"Are we finally done?" Arin asked as he watched the portal in front of him gradually turn white and become transparent. It was the middle of the day, and an entire month had passed since he had been sent here to protect the secret realms and ensure that no humans came to harm. He had expected the assignment to be demanding, perhaps even dangerous, but he had quickly discovered that the reality was considerably less exciting than he had imagined. After the first day, the endless fighting against mindless monsters had become so monotonous that he could hardly bear to look at another one.
It was not that Arin thought himself invincible or believed that his family was superior to everyone else in every possible way. Rather, the Sonnenbergs and the other established Trade Families had spent generations perfecting skills that most modern humans had never needed to develop. In the modern age, who had any real reason to learn how to fight with a bow, a blade, or other traditional weapons? Apart from the military, most people had little reason to train seriously, and even military personnel were taught to fight according to methods that differed considerably from those used by the ancient families.
As for people who practised fighting as a hobby, Arin could hardly consider them comparable to the members of his family. The Sonnenbergs regarded their skills as a lifelong responsibility, something that demanded constant practice, dedication, and a willingness to improve regardless of how much experience one had already accumulated. Their training was not something they did occasionally for entertainment, nor was it merely a way to stay in shape. For them, mastering their craft was a fundamental part of their lives, and that difference became particularly obvious whenever they had to fight creatures that relied on little more than instinct and brute force.
That was also why Arin had found the assignment so boring. While the rest of his family had taken the opportunity to mingle with the other Trade Families, exchange knowledge, and establish useful connections, he had little desire to participate in any of it. He had not volunteered to come here, and he certainly had not travelled all this way because he wanted to make new friends. As far as he was concerned, he had been dragged away from the place where he belonged and forced to spend a month doing work that could have been handled by almost anyone with adequate training.
At least when he had been sent to the Black Forest to oversee the mana stone mine, he had been surrounded by trees. That assignment had allowed him to remain in a familiar environment while taking care of his responsibilities, and he had found the arrangement considerably more tolerable. Here, however, there was nothing that even remotely resembled a proper forest. The landscape consisted of grass, scattered patches of disturbed earth, and one particularly irritating hill that had accumulated more arrows than blades of grass after weeks of fighting.
I still don't understand why Grandma insisted that I come along for all this nonsense, Arin thought as he surveyed the camp. He had barely been able to make use of the workshops, which had been one of the few things he had initially looked forward to when the assignment began. The Roth family, on the other hand, had thoroughly enjoyed themselves, spending their time experimenting with weapons and exploring the possibilities offered by mana. Watching them work had only made him more aware of how little he had gained from his own deployment.
The contrast became even more obvious whenever he looked towards the ridge overlooking the valley. The Roths had finished constructing their ballistae only two days after their equipment had been transported to the secret realm, and the weapons had been in almost constant use ever since. Since Gaia supplied the necessary ammunition, they had been free to test the machines repeatedly without worrying about exhausting their available stock. For the Roth family, this was an exceptional opportunity to experiment with ancient siege weapons and discover how mana could improve their performance.
Their experiments had already produced several promising results, particularly concerning the choice of wood used in the construction of these weapons of war. Different types of timber responded differently to the strain placed upon the frame, and the Roths wanted to determine which varieties offered the best combination of strength, flexibility, and durability. Mana introduced further possibilities, as materials that behaved predictably under ordinary conditions could react differently when exposed to magical energy. With a steady supply of targets and ammunition, the family had been able to conduct tests that would otherwise have been difficult, expensive, or simply impossible to arrange.
And what weapons they had built! The Roths had constructed ten ballistae, each capable of delivering a devastating shot against the creatures emerging from the portals. Against stage-one creatures, a direct hit was almost guaranteed to kill, and the weapons could inflict even greater damage when several monsters happened to line up along the same trajectory. The destructive power of the machines had quickly made them an important part of the defensive arrangements around the valley. Their effectiveness was so impressive that the family had only stopped building additional ballistae because they lacked enough personnel to operate the ones they already possessed.
Operating the weapons was no simple task, particularly when it came to drawing back the enormous strings. At least three blacksmiths were needed to wind each one back into position, and even then, the work demanded considerable strength and coordination. Once the weapon had been prepared, someone still had to aim and fire it, meaning that a functioning ballista required several people to operate efficiently. The Roths had discovered that constructing the machines was only part of the challenge; keeping them supplied with trained operators was an entirely different problem.
