[Prologue] The Dungeon of Mist and a Wandering Corpse

My body shakes with fear.

My teeth rattle in despair.

The flame of courage grows dim.

Yet I force my weary body on.

No matter how unsightly that may look.

For there is nothing else I can do.

Even the cloudless sky seemed tinged with gray.

The world was in ruin. A mere century had passed since the long and

bloody crusade that ushered in a new age of peace, yet the world was

plunged into darkness once more by a blinding white shroud of mist. The

Shroud of Chaos.

It appeared suddenly and without warning in the hundredth year of the

New Astral Calendar. The people detested it, holy men lamented it, and wise

men feared it. But the fools—they regarded it with covetous eyes.

And a party of such fools, called "adventurers," was at this very

moment crossing the plains in a horse-drawn carriage.

"Whoa, really?!" exclaimed one, a spiky-haired brunet called Rascal.

"I could tell you were special," added the young man in a suit of armor

sitting beside him. "But to think we had a graduate of the Academy in our

midst…"

The object of their wonder was a young girl with blue hair by the name

of Renea sitting across from them. She puffed out her well-developed chest

and replied, "Ahem! You'll look back on this as one of the luckiest days of

your life!"

Rascal and Tolkin, the man next to him, showered the young lady with

more praise before looking with relieved expressions toward the girl sitting

by the window. She had long white hair and was shaking in her boots.

"Miss Alice," said Tolkin. "There's no need to be afraid. This woman is

a formidable ally."

"Y-y-y-y-yes, you're right."

The girl, Alice, kept trembling, so Rascal and Tolkin simply shrugged.

However, another boy, Cecil, reached out to her with a gentle smile on his

face.

"It's okay to be scared," he said. "It's an important instinct to have as an

adventurer, especially fresh faces like us."

Alice was about to express her gratitude, but just as she opened her

mouth to speak, the coachman called out over his shoulder, "We're almost at

the fog. Time to mask up, rookies."

The idle chatter immediately stopped. All adventurers knew to wear

their masks when exploring the Shroud. The masks were steeped in the

juices of the Orage fruit and dried, which was believed to protect against

harmful effects, in particular the fearsome disease Blue-Eye, responsible for

the terrifying monsters called "fiends" that prowled the lands.

Everybody checked their weapons as the carriage came to a halt.

"Stay safe out there, rookies," said the coachman, watching his

passengers disembark before turning around and heading back to safety.

There was a short pause where nobody moved a muscle. They all knew

that beyond this point, there was every chance they wouldn't return alive.

Alice, the most terrified of them all, had even begun muttering a prayer

underneath her breath, and it was not obvious whether the girl herself had

realized it.

"O, St. Augus…p-please keep us as we walk through the valley of

shadows…"

To her comrades, the trembling girl was a reflection of their own mental

states. "Hey, don't be gettin' all flaky on us!" said Rascal, apparently the

most perturbed by this window into his own fear. "Don't forget you've got

us here!"

"He's right," said Tolkin. "None of us face our trials alone. We stand

strong together."

Alice felt heartened by these words…and ashamed of her own

cowardice. If she was ever to fulfill her dreams and stand by his side, she

would need the courage to see it through.

Alice tried to remain hopeful, and, at last, she spoke.

"I…I shan't be a burden! I promise!"

Her partners looked back at her with proud smiles.

"Right. Then let's take our first steps down a path of legend."

The party of five exchanged fortifying glances and stepped into the

mist.

Once inside the dungeon, they kept to the main path. Rascal, Tolkin, and

Alice all broke into a cold sweat, feeling the evil lurking just out of sight.

Just then, something crawled around the corner.

"A slime. Perfect for our first real fight."

It was a lump of flesh the color of sludge, with smooth, flowing skin

and a human face. As it crept along the ground with slow, painstaking

movements, the face moaned, "I'm late… I'm late…"

"Alice, Rascal, Tolkin, watch closely! I'll show you how a true genius

fights!"

Renea stepped forward, extending her palm.

"O, fire and lightning, come to me! Lay waste to my foes and bring

eternal stillness!"

Renea's clear, sharp words heralded a burst of purple lightning from her

palm that hit the slime head-on.

