing in.
***
The Seekers were a relic exploration group of some renown.
Their line of work inevitably brought them into dangerous lands, and thus frequent encounters with demi-humans and abnormal species.
Not being adventurers, their primary principle was to avoid combat.
For that reason, they often employed magic items or alchemically crafted perfumes to mask scent and conceal presence, deceiving predators' senses.
This was standard procedure when traveling with carriages through deep forests or marshes.
Naturally, Verden and Karans lacked such preparations — they weren't relic hunters.
Their fresh scents only provoked the predators.
"They're on us again!"
Karans shouted as he loosed arrow after arrow.
Thwip! Thwip! Wooden arrows pierced the heads of insectoid creatures, only for others to immediately take their place.
Though spirit magic allowed him to keep conjuring arrows, the swarm showed no sign of thinning.
Flames flared from Verden's staff.
Five streaks of fire lashed out in all directions.
Their targets: the insect-type abnormal species. The giant mosquitoes with piercing proboscises, and the bipedal insects dripping corrosive green acid, were incinerated in an instant.
Chirr-r-r-r-rk!
The clamor only grew louder.
And with the noise came greater numbers of monsters.
Even after Verden's magic annihilated nearly a hundred, the swarm that surrounded them grew to several times that.
In the distance, faint presences of demi-humans began to draw closer.
Karans's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of them.
"Their movements are organized. Which means…"
"Yes. There's a leader commanding this horde."
The fact that demi-humans and abnormal species were mixed together made it all the more likely.
Of course, there were cases like in the Cave Without Light, where creatures tore each other apart until at last they coexisted, but that only occurred in unusually enclosed environments.
It did not suit the wide expanse of the Eastern Marshlands.
Just as that thought settled, a tremor resounded.
Thud, thud, thud.
They resembled the footsteps of a human,yet the impact was dozens of times heavier.Within the shadowed marshlands where the sky was blotted out, a colossal silhouette loomed.
[Guaaahhh…]
One of the rulers of the swamp,the Swamp Giant, Swampiden.
A sticky voice seeped out. Its body, made of swamp muck itself, writhed again and again.
Karans immediately raised his magic power.
Roots pierced into the creature's body, arrows burst against its head. Then, the
Yet the effect was meaningless — the giant was utterly unscathed.
Its fluid-like body simply regained its original form.
"Ugh, it feels like thrashing about inside a rotten bog. As if we are facing a giant Slime."
A Slime, huh.
Indeed, it looked that way.
The amorphous nature of the giant resembled that of a Slime.
Perhaps it was a variant. In that case, there would be no core. For a moment, Verden wondered how it could exist without a clear source of energy, but soon brushed the thought aside.
Among abnormal species, countless beings defied human logic.
At any rate, destroying the body completely would be the only method of subjugation.
"Karans."
"Yes, brother."
"If I were to burn away this marsh, what would happen? Would it interfere with nature's communion?"
"In a small forest, yes, but not here. This place, where life force has already withered, cannot be called nature."
Utterly Elven logic.
Verden didn't quite understand, but if there was no issue, that was enough.
He steadied Orient.
"Climb up into the trees for a while."
"Understood."
Karans rose with the forest spirit. He immediately understood what Verden was about to do.
Left alone amidst the monsters, Verden released his magic power. The pressure was so great that the surrounding creatures, closing in from all sides, recoiled in fear.
'Annoying as it is, this works out well.'
The Tomb of the Demon King was just ahead.
He had no intention of wasting time on mere swamp monsters. Rarely, irritation flashed across Verden's face as he began his calculations.
A blazing orb of fire manifested in the air.
Its heat boiled the swamp, insects flailing as they burned red. Even Swampiden stumbled back a step, struck by an instinctive alarm bell.
But it was already too late.
If it had wanted to remain one of the rulers of the marsh, if it had wished to persist as a terror to adventurers, it should never have appeared.
Triple Casting.
Enormous fireballs rained down upon the swamp.
KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-BOOM!
With eardrum-ripping explosions, the surrounding area was engulfed in an inferno. The chain of destruction did not end, slaughtering the denizens of the marsh in relentless succession.
Whether ruler or not, it made no difference. Resistance was meaningless, the outcome the same. Anything that offended the Grey Mage was obliterated.
The worst ecological disruptor in the history of the Eastern Marshlands.
Its name was Verden.
***
A portion of the marshlands was reduced to ashes.
With no need for restraint, Verden scattered elemental magic to his heart's content, and in the process devastated the swamp's habitat.
It would take years for the land to recover its former state.
To the swamp's monsters, Verden was a terrifying destroyer of their environment.
[Kiiiii…]
[Grrrk…! Grrrk…!]
And yet they could not even resist.
The residents who had once pursued prey hid in their lairs. Since the slaughter of Swampiden and two other rulers of the marsh, they had learned that survival meant avoiding him.
For abnormal species, such behavior was rare.
"At last, some quiet."
"..."
Karans kept silent.
Even as an Elf who despised the rotten marsh, he had not expected it to be reduced to such a miserable state. A faint trace of guilt stirred within him.
Though it soon faded.
Tracking within the marsh became far easier.
Their accelerated pace surpassed even that of the Seekers. Before long, they reached their destination.
The entrance to the ruins, and the camp the Seekers had erected nearby.
No sign of life. The traces of a magic circle remained, but without maintenance, it had long since lost effect.
The horses that had drawn their wagons must have been devoured by monsters. The chaos of the camp, the heavy bloodstains around scattered reins, left no doubt.
'Seems no one escaped alive like Hans did.'
Verden approached the ancient ruins.
As his hand touched it, he felt the flow of magic power. Indeed, this was the architectural work of the Magus Nation.
Though the information was no longer exclusive in modern times, only the Magus Nation could still achieve this level of refinement.
Knowledge gained from the Magic Tower.
Now, the ancient trial was before him.
He calmed his breath, suppressing tension and excitement.
At that moment, Karans spoke.
"I am glad you are satisfied, brother. It has been a most rewarding task."
"Thanks to you."
"Haha, think nothing of it."
Karans scratched his cheek awkwardly, then erased his smile and gazed at the entrance. Darkness filled his eyes.
"As you know, Elves live far longer than humans. Among them, administrators live so long that some even experienced the world of 500 years ago. Thus, the name Demon King is well known even among Elves."
Karans recalled ancient teachings.
"The elder administrators said that the Demon King bore both the qualities of a saintly ruler and of a tyrant. Human to the core, yet his power was the pinnacle of transcendence — no different than a natural disaster. They warned that, beyond the human race, he was the most dangerous being in existence."
"..."
"So be careful. In the Demon King's Tomb, I cannot even imagine what dangers may lie."
Karans would not accompany him inside.
The risks hidden within the Tomb of the Demon King were too great. Unless one's power equaled Verden's, one would be nothing but a hindrance amidst such unknowns.
Karans had said so before they even entered the marsh.
Verden accepted his sincere warning.
They shook hands.
"Indeed. Thank you for guiding me, Karans. I left plenty of money with Perne, enough for you to spend freely until I return."
"Then I shall not grow bored while waiting. Thank you."
Karans gave a small nod.
"Good fortune to you, brother."
Lightly springing from the ground, Karans retraced his path back.
His figure grew distant. Having swept aside the monsters, he would likely not be attacked. Even if surrounded as before, his skills would see him escape without a scratch.
There was no need for worry.
'…This should suffice.'
Verden reviewed every hidden card he had prepared — the enchantments newly registered in Mage's Regret, and all else.
This was truly his full strength.
Perfect beyond compare.
The Tomb of the Demon King.
Into it, the Mage of Defying the Heavens stepped forward.