Round 37: Hellgate Fortress

“What do we do now? What should we do?”
Fres paced anxiously around the room. Normally, such movement might have helped him lose weight—but unfortunately, he kept chewing on elf biscuits, those delicious treats only made by elves. Though sweet and nutritionally balanced, eating too many of them still made one’s mouth dry, throat greasy, and stomach bloated. Right now, aside from stuffing more biscuits into his mouth, Fres seemed unable to think of anything else to do.
Si Qishi gently flicked a crumb off his arm. “Sit down, fat guy. Things aren’t as bad as you think. But if you spray more food on me, I can’t guarantee things won’t get worse than you imagine.”
“Ah! My all-metal master—” Fres wiped his mouth. “I was going to tell you that I overheard the elf warriors led by Zalidan planning a coup. They’re dissatisfied with all non-elves, especially people like us—cough! cough! cough!”
Fres’s face turned purple as he clutched his neck and coughed violently, seemingly on the verge of suffocating or having a stroke. Si Qishi gave him a light tap on the back, causing him to spit out a clump of biscuit mixed with thick phlegm, nearly knocking him to the ground.
“Awwww… it hurts so much…” Fres knew without thinking that his back must be badly bruised. “…Ugh… During my time in the elf city, I’ve noticed those elf warriors are basically a bunch of fanatics… just as fanatical as those two holy warriors! Really!”
He glanced toward the door and lowered his voice. “They believe no one except night elves can be trusted! The only things that can help them are their weapons and strong willpower. The resources in the Sleeping Forest are enough for them to be self-sufficient… Look, it’s really… And because of my little business, they’ve already labeled me an ally of the Agus Empire. Previously, the priests intervened and stopped them from doing anything to me, but now it’s uncertain. They might seal off the entire forest and kill anyone who enters…”
Willpower? Compared to voluntarism, I prefer armamentism. Si Qishi found the filth Fres had spat on the vibrant floor displeasing and summoned a small flame to burn the stain black—regardless of whether it would look even worse to others.
The door opened.
Director Telis still wore his usual cold expression, though the curved dagger on his belt reminded the two people in the room that the situation was no longer ordinary. “Mr. Si Qishi, Warrior Leader Zalidan wants to see you.”
Lately, it seems everyone, no matter how strange, wants to see me… Fine, it’s a good chance to take a look at what that elf, who looks half-orkish, actually looks like.
Si Qishi stood up from the rattan chair. He rarely tried to hide the pair of black steel wings on his back now, letting them hang like a cloak. His shadow immediately covered Telis. “Then let’s go, elf.”

Forty-seven was the first to emerge from the room. Before following out, Thelis turned back and said coldly to Freys, “Don’t run around… Mr. Freys, you’re right; it’s hard to say what we’ll do to you now… Also, I don’t think twenty boxes of mithril and other magical metals are some trivial deal.”
The streets were much quieter, and armed elven warriors could be seen everywhere in the city. This sight puzzled Forty-seven—why did some people insist on such internal strife even in the face of a great enemy?
“A short period of pain is for a long-lasting continuation.”
Thelis’s words made Forty-seven turn to look at her in surprise. Could this night elf read minds?
Thelis didn’t explain anything. Instead, she took advantage of Forty-seven slowing down to walk ahead and lead the way.
Deception.
Following behind, Forty-seven watched the fairy-tale-like elven city and the elven soldiers who somewhat ruined the scenery, recalling an incident in his memory when an interstellar fleet dropped numerous heavy-element fusion bombs, turning a planet covered 95% in vegetation into a red hell—just because the military suspected there was an enemy base there and didn’t have time to send in assault forces to search.
This was war.
“Whether he’s really an artificial being or not, he must be sacrificed. It’s necessary to reseal the Gates of Hell.” Zarydan’s face flickered in the light of the fireflies: “I have reason to believe Eldrith has tried to reopen the passage between the Material Realm and the Abyss… This must not happen! And according to Director Thelis’s intelligence, without the cooperation of the priests, the only way to close the passage now is to execute an evil abyssal creature on the altar at the Gates of Hell!”
“But…” Anton said gravely, stroking his beard, “I’m sure that artificial being isn’t an evil abyssal creature! Your plan won’t work!”
“But, respected Mr. Anton, you can’t deny his lineage! And according to Miss Milia, didn’t the Evil-Slaying Blade also work on him?”
Milia looked at Anton helplessly, then at Zarydan, and finally nodded. “Yes, for the sake of justice, some sacrifices are necessary…”
“Then how do we kill him?” Anton sighed in disappointment. “You must know that artificial being’s combat strength… We have almost no chance in a close fight!”
“There’s no need to worry about that! That’s the nature of the passage—either send people in or send them out. As long as we’re prepared, that abyssal creature will naturally be driven out of the Material Realm by the power of the Gates of Hell, and the passage will close!” Zarydan said sternly. “Please stop discussing this! Mr. Anton, if you truly want to help us and prevent the night elves from being tempted by hellish forces, then take action!”
An elven warrior came in. “He’s here.”
Zarydan waved his hand to end the discussion. “Alright… Now let me talk to that creature. Let’s proceed according to the plan.”
When Forty-seven entered, he happened to meet Anton and Milia, who were about to leave.

