Chapter 19: The descendants of fire became offerings Part 2
by fnovelpia
“The power of a god can be drawn forth in the sanctuary room.”
As the old guidebook once stated, this was not just a fragment of a miracle summoned by some run-of-the-mill cleric—it was divine power itself.
The first sign appeared as a stark white frost that instantly froze the sanctuary.
Thick clouds of cold mist began to rise, spreading until they completely blanketed the wide floor.
“W-what the…!”
“What is this?!”
Bork and Moss panicked.
Loreia’s eyes went wide with shock.
Ding—!
A clear bell rang out, echoing across the frozen room.
Frost formed along the walls, and a thin mist of frost crept through the air in all directions.
At the very center of the storm, in the calmest spot, was Soren—kneeling silently.
“Uth Kalden, cold fury of frost. Uth Kalden, the chill that freezes blood and shatters hearts.”
As the blizzard settled, Soren finally stirred.
His eyes, frosted shut, slowly opened.
The sanctuary was still once more—but it no longer looked the same.
“Ahh!”
Moss, who had been staring blankly at Soren, suddenly jumped back in alarm at the biting cold under his feet.
The entire room had been overtaken by frost.
The creeping cold spread out from the floor, slithering even into the corridor.
The god’s power had started to seep into the dungeon.
Bark! Bark bark!
That was when the kobold pack turned the corner.
Still stunned, Moss immediately tightened his grip on his flail.
Bork and Loreia followed suit.
“Get ready!”
“Damn it! Whatever that was, let’s hope it helps!”
Loreia cast a glance toward Soren.
Soren stood motionless, eyes fixed on the kobolds.
His blank, emotionless stare sent chills down her spine.
“They’re coming!”
Moss’s warning turned his focus forward, but Soren’s icy gaze lingered in his mind.
“Grah!”
“Hyah!”
Crack! Smash!
The moment a kobold’s skull shattered under the flail, the battle began.
***
Ding!
Soren rang the bell slowly—not too fast, not too slow.
The bell had already frozen solid.
Frost had settled over the small bell, and just holding it made his hand sting from the cold.
‘Uth Kalden. The god of settled frost.’
But Soren endured.
It wasn’t even that hard.
After all, getting frostbite while under Uth Kalden’s blessing would make no sense.
Ding—!
The frozen bell rang once more.
A heavy wave of power rippled across the frost-covered ground at the sound.
“Kyaaah!?”
The first to be caught in the wave were the kobolds rushing blindly at Bork.
They froze in an instant—crack—encased in ice.
The spreading frost grew denser.
Boom!
Bork smashed through a frozen kobold and turned back.
Soren said nothing.
Even opening his mouth might have broken his focus.
Though he had borrowed a sliver of divine power, it was not complete.
He hadn’t even offered a tribute yet.
Transactions with higher beings sometimes allowed for payment afterward.
This was one of those times.
Uth Kalden had lent a fragment of power—but in return, he demanded the complete annihilation of the kobolds who had dared enter the sanctuary.
‘Is he unable to act directly within this dungeon…?’
Soren didn’t know.
He was merely the borrower.
Uth Kalden had made his desire perfectly clear.
And as a shaman—a broker of such deals—it was Soren’s job to fulfill that desire.
Ding!
The bell rang out again, short and sharp.
A powerful wave surged through the room.
It crashed against the walls, rebounded to the altar, and then rushed down the corridor.
“Graaaah!”
“Yip! Yip!”
“Bark! Grah!”
The wave claimed countless kobolds.
The frost invaded their bodies in an instant, seizing their hearts and stealing their warmth.
Their frozen hearts shattered, and they collapsed. Their bodies, locked in ice, crumbled apart.
“Ancestors! Look upon us!”
Bork, the barbarian warrior, was thrilled by the one-sided slaughter, swinging his axe with abandon.
Any kobold struck by that axe had two possible fates—freeze and shatter, or get ripped apart.
To Soren, the former seemed more merciful.
Those things barely resembled humans anymore, after all.
‘So this is divine power…’
Ding!
It was on another level entirely.
Everything Soren had previously acquired through tribute could be called divine power, yes—but they had always been limited.
To wield something this destructive, he would normally have to sacrifice a limb.
Uth Kalden hadn’t asked for that.
Rather than being generous, it seemed the god was simply furious at the kobolds for desecrating the sanctuary.
‘Fine by me.’
Soren welcomed it with open arms.
With a deal this generous, there was no reason to refuse.
“Loreia! Left!”
“Got it!”
Still, it wasn’t entirely free.
His companions were sweating and fighting for their lives.
Unfortunately, Soren couldn’t move.
He had to maintain his connection to the altar.
But that also meant he could gradually recover his stamina, depleted from the chase.
Truthfully, he had just woken from a brief nap before running for his life.
He felt half-dead.
Without the altar, he would’ve been completely dead.
***
Clang! Clack!
The sounds of axes hacking through flesh had faded.
Now, only the sound of ice shattering remained.
Soren looked toward the corridor.
He saw his party diligently smashing through the kobold corpses.
There was a philosophy in their ruthless movements—one shaped by fury toward the things that had dared interrupt their precious sleep.
“Die! All of you, die! Every last one!”
“May the gods take your souls!”
“Just die.”
The corridor filled with broken bodies.
The corpses piled up, frozen solid, forming a small mountain that half-blocked the path.
Soren focused carefully on the altar.
“The children of flame have been hunted.”
There was no reply from Uth Kalden.
Soren waited patiently.
Gods were fickle.
Patience was key to proving one’s resolve.
‘Children of flame.’
He felt a faint echo of Uth Kalden’s will.
