Chapter 72: The Siege of Living Battering Rams

[You have hunted the Grey Troll.]

[‘Quest: Hunt the Swamp Ruffians’ has been completed.]

[Quest reward is being granted.]

[You have gained experience points.]

With the fall of the last Grey Troll occupying the ashen swamp, Levan was finally able to complete his growth quest.

‘At last, it’s over.’

Fortunately, he only leveled up once.

After receiving his reward for completing the quest, Levan immediately headed for Gald Castle.

The Assassins of the Black Hand had long since left.

Levan fiddled with the two contracts he had secured from Chloro, lost in thought.

‘Things are going to be easier than I thought.’

Two contracts he had never expected to obtain.

Thanks to them, Levan was now able to hatch an unexpected plan.

‘Now, who should I meet first?’

The list of people he needed to meet was growing.

---

The Prison of the Swamp.

Here, after the day's work ends, prisoners are given dinner and allowed to rest until bedtime.

Of course, this only applies to special prisoners wearing red name tags.

It was dinnertime now.

As always, the Mastherials—who shared a strong sense of camaraderie—ate together.

Tonight’s menu: watery soup, mashed potatoes, and two tiny meatballs.

Ark rolled a meatball around on his plate with a spoon and finally spoke.

“Father.”

“What is it?”

“……Never mind, it’s nothing.”

Ever since Levan’s visit, Ark had spent a long time mulling over his proposal.

In the end, he decided to accept it.

But Ark was the only one to reach that conclusion; he hadn’t yet brought it up with his father.

When Ark resumed silently rolling his meatball, the tanner sitting opposite him—Leatherer, prisoner number 155—spoke up.

“Ark… no, 142. Is something up? Why are you watching your father like that?”

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Oh, come on, don’t give me that. Hey, Evan! No, 141. Damn, not being able to call you by name is a pain.”

Prisoners at the Swamp Prison were forbidden from addressing each other by name.

That was the rule here.

If a guard overheard prisoners calling each other by name, even once, they’d be thrown into solitary confinement under the pretense of “mental education.”

Even so, not being able to use names they’d spoken for years was a real nuisance.

Especially for Leatherer, who was bad with numbers.

Leatherer sighed heavily and spoke.

“Forget it. Hey, ironsmith, what did you say this time to make your son so anxious?”

Evan, number 141, and Leatherer, number 155, were friends.

So, when Leatherer couldn’t remember Evan’s number, he’d just call him “ironsmith.”

After all, Evan was a blacksmith who worked with iron.

Evan responded to Leatherer’s question curtly.

“Don’t ask.”

“Oh, come on, what is it?”

“I said, don’t ask.”

“Hmph. Do you think that’ll make me stop? Then I’ll just ask your son. Hey, ironsmith’s boy! Tell your uncle what’s going on—maybe I can help.”

At Leatherer’s suggestion, Ark glanced at his father again.

But Evan kept his eyes glued to his tray, chewing bland mashed potatoes.

Still, Ark knew well.

He didn’t need to say anything—he always knew what his father was thinking.

That’s why he couldn’t bring himself to speak up, even when Leatherer pressed him.

Whether Leatherer knew this or not, he continued to urge Ark for an answer.

“Come on, answer us, will you? What’s the problem? Is it something serious?”

“……Yes, a little.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll get up first.”

At that moment, Evan put down his spoon and stood up with his tray.

He hadn’t even finished half his meal.

For Evan to get up before his son, instead of waiting for him to finish, was a first since coming to prison.

So Ark quickly tried to rise to follow him.

Just then, the man sitting beside Ark grabbed his wrist.

“Stay put.”

“Uncle?”

The one holding Ark’s wrist was Lang, a fellow Mastherial, whose specialty was dyeing.

While Ark was flustered by Lang’s hold, Evan had already finished his leftovers and moved to the waiting room.

Since communal living was standard here, you couldn’t return to your own room just because you’d finished eating.

So, prisoners who finished first waited in the waiting room until everyone else was done.

As Evan left for the outer waiting room, Leatherer—watching the scene—spoke.

“You don’t have to go, Ark. That guy just gave you permission to speak up.”

“Gave me permission?”

“He’s always been like that. Typical of a man who works with iron—he expresses things bluntly. So, with Evan leaving like that, he’s letting you talk now. Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

Lang nodded at Leatherer’s words. He’d been a close friend of both men for years.

‘Did Father step out on purpose?’

Since these were his father’s dearest friends, it must be true.

Somehow, Ark felt both surprised and that he’d better seize this rare opportunity.

Gathering his courage, Ark spoke.

“……Earlier today, the Library Inspector visited us in the Grey Memories Wing.”

“In the Grey Memories?”

“Yes.”

From there, Ark told them everything he’d seen and heard, including Levan’s offer to him and his father.

At first, only Lang and Leatherer paid close attention, thinking it was just another father-son dispute.

But as the story went on, every Mastherial nearby grew focused on Ark’s words.

“……So, in the end, Father refused.”

“……”

“……”

The story ended.

And for a moment, a chill settled around Ark.

Everyone stopped chewing, spoons frozen mid-air. They were all processing what they’d just heard.

It was Leatherer who broke the silence first.