Anton gave him a deep look, hesitating to speak.
“Let’s go, Teacher Anton,” Milia said, her expression also different from usual when she saw Forty-Seven.
Forty-Seven watched their retreating figures and smirked. These single-minded Holy Warriors!
Then he scared the fat, big gray bear by the door, satisfied as it left, sniffling and covering its nose.
“It seems you really don’t want me to sit down.”
Forty-Seven glanced around Zardidan’s wooden house—a simple yet spacious room with only a table and Zardidan sitting behind it.
Zardidan jumped up from the table. His agility was like that of a charging cheetah, but his presence and strength were like those of an enraged gray bear, while the short sword in his hand resembled a venomous snake ready to strike—
Even Forty-Seven’s eyes couldn’t fully track Zardidan’s speed. In the blink of an eye, Zardidan was already behind him, the short sword pressed against Forty-Seven’s neck. “Construct, you’re not as fast as I thought.”
“I doubt you can chop off my head in one swing…” Forty-Seven smiled teasingly, though it was difficult for him to express that exact expression: “But I have no doubt I can blow up your balls in one shot.”
His hand cannon was pointed at a rather awkward spot on Zardidan’s body.
The elven warrior’s purplish-red face turned even redder, but he restrained himself and stepped back.
“This iron shell isn’t an invincible barrier, Construct. That’s my advice.” Zardidan sheathed his sword and sat back down at the table, as if receiving subordinates: “Though I don’t like you… I’m still grateful for everything you’ve done for my people. Jorais has already reported to me.”
Forty-Seven stared at Zardidan, bending slightly with his burning eyes fixed on him. “From the way you speak, it seems you’re already the King of the Sleeping Forest.”
“Don’t measure us with human-like superficial thinking!” Zardidan grew annoyed. “What do you know, Construct! Everything I’ve done is for the freedom of my people!”
Freedom! Freedom! How many evils disguise themselves as such. Forty-Seven suddenly thought of these words for some reason, but then felt it wasn’t appropriate, so he waved his hand impatiently. “Better hurry up and tell me what you want. I’m busy.”
“Help me destroy Hellgate Fortress completely!” Zardidan was indeed straightforward.
“Hellgate Fortress?” It was the first time Forty-Seven had heard of this place. “What is it? What’s in it for me to help you?”
“Hellgate Fortress…” Zardidan seemed lost in thought for a moment. “It’s an indescribably filthy place… I wouldn’t even want to mention its name if I didn’t have to…”
But he quickly regained his composure. “You don’t need to know that, Construct. I need to assemble a strong enough adventuring party to carry out this mission… and you would be a great help to me. After successfully sealing Hellgate, I’ll allow you to leave the Sleeping Forest, far from our holy land, along with that disgusting human merchant—and preferably never to return.”
Is that a benefit? Forty-Seven almost laughed out loud.

