How much time had passed since Murfin began planning to find drinking water and started forging a path?
By the time the sun, which had started in the east, had gradually begun to sink toward the west—
Clank!
There was a clicking sound from beneath Beatrice’s foot, who was leading the group.
“Damn it! Again?!”
Creak—crunch!
For what felt like the umpteenth time, Beatrice barely escaped from the collapsing ground, frantically leaping away from yet another handmade trap.
“Huff, huff, huff.”
“How many… has it been now?”
“I lost count after a hundred.”
“Damn it all.”
Not only Beatrice, but Elena and Murfin—who were already battered and bruised—and even Thrall, all wore gaunt, exhausted expressions.
It had not even been a full day since the Special Task Force began their training (so-called, but really survival training) in the mountain range.
“That… Captain bastard, do you think he’s been here before without telling us? If not, this doesn’t make any sense.”
Beatrice mumbled, now at the point of reasonable suspicion, and everyone else wore expressions of shared doubt.
“No, unfortunately, that’s not it.”
Except for Murfin, the veteran of the Special Task Force.
“You know those traps we’ve been stepping on? Near every single one, there were traces as if Captain Owen had deliberately left them behind. The traps themselves are so crudely made, it’s hard to believe he secretly took time to set all these up in advance.”
In other words, all the traps the Special Task Force members had encountered up to now had been crafted on the spot by Owen in real time.
“Making impromptu traps with locally gathered materials… I never thought something out of a novel like that could really work.”
“That’s not all.”
Elena sighed, furrowing her brow.
“There were times when, after we triggered certain traps, we were ambushed from a distance by sniper fire from somewhere unseen, as if we were being lured in.”
“…Hard to argue with that.”
Even though five hours had already passed since training began, they hadn’t so much as glimpsed a valley or found any area with water that could be used for drinking.
While it might be understandable for Beatrice or Thrall, Elena and Murfin both had enough expertise to seek out likely valleys or sources of water while moving through different terrains.
But to be unable to find even a single mountain stream after five hours of climbing?
No matter how you looked at it, it was clear they were being lured.
“So, what do we do?”
“What do you think?”
Murfin sighed and gritted his teeth.
“We endure. Grit our teeth and push through.”
He recalled something Captain Owen had once said, and his expression turned serious.
“…If our captain really intends to slay the Demon King, then one day we’ll have to cross over into the Realm of Demons. There, the water’s poisoned, the air is full of toxins—you’ll be forced to survive on limited rations.”
Special Task Force Captain Owen had told them to survive for two weeks.
That meant this training was designed for the squad to survive on minimal supplies in a restricted area, focusing on strengthening their abilities.
Elena wore an incredulous expression.
“Wait—don’t tell me this training is meant to simulate a mission into the Realm of Demons?”
“Most likely. There’d be no reason to train like this otherwise.”
Beatrice asked, with a cautious look,
“I don’t know much about this, but are traps like these common in the Realm of Demons?”
“No, probably not.”
Thrall shook their head.
“I remember hearing Elder Dragons talk about it before—unless you’re high-ranked, it’s impossible for Demonic Beasts or Demon Race to even survive in the Realm of Demons, since it’s a complete lawless zone. There aren’t any simple traps to fall into, nor are there people making them.”
“Then why’s our captain training us with these kinds of traps?”
“No idea.”
Thrall shrugged.
“I think it’d be better to ask him that after the training’s over.”
“The reason for setting traps is none other than to teach the Special Task Force a combat method they’ll need to use in the Realm of Demons.”
The Realm of Demons is an environment utterly hostile to humans.
Air as foul as if it’s cutting out your lungs.
Mists that limit your vision.
A landscape of tainted earth and polluted sludge.
You can’t find any edible food there, and even if you bring food in, it quickly becomes contaminated and inedible.
The Demonic Beasts and Demon Race that roam that place are unimaginably powerful. Inside the Realm of Demons, the idea of fighting your enemy directly is foolish.
The top priority is not combat, but survival.
Once you enter, you may have to go at least four days and nights without eating or even sleeping, and surviving in that state to return should always come first.
The squad’s stated goal may be to capture the Demon King, but when faced with that presence, they’ll painfully realize that unless you’re a true Hero, you simply can’t face it head-on. In a real scenario, you can’t count on outside help.
“There aren’t as many trap materials you can procure in that place as you’d think. This is just training, so I’m not making anything too vicious, but at the very least, the squad needs to see and learn the basics—how to choose a spot, how to design and replicate simple traps.”
“The enemies are at least high-ranking Demonic Beasts or Demon Race. Will these kinds of traps really work on them?”
“Of course not all of them will fall for it.”
I answered Laila’s question in a calm tone.
“Of the traps I’ve set, about thirty percent catch their mark. On a good day, that goes up to half. That’s all.”
Therefore, boosting your survival rate depends on how many traps you can set in a short time.
If you dramatically increase the number of traps, then inevitably, the Demon Army’s number of casualties to traps also increases.
And in the Realm of Demons, it’s best to avoid Demonic Beasts if you can help it.
Fighting unnecessary battles is sheer folly.
‘Now, the environment is about ready.’
Thanks to Laila’s support, I was able to shape the training ground to closely resemble the Realm of Demons, keeping the Special Task Force from reaching the valley.
Steel Scarecrows patrolling the forest’s edge, and all sorts of training equipment brought from the Houston Estate.