“……That’s just like him.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s not that I don’t understand your old man. He’s a serious guy. But being serious means he thinks things through. Sometimes, the old-fashioned way is the right way.”

“So, do you agree with my father, uncle?”

“In a way, yes. Ark, they say a tiger leaves its skin when it dies, and a person leaves their name. Of course, we leave behind our creations too, but if we’re no longer Mastherials, there are all sorts of problems.”

“Problems so serious that we should just give up the rest of our lives?”

“That’s…….”

Leatherer couldn’t answer.

No one could answer Ark’s question easily.

Ark went on.

“I don’t think so. The living have to go on living, don’t they? Uncle, I’m barely holding on as it is. But am I really the only one struggling here?”

No one could reply to Ark’s words.

Because every Mastherial imprisoned here had been suffering withdrawal ever since they were forced to put down their tools.

Enduring such a fate was unbearably hard.

Ark pleaded, almost in a whisper.

“……That man said, since he caused this, he’d help us in every way. No matter how much we blame the mages, magic is inseparable from our lives now. So, uncle—no, seniors—what if we left Gald Castle, which can’t even protect us, and started a new life with someone who could?”

“Ark…….”

Ark meant it sincerely.

But even so, his senior Mastherials couldn’t give him any answer.

At that moment—

Aaaaaaaaaaargh!

A horrific wail echoed from outside.

It was the cry of a Grey Troll.

---

“W-what?”

“Why are there trolls here?”

“Emergency! This is an emergency!”

The sudden appearance of the Grey Trolls.

It wasn’t just one or two.

The guards on duty were thrown into chaos.

They hurriedly pointed their crossbows at the sudden Grey Trolls and called for backup.

They moved as quietly and quickly as possible, worried that the trolls would notice them.

But the area around the Swamp Prison was as quiet as its name, and the Grey Trolls were as sensitive as ever.

Gruk?

So, it was only natural that the Grey Trolls quickly noticed the prison, reeking of humans.

That was the beginning.

“They’re coming!!”

Grrrrrrrrraaaaar!

Crash!!

The first troll barreled forward like a dump truck, hurling itself against the prison.

The impact was so enormous, the entire outer wall shook as if an earthquake had struck.

Thud!

Dust fell and bricks tumbled out.

The shockwave was immense.

Magic circles had been inscribed on the inside walls to absorb impact, but those could only do so much.

“Fire!!”

Knowing the limits of the walls, the guards and their reinforcements all fired their crossbows in unison.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The battle began.

The number of Grey Trolls, which had started as just a few, swelled to dozens, clinging to the walls.

The trolls pummeled the outer wall mercilessly.

It looked like a siege of living battering rams.

Above the trolls, a rain of crossbow bolts from the guards fell like a downpour. But—

Grrrrrrrrraaaaar!

……To the Grey Trolls, the crossbow bolts were no more threatening than toothpicks poking a dragon.

‘W-what do we do?’

Wimalon, the chief warden, was at a loss.

Monsters rarely came near the Swamp Prison, so until now, all he’d worried about was controlling the prisoners.

Moreover, while the guards were recruited from the army, their training was no different from ordinary soldiers, and their weapons were mostly for subduing people, not monsters.

So for now, all they could do was fire their crossbows, their most powerful available weapon.

Just then—

Bang!! Crack!!

A troll’s punch left a huge crack in part of the outer wall.

Seeing this, Wimalon broke out in a cold sweat.

‘We might really die at this rate…!’

Though the chief warden, Wimalon feared monsters and valued his life above all.

That’s why he volunteered for corrections duty when drafted—he only had to deal with people, not monsters.

But now, having fled to the prison to avoid monsters, he was faced with not just one but dozens of Grey Trolls right outside his prison.

‘I need to ask the kingdom for help. But…!’

Though this was clearly an emergency, there was no way to contact the kingdom for help.

Shamefully, he’d already sold off the emergency teleport scroll provided by the palace and pocketed the money.

So now, all Wimalon could do was send someone to try to break through the trolls and get to the kingdom.

‘But who?’

All soldiers must be ready to sacrifice themselves, but if a superior loses his men due to poor management, it reflects badly on his promotion prospects.

He couldn’t risk his men trying to break through and getting killed—it would affect his promotion.

Gulp.

Just then, a wicked thought crossed Wimalon’s mind.

If not his men, what about the prisoners?

No problem there.

They were serving time for their crimes, and no one would care if some of them died in an accident.

Wimalon’s guilty conscience beat faster.

‘That’s right. Let’s use the prisoners. They’re here to be punished anyway. Who cares if a few die?’

Reaching this conclusion, Wimalon shouted.

“Kyle.”

“Yes, Chief Warden.”

“Arm the prisoners immediately and send them outside.”

“Sir? But if we do that…”

“Give them only the bare minimum weapons. If this keeps up, we’ll all die. All we have to do is break through and request help from the kingdom. Make Rebon the messenger, and the moment the prisoners step outside, have the guards target them. We can’t have anyone escaping.”

“……Understood.”

“Hurry. If the wall collapses, it’s over.”

“Yes, sir!”

Guard Kyle hesitated for a moment, but when he realized his own life might be at risk, he answered quickly.

He rushed to assign tasks to the others, then began moving the prisoners.