Arin's family could have provided people capable of making excellent use of the weapons, especially among their experienced archers, but there was little incentive for them to do so. The Sonnenbergs had not been asked to operate the ballistae, and from a financial perspective, that arrangement suited them perfectly well. If the Roths supplied their own personnel and handled the firing themselves, then the resulting earnings would remain with their family rather than being shared with the Sonnenbergs. There was no reason for Arin's relatives to volunteer for additional work when the Roths were perfectly happy to manage the weapons independently.
Looking down into the valley, Arin could not help sighing at the thought of finally returning home. The landscape below him looked as though a natural disaster had swept through it, with disturbed earth, broken vegetation, discarded arrows, and the remains of countless battles scattered across the ground. Although the sight represented a month of successful defensive work, it did nothing to improve his mood. He wanted to return to his forest, where he could breathe properly, spend time among the trees, and resume the activities that actually mattered to him.
However, his longing for home was not the only reason he wanted to leave. He was also desperate to discover what had happened to the world while they had been stranded in the secret realm. At one point, a screen had appeared above their camp and begun broadcasting the executions of corrupted humans, along with evidence detailing the crimes they had committed. The revelations had been horrifying, but there was no denying that the broadcasts had also been extraordinarily entertaining to watch, particularly when powerful individuals who had believed themselves untouchable were exposed before the entire world.
Unfortunately, the screen had disappeared two weeks ago, abruptly cutting them off from the rest of humanity once again. They had been left with more questions than answers, and there had been no reliable way to discover what had happened after the broadcasts stopped. The situation was particularly frustrating because they had not encountered a single living human in the secret realm during the entire four-week deployment. Their original plans for dealing with the wider situation had therefore become largely irrelevant, since they had no opportunity to interact with anyone beyond their own group.
Jordan, at least, had been relieved by that development. He had never been particularly enthusiastic about putting their plans into action, as he was uncertain whether he could control the bloodlust of the people involved once they were given an opportunity to act. The sudden disappearance of the broadcasts had prevented the situation from progressing any further, sparing him the need to confront that possibility directly. Nevertheless, he had not been entirely comfortable with the silence that followed, and the uncertainty had weighed on him almost as heavily as the fighting itself.
During the past two weeks, the entire group had remained on edge, waiting to learn how events had unfolded beyond the secret realm. The broadcasts had revealed crimes on an enormous scale, and the public exposure of corrupted humans and their collaborators had devastated the positions of countless politicians and capitalists in the United States. Some of the people implicated in the revelations had held considerable influence, and the consequences of their exposure were bound to extend far beyond the individuals who had been killed. Yet despite the magnitude of those events, Arin and his companions had heard nothing more about them.
Instead, they had been forced to continue fighting the same annoying creatures that emerged from the portals. The monsters were dangerous enough to require constant attention, but their lack of intelligence made every encounter feel increasingly repetitive. They charged, attacked, and died, rarely displaying anything that could be considered a meaningful strategy. Arin had long since grown tired of the routine, and he was now waiting for official confirmation that his responsibility for fighting the corrupted creatures had finally come to an end.
While Arin watched the portal slowly turn white, events were unfolding elsewhere in Europe.
Inside a small village that had appeared three years earlier, shortly after the expansion of the Earth had been completed, a deeply unsettling man sat waiting for the right moment to act. Calling him hideous would have been an understatement, as his appearance had been damaged to such an extent that it was difficult to recognise him as an ordinary human being. The entire left side of his face looked as though it had been burned away, leaving exposed red skin where normal features should have been. On the other side, enormous swellings distorted his remaining features, and the complete absence of a nose made his appearance even more disturbing.
Under ordinary circumstances, most people who encountered someone in such a condition would have felt a mixture of horror and pity. Some might even have considered putting him out of his misery, assuming that his injuries had left him suffering beyond anything a person should be expected to endure. However, the people living in this small village reacted in an entirely different manner. Rather than treating him as a tragic figure or an unfortunate outcast, they regarded him as a living god, granting him a level of reverence that would have seemed absurd to anyone unfamiliar with their circumstances.
The man seemed entirely comfortable with the attention, and the disturbing laughter that escaped him suggested that he found the situation amusing. He had waited long enough for the events surrounding the corrupted humans to unfold, and the silence that had followed the latest developments had finally given him reason to believe that the time had come to act. Whatever had happened elsewhere in the world, he now believed that the immediate danger had passed sufficiently for him to make contact with the people he had been unable to reach.
"It should be safe to contact the rest now and find out who survived this whole ordeal," the man said, his laughter echoing through the small village. His voice carried a peculiar mixture of anticipation and amusement, as though the possibility of discovering who had survived was just as interesting to him as the danger that had kept him waiting. "This planet really is quite sinister," he added, continuing to laugh in a manner that would have unsettled anyone who heard him without understanding the circumstances behind his words.