However, the adventure mentioned by Zalidan stirred up some deep-seated memories in him—memories that had been surfacing ever since he saw the female mage on the battlefield, like a long-still pond suddenly disturbed by a thrown boulder, causing debris to rise to the surface.
“Your offer isn’t very appealing,” Si Qishi said disdainfully. “But considering that fat bastard’s mood and my own interest… I’ll return his goods and go with you.”
Zalidan stared at Si Qishi’s face, as if trying to discern some profound meaning from it.
“Very well,” Zalidan conceded. “But he must return to the north immediately with his caravan… If we find out he has any connection with Agus again, it won’t be mere imprisonment what awaits him.”
Si Qishi nodded in agreement, though he didn’t take the deal seriously at all. What does that fat bastard want? What does it matter to me?
Anton and Milia arrived at the square in front of the altar. Aside from groups of patrolling elven warriors, there were only a few druids working to repair the buildings damaged during the riots the previous night—though the riots hadn’t been severe, several houses were still at risk of collapsing due to the crowd’s trampling and pushing. The druids stood beside the damaged structures, forming a semicircle and silently chanting elven spells to help the buildings, or rather, the plants that made up the buildings, grow faster and return to their pre-damaged state.
Everything from last night was still vivid in her mind. Milia couldn’t help but admire that warlord. If not for his meticulous planning and ability to control the situation in such a short time, large-scale conflicts might have erupted in this city ruled by High Priest Eldrith. The almost bloodless coup of the previous day showed that not all warriors were just brash fighters; those who were skilled in politics could indeed become respected and feared leaders.
“What are you thinking about, Milia?” Anton asked, looking at the dazed young knight, as if recalling his own younger days.
“Oh! I don’t know…” Milia became flustered as Anton interrupted her thoughts. “I just… I don’t know how to put it…”
“Is it because of Si Qishi? Do you feel guilty for betraying him?”
“No… it’s not that… He’s already an evil half-pyreforge creature… It can’t be called betrayal… Out of justice, even if it weren’t for this situation, I would have eliminated him sooner or later!” Milia spoke more firmly, her fists clenched tightly.
“You know very well he isn’t a half-pyreforge creature. But if that’s really what you think, it’s not impossible.” Anton’s voice was slightly hoarse; he spoke far more these days than he did when swinging a sword. “But the most important thing is to be loyal to your own heart, that is, to your own sense of justice.”
The next morning, the elven city was still under semi-martial law, and the longboats prepared to head to Hellgate Fort were ready.

Three narrow wooden boats broke through the shimmering lake surface and left the dock. Curator Telis watched Zalidan and the others go, a complex expression appearing on his cold and handsome face. The boats quickly left the lake and turned into a winding tributary. The once bright and clear sky suddenly darkened, with the dense branches of trees on both banks covering the entire river channel, intertwining to form something akin to a tunnel. Although the river was winding, the elves’ skilled boatmanship ensured they never ran aground or hit rocks. Under their control, the boats moved through the water like agile fish—though the one carrying forty-seven people seemed a bit clumsy. As the boats progressed, the atmosphere grew increasingly dark. This darkness was different from that in other parts of the sleeping forest—where such darkness brought only a sense of quietness akin to night, this darkness carried an inexplicable sense of oppression and indifference, as if some unnatural, repulsive mist covered their journey. Suddenly, a faint light appeared on the lead boat—Milia had ignited holy light to drive away the oppressive darkness. “No! Turn off the light!” Anton and the boatman Kastar warned at the same time. Milia hesitated for a moment but quickly extinguished the holy light—yet it seemed to have disturbed something. Soft rustling sounds came from the bushes along the riverbank, as if some small creatures were agitated by the light. Soon, faint lights appeared in the dense woods, moving in and out as they closed in. “It’s little fairies!” Kastar whispered. “Don’t make any sudden moves, or they might get agitated… These little things are very troublesome right now.” Milia watched as a little fairy flew near her. It resembled a mix of a child and a bee, with colorful patterns on its abdomen. Its four translucent wings vibrated, emitting a faint buzzing sound. The fairy seemed not to see Milia, or if it did, it didn’t realize this giant was a living being. In its mind, Milia might as well have been no different from those towering ancient trees. It wrinkled its cute little nose, sniffing around, and as it moved, sparks of light fell. Its endearing beauty momentarily captivated Milia. Suddenly, another fairy flying by bumped into it—this accidental collision instantly turned the situation upside down. The affected fairy became restless, screeching loudly. Its black eyes, devoid of any white, glowed fiercely. Its round, cute chin split open to reveal sharp mandibles. Unable to find the fairy that bumped into it, it flew swiftly to the back of a companion hovering in midair and stabbed it hard with the stinger on its abdomen. The fairy let out a short, intense scream, flapping its wings desperately, but the poison spread rapidly throughout its body, causing it to spiral downward into the river.