"I'm…late…"

With one final cry, the slime melted into an unrecognizable puddle of

rotten flesh. Left behind in the center of the remains was a single jewel.

Renea dashed over and scooped it up.

"…Damn. Nothing special. Guess he was just a normal dude before he

got all, you know, gooey."

A Testament Stone. This was the object left behind after a fiend earned

a temporary reprieve from life. It was also an adventurer's main source of

income.

"…Well, color me surprised," said Rascal, stunned by the impressive

display of magic. "I didn't know you could use Sacraments."

"We can manipulate the Source ourselves," said Tolkin, "but not to that

same extent…"

The Source was one of the mysteries revealed only to initiates of the

Church of Cthul. It was an unfathomable power that dwelled within the

body, granted to mankind by St. Augus in times of old. He was the first in

history to communicate with the Undergod Cthul himself and unravel the

Source's mysteries, becoming the founder of the Cthulian religion. Believers

received this power as well, and by studying its secrets, they could grow

adept in manipulation of the Source and call upon its boundless potency in

battle.

The Sacrament was the name given to the most powerful of these arts,

and students able to call upon them were rare.

"I'm also a Sacrament user, by the way," said the other man, Cecil. "I'm

not as adept as Renea, though."

"Wow! You're saying we've got two Sacrament users on our team?!"

"We've got luck on our side!"

Rascal and Tolkin beamed with self-assurance, their stress of only a few

moments prior all but gone.

"We're gonna make so much money today!"

"Maybe we can trade this starting equipment in for something better

already?"

The fear had given way to a careless optimism. And that was when it

happened.

"The first thing I'll do is invest in some better armor, and—"

Tolkin's words were cut short.

"Shgyugh."

It all happened so fast that nobody realized what had become of him at

first. And when they finally did, it nearly destroyed their feeble minds.

It was a rock, thrown with incredible force, which had taken off poor

Tolkin's head.

"Tol…kin…?"

Rascal stared in horror, dumbfounded. Then…

"M-m-meeeat… Meeeeat…"

"Ch…ch-ch-chil…dren…"

Through the veil of mist came the horrifying cause. Dozens of blue

pinpricks in all directions. The eyes of fiends.

At that moment, everyone made the same decision.

"Run!"

It was Cecil who cried out first—a prelude to the carnage that was to

follow.

Courage. Humanity's greatest weapon and a last resort against the

specter of fear. In a dungeon, it was the only thing on which an adventurer

could truly rely. Knowledge and skill were both secondary; tools subservient

to the whims of the heart. Cecil and Renea had both forgotten that simple

truth and were scrambling around madly, searching for a way out. Their

minds were muddled, unable to put any of their precious Sacraments into

action.

Manipulation of the Source required a calm mind. Reciting the chant

was merely one method to achieve this state; without a still heart, it was no

more than soliloquy. Knowledge and skill were meant to be their two wings

for soaring over troubles, but right now those wings were clipped, and their

only destination was a gruesome end for both them and their comrades.

"We're nearly at the exit!" yelled Alice, more terrified than anyone else.

"Just a little longer! Don't look back! Just keep on running as fast as you

can!"

There was no response. The others didn't need to be told. None of them

wanted to look back and face the cruel reality bearing down on them.

Nobody wanted to accept the horrible truth…that those fiends were getting

closer.

"Ch-ch-ch-children… Children…"

"M-meat…meat. Wanna eat…meat…"

Kobolds. Unfortunate souls warped beyond recognition by the influence

of the Shroud. They pursued the adventuring band gleefully and with

slavering mouths.

Perhaps it was their terrifying persistence that caused Renea to trip on a

rock…and fall.

"Aaaagh!"

A shrill scream issued from her paling lips. Cecil and Alice both

stopped and looked back.

"Renea!" they both cried. Rascal, meanwhile, lacked their virtuous

intent and continued running.

"Hee…hee…hee…hee. What's…for…dinner…todaaay…?"

A kobold that had been hiding in a side passage pulled him to the

ground. Rascal let out a tiny squeal that would prove to be his final word,

and the air grew thick with the sounds of him being messily devoured,

providing a haunting accompaniment to the girl's anguish.

