Hell Mode: Volume 11, page 25
He alone was in charge of lugging her water tank around, and he slowly walked forward. As Allen watched the rebel haul the empress up to her lavish room in Chester’s inn, he looked back on his adventure in Prostia. Once the Five Continent Alliance conference is over, my next stop’s the Heavenly Realm. I wonder if I’ll get a new quest before that region’s unlocked.
The end of one adventure was simply the beginning of a new one. The Heavenly Realm might be able to shed more light on the truth Allen sought, and he had to strengthen his allies so they could reach new heights.
“All right, the Demon Lord’s a step ahead of us!” Allen shouted to his friends. “We should march onward too! Next stop, Judgment Gate!”
His heart danced with excitement at the adventures that were to come.
Side Story 1: Olbaas, a Dish of Spleen, and Majestic
When Olbaas opened his eyes, a sharp pain around his temples caused him to frown. He felt sluggish, and every muscle in his body hurt. When he faced the ceiling under his blanket, a cold shiver ran down his spine, and he became nauseous as well.
He heard a deafening sound that was akin to someone sawing logs. The voice made the very room he was in quake and echoed in the air. When he realized that this racket was just the sound of someone snoring, he could no longer fall back asleep.
“Ugh...” he groaned, unable to stop himself as he raised his upper body and rested on his elbows.
“Good morning,” a clear voice rang out despite the thunderous snoring.
Olbaas turned toward the voice and spotted Clergyman Istahl of the Church of Elmea, who possessed the Saint Talent, sitting on the bed across from him. Istahl smiled. His bed was already neatly made, and to his left was the door that led outside. Farther to his left, on the other side of the door, was Beast Fist Lord Yoze, the Beast Prince of Albahal, sleeping with his limbs splayed out like a starfish and snoring up a storm. He was the source of the noise.
“Gaaaaaah!” he snored away like he was trying to cause an earthquake.
“Holy crap, shut up... This is unbearable,” a man murmured from Olbaas’s left, covering his head with a pillow and curling up into a ball in an attempt to shield himself from the noise. He was none other than Makkaron, a Fist Lord and the leader of the Rank A party Majestic, which had snuck into Fabraaze, the village of the dark elves and Olbaas’s home.
Olbaas gazed at Majestic’s leader while recalling the events from the night prior. He had joined the party with the goal of finding a wife and left his hometown of Fabraaze. From there, he had crossed the desert with his party and arrived at a small village in the northwest region of the Galiatan Continent. A Rank A monster, a mottled king snake, had appeared near the village and threatened the people, and Majestic had gone to defeat the monster for them. They had visited a nearby tavern that was attached to an inn where villagers generally gathered in hopes of obtaining some information—or so the initial plan had been. Ultimately, when everyone had imbibed in their fair share of booze and partied with their liquor in hand, information had become the least of their concerns. The life of the party had been Makkaron, and the more inebriated he had gotten, the more he had forced everyone else to drink. Olbaas had ended up drinking far more than he usually did before, completely smashed, managing to stumble into bed.
As Olbaas unraveled his memories, he turned to Istahl, who sat atop his bed. It was surprising to see the Saint completely unfazed by Yoze’s loud snoring, but most shocking was that he seemed totally fine despite having drunk as much as Olbaas the night before, forced by Makkaron.
“Istahl, are you all right?” Olbaas asked.
“If I said yes, I’d be lying. I was hungover as well. But as a clergyman under Lord Elmea, I cannot miss my morning prayer routine, and so, I borrowed a bit of help.” Istahl stood up and approached Olbaas. “Makkaron was happy that you joined us, though it really is a tough battle for the rest of us, who have to go along with his antics. Still, this is another Trial that Lord Elmea has bestowed upon us, and it is our duty as clergymen to help you overcome it. I shall help you as well. Cure.”
A pale green light shot out in front of Olbaas for a brief moment, and the dark elf’s headache, shivers, and sluggishness immediately went away. He felt refreshed, like he had gotten a good night’s sleep.
“Amazing... Thank you,” Olbaas said as he got up from his bed.
