ITDG 14

 Chapter 14

The farewell at Silverrook was short.

After receiving the payment for the request and the Pyrovis hide he had asked for—

“Take care. Farewell.”

A few simple words were all.

Partly because Milford’s situation was urgent, but mostly because short, simple farewells were best.

Thanks to Bruno, Dermo didn’t even have to pay for his stay at James’s inn — quite a satisfying farewell from his point of view.

Clip-clop! Clip-clop!

At the end of the night, just before dawn,
Dermo was on the move toward a new destination.

“We’re here, Mr. Dermo!”

As they emerged from the forest, Maemot shouted.
From behind the man steering the horse, Dermo lifted his head slightly.

In the distance stood a small walled city —
the lord’s city of the barony, Milford.

The gates were slowly opening.

Though there was still some distance to go, the guards had already noticed the flag tied to the back of Maemot’s saddle.

Even after they passed through the gate, Maemot didn’t slow down.
The three horses continued galloping through the muddy streets toward the baron’s manor.

The iron gates surrounding the manor were already open.
Only after entering the grounds did the horses finally slow.

At the entrance stood an old man holding a lantern.

“Mr. Morris!”

It was Morris, the longtime butler of the Fyunn barony.
Maemot rode up to him.

“You’ve come. You’ve done well.”

His hair was pure white, shadows deep under his eyes.
Though neatly combed, his slightly disheveled hair showed just how weary his day had been.

As the group dismounted, Morris spoke again.

“And which one of you is Mr. Dermo?”

“This gentleman here is Mr. Dermo. The other is his companion.”

Upon hearing that, Morris bowed respectfully to them both.

“The Baron is ready to receive you. Please, follow me.”

Morris opened the door wide and led them inside.
Maemot and his men did not follow — their mission was complete.

The manor’s interior wasn’t ostentatious but exuded an air of dignified refinement.
Elegant wooden furniture decorated the wide hall,
and chandeliers crafted from refined soul stones emitted a gentle, self-sustaining glow that softly lit the space.

“Baron, the guests have arrived.”

At the door to the office on the second floor, Morris announced.

“Send them in.”

The office was revealed as Morris opened the door.

On the central sofa sat a middle-aged man — black hair streaked with strands of white.
Behind him stood a knight.

Fyunn’s eyes moved slightly, and understanding his intent, Morris said:

“This is Mr. Dermo, and this is his companion.”

“I see. So the village chief’s report was missing a few details. Please, have a seat.”

Fyunn nodded and gestured toward the empty sofa.

Dermo and Tom took their seats while Morris stood off to the side near the knight.

“First of all, let me thank you for eliminating the demons that appeared in Silverrook.”

Fyunn inclined his head respectfully.
He was a man who knew how to bow even without revealing his rank.

“I only did it for pay. Please, lift your head.”

“Payment or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you helped us. And you will again this time.”

His voice lowered as he moved to the main issue.

“One of my residents found a cave in the nearby forest — one said to be possessed by demons.
I immediately dispatched a subjugation team, but it’s been a week, and they haven’t returned.
There were four knights among them. For them not to return… I believe we may be facing at least a three-star demon.”

At Fyunn’s signal, Morris placed a pouch of coins on the table.

“Ten gold upfront. If you join the second subjugation team and slay the demon, you’ll receive thirty more.”

Tom inhaled sharply at the amount.

Forty gold for one job.

Even the three gold Dermo earned in Silverrook had seemed like a lot — this was on another level entirely.

‘He’s not even flinching at forty gold…’

Tom glanced at Dermo, who remained calm.

Then Dermo quietly put the pouch into his inventory.

Fyunn and the others’ eyes widened.

“You can use magic?!”

Fyunn’s voice rose.

Magic could only be wielded by those blessed with mana —
a gift so rare that even noble houses sought such talents desperately.
To see someone like that, dressed in burnt rags, standing before him, was unthinkable.

“I can use a little.”

“Oh…”

Why was someone of such talent here?
Even in a rural area, a mercenary who could use magic would be famous.
So why had he never heard the name Dermo before?

Doubts flashed through Fyunn’s mind — but alongside them came certainty:
he had hired the right man for this crisis.

“Mr. Dermo, is there anything you need?”

“Please prepare a proper sword, food for twenty, and a few healing potions.”

Dermo had returned the sword he’d borrowed from Maemot.
If he didn’t plan to fight barehanded, he’d need a weapon.

Tom couldn’t make sense of it.

Food for twenty?
Healing potions that cost nearly as much as the job’s entire pay?