And then…
‘The Prasion Kingdom’s special Mana Sniper Rifle.’
Currently, that item is in Laila’s hands.
I’d considered using it myself, but ever since Laila, who’d become the Special Task Force’s guest, was transformed into a humanoid with a Polymorph from the Throne Lord, I changed my mind.
Sure, she can use magic, but most of the spells dragons use are focused on mass destruction.
Learning to snipe specific, concealed targets will be a valuable experience for a dragon. And since she’s a dragon, she has plenty of mana—no need to worry about ammo.
I ordered her to participate in the training and try out the sniper rifle, and sent her straight into the exercise.
The result surpassed my expectations: the entire squad was kept from even approaching the valley’s entrance.
‘I think I’ll be able to rely on her as the squad’s guest in the future.’
“Hmm? What’s this? Suddenly got chills…”
As I was lost in these meaningful thoughts, smiling, Laila suddenly shivered and hugged her shoulders.
I ignored it. Soon, the squad members changed direction and headed elsewhere.
It seemed they’d given up on finding the valley and were coming up with a new plan.
“It’s about time to begin.”
“…That almost makes it sound like you haven’t even started yet.”
“That’s right. Getting caught in traps is just the most basic step.”
“You say that, but you’ve had them stuck at this basic stage for more than half a day.”
“The basics are always the most important. If it were up to me, I’d have them train for a whole month, not just half a day.”
“…”
Leaving Laila’s silence behind, I picked up the training bows and trap-setting crossbows from the Houston Estate.
“Already putting them to work?”
“They’ve had enough rest.”
“How about at least a warning shot? If you ambush them for real, someone might actually die.”
This time, the quiver was filled with real arrows, not practice ones.
But I shook my head.
“Ambushes always come without warning. And for the squad to bond through mutual aid, they need a healthy dose of fear and shock.”
With those words, I offered a prayer to the Moon Goddess and erased my presence.
“…You really are insane.”
Laila’s muttered words didn’t concern me.
Night falls quickly in the mountains.
The wind turns cold, wild beasts begin to stir, and your field of vision narrows.
A mountain at midnight bears a striking resemblance to the Realm of Demons.
“Tch.”
Regardless, moving through the deep mountains at night was difficult, so the Special Task Force members had started preparing to camp—even though they hadn’t managed to start a campfire yet, fatigue was taking its toll.
“I’m saying this because I have a bad feeling…”
Even Beatrice, who was usually the liveliest, now wore an irritated scowl.
“We’re not going to be doing this all night, are we?”
Swish!
No sooner had she finished speaking than the wind-cutting sound came from behind.
Elena quickly deployed a magical barrier, but when she realized the source of the sound was a wooden shard, she clicked her tongue.
“It’s a trap!”
Swish, swish, swish!
At the same time, the wind-cutting sound came from all directions.
Beatrice swung her sword, batting away incoming arrows, while Murfin split them in two with his axe.
“Tsk, whew.”
Identifying the direction the arrows were coming from, Thrall extended a hand and used magic.
A surge of destructive mana flew in and blasted the spot from which the arrows had come.
When the squad rushed over to the spot Thrall had blown up, they found a destroyed crossbow and a note pinned there in Owen’s handwriting.
[You seem to hear the wind-cutting sound better than before, but it’s still not enough. Think about what you need to do to react before the shot is fired.]
“…This damn captain, seriously.”
It had been an ominous sign from the moment he shot an arrow at Murfin’s head with no warning, but no one imagined he’d go this far with training.
Even more ridiculous, the blast from Thrall’s magic was so powerful, yet the paper had survived, meaning he’d secretly pinned it to the already broken crossbow in advance.
Once again, the Special Task Force members were experiencing firsthand just how outrageous their captain truly was.
“I really want to smack him once.”
“Agreed.”
Still, that was that.
The members’ resentment and anger toward their captain were building up, bit by bit.
Though it wasn’t quite Owen’s intention, the squad’s camaraderie was gradually strengthening.
In the end, they stayed up all night.
Every arrow in the quiver had been used up, and thanks to Thrall’s spells, all the crossbows brought for training had been destroyed.
There was no way to continue training by remotely triggering traps from a blind spot.
But that didn’t matter.
After all, only one day had passed of the planned two-week training period.
There were still plenty of training tools left, bought with the Houston Marquess’s blood money, and the grand finale was already prepared. As long as everything went as planned, there would be no problems.
“Heh.”
Yes, as long as things go ‘according to plan.’
But if everything always went as planned, I wouldn’t have brought the Special Task Force to this mountain range.
[Captain Owen. Can you hear me?]
Just then, a telepathic message arrived from Laila, who had been watching the surroundings from her hiding place in the woods.
I gestured in her direction to signal that I could hear her, and the telepathy came through immediately.
[A suspicious group is approaching from this direction. If they keep going, they’ll run right into the squad in the middle of their training. What do you want to do?]
“What do they look like?”
Laila answered in a wary tone, even from afar.
[They’re wearing black hoods and carrying staffs made of bone. They give off a Necromancer-like vibe, but something feels a bit off… Regardless, there’s a bad energy about them.]
As soon as I heard that, the corners of my mouth curled up.
“They’re here.”
Second only to the Demon King’s Army, the most troublesome existences—
The cultists who worship the power of the Demon Race.