# Enhanced Translation
"On the way to the treasure hall, Nabelun was flushed with excitement, continuously expressing admiration. Most of it was praise for the Scribe.
"Isn't he remarkable? To handle the situation so calmly when his beloved son has been kidnapped by bandits!"
"Indeed."
"He never once mentioned his son to you. He clearly identified the 'mission objective' as reclaiming this land! To abandon his son and choose his people instead. Truly an exemplary figure... the very embodiment of egalitarianism!"
"...Indeed."
Ivan nodded with little reaction. And simultaneously thought: Well, from the perspective of a 'human' not inclined toward egalitarianism, the Scribe's words were quite nuanced.
The Scribe's request had been simple.
-Return the remaining half of this mountain range to us.
This was highly political rhetoric. For the dwarves, it could be interpreted as 'Deal with Abiditas's remnants and end the war.'
The dwarves, being directly involved, placed 'Abiditas's remnants' and 'dwarf rebels' on the same level. But the situation was more complex.
While it was true that the dwarf rebels were being manipulated like puppets in the hands of necromancers, eliminating those necromancers wouldn't make the dwarf rebels suddenly vanish.
The divide between the two factions had already grown too deep for reconciliation to be considered. A surrender document was no different from a request for one's own execution.
The Scribe knew this. Killing Abiditas wouldn't return half the mountain range, nor could Ivan eliminate the remaining dwarf rebels.
His role was limited to the strike team and rescue team. Full-scale war wasn't his specialty.
'The Scribe hasn't abandoned his son.'
Therefore, Ivan's conclusion was as follows:
To his people, he had acted as 'a great leader who abandoned his son for his people' while issuing stern commands.
That must have been a desperate measure. At a point when half his people had turned their backs on him, his leadership might have already been called into question. For powerful charisma, one must be willing to sacrifice even one's child.
Also, the fact that he requested help from humans. That too falls under political risk. After the civil war ends, it would be difficult to shed the frame of being a dictator who clung to enemies and massacred his people.
So he couldn't directly ask for his son to be rescued.
-Return the remaining half of this mountain range to us.
The Scribe implied that he was the master of this entire mountain range. Beyond the empty title of egalitarianism, this great dictator was confident in his dominance, which far exceeded feudalistic authority.
But at the same time,
-Return the remaining half to us.
He was also a father acknowledging that his son was his other half.
If he had intended to order the assassination of Abiditas's remnants and the abandonment of his son, he would have used more efficient rhetoric.
'And he even prepared a safeguard.'
Nominally, once the political implications are removed from the above rhetoric, it appears to be an order to 'assassinate Abiditas's remnants.' That's certainly what will be written in the official request.
Therefore, if Ivan were to rescue the son and abandon the strike on the enemy leadership, the Scribe would use this as leverage to gain the upper hand in diplomacy with Krasilov.
Since the support troops caused a crisis in the war situation due to misjudgment.
On the other hand, prioritizing the assassination of the leadership would also cause problems. After all, the original request made through official channels to Krasilov was 'rescue the Scribe's son.'
'If he had wanted to prevent war in the first place, he would have requested support from the Northern Military.'
If Krasilov's support troops resolve all issues, what remains for the dwarves would be nothing more or less than a vassal state. He must have prepared such a move to ensure his people's independence.
He's an extremely difficult and experienced politician.
"Enrique."
"Yes?"
"Hik?!"
Nabelun was shocked as Enrique suddenly dropped from the ceiling. She had secretly infiltrated and waited in this strict secret passage leading from the Scribe's palace to the treasure hall.
Before Nabelun could react, Ivan looked at her and said:
"How much did you hear?"
"Everything."
"Do you understand the situation?"
"Yes."
"I'm counting on you."
The mature old man who had lived for over 200 years wisely grasped all the circumstances in their brief conversation.
As a long-time partner, Ivan had gained quite a reliable ally.
'What the Scribe wants is both the assassination of the necromancers and the rescue of his son.'
'Those two goals are impossible to achieve simultaneously in the current situation.'
'If both aren't achieved, the Scribe will attempt to gain the upper hand in official diplomacy with Krasilov.'
In the end, that man had prepared to benefit in all situations as long as the outcome of this civil war wasn't defeat.
Then we should teach him a lesson.
Being treated like servants by these moles and even having to pay them fees is simply not worth it.
Ivan's statement that 'the two goals cannot be achieved simultaneously' wasn't wrong.
If one excludes the subject 'I.'
And he's not alone here. With him is his mentor who directly guided all his tactics, his partner who roamed the battlefield with him, and a veteran who handled reconnaissance and tactical support from the rear of the Hero Party.
One Ivan can substitute for an entire strike team of the Annihilation Squad.
And the current force with Enrique is comparable to the strike team that assassinated the Seven Dragon Generals back in the day.
If they learned this fact, the dwarves would need to learn more than just rhetoric in diplomatic lines—they would need to learn 'manners.'
