Jake blinked as he continued to dig with a pickaxe and shovel, sweat dripping from his brow. Despite finding himself in this grueling situation thanks to a bad choice in friends, he showed no complaints. The task had been assigned by the royal family, and for a knight like Jake, who embodied loyalty to the crown, this was just another duty.

“—The Crimson Cross Army? Never heard of them before. But the idea of such a seditious group emerging from the temple… unbelievable.”

Bang! Bang!

“I feel the same way,” muttered Yord, a junior knight who had also found himself dragged into this situation. He looked pitiable, carting dirt around despite being a rookie. Unlike Jake, Yord had no strong allegiance to the royal family and thus had little reason to take on such missions. Yet, he had tagged along simply because his admired seniors were involved.

It was his first assignment as a knight, and it seemed he had some quiet excitement about the experience.

“You don’t have to believe it. I only heard about it secondhand anyway,” interjected Ihan, the very person who had brought both Jake and Yord into this mess.

There he was, digging with his bare hands, somehow accomplishing more than those using actual tools. At one point, Ihan even shattered a boulder the size of two watermelons with his bare hands.

This group of knights had effectively been reduced to prisoners trapped in a [Tunnel].

“…Could you, I don’t know, work normally for once?” Jake groaned, exasperated by how Ihan treated the arduous work as if it were play.

At least for Ihan, that’s what it looked like.

“These tools are too flimsy. If I had my usual equipment, maybe I’d take it more seriously.”
“You’re still doing those side jobs?”
“Yup. Good money and keeps me fit.”
“...You’re such a weirdo.”

Their conversation lacked structure, meandering between serious topics and mundane chatter. To an outsider, it might seem like nothing more than idle gossip. Their voices were unusually loud, as if deliberately ensuring others could overhear.

This was no accident.

‘No reactions yet.’
‘Judging by everyone else’s responses, no one seems particularly suspicious. Though, I think they’re starting to think we’re crazy.’
‘Maybe it’s because we’re talking about some bizarre cult?’
‘…Or maybe it’s because of you. Can’t you just work normally for once?’
‘It’s not my fault the tools keep breaking. What do you want me to do about it?’
‘Control your strength!’
‘…Easier said than done.’

It was clear they were intentionally leaking information to gauge the [criminals’] reactions.

But as expected, the first attempt yielded nothing.

‘Tch. Not a single bite.’

The results were disappointing. Ihan’s ability to sense within a one-kilometer radius—though extendable to five kilometers for brief periods—revealed no suspicious behavior among the gathered criminals. While he had succeeded in monitoring their reactions, he had found no one worth singling out.

“Frustrating,” he muttered.
“Be patient. We knew from the start this wouldn’t be an easy mission,” Jake reassured him.
“He’s right, sir. We’re searching for a group powerful enough to threaten the kingdom. It’s no simple task,” added Yord.

Jake reminded Ihan that royal missions often spanned years, not days, urging him to temper his expectations.

“I don’t have time to drag this out,” Ihan replied curtly.
“Why not?”
“My students’ vacation—or rather, their break—ends soon. I need to be back before then.”
“……”

Jake wasn’t sure whether to be impressed that his unserious friend had finally found a purpose in life or furious that Ihan treated a royal mission like a part-time job.

The attack referred to as the "Monster Terror" or the "Academy Massacre" had occurred just the previous day. A demon lord-level monster, accompanied by a horde of trolls, had appeared in the royal capital. While the incident miraculously resulted in no casualties, thanks to the efforts of Ihan, the students, and a capable regressor, it had been nothing short of a catastrophe.

Had things gone differently, the capital could have fallen.

This was no minor event. The incident underscored the importance of anticipating the consequences of even a single mistake—a duty for anyone charged with leading a nation.

“This attack was nothing less than a massive provocation against the entire kingdom,” the king had declared in fury. “We must respond with full force and exact retribution, no matter the cost!”

Orders to apprehend the perpetrators were issued, and high-ranking officials mobilized quickly. For a time, the royal capital’s back alleys became a place of fear and tension. Soldiers and knights scoured the city, capturing anyone suspicious. In their efforts, they managed to apprehend over 80% of the known criminals hiding within the capital.

And yet:
“We still haven’t caught the real culprits? What are you all doing?!”

The king’s fury knew no bounds.

This failure wasn’t due to incompetence but to the skill of the true perpetrators. Not even the soldiers and knights could uncover a single clue about their whereabouts.

What the royal family had discovered, however, was a large-scale massacre site likely linked to the attack. This grim find only reinforced the realization that the search for the true culprits would be a long-term endeavor.

Amid this turmoil, one royal heir had uncovered more about the attackers than the royal court itself. Isis, in her characteristic resourcefulness, had identified key details about the group that had infiltrated the capital.

“A rogue mage captured by Galahad was found to be a low-ranking priest,” Isis explained. “He bore a cross symbolizing the ‘Light of Radiance.’”
“Does that mean the temple is responsible?”
“Soldiers investigated the temple but found no record of such a priest. However, I doubt their investigation was thorough. With so many devout followers, it’s unlikely they dared to dig too deeply…”

Unlike the soldiers, Isis harbored no such reservations. She didn’t believe in miracles or divine intervention; if anything, she would exploit such beliefs to her advantage. Her investigation was relentless, and she had uncovered a chilling truth:

“The Crimson Cross Army,” she sneered. “How utterly revolting. They use the name of the divine to feed their greed and thirst for power.”

