Episode 60 - The First to Back Down Dies 2



Barkdin confirmed the gate was open and immediately gave his subordinates a silent nod.
"Kgh...! All remaining — follow me! We're going in!"
"Yes sir!"
As they filed in through the open entrance at a run, Maengseol stood to one side and let them pass.
Once the twenty-odd survivors had made it through, he shut the gate behind them — as naturally as if that had always been the plan.
"Right then. Shall we begin..."
He settled back into his stance, and Barkdin tightened his grip on his sword and swallowed.
"Good. You're certainly the strongest of this lot... take you down, and this fight tips decisively...!"
"Heh... come."
At that same moment.
The twenty-seven mercenaries who had entered through the rear gate stood at a fork.
A staircase leading up — and one leading down.
They hesitated, unsure which way to go.
The enemy's leader would almost certainly be at the top floor.
But the explosion had taken out roughly half their number.
At this point, their priority was to link up with the vanguard unit that should have pushed through the front gate.
The squad leader made a quick decision and split the group.
"You, you — and up to here. Six of you, go down and link up with the front gate unit. Check the situation down there and come up with them!"
"Yes sir!"
"The rest — twenty of you, with me. We go straight to the top...!"
As the others headed upstairs with hurried footsteps, the six-man detachment descended.
They reached the floor where the interior quarters were located and began carefully opening doors one by one.
"...Nobody here."
"Nothing here either, sir! Couldn't we just call it and head down?"
"Idiot! If there are stragglers hiding here, they'll be a problem when we come back up, won't they?"
"Fair enough, but — the front gate unit not having pushed through yet is what's worrying me..."
"They'll be fine. Those guys are—"
Mid-search, a strange sound reached their ears.
"Wait a moment... you hear that?"
"What is that...? Some kind of... scratching sound..."
"No — it's a pipe. A flute. Coming from this direction!"
Faint but unmistakable — something like the sound of a pipe was drifting from somewhere deep inside.
"A pipe, sir?"
"Yes! I'm hearing it! There's something mixed in with it, some kind of noise — but follow me!"
"Yes sir!"
They readjusted their weapons and fell in behind the squad leader.
The sound grew steadily louder, and they found themselves standing in front of a door that it was clearly emanating from, swallowing quietly.
"This is the one..."
"What do we do?"
"What do we do — open it, obviously."
"Could be a trap, sir."
Voicing the concern but opening the door carefully anyway.
The squad leader and his men leaned just their heads in to look around the room —
"Strange... even for dawn... there's no light at all. It's this dark without even a hint of glow..."
The room was smothered in absolute blackness.
Only a thin, mournful pipe melody drifted from somewhere within.
"Hey. Go in and check it."
"Me, sir? Something feels..."
"Enough! We check this room and then we're done, so move it!"
"Ugh... yes sir."
The squad leader gave the reluctant man a couple of firm shoves on the back to push him in, and he dragged his feet for another moment before stepping into the darkness of the room with visible reluctance.
Squish.
"Hm...? Sir, this — the floor is..."
"The floor is what?"
The instant his foot touched down inside —
The squad leader and his men were seized by a violent sense of wrongness.
First — the darkness.
With a man having stepped into the room, he should by now have been absorbed into the dark, only a silhouette visible.
But he was clear.
Their comrade was standing inside the room with full, vivid color — every detail sharp and distinct.
"Wait — something is wrong here..."
RRIIIIP—!!
Splat.
A sound like a leather sack bursting — and from beneath the foot of the man who had stepped in, something let out a death-shriek and a small burst of red blood splattered outward.
"What...?!"
"S-squad leader?! Wh-what is this?!"
And in that instant — small red lights began surfacing from within the darkness of the room.
Countless points of red.
And then, swallowing the sound of the pipe — an angry, seething chorus of squeaking.
"—! MOVE! RUN — RUN!!"
"R-rats?! RATS! SQUAD LEADER! THIS IS ALL—!!"
It happened in an instant.
The moment the squad leader and the others realized what was happening and lurched to pull back —
The mass of black rats plastered across the floor, walls, and ceiling of the room surged forward like a wave — like a single unified will given physical form.
Naturally, in under two seconds, the man who had stepped inside was swallowed whole into the black tide — and from within it, a horrifying scream tore through the air.
"—!! RUN! I SAID RUN! What kind of insane joke is this — a RAT SWARM?!"
"AAAAAAGH—?!"
"Hey — hey?!"
One of the men who had been lagging a fraction behind was caught at the shin by an edge of the wave — and with a single horrible sucking pull, vanished into it.
What remained of the squad and their leader set their jaws, lungs be damned, and sprinted.
"S-squad leader! What do we do?! We have to deal with those things somehow—!"
