The Successor from the Mountain Pass
The rain fell for five days before it finally stopped. As the black clouds scattered like they were fleeing, the blue sky revealed itself, and sunlight began to dry the land. Ulrich stood beneath the shade of the forest, breathing in the damp summer air.
He walked through the woods. To reach Iselburg, they had to pass through this forest, but before they could emerge, the sun had begun to set. While the others prepared camp, he said he would gather more provisions and went to search the forest.
Roberta followed him. On the surface, it was to hunt together—but that wasn't her true reason. Once they were far enough that the dwarf Toruhel could no longer hear them, she spoke.
"It seems Toruhel doesn't know anything about you."
By "doesn't know," she meant Ulrich.
"It appears so."
The dwarf had said that a human named Selim had saved their enslaved ancestors and freed them in a distant southern mountain range. But he did not know that Selim still lived, nor that Selim was Ulrich.
It was the complete opposite of Yudebora, the fairy. The fairies of the Kuiania Forest remembered him and knew he was still alive—but among the dwarves, the line had been broken.
Toruhel had mentioned that there were once clans who revered Selim more than Keme, the goddess of the earth. Roberta thought those must have been dwarves who knew the truth, like the fairies. But with their lineage cut off, the hidden history had likely been forgotten.
"Doesn't that bother you?"
"Bother me? Why would you think that?"
When Roberta hesitated, Ulrich continued.
"For me, this is better. Being forgotten is more comfortable. If I wanted to be remembered, I wouldn't have changed my name in the first place. Don't you think?"
"That… makes sense."
"Rather than that, try to think about why Toruhel came here."
"Why he came?" she tilted her head.
"Didn't he already say why?"
Wasn't it to check on the crown? She looked at Ulrich. The dwarf had said earlier that there was a problem with the crown he had made with his brothers—hinting that someone had tampered with it.
Each dwarf was a master craftsman, and their pride in their work was immense. They despised others meddling with their creations without permission.
Especially that crown—it was modeled after an imperial crown, and he himself had called it special. It seemed only natural that he would travel all this way upon hearing such rumors.
"Roberta, think carefully. Are dwarves only found in the Esta-Mauneto mountains? There are dwarves all over the world. Why do you think they chose Toruhel and his brothers in particular?"
Now that he mentioned it, it was true.
There were many dwarves more renowned than Toruhel. In fact, she had never even heard of him before, nor of his homeland, the Feira Mountain Pass. Even the Esta-Mauneto range she knew only from records.
Entrusting a ceremonial crown for someone who would usher in a new era to an unknown dwarf—it was strange when you thought about it.
"…And it's strange how that man even heard about it. I don't know how someone who attended the Osnover coronation could have met him in the first place."
"Exactly. The more you dig into it, the more it ceases to look like coincidence."
Which meant someone had intervened.
And as far as she knew, there was only one group capable of such a thing.
"You think the Pantheon is involved."
"They've been the most active so far."
"But," Ulrich added, stopping in his tracks.
The bushes ahead rustled, and suddenly a deer leapt out. Its damp brown fur glistened as it began grazing, unaware of the two.
Ulrich raised his short spear to head height with his right hand—and threw it. With a dull thud, the spear pierced through the deer's head.
"It's too early to be certain. As you know, there are too many parties entangled with me. It wouldn't be strange for any of them to be pulling strings."
When the two returned to camp with the deer, three figures greeted them—Fritz, Toruhel, and a man lying face down with a wound on his back.
"Was there an attack?" Roberta scanned the surroundings, but saw no traces. If a beast or bandits had struck, there should have been footprints or bodies. Instead, there was only a single injured man, breathing heavily.
"What happened?"
"A monster. Apparently one appeared in the village ahead."
"A monster?"
Roberta set aside her doubts for the moment and examined the injured man. The skin on his back had been torn open—four claw marks, like those of a beast, ran across it. The wounds hadn't closed; blood flowed red, mixed with sweat.
"Fritz, there should be a medicine case in my bag. Can you check?"
"Ah, yes!"
While he searched, she offered a prayer to Ganymea and moved the mana within her body. Soon, mana gathered at the tips of her left hand, and she placed it over the wound.
"Ugh—!"
The man groaned and trembled. She pressed down on his shoulder with her right hand to keep him still. The wound beneath her left hand began to close. As the mana enveloped it, it erased the injury like wind sweeping away dust.
"Is this what you're looking for?"
Fritz brought over a small wooden box. Inside, it was divided into compartments, each holding small glass vials. Roberta took one containing gray pills.
They were about the size of a fingernail. She fed one to the injured man with water, and color slowly returned to his face.
"Th-thank you… Priestess."
"I only did what needed to be done," Roberta replied modestly.
"But more importantly—you said this wound was caused by a monster? Could you explain in detail? What happened?"
"Y-yes… it all happened so suddenly, I don't know the exact situation. Early in the morning, I heard screams, so I went out—and a monster was rampaging through the village."
He recalled how villagers were hunted down without even having a chance to resist. The reason he survived was that he had been near the outskirts—and because he had spent the entire day running.
"What did it look like? And how many were there?"
"It looked like a wolf… but larger, with horn-like growths on its head and body. As for the number… I'm not sure. It felt like there were many, but I didn't have the time to count…"
He lowered his head weakly and wiped his face.
'Larger than wolves, horned, and moving in packs…'
Several creatures came to mind.
But as far as she knew, there was no demonic realm nearby. Monsters usually appeared near such places—yet this was near Iselburg, the capital of the Kingdom of Osnover. It made no sense for a demonic zone to exist this close to the capital.