No one could guess what Dermo was planning.

Even Fyunn tilted his head slightly.

“Why food for twenty?”

“Did the first subjugation team bring supplies?”

“They expected to return quickly, so… no.”

Fyunn’s voice trailed off, and he suddenly realized what Dermo was implying.

“You think they’re still alive?”

“Yes.”

“Even after a week with no contact?”

“Trust me.”

Fyunn tapped the sofa’s armrest thoughtfully.

“Morris. We don’t have much time.”

Fyunn had already assumed the first team was dead.
But if there was even a chance they were alive, he would give Dermo whatever he asked for.

“Then we’ll move the second subjugation team immediately.”

Outside the manor, nearly thirty men stood in formation:
one knight, two mercenaries, and the baron’s soldiers.

After Fyunn’s brief speech, the subjugation team set out, heading straight for the forest.

“Your name’s Dermo, right?”

The knight leading the way spoke quietly.

“Yes.”

“I’m Gorgo.”

[Name: Gorgo]
Class: Knight
Fame: 13
Strength: 38 Endurance: 24 Agility: 14 Intelligence: 11
Skills: , , ,
Info: A knight of the Heratz Barony. Wields a warhammer with great strength.

Gorgo was unusually heavyset for a knight —
but that very bulk was the source of his hammer’s devastating power.

“Aren’t you afraid? We don’t even know what kind of demon we’re facing.”

His face was filled with worry.
He knew he could handle a two-star demon at best — beyond that, it was suicide.

“If I let fear guide me, I’d only lose focus.”

“…Anyone would think you’re the knight, not me.”

Gorgo scratched his cheek awkwardly.

“I heard from Maemot — you’re quite skilled. I’ll be counting on you.”

“And I on you.”

They continued in silence until they reached the cave —
a massive opening between huge stone cracks.

Dermo glanced back at the group — most looked pale and frightened,
like livestock being led to slaughter.

Only three — the ones who had fought the Tarantula with him — looked composed.
Even Tom seemed exhausted.

‘Better give them the Honganchos.’

Then Maemot spoke up to rally them.

“What’s with those faces? Didn’t I tell you? Mr. Dermo is a magic swordsman!”

Phillip and Mark joined in.

“Yeah! He took down that Tarantula in one strike!”

“They even say he refused a royal knight invitation! So don’t be scared!”

The soldiers murmured in awe at Mark’s blatant lie.
Mark grinned at Dermo as if asking for praise.

“Is that true?”

Dermo turned to see Gorgo looking at him expectantly.

“Well…”

He left it vague. Letting them believe the rumor might help morale.

Gorgo clasped both of Dermo’s shoulders.

“Then it’s settled. I may be the formal leader, but from here on, I’ll follow your lead.”

Dermo nodded slightly — fine by him.

Thanks to Mark’s lie, the men’s expressions eased somewhat.

He raised his hand.

Swoosh.

Part of his hand vanished, rippling like disturbed water.

Gasps filled the ranks.

“His hand disappeared!”
“Is that magic too?”
“Idiot, that’s subspace magic!”

Then Dermo slowly pulled his hand back out —
now holding the sword the baron had lent him.

Even Gorgo’s eyes gleamed with wonder.

“Sir Gorgo. Let’s move.”

“Ah… right.”

Still staring at the sword that had appeared from thin air, Gorgo followed.

The rest of the team trailed behind, keeping formation.

“Can’t see a thing ahead,” Gorgo muttered, pulling something from his coat.
After shaking it, light flickered between his fingers.

“Here, take this. I brought a spare.”

He handed Dermo a small lantern made of soul stone —
barely bigger than a coin, but bright enough to push back the darkness ahead.

“It’s expensive, so don’t break it.”

“Understood.”

“This cave’s huge… If it had been here all along, we’d have known.”

The words had barely left his mouth when—

Rumble!

The ground shook violently.
Dust rained from above.

Panic erupted.

“It’s collapsing!”
“Run!”
“Don’t push!”
“What are you doing?! Get back here!”

The formation broke apart as some tried to flee.

“Let them go.”

Dermo’s calm voice stopped Gorgo.

“What?”

“They won’t make it out anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just watch.”

He nodded toward the cave entrance where light still streamed in.

The deserters ran for it — but within seconds, came sprinting back in, screaming.

Gorgo frowned.

“What the hell are they doing?”

They kept trying — running out, running back in,
crying for someone to let them escape.

“As you can see, Sir Gorgo… there is no exit anymore.”

This was no ordinary cave.
It was a dungeon —
one created by someone’s will.