Soren seized that faint signal and held tight.
‘They’ve been hunted.’
In that moment, the divine power flowing through the bell vanished.
The frost that had overtaken the room rushed back.
The white death gathered, and retreated back to its origin—the altar.
As if nothing had happened, the sanctuary returned to its previous state.
“Damn it…”
Soren felt a wave of crushing exhaustion as the power of Uth Kaldran left his body.
It made sense—after all, it was the power of a god.
Even though he’d only tapped into a fraction of it, the strength it unleashed was immense.
Now that it had vanished in an instant, it felt as if he had forgotten how to walk.
‘The Blessing of the Fallen One.’
In its place—if you could call it that—Uth Kaldran had left behind a final blessing.
Leaning against the altar, Soren brushed against the faint energy of that blessing.
Deep in the recesses of his heart, there was a frozen, unknown power nestled within.
The chill in his body eased slightly.
His sweat dried in an instant.
His fatigue also faded noticeably.
Soren could truly feel the blessing of a god.
‘Insane. He even left a blessing like this?’
It wasn’t as powerful as the divine force from earlier, but in a dungeon, even this level of blessing was rare and coveted.
Soren turned toward the passageway, where a small hill had formed.
The onslaught of kobolds had ceased, and his three party members stood there, gasping for breath.
They had suffered the most physically, and it seemed they too had received the blessing of the Fallen One.
As with everything in life, nothing came for free.
But to Soren, the price seemed so low that it left him shocked.
‘He must’ve really liked what he saw.’
Uth Kaldran must’ve been extremely satisfied with the sacrifice of hundreds of kobolds.
***
The blessing lingering in his body probably came from that satisfaction.
“…Guess that’s it. Damn.”
“Huff… Huff…”
“So… tired.”
Soren staggered toward the others and collapsed beside them with a thud.
The three who were sprawled on the ground turned their eyes to him.
“The Lord of Frost was pleased.”
“R-Really?”
The one who looked the most delighted at that was Moss.
As a cleric, he understood all too well just how meaningful it was to ‘satisfy a god.’
“Yes. You all received the blessing as well.”
“A blessing, huh… Whoa…”
“Maybe I feel… a little less tired.”
Loreia mimicked a yawn.
Feeling less physically tired was one thing, but the mental fatigue was no joke.
The sweet temptation of sleep tugged at all of them.
Loreia cast a subtle glance at Soren, as if to say, “Let’s find a campsite already.”
But Soren shook his head and pointed behind her with his finger.
“We can’t sleep here.”
“…Ah.”
Behind them was a small hill made of kobold corpses—or rather, what used to be kobolds.
Soren wasn’t particularly interested in sharing a sleeping spot with mutilated remains.
“First, we need to find a better location.”
“Urgh…”
“You’re right… Huff… You’re absolutely right.”
Moss, who had gotten to his feet at some point, agreed with Soren’s words.
His eyes, filled with reverence, moved between the altar and the mound of kobold corpses.
“I doubt the Lord of Frost would be pleased with us camping here either.”
He was right.
Moss got up swiftly, and Bork followed close behind.
“Just as Soren said, let’s start scouting for a new campsite.”
“I agree.”
“Then let’s go.”
“Oh, and Soren.”
Moss called out as Soren was just starting to pack his bag.
Soren turned around.
“You did great today.”
“…It was nothing.”
Soren honestly thought the others had worked harder, especially after all the physical exertion they’d endured.
Of course, that was a perspective only a shaman like Soren could take.
From an outsider’s view, bargaining with a god was nothing short of extraordinary.
It wasn’t something just anyone could do.
“Well then, let’s move.”
“Yes, let’s get going.”
“We’ll need at least half a day to recover…”
***
Not long after Soren and the group departed, the altar chamber was left in silence.
Only the faint trace of the Lord of Frost’s cold aura lingered in the air.
Thanks to the unexpected chase with the kobolds, Soren’s party had lost both time and money.
In this world, time was money.
For explorers, this was a truth that couldn’t be ignored.
They needed to make more than they spent within a week, so every minute not spent chasing treasure was a lost resource.
They had to use their time efficiently.
Wasting time like this was more than just frustrating—it could be catastrophic.
“Let’s speak frankly. We’re in a pretty bad spot.”
It wasn’t just the chase with the kobolds.
The half-day they’d spent recovering afterward made it worse.
Soren glanced at Moss, who was nervously biting his lip.
He looked genuinely anxious.
“We’ve wasted too much time. Almost a full day.”
“We even ended up retracing our steps.”
“Exactly. And now we have to forge a new path.”
Worse still, they had to pioneer a whole new route now.
It was one thing to stray off course, but this meant triple the time for exploration, detection, and gathering.
‘Everything else could be endured, but giving up a well-planned route and starting from scratch?’ That was hard to swallow.
‘We basically threw time into the dirt. Damn kobolds.’
Soren’s brow furrowed in frustration.
“Arghhh! I can’t take this anymore! I’m so mad!”
Bork finally lost his temper, unable to hold it in.
Soren locked eyes with Moss.
The look they exchanged asked the same question: ‘So, what now?’
“…At this point, we have three options.”
“What are they?”
“First, retrace our steps and go back the way we came.”
Absolutely not.
Dealing with the kobolds once was more than enough.
“What’s the second?”
“Second, start a new search with the scrap room as the objective.”
This was tricky.
It was more likely to bring loss than gain unless they kept moving non-stop and got really lucky.
“And the third?”
“The third is…”
Moss hesitated for a moment.
Just as Soren’s expression began to harden—
“Third, we try to find the treasure room.”
Moss finally laid down the ultimate gamble.
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