They should remember that at the end of the railway line from Pritzenkaya to Andgrund, the [Spider] and the [Shadow Sword] are always lurking.
"Which way is our disciple going? Rescue?"
"No."
"Right, I thought so. Good, I'll handle the rescue, you take the assassination. Let's do that."
"See you at the operations room."
"Yes, happy shopping."
Enrique dissolved back into the darkness with a giggle.
Ignoring the shocked Nabelun, Ivan continued walking and quietly thought.
The mission to rescue the Scribe's son would be Enrique's, and the mission to clean up Abiditas's remnants would be his own.
This role distribution was no different from the time of revenge that Enrique had conceded.
I'll be there soon. I'll be there before long. Please wait just a little longer.
Ivan whispered softly to the necromancers who would be lurking somewhere at the end of the tunnel as he continued walking.
Andgrund, in ancient dwarf runes, means [World]. This signified the dwarves' arrogance, but also implied the abundance of this underground realm.
There's no need to venture outside. All minerals, all products, all foundations are beneath this underground.
A vast different [World] spread deep underground, using the massive wall that stretches across the northern continent, the Sky Mountains, as a reference point.
Here, dwarves have waged wars as old as their history. Sometimes against the northern demon tribes, sometimes against underground indigenous creatures, occasionally against outside invaders, and finally, disputes between dwarf clans themselves.
This implies one thing. Just as humanity's domain is small compared to the world, the dwarf population is clearly insufficient compared to the width of the [World].
In other words, in the vast caverns and dark world beneath the ground, at the periphery of dwarf civilization, there will inevitably be gaps in military presence.
-Crackle... crackle...!
"This again, damn it."
At the wire relay station of the 17th outpost's 6th tunnel, the duty officer in charge of communication networks with three surrounding outposts grumbled as he put down the receiver.
Due to solid ground and mineral veins rich in magical power, all types of communication had to use either messengers or magical wire communication. (Sadly, messengers aren't an option due to dwarves' height. Short legs mean slow walking speed.)
No matter how delicate a product of manufacturing engineering, communication lines break easily. Just stepping on one with a military boot can take out an entire network.
Therefore, the static from the receiver was just one of those everyday problems.
"Hello? Can you hear me? This is the relay station, relay station. Tunnel 5, respond."
-Crackle... crackle.
"Tunnel 5 is dead too?"
The dwarf, yawning, scratched his beard roughly and grumbled.
With the front line recently stagnated, there was no tension, and those 'necrophiliacs' in the rear were holed up in their rooms preparing something, so at this outpost far from the front line, there was not the slightest sense of war.
It was a routine duty shift like any other, and like all duty shifts, it involved half-dozing while writing duty reports every hour, secretly munching on jerky, and making routine duty calls.
But at this point, when reports should be coming in from each tunnel outpost every 10 minutes, there had been no response for 30 minutes.
"Hello, Tunnel 4? Can you hear me?"
-Crackle....
"...Tunnel 9. Can you hear me? Respond. Relay station, this is the relay station."
-Crackle. Crackle....
By now, anxiety suddenly surged. This radio silence couldn't be caused by just one broken wire.
Only then did the word 'war' begin to whisper in the dwarf's mind. Although it was an outer outpost far from the front line, he was still a rebel.
All rebels in this world are prone to paranoia. It was obvious they would be dragged to the execution block the moment they were captured. As soon as the crisis of war came to mind, the duty officer anxiously began pressing the relay buttons frantically.
"Tunnel 1, Tunnel 2... Tunnel 11!! Outpost 16, respond. Outpost 15! Outpost 19!!"
-Crackle, crackle, crackle....
"Northwestern Command, this is Outpost 15, Outpost 15 relay station. Respond!"
-Crackle. Crackle.
By this point, it wasn't just a problem with one or two wires. It's impossible for all wires from numerous tunnels to be cut simultaneously by chance.
It's someone's deliberate operation. But dwarves conducting such an operation, so far in the rear? That would have been impossible even during wartime when they still had the [Earth-Net Excavator].
The duty officer anxiously scratched his beard and scanned the surroundings with small eyes.
"...Gulp."
There were five tunnels centered around the relay station. One led to the rear command post, so he frantically scanned the four forward tunnels and gulped.
How long until the next duty officer arrives? Damn it, when I get back, I'll insist that duty shifts must be done in pairs. No matter how far in the rear, no matter how short-staffed the front line is, this is too much.
-Boom.
At that moment, a heavy rumble was heard from a distant tunnel. The duty officer let out a "Hieek!" and quickly raised his pistol.
-Boom!
"Hukk!!"
The white magic lights illuminating the tunnel went out with a thud. The location is in the direction of Outpost 14.... The duty officer licked his dry lips and aimed his pistol with trembling hands.
Again.
-Boom—!!
The lights went out in the opposite tunnel.
-Boom—!!
In another tunnel, and yet another.
Finally, darkness descended on all four tunnels leading to the forward outposts.
Panicking, the duty officer hurriedly picked up the relay receiver and began frantically pressing buttons.