"H-help me! Cecil!"

Renea held out her arm, gazing imploringly at the blond-haired lad.

However, their hands never met. The kobolds advanced like a wave,

surrounding the three rookie adventurers.

"You'll pay for this!"

Cecil swung his longsword, hoping to cut down a few of the deadly

foes…but to no avail. Another of them took Alice and pinned her to the

ground, leaving Renea without any hope of salvation.

"…Huh?"

It was then that Renea felt something hard pressing against her lower

body. It was the kobold's erect genital.

"No… No… Nooooooooooo!"

She struggled but was unable to fight back against the monstrous

strength of the kobold. The beast took no heed and moved his claw down to

Renea's hips, tearing away her dark blue breeches and snow-white

underwear.

"Gagh!"

The kobold spared no thought to Renea's pain, the breaking of her mind,

the tearing of her hymen. He mindlessly thrust, indulging his primal desires.

His member ravaged her insides, hard as steel.

"Agh! Gagh! Ghh! Gah! Ggh! Agh!"

Renea emitted a series of tiny yelps, her eyes flayed wide in pain. Each

thrust rocked her heaving breasts, which in turn aroused the kobold further,

causing his thrusts to grow both in intensity and frequency.

Beside her, Alice looked on with pained sorrow, unable to do anything

to help. The kobold atop her emitted a foul breath as his own girth began to

swell.

"Ooh… Oohh… Oooohhhh."

The kobold turned his claws to Alice's lower half and, in one swift

movement, tore the cloth apart before pressing his raging phallus against

Alice's exposed privates.

"H-help…"

Alice thought of her savior, begging him to appear. But as if mocking

her ridiculous fantasies, the kobold prepared to violate her.

"Wa…want… Waaaaaaant!"

Just then…

A single gunshot rang out.

The explosion rattled the eardrums of all creatures present. And then the

beastly head of the kobold that was crouched atop Alice and poised to rape

her disappeared. The rest of his body turned to rotten liquid and doused her.

More shots rang out. Five in total. And with each one, another of the

beasts' heads burst like a ripe watermelon.

"It's him!" Alice cried.

A man in a dark coat walked through the mist, his left leg dragging a bit

with each step, a sword at his hip and black hair with streaks of gray atop his

head. In his left hand, he held a pistol at eye level.

"…Come, my brethren."

The kobolds all attacked at once. Claws, fangs, all pointed at the

intruder's flesh.

But the man did not stop. His gunshots rang out ceaselessly, each

reducing another fiend to a fetid puddle on the ground. However, the

monsters did not relent either. Undisturbed by the deaths of the others in

their pack, the final three charged the man simultaneously, their teeth and

claws directed unerringly at his flesh.

The man…did not move. He stood still, unflinching in the face of

danger, as if welcoming his own end. The beasts' claws pierced his heart and

right lung. A fatal wound, to be certain. Yet even this did not end the

creatures' relentless assault, and the third kobold, a little behind the other

two, opened his jaws wide.

"M…m-m-more. Moooore!"

The sharp teeth closed around the man's neck, ready to rip off his head.

But the fatally injured man was not put off in the slightest.

He raised his right arm and blocked the beast's bite.

Then there was a shrill ring…and the kobold's teeth shattered.

"Wing, unfurl, and take my prize."

In response to the man's short chant, his right arm began to change. It

grew rapidly, tearing apart the coat sleeve and revealing its true form.

The man's right arm was made of black steel.

In the blink of an eye, the prosthetic transformed from an everyday

convenience to a brutal weapon. The rounded fingers became sharpened

knives. Hooked blades swung out from inside, and the man turned his

burning crimson eyes upon the beings whose claws were embedded in his

torso.

"…Begone."

He swung his weighty steel arm, effortlessly reducing the fiends to a

puddle of meat gravy, and a pile of softly glowing Testament Stones.

"H-he tore through that fiend so easily!" said Cecil with wonder. A

fiend's skin was too tough to be severed by human hands, and even using

Sacraments, it wasn't an easy job. But the enigmatic figure didn't stop to

brag. He calmly picked up the Testament Stones and placed them in his

pocket.

