I Became the Tyrant of a Defense Game

Even though he had no appetite, Kellibey tried to muster the energy to eat the sandwich when...

”Kellibey! There’s trouble!”

A dwarf came running in from outside, exclaiming loudly.

”The airship... The wreckage of Geronimo has been found!”

”...!”

”It was found far south from the epicenter of the Southern Plains! It seems it was blown away by the explosion. They are now recovering it and bringing it to Crossroad...”

Geronimo.

A long time ago, Kellibey had personally built this airship, which served as the flagship of the World Guardian Front, carrying the corpse of the Goblin God-King intended for a kamikaze attack... the airship Kellison had piloted until the very end.

Kellibey threw the sandwich on the ground and ran out of the forge.

The recovered wreckage of Geronimo was already being brought into the city of Crossroad on a cart. Kellibey stood in front of the cart with trembling legs.

Most of the wreckage was meaningless fragments and pieces, but one part retained its complete form.

The figurehead shaped like a siren, installed at the prow of the ship. [Unbreakable Myth].

An artifact and Nightmare Slayer cast from the magical core of Bernardt Poker, the eighth-ranking commander of the Nightmare Legion and the ghost fleet captain.

This was the only piece that, due to its unique property’Unbreakable’maintained its original form even amidst the tremendous explosion.

Including part of the bow that was within the area of effect.

”...”

Kellibey touched the remnants of the ship, which was like a child to him, with trembling hands, while thinking of the child who had been aboard.

He had thought it had vanished without a trace.

To think it remained.

- In this front, in this world, we still need you, Father.

Suddenly, the last voice Kellison had left echoed in his mind.

- Survive. And please take care of our race... no, this world.

Kellibey’s strong hand gripped [Unbreakable Myth] tightly.

”...Why return now of all times.”

Kellibey closed his eyes tightly.

”It makes me weak, damn it...”

The old dwarf blacksmith’s emotions took a while to settle, watched over with concerned looks by a mix of human and dwarf blacksmiths.

***

After officially joining the World Guardian Front, Verdandi, leader of the Holy Grail Seekers, began living in Crossroad.

But after her sister, Queen Skuld, died, Verdandi found staying in Crossroad uncomfortable.

Living in this city where her sister died was distressing, like sitting on pins and needles.

So, Verdandi stayed alone in a former dwelling prepared in the dungeon below the lake.

Today was no different. After training with her companions in Crossroad, Verdandi returned alone to the hideout in the dungeon.

The space between sectors 5 and 6 where the sewers connected. In this place, where a stream of water leaked from a broken pipe and seeped into the shattered stone wall.

In this narrow passage, where clear water rarely flowed in the dungeon, unnamed grasses and mosses were abundantly sprouting.

Next to the watercourse, there was a small patch of dirt. Verdandi carelessly sat next to it.

And with sunken golden eyes, she stared into the void... coldly honing the hatred burning within her.

After Skuld’s death, Verdandi became noticeably less talkative. Her expressions of emotion also gradually disappeared.

She wanted to become a single dagger. She wanted to become a very sharp blade.

For the impending final battle with the Black Dragon.

And to exterminate every last one of those hateful monsters...

Verdandi took out the dagger [Isagum] from her bosom and glared at it. From the dagger, made from the tooth of an enemy, a black aura was rippling.

Sssss...

The aura escaped from the dagger, climbed up her arm, and burrowed into her body. Verdandi did not stop it.

To kill darkness, one needs to get close to the darkness.

It was just a part of the process...

”...?”

That was when Verdandi’s eyes widened slightly. Her gaze was directed toward the patch of dirt next to the watercourse.

”Huh?”

With a bewildered sound, Verdandi carelessly sheathed the dagger. The darkness that had been seeping out was also sucked back into the sheath.

Verdandi hurriedly approached the patch of dirt on her knees.

This patch of dirt had been cultivated over the past hundred years while exploring the dungeon for the Holy Grail.

As if unable to give up on the elusive Holy Grail, just as one plants seeds waiting for sprouts that never grow, it was a place of such persistence.