As Ian's "strategy eting" continued, the expressions of the alliance leaders gradually beca more complicated.
At last, he finished speaking.
"Any questions?"
Everyone's gaze turned toward Moiken.
His mouth had looked like it had been itching to speak for a while now, and he imdiately asked,
"Do you already know the identity of the enemy?"
"No."
"Then how can you be so certain everything will happen exactly as you say?"
"There aren't any demons among the enemy."
Ian answered as though he were stating the obvious.
"...?"
"And how are you so certain of tha—"
Would they really put demons into the second Defense phase?
The appeal of a defense ga lay in its steadily increasing difficulty. Well, that was true of most gas.
The developers of Reverse Dungeon had been insane enough to throw a Demon Archduke into the tutorial, but they hadn't played tricks all the way to the end.
Of course, he couldn't say that out loud.
So Ian gave the only answer they had no choice but to accept.
"God appeared in my dream last night and told . Next question."
"The route is so complicated. I'm not sure I'll be able to morize it..."
The Fairy Queen shrank her small shoulders.
The fairies' speed and stealth were trendous assets. Their loyalty to the Fairy Queen was another. But if she herself lacked confidence, she would naturally have little confidence in the orders she gave.
Ian reassured her.
"It's fine. I'll stay in contact through the elentals."
"Hm, I thought so."
Moiken nodded knowingly.
Shouldn't you be the one worrying?
Why was he acting as if remote supervision was guaranteed?
"Don't rely on the elentals too much. Honestly, it's best if you move before I tell you to change routes. If there are mamool nearby, I won't be able to send commands through the elentals."
"Aren't there always mamool nearby? According to your predictions."
"Exactly."
"..."
So the elentals were nothing more than insurance for ergencies.
Ian lowered his hand to the center of the map.
Tap.
"This is the final bastion."
The rmaid Queen, who had been quietly reviewing her responsibilities under her breath, looked up.
Even Louise, who had been staring relentlessly at the map, raised her head.
Everyone was looking at Ian.
"If we fail to hold this point, everyone dies."
In Ian's eyes, the dots scattered across the map were people.
People moving endlessly.
Lives entrusted to him.
Lives?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
But Ian didn't want to lose them.
Soon the eting room doors opened, and the alliance leaders departed.
Each headed toward the sector under their command.
Only Keith and Ian remained inside.
"Hoo..."
A quiet sigh escaped Ian's lips.
Keith stepped behind him.
Ian tilted his head backward until it rested against Keith's abdon. Still seated, he leaned back and stared up at him.
"Are you tired?"
"No."
"You are tired."
"..."
"Wouldn't it be better to get so sleep?"
"..."
The answer didn't matter.
Keith knew exactly how many nights Ian had gone without sleep.
He lowered his head.
Then he comforted his master in the way he liked best.
The Tor tribe was a sturdy species with the appearance of bears, the legs of elephants, and the shells of turtles.
Their eyesight was poor, but their sense of sll was exceptional. With it, they could pursue prey for half a day without losing the trail.
They communicated through scents released from the soles of their feet.
This way.
Hurry.
The day a command was issued to all mamool—
There is a treasure hidden in the Dark Forest. Find it and offer it to .
—the Tor tribe imdiately sensed opportunity.
No race was better at finding things that were hiding or fleeing.
And this was the Demon King's command.
Who knew?
If they found the treasure and presented it, perhaps he would turn them into demons.
Found it.
The treasure is ours!
The Tor tribe silently scraped at the ground, releasing scents of excitent.
A dense human sll.
The "treasure" was a human.
The most beautiful and strongest human.
The Tor tribe never questioned how they would identify it.
The Demon King had said they would know the mont they saw it.
Their eyesight was terrible, but they possessed magnificent noses. Surely such a human would have a special scent.
How delicious must a human be for even the Demon King to desire it?
The Tor chief secretly planned to lick it just once.
Surely nobody would notice that much...
Sniff, sniff!
Following the human scent, they dug into the earth with their sharp claws.
The tightly packed soil crumbled like minced flesh with a single swipe.
The sweet sll grew stronger.
Mamool loved blood and flesh.
Among all prey, the races of the Middle Realm were delicacies.
But so ats were more special than others.
How many demons could truly resist human flesh?