"I KNOW! Don't talk to me right now! I'm thinking!"
The first thing the squad leader's mind landed on was torches.
He needed to find a torch — anywhere — and get it in his hands.
Animals feared fire. That was universal.
With a torch in one hand driving them back, they might somehow manage.
The problem was that the building's interior lighting was almost entirely modern oil lamps.
But then — even a new building would have outdoor torches for exterior lighting, wouldn't it?
"Damn it all! We go down to the training ground — now!!"
"The training ground? To link up with the front gate unit and hold them there?!"
"No — they'll have outdoor torches stationed there! I'm going to burn those rotten little rats alive!"
"Oh! That works!"
"That's why I said RUN! Straight line to the staircase — GO!"
They bolted flat-out and finally reached the downstairs staircase, glancing back as they did — the rat tide had swallowed the entire corridor and was surging toward them like it might swallow their heels.
"Hell with this! DOWN, NOW! MOVE!!"
"AAAAAAAAAGH!!"
They ran until something in their chests might crack — and finally got their hands on the door handle leading to the training ground.
"OPEN IT! HURRY!!"
"Y-yes sir!!"
The bubbling, seething squeal of the tide roared right behind them.
They wrenched the locked handle open by force and burst out into the training ground.
"Hey! Front gate unit! Torches! Get us a torch—!"
"There's a rat swarm in ambush in there! A torch — someone—!"
The four mercenaries who burst out into the open took in what was in front of them.
It was hell.
Grey feathers smeared with blood and droppings blanketed everything in every direction.
What had been the front gate unit's soldiers were plastered against the walls of the surrounding buildings, collapsed — faces and abdomens savagely torn until they were unrecognizable, entrails and eyes laid bare to pigeons still slicked red with blood.
"Wh-what is this...?! What in the world—?!"
"S-squad leader...! Behind! BEHIND US!"
"What?!"
He had made sure to pull the door shut properly on the way out.
Rats didn't have the intelligence to turn a door handle. He was sure of it.
But —
Click.
The door handle was moving.
"No — no no! Hey! Grab it! HOLD THAT DOOR!"
"Yes sir!"
Two of them sprinted over and threw their weight against the handle — and immediately felt a thud thud thud as the rat swarm threw itself against the other side, trying to force it open.
"Damn it all... the torch...! A torch...!"
He had to find a torch before the pigeons spotted them.
Fortunately, the squad leader spotted one fixed to a post near the center of the training ground, and ran for it.
"There...! With this, we can—!"
Thud.
Fizzz....
In his desperate sprint, his foot caught a pigeon that had been waddling backward with a piece of someone in its beak.
"Wha—?!"
"Coo — SQUAAAAWK!"
The kicked pigeon rolled across the ground making dying sounds — and the instant it did, every pigeon that had been tearing at the vanguard's remains turned its eyes, as if by agreement, toward the squad leader now standing in front of the torch.
"Oh... oh no... what the—"
It was obvious they were about to come for him — so he immediately yanked the torch from the post and held it up.
"Come on then, you insane birds! Try me! I'll roast you alive — COME ON! COME AT ME!"
Beating and slashing at the pigeons that immediately swooped in — torch in one hand, sword in the other — again and again.
For just a moment, he thought he'd taken the upper hand in this wretched place —
Plop.
A dropping landed on the forearm holding the torch.
"—! You miserable filthy disease-ridden BIRDS...!!"
He flicked the dropping off with his free hand in irritation — and on cue, another volley came pattering down right behind it.
"AAAAAAARGH...! Stop it! STOP IT, you wretched—!"
He was swinging the torch in furious, jerky arcs —
Plink.
Fsssss—....
A dropping landed square on the torch — and the flame shuddered and dipped, just slightly.
"Wait... hold on..."
A cold feeling crept over the squad leader, and he looked at where he'd been hit.
Sure enough — these wretched birds had been targeting his forearm with uncanny consistency since the beginning.
No.
What they were actually targeting was —
"HELL WITH THIS! Open the door! We're going back—!"
He spun toward the entrance in a rage — and what he saw was the remaining three men, pigeons forced even into their mouths, being pecked to death — still, even as they died, keeping both hands clenched on the door handle.
Holding the rats back. Until the very end.
"No — no! You three—! Get away from them, you rotten birds! GET AWAY!"
It might already be too late — but the squad leader sprinted for them regardless, swinging the torch, kicking out, beating the pigeons back.
"Hey! Are you — are you alright?! I found a torch — I've got one! We can make it up from here...!"
"S-squad leader...! R-run...! We're already...!"
"SHUT UP! We go together until the end...! Open the door! NOW!"
"B-behind...!"
"What...?"
He wheeled around — and swung the torch in the same motion.
At the grey tide that had filled his entire field of vision.
—To be continued—