Then Cecil was struck with wonder for a second time.

"What? His wounds…!"

The man had sustained fatal injuries in the battle. Yet in the blink of an

eye, they sealed themselves up as if by magic, and in a few moments not

even a scar remained.

"…Must have heard the noise," the man muttered as a second pack of

kobolds appeared, twice the size of what he had just dispatched.

"…It's over. We're all dead," lamented Cecil.

"No," replied Alice. "We shall be all right. He will protect us."

She had faith. This predicament was no predicament at all.

It wasn't long before her faith was rewarded.

"H-hun…gryyyyyy!"

"D-doc…doctor…tor…tor…!"

"Pain…p…p-p-paaaaaain!"

The fiends all howled in chorus, and a massacre ensued. They vastly

outnumbered the adventuring band…and yet…

The determination in the man's crimson eyes was unwavering.

"Let sorrow be my guide. Blade of Azakiel. The moon's tragedy.

The white butterfly's wing."

Four clear verses fell from the man's lips. And just as the pack was

about to reach him…

"…Arts of Steel, Deploy. Abominable Armament Number Three: The

Murderer's Rushing Fang, Slasher Bite."

The man's mechanical arm transformed once again, this time into an

enormous serpent of blades. Then, as if possessing a will of its own, it reared

up, let out a howl, and swept its body horizontally. The monsters were sliced

apart in the blink of an eye, becoming dirty puddles of rotten flesh. The mad

band of beasts did not let up, however, and continued charging, like moths to

a flame.

Each of them was liquefied before landing a single scratch on the man.

"…May your sleep be eternal salvation."

Amid a pool of rotten flesh and a hoard of sparkling stones, the man

spoke in solemn, merciful tones, like a priest. As he did, he gestured, making

a four-pointed shape in the air.

Cecil could only bring himself to say one thing…

"…What the hell?"

His mind was awash with emotion, but before he could put any of it to

words…

The man looked up to the heavens…and stepped forward. Dragging his

leg behind him, he walked over to one kobold who still clung to life. He—or

maybe she—seemed to have been left alive on purpose. They flailed

helplessly on the ground, unable to right themselves, and as the man looked

down at them, he slowly removed his mask. The iron plate covering his

mouth came away to reveal a handsome yet deathly pale face. Around the

right side of his mouth, the flesh had been stripped away.

He looked like a monster. No, he was one. A fiend with a human heart.

He lowered to his knees, opened his mouth…

…and sunk his teeth into the fallen beastfolk's shoulder.

"Eep?!"

When at last Renea returned to her senses, she squealed at the sight.

The man was a predator, feasting on his prey. After tearing chunks off

the kobold's shoulder, he chewed, swallowed, and moved onto the fiend's

chest, then legs, and finally the flanks of the torso. He stripped the flesh and

gobbled the organs, making unsettling noises all the while.

"Urgh…!"

Renea couldn't cope with the sight and vomited all over the floor. Cecil

looked on, horrified, as the sweat dripped down his brow, and the name of

that monster-eating fiend came to his lips.

"It's…Leon the Devourer!"

Cecil and Renea both wore undeniable looks of disgust. Alice alone

smiled pleasantly.

"I've finally found you," she said, and no sooner had her utterance

faded into the mist than Leon finished his meal and picked up the Testament

Stone before taking a look around—at the other stones, perhaps—and

sighed.

Then he replaced his iron mask, once again concealing his inhuman

face, and turned to the adventurers. "Take them or don't," he declared. "It

makes no difference to me."

With that, he turned and, dragging his left leg behind him, disappeared

into the white darkness.

"Th-that was him! The Third Hero of Salvation, Leon Crossheart!"

spoke Cecil, as if finally able to pronounce the words. His expression and his

eyes were filled with fear and revulsion. "How can they call him a hero?

He's a monster!"

His teeth chattered. His whole body shook. Renea raised no objection to

his claim. But Alice…

"No, he's not," she declared with conviction. There was no trace of the

scared little girl anymore. Only a young woman delighted to find the object

of her search at last. "He's not a monster. He's…"

Whatever she said next, she said only in her heart. She simply watched,

silently, as the walking corpse disappeared into the mist.