"Anyone respond! Emergency! This is an emergency situation!! Requesting support!!! Requesting support!!"
The terrified dwarf's screams echoed loudly inside the relay station. The only response was static-filled silence.
When a faint magic light in the relay station barely pushed back the darkness in front of his nose, a click sound was heard from beyond the relay.
"Can you hear me? Can you hear me!! Oh, ancestors. Damn it. Comrade!! This is the relay station. The 17th outpost relay station! Requesting support!!"
-Location?
"Damn it, what do you mean location! Are there two relay stations at Outpost 17? It's at Tunnel 6 of Outpost 17!! Hurry! This is an emergency!!"
-Understood.
With a click, the signal was cut off.
Only then did the duty officer's mind seem to return as if by magic. His brain, which had been pickled in fear, began to actively absorb oxygen along with relief.
He panted, and then suddenly, with his brain finally beginning to function rationally, he managed to form a thought.
'Wait. Who... was that?'
After frantically pressing the relay buttons, he couldn't confirm which outpost had responded. And even if some outpost had responded, they would never speak directly without following communication procedures.
Even if such a case existed, they wouldn't ask for the relay station's location.
And even in the extremely unlikely event they didn't know the relay station's location... they wouldn't end the conversation like this.
'Who is it. Who is it...! Who could it be?'
The 'Egalitarians'? Or, or demons who broke through the external gate in this direction? Or... or....
-Do not stay alone at the end of a dark tunnel.
An old adage flashed through his mind.
-For the Spider is coming.
A whisper that had become mere superstition after many years.
The festival held by the dwarves after all the involved parties had died had largely diluted the fear of that old superstition, and now it was merely a nursery rhyme to scare young children.
But that adage, which all dwarves who remembered that time and had combat experience occasionally recalled with seizures.
-Thud, thud, thud.
Footsteps were heard from the end of the tunnel.
The dwarf convulsively raised his gun and fired in the direction of the sound.
Bang, bang! Ting.... The sound of cartridges rolling, bullets ricocheting off somewhere in the tunnel. And through it all.
-Thud, thud, thud.
The footsteps don't stop.
"Identify yourself! I-identify yourself!!"
-Bang!! Bang! Click, tick. Tick. Tick.
Even as the firing pin struck the empty chamber in vain, he couldn't bring himself to reload, just aiming at the end of the tunnel with trembling hands.
In the ears of the dwarf, who was trembling and crying, a rhythmic sound echoed.
As regular as a beating heart, as slow and quiet as a noose tightening around his throat.
-Thud, thud, thud.
"Tell Enrique. Northern Gate 5 infiltration successful."
"Yes, sir! Northern Gate 5 infiltration successful!!"
"Quietly."
"Yes, sir!!"
"Quiet."
"Yesss... sir!!"
After scanning Lucia, who was grinning playfully, Ivan quietly sighed.
Lucia grinned and then closed her eyes tightly.
For a moment, magical power flickered, and red blood vessels popped out on her pale white skin.
Vampiring, a life signal transmitted through the bloodline of ancestors.
While complex conversations aren't possible, short signals can be transmitted regardless of terrain within a certain distance. Thump, thump, thump. Signals like heartbeats.
As Morse code, devised in the early 19th century, proved, single-pulse signal stimuli are excellent communication language. It's no coincidence that Enrique operated an intelligence organization.
And Enrique's immediate disciple, half-vampire, half-human. Lucia had successfully absorbed almost all of Enrique's secret arts. Naturally, she could use this level of skill overwhelmingly better than other vampires.
The problem was her personality, which Ivan thought was like seeing Enrique 200 years younger.
It's like she took only the years from an old person who acts like a child. In other words, she's just childish.
'Still, it will be a good learning experience.'
Among the descendants of the Hero Party, she's one of the few who received direct teachings from the former Hero Party. This means she's the most outstanding in the new Hero Party. The only thing she lacks is practical experience.
An excellent agent never performs just one objective in a single operation. The aim is always to exceed the target, and Ivan also kept that teaching deep in his heart.
In this operation too, like someone who had completed a mature 21st-century education with excellent grades, he planned to educate a young student as an educator.
It's enough for Lucia to act as a communications officer from a distance. He can provide practical education through direct guidance.
"The reply?"
"Understood. Continue the operation. That's it!"
"Confirmed. Let's move."
"Yes, sir!!"
"Quietly."
"Yesss... sir!!!"
Is she doing this on purpose? When he looked back, her expression confirmed that she was indeed doing it on purpose.
Ivan, having spent his childhood in an era with student rights ordinances, doesn't use violence for discipline.
But he did want to hit her once. He reflexively reached for his waist, then quietly removed his hand from the axe handle. Instead, he sighed.
Whenever the thought crossed his mind that this was a primitive pre-modern society so primitive educational methods might be acceptable.
He suppressed it with the determination to maintain dignity as a representative of Earth's civilized world.
Andgrund 'Strike East, Advance West' operation, day 2. This happened right after occupying the first target point.