“Ugh...” Yoze suddenly groaned, slowly sitting up. “This is unbearable. Istahl, help me, will you?”
The Beast Prince scowled at the pain, and Istahl cast Cure upon Yoze as well. The Beast Prince opened his eyes energetically, jumped off from bed, and immediately got dressed.
“Hey, c’mon, Yoze,” Makkaron sat up and grumbled. “You can at least thank the guy for helping you.”
“You’ve got no right to order me around for such a trivial matter,” Yoze snapped. “I’m always thanking him in my heart.”
“Yeah? You snore like there’s no tomorrow, and you won’t even voice your gratitude? You could learn a thing or two from Olbaas, you know. He sleeps quietly, and he makes sure to thank people as needed. That’s how a king should be.”
Yoze, who was wearing his jacket, paused. “Are you saying I’m not worthy of being the Beast King?”
“Damn right I am. If you don’t fix that short temper of yours, you’ll never become Beast King, you tomcat!”
Yoze stomped loudly toward Makkaron’s bed and drew his face close to the party leader, threatening to grab the man at any moment.
“Don’t you ever forget those words!” Yoze growled. “When I become Beast King, I’ll rip your insides out!”
“Yeah? I’ll look forward to it!” Makkaron shouted back.
The two men glared at each other, and Olbaas blinked quizzically, while Istahl let out a sigh. Just then, the door of the room slammed open, and a small woman only half the size of Yoze stormed in, her voice louder than Yoze’s snoring.
“Hey, dingleberries!” the dwarven Talos General, Nenebee, shouted, commanding the attention of the room. “Any day now! We’ve been waiting out here forever! Hurry up and come down!”
Istahl slowly approached the door and calmly greeted her. “Good morning, Nenebee. Gressa is also downstairs, I trust?”
“Of course she is! Why are the men in our party all lounging around when you were the ones who said we’d leave first thing in the morning?! You guys need a real good scolding since you can’t get your act together!”
“You’re exactly right. We’re really sorry. We drank a bit too much last night.”
“It’s not your fault. Makkaron’s the leader of our party, so all the blame rests on him. Wait, Istahl. If you pray to Lord Elmea, maybe Makkaron will turn over a new leaf and become a better man.”
“Then I’m quite puzzled, because I pray for him every morning without fail.”
While those two talked, Olbaas and the others quickly got dressed. They then all headed to the tavern and dining area below. There, they saw a round table large enough for six, with a large basket containing a dozen or so slices of bread, a massive bowl of salad, and wooden bowls of soup enough for each person atop it. Gressa, an Archwizardess, was already in her seat, waiting for her party.
“Good morning,” she greeted everyone.
“Morning, Gressa,” Makkaron said. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s eat.”
The rest of Majestic took their seats, and the woman who owned the tavern brought out a wooden tray carrying a large chunk of grilled meat. Based on the steam rising from it, the meat must have been fresh off the grill, and the slightly burnt seasonings that were rubbed into the meat gave off a pleasant aroma that whetted everyone’s appetites. A knife was stuck in the wooden tray, which would be used to cut each person a slice.
“Meat for breakfast? Now we’re talking, lady! You really know what’s up!” Makkaron crowed.
“Hmph. Looks decent for a commoner’s meal,” Yoze said. “Are we supposed to cut it ourselves? Gressa, mind giving us each a piece?”
“Huh?” Gressa asked, confused.
Nenebee crossed her arms and glared at Yoze. “How many times do I have to tell you this, Yoze? We’re your party members. You aren’t at the castle, and we aren’t your servants or your lovely nanny who grooms you and wipes your butt. You really need to watch your mouth and know your place.”
“What are you on about?” Yoze asked. “When I become the Beast King, you will serve me. It’s best for you to get used to it now, or—”
“You don’t know a thing, do you, Mr. Beast Prince?” Nenebee huffed angrily, interrupting Yoze. “The highest-ranking person among us should cut the meat and serve everyone, you know. You sure you want to be seen as the same rank as Makkaron?”
Makkaron smiled, a fork and spoon in his hands.
“I suppose this is the fate for those in power.”