Ihan, however, offered no reaction to her contempt.

“Are you sure they really exist?”

Ever since hearing the name "Crimson Cross Army," Ihan had been uneasy. Fanatics were one thing, but he found it hard to believe that a group so significant could exist without him ever hearing about it.

Isis, however, was certain.
“They exist. Albert’s been running all over the kingdom to confirm it.”
“So that’s where he’s been… Stop making the old man do all the hard work.”
“He’s in better shape than me. Giving him rest would be a waste.”
“Unbelievable…”

Hearing Albert’s name left Ihan without a rebuttal. If Albert vouched for their existence, there was little room for doubt.

“So… you want me to track down this Crimson Cross or whatever and bring them in?” Ihan asked, already anticipating the kind of command Isis was about to issue.

She nodded.
“There are two things I want. First, evidence of their existence—proof of these fanatics and those cooperating with them. Second, a list or trace of their collaborators.”
“Collaborators?”
“They sacrificed tens of thousands of criminals to summon monsters. In the middle of the royal capital, no less. That’s not something they could have done without inside help.”
“I get what you’re saying, but isn’t this basically like asking me to find a needle in a haystack?”

The task, while understandable, was absurdly unreasonable. If all Isis could find were faint traces of these fanatics, how was Ihan—a mere fighter—supposed to locate them and gather evidence? It was like being cast adrift at sea without a compass.

Ihan wondered if the princess had finally snapped under stress.

“You’re thinking disrespectful thoughts again, aren’t you?”
“Oh, you caught me.”
“You insolent brat.”

Thwack!

Her fan struck Ihan squarely on the crown of his head. What was peculiar, though, was that the fan had been thrown at him—it wasn’t her hand that delivered the blow. Perhaps she was sparing her wrist this time.

Plop.

“…?”

A note fell from the fan.

“I had the remains of the sacrifices examined,” Isis explained, her tone calm as ever. “Experts identified their origin, their movements, and even their hometowns. We managed to trace their personal details.”

“…Seriously?”

“From this, we narrowed it down to three specific prisons where most of these individuals had been held. And among the three… my instincts point to one location.”

She dropped the note into Ihan’s hand.

“…If you’ve already figured out this much, why do you even need me?”

The sheer amount of work involved in piecing together scattered remains to determine their origins and movements spoke of near-maniacal dedication. Ihan wondered if he was even necessary at this point.

“Even with power, one cannot do everything alone,” Isis murmured, a faint bitterness in her voice.

“That’s just because you’re not trying hard enough.”
“……”
“Let’s put in more effort, shall we?”
“…You’re begging for a beating.”

Thwack!

This time, her sharp-heeled shoe struck his shin, causing Ihan to yelp. Unfortunately for Isis, the act of kicking him made her twist her own ankle in the process.

“Honestly, you’re not a barbarian. Why resort to violence?”
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“…?”

Ihan quickly changed the subject. How could he possibly explain that he’d accidentally injured the kingdom’s crown princess? If Jake found out, he’d probably strangle Ihan on the spot.

At that moment:
“Senior, what exactly is this tunnel?” Yord asked.
“Hmm?”
“You’re only asking that now?” Jake frowned.
“Well, I just sort of followed along without really understanding…”

Ihan scratched his cheek. This kid is hopeless, he thought.

He’s the type who’d cosign a loan without asking why.

Yord Decker, his diligent junior, had come along without complaint simply because he trusted Ihan. His earnestness and decent skill reminded Ihan of his three students, which made Ihan feel a bit more patient than usual.

“Well, what do you think this tunnel is for?” Ihan asked.
“Uh… I’d guess it’s just a random place for digging?”

Ever since arriving, Yord had done nothing but dig without much explanation. It didn’t seem to serve any real purpose—no minerals or treasure, just endless dirt and rocks. He even wondered if they were tunneling all the way to another country.

“Wouldn’t that be fun? Except, this area has so many rivers that we’d probably all drown if we tried tunneling too far,” Ihan said.
“So it’s not for invasion purposes?”
“Exactly.”
“Then maybe it’s some kind of repetitive labor meant to reform criminals…”
“Nope. That’s something temples might try. The kingdom doesn’t bother reforming people.”
“Then… what’s the point?”

“Ah, you’ll see in a moment.” Ihan redirected Yord’s gaze.

In the distance:
[How dare someone of my noble stature be reduced to such indignity!]

It was Arend, grumbling miserably in his tattered state. Before Yord could question why he needed to watch this, Ihan simply muttered:

“It’s coming.”

Crunch!

“!!?”

From the mound of dirt Arend was digging, something burst forth.

[Keeeeee!!!]

“A s-sandworm?!” Yord exclaimed.
“Not quite. Baby sandworms. Now get ready. We need to deal with all of them. Oh, and…”

Swish.

[Do not bite me! Where’s my sword? Hand me my sword!]

“…Rescue that idiot while you’re at it,” Ihan added.

Yord could only gape as Ihan casually strolled toward the writhing creatures with a shovel slung over his shoulder.

“…Are we even capable of handling all of them?”

Dozens—no, hundreds—of baby sandworms continued to surge forth. Yord swallowed hard, silently grateful that his stomach was empty except for water. The sight was nauseating enough to make anyone retch.

The tunnel, as it turned out, was the kingdom’s largest sandworm nest and its biggest fertilizer factory.

…Not that the public would ever know that occasionally, humans processed by the sandworms also became fertilizer.