As they dug deeper, the human scent stabbed into their nostrils.
Yet sothing like a wall prevented them from reaching their prey.
One impatient Tor shoved its snout forward first.
Their finest tools weren't their claws.
They were their teeth.
Crunch!
The mamool smashed through the wooden barrier with its enormous jaws.
Stale air burst upward from below.
A dizzyingly sweet scent flooded out.
There was definitely a human underneath.
The Tor tribe shoved their snouts in one after another, snarling as each tried to descend first.
Crack.
Crunch.
Creak.
Busy baring their teeth and growling at one another, they never noticed the suspicious sounds beneath their feet.
Then—
Craaack!
The ground beneath them collapsed.
The wooden boards supporting their weight shattered into pieces.
The fall itself wasn't severe.
The pit was shallower than the height of their heads.
Their thick necks remained above ground while the rest of their bodies sank into the hole.
And the Tor tribe was enormously strong.
There was no way a pit like this could trap them.
More importantly, sothing cushioned the bottom.
Sothing wet and ragged that reeked of humans.
The Tor tribe recognized it imdiately.
Human clothing.
"...?"
Where had their treasure gone?
Then a human voice sounded from outside the pit.
"."
The mamool failed to react.
The pile of clothing that had slled so delicious suddenly released a horrifying stench.
The Tor tribe's exceptional sense of sll betrayed them.
The revolting odor was unbearable.
They clawed at their faces and retched.
Pabababak!
Sothing rained down upon them.
Only afterward did they realize what it was.
Burning arrows.
Whoosh!
Using the oil-soaked clothing as kindling, the flas exploded upward.
The sll was no longer the problem.
Instinct took over.
They had to escape.
But there was an obstacle.
Their own kin.
The Tor climbing out of the pit blocked everyone else's path.
"Move!"
The humans who had attacked them were outside.
They themselves were burning alive.
Mamool did not possess the patience to wait for others to leave first.
Roaring furiously, the Tor trampled one another and dragged each other down.
Massive bodies crushed and stomped their own companions.
The pit they had dismissed as shallow instantly beca a hellish swamp.
By the ti they escaped, only half the Tor that had originally arrived remained.
Filled with rage, they charged after the prey that had dared injure them.
They didn't even need to lower their noses to the grass.
The enticing scent filled the air.
Human scent.
And elf scent.
The mixed trail stretched in a single direction.
The Tor tribe sprinted through the forest on all fours.
Elves?
No matter how fast they were, they barely reached a mamool's waist.
They couldn't have gone far.
Dense leaves and branches blocked the Tors' vision, but it didn't matter.
They didn't rely on their eyes.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
As their speed increased, even the trees ceased to be obstacles.
Trunks shattered and snapped apart whenever they collided with them.
Like a magical force plowing through the forest itself, they charged toward the strengthening scent.
Then suddenly the view opened up.
...!?
Stop!
A cliff.
Across the gap, dozens of elves stood waiting with bows drawn.
But the larger problem was themselves.
I can't stop...! Behind us!
Even as they tried to halt, the montum of their charge carried them forward.
The lead Tors stumbled helplessly, taking several uncontrolled steps.
Then it was over.
Crunch.
The few who sohow managed to stop were ramd from behind by their charging kin.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
.
.
.
The elves observing the scene moved on.
Each carried a human mage on their back as they headed toward their next destination.
They descended into the dizzying depths below the cliff.
"Aaaagh!"
"Urgh! Stop strangling my neck! Are all human mages as cowardly as you?"
No.
They simply walked down the cliff face as though it were a staircase.
After descending fifteen steps, they reached a rock protruding from the cliff.
Moiken, commander of the Elf Rangers, stepped onto it and leaped toward the opposite cliff wall.
Tap!
A perfect landing.
Moiken felt a surge of pride.
"As expected of Ian. He has excellent judgnt. No one but us elves could move through terrain like this."
"But Ian isn't an elf. Even if he knew this terrain existed, how did he know we'd be able to cross it?"
Hikan, the deputy commander of the rangers, asked.
The answer ca from the mage riding on Moiken's back.
"Lord Ian knows everything."
The elves accepted the explanation.
And before the all-knowing Ian could start criticizing them for being slow, they decided they should get moving.
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