I Have a Military Shop Tab in Fantasy World-Chapter 100: The Settled Side Quest

Inigo moved first, setting the charge beneath the ruined apothecary. He knelt by the cracked stone foundation, glancing at the faint, rust-colored sigils etched into the mortar—traces of the cult’s presence. He wedged the explosive under a floorboard and secured it with adhesive. His breath hitched slightly, but his expression stayed stoic.

Lyra took the next charge. She and Korrik lifted a glaring slab beneath the broken statue in the square, slotted the device underneath, and covered it carefully. She looked to Inigo, who gave her a tight nod in reply. She tucked the trigger safely in her pouch.

They moved in small teams—one charge planted under the old inn’s support beams, another inside the abandoned blacksmith’s forge, and another beneath what used to be the barracks. Each placement felt like a blow—but also like needed surgery.

Arienne and Garen followed them to the chapel. The final, most critical charge went beneath the altar’s base, inside the crypt. That obelisk’s ritual glow still haunted her mind. This device would bring down not just stone, but unmake its tainted foundation.

At dusk, they withdrew to a ridge just beyond town. Garen stood guard with a flare, Lyra nocked an arrow, Korrik racked his axe, and Arienne held the tracefinder it pulsed once. Inigo clicked the detonator’s trigger.

First came a dull rumble. Walls blew outward like petals—panes shattered, doors blasted off hinges. Flames erupted where charges blew in the apothecary and forge. The obelisk-capped altar shattered, the crypt’s ceiling trembling as stone collided and dust cloaked the square.

They watched the town crumble, structure by structure