For monsters to appear here, they would have had to come from a distant demonic region. But how? A group bold enough to attack a village—could they have traveled this far without being wiped out along the way?
'Even if the aftermath of the civil war still lingers… this shouldn't be possible.'
An unexplainable sense of unease began to creep in.
"What will you do?"
Toruhel asked.
He was asking whether they would go immediately or wait until after the night passed.
'It'll be night soon…'
She looked up at the sky. The sunset was already fading.
When they had asked the villager how long it would take to reach the village from here, he had said that even on horseback, it would take at least half a day. They would arrive at dawn.
To go to a place likely infested with monsters at dawn? It was dangerous. But after a brief moment of thought, she raised her head and looked at Ulrich.
Her gaze asked: What do you think?
He nodded.
"Let's go now."
"Are you sure? If we leave now, we'll arrive in the middle of the night."
"That's true. But if we go now, there's still a chance of finding survivors—or the monsters. If we arrive in the morning, neither will be left."
Roberta mounted her horse, following Ulrich's lead.
After riding for a long time, they arrived at the village.
As expected, it was deep into the night. The moment Ulrich's group reached the village entrance, they were met with the sight of corpses—villagers, sprawled facing outward, as if trying to escape.
Ulrich dismounted and examined the bodies. Not a single one was intact. They were covered in bite marks, torn flesh, and puncture wounds. It was clear to anyone that these were not caused by weapons.
"A typical monster attack."
Roberta silently agreed with Toruhel's muttering. She had seen such scenes often when tracking monsters outside demonic regions.
"Ugh…"
Fritz groaned.
Each of them drew their weapons and stepped into the village.
Though it was night, moonlight illuminated the area clearly. It wasn't a small village. Not quite a city, but large for a settlement. There were even two-story buildings, and a tall wall had been built around the outskirts.
Monsters attacked a place like this? Even in a pack, that shouldn't have been easy—yet it had happened. Inside the village, there was nothing but death.
"How could this…"
Roberta glanced at the man who had come with them—the villager, now likely the sole survivor. He stared at his lifeless home in anguish before collapsing, covering his face with both hands.
"Strange. There are traces of monsters—but no monsters themselves."
Toruhel frowned as he examined the corpses. As he said, bodies were everywhere, yet the creatures that had caused this carnage were nowhere to be seen.
"Did they move somewhere else?"
Fritz asked.
"Hard to say. It doesn't seem like they'd leave so quickly."
"Then… should we check inside the houses? Just in case."
At that moment, Ulrich separated from the group and began walking away.
"Where are you going?"
Roberta asked.
"There's something I need to check."
He told the others to inspect the surrounding buildings and entered another structure alone.
"…."
Inside, the sight was even more horrific.
The bodies outside had been hunted—but the ones inside had been eaten. The attack had not been for sport.
Naturally, after hunting, they had fed. What the group saw was the aftermath of that.
"Damn it… this is exactly why I hate monsters."
Toruhel sighed as he examined what remained of a body. It hadn't been long since the feeding—saliva still clung wetly. He gestured for Roberta to look.
"They're still in the village."
"There's plenty of food here for them. No reason to leave yet. Stay alert—no telling where they might come from."
At that moment—
Crash!
A loud noise rang out.
"What was that?"
The four rushed out of the house. The commotion had come from the building across from them—a two-story structure where Ulrich had gone alone.
Sounds of things falling, colliding, and shattering came from the upper floor. The four dashed inside through the wide-open door. But the moment they stepped onto the stairs—
Silence.
"…Ar—Sir Armin?"
Fritz called cautiously as he climbed.
"Coming down."
A reply came.
Soon, footsteps followed—along with the sound of something being dragged. Ulrich appeared before them, descending the stairs. His upper clothing was soaked red.
"Are you alright?"
Toruhel's eyes widened.
He assumed the blood was Ulrich's.
Instead of answering, Ulrich raised both hands, showing what he held.
Creatures resembling wolves—but with horns—were the culprits behind the massacre.
In one hand, there was only a severed head. In the other, a full body—but its neck was snapped, its tongue hanging out. He walked down the stairs and tossed the two corpses onto the ground.
"So… they were Canipus."
Roberta clicked her tongue as she looked at the bodies.
It was a monster commonly found in many demonic regions.
As mentioned, they resembled wolves—but had horns and spikes across their heads and bodies. An adult, standing on all fours, would reach about the waist of a grown man.
But the two Ulrich had killed were slightly larger than half the size of an adult. Toruhel noticed and said,
"Judging by their size, they're cubs. No way there are only two."
"That's right."
Roberta nodded. Though stronger than ordinary beasts, they were still just monsters. Given the size of the village, two alone wouldn't have been enough to overwhelm it.
"And Canipus are known for strong maternal instincts. I've never seen cubs separated from their pack. So nearby, there must be—"
She abruptly cut herself off.
A sound.
There were only five living humans in the village—and all of them were standing together. So it wasn't from them.
It was the sound of a pack of beasts—the so-called monsters—approaching.
"How noisy."
Toruhel took his double-headed axe from his shoulder and gripped it with both hands.
"…O Ganymea."
Roberta infused mana into her blade. It began to glow faintly. Fritz took a long breath to steady himself and stood beside her. The frightened survivor hid behind them.
Ulrich held nothing in his hands. He simply stood silently, staring beyond the doorway.
Under the moonlight, yellow eyes began to gleam in the distance—dozens of them.
And with low, growling snarls, they bared their fangs.
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