Yoze pulled the wooden tray toward him and began to cut the chunk of meat, but he had not thought about using a fork to keep it in place. He pushed his knife against the meat, only to have it slip away under his utensil, so he annoyedly used his bare hand to keep the meat in place, scowling at the burn he got from doing so. Gressa, Nenebee, and Makkaron watched on while grinning from ear to ear, and Istahl rose from his seat and headed to the kitchen to speak with the innkeeper.
“Thank you so much for your kindness,” he said. “But it’s obvious that a lot of time and care went into making this feast for us. It’s far too lavish for the payment we gave you yesterday for our room.”
The lady whirled around and smiled. “Oh, don’t be daft. You guys are going to kill the mottled king snake for us, right? How in the world could I possibly serve a cheap breakfast to such heroes?”
“Thank you, my lady! I’ll take this meat as payment in advance for when we defeat that monster, then!” Makkaron puffed out his chest proudly. “You can count on Majestic, a Rank A party of adventurers! After all—”
“Yuuum!” Nenebee cut him off as she cried with joy. “This meat...no, it’s the seasonings doing the work! I’ve never had anything like it before!”
She pinched one of the small spice fragments, sniffed it, then placed it on her tongue and bit down, repeating this process for every spice she could find. Olbaas furrowed his brow, wearily watching the dwarf get lost in her own world again. Nenebee was in charge of the cooking for Majestic, and she was more interested in food than most. Her senses were sharp, but for some inexplicable reason, the food she made was always atrocious. Her assistant cooks, Istahl and Gressa, adjusted each dish before it was served, thus maintaining the peace.
Rank A Party Majestic’s Members, Talents, Races, and Roles
Makkaron (Human/Fist Lord, Three Stars): Commander, collecting information, recruiting members
Istahl (Human/Saint, Three Stars): Devising strategies, accounting, assistant cook
Yoze (Beastkin/Beast Fist Lord, Three Stars): Gathering food and money
Nenebee (Dwarf/Talos General, Three Stars): Head cook, transportation, gathering money
Gressa (Human/Archwizardess, Three Stars): Devising strategies, assistant cook
Olbaas (High Dark Elf/Spirit Mage, One Star): Collecting information, covert operations
“Ma’am, what is this? It looks like some kind of fruit...” Nenebee said.
“Ah, that’s kari,” the lady replied. “It’s the fruit of a grass that’s native to this area. If you pluck one and spend three long years drying it, it can serve as an antidote, but they also pair really well with fatty meats. I’ve heard that even the Pope of Teomenia likes the stuff.”
“Ah, so this is where kari fruits come from!” Istahl said with a look of surprise. “We crush these and add them to rations because they’re so filling. They last a long while too. In Teomenia, we add them to medicinal tea, but we’ve never added them to grilled meat, and we’ve never used them in such abundance either.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard they’re hard to come by elsewhere. Ah, that reminds me! If you guys defeat the mottled king snake, could you bring back its spleen?”
Olbaas and the rest of Majestic were taken aback.
“What will you use it for, miss?” Yoze asked. “This village doesn’t concoct its own toxins, does it?”
It was common knowledge that the spleen of a mottled king snake contained venom so powerful that it could instantly kill even a troll king, a monster that had resistance to poison. The mottled king snake had two types of venom: One was the powerful acid it shot from its fangs, and the other was its blood, which could easily paralyze anyone. The blood was mostly ineffective unless it was swallowed or rubbed into a wound, and it was extremely difficult to harvest just the blood. Still, many brave people attempted to get their hands on this poison, and it was discovered that the spleen contained the greatest concentration of the toxin.
As technology had advanced and people had learned how to dry the spleen and infuse it with liquid to create a powerful poison, it had become widely used by assassins of royal families across the globe. They dipped their blades and arrows in it, or even snuck it into food. So long as it somehow made its way into one’s body, it would paralyze their heart and kill them in a flash. Olbaas knew of this as well, and he, like Yoze, had his doubts, but the innkeeper blinked for a moment before she burst into a fit of laughter.
“Aha ha ha! Right, right, I guess that’s what people would assume!” she said between laughs. “But I’m not thinking of anything dangerous. With the proper preparations and some cleaning, I can create the most delicious stew anyone has ever had!”
“Wait, what?!” Nenebee asked, hastily jumping to her feet and approaching the innkeeper. “Could you tell me more? I’d love to hear the details! Why can you detox the spleen?”
“The secret is kari. It’s a vital part of preparing the spleen. You then add some coquotte grass...”
“Uh-huh.”
Nenebee had always had a penchant for cooking, and she became engrossed in her conversation with the innkeeper while Yoze ate his breakfast, chowing down on meat. Meanwhile, Olbaas and the others began to discuss plans for how they would defeat the mottled king snake.
“The snake apparently lives in a cave set in a rocky mountain southeast of here,” Istahl said.
“We can’t just jump into its nest,” Olbaas added. “If we borrow the power of spirits, maybe we can lure it out.”
“I got a map of the area yesterday,” Gressa said. “Look here. I think this is the mountain with the nest. If so, we should lure it out here. It’ll be easy to fight at that point.”
“Thanks, this map really helps,” Makkaron said. “Its vital area is its neck, right?”
The four put their heads together, using the information they had gathered yesterday while they were sober and at the tavern while they were drunk to come up with a plan that worked for them. When Nenebee returned, they once again hashed out the details of their plan, and the innkeeper gave them all lunches before they left. They placed their food in their magic bags, and Nenebee also stored a piece of parchment, which she had jotted recipes from the innkeeper on.
“We’re counting on you,” one of the village gate guards said.
“But don’t push yourselves,” the other added. The party had become friends with them while they had been drinking the night before.
“You can count on us,” Makkaron said. “If we have any leftover meat, we’ll share it with you guys.”
Majestic headed for the mountain where the mottled king snake apparently lived, taking the route that led southeast. Once they crossed a grassy plain, traversed a small river, and navigated a grove, they finally spotted the path to the gray mountain, which would lead them through a valley. If the map they had received from the villagers was accurate, they would follow the path for a while, traveling along the cliff, and come to a clearing that was around a hundred meters wide. Beyond it, the path began to slope, but that would be the final obstacle before they reached the foot of the mountain.
Before starting down the path, Nenebee split off from the group. While the others all followed it, she walked along the valley’s outer edge, then climbed up to get a good view of the clearing below.
“Let it rip, Makkaron,” Nenebee said with a fearless smile.
“You better not miss, you hear me?” Makkaron replied.
“Who do you think you’re talking to? And Olbaas, be careful.”
“I will,” Olbaas assured her, realizing that he needed to focus.
With Makkaron in the lead, the party proceeded down the valley for about twenty minutes. Just as the map had indicated, they reached a clearing. There were boulders strewn throughout, but the mountain cliffs that surrounded the area practically stood perpendicular to the clearing. In front and to the left was a path that led toward the rocky mountain.
Upon reaching the clearing, Yoze, Gressa, Istahl, and Makkaron all hid. Olbaas went to lure out the mottled king snake alone.
“We’re counting on ya,” Makkaron said.
“I’ve got this,” Olbaas replied. “Wind spirit, hide my presence.”
As he was only a Spirit Mage, Olbaas could not manifest spirits, but the spirits of this world were not physical existences anyway. He could still speak with them and borrow their power. At his request, wind blew around him as he heard the wind spirit giggle, answering his call.
His party members looked at him in astonishment. From their point of view, the wind spirit had caused him to vanish, and none of them had seen such a spell before.
“Wind spirit, please allow me to float in the air, just like you do,” Olbaas muttered.
When he jumped lightly, he floated about like a leaf on the wind, moving above the cliff that surrounded the clearing and toward the rocky mountain that housed the snake’s lair. He looked below him to see Makkaron and the others, now no bigger than a finger, and as he reached greater heights, his allies eventually became smaller than his fingernail. Then, he spotted Nenebee looking down at the clearing from the edge of the cliff.
“So this is how it feels to be relied on,” Olbaas said quietly to himself. “It doesn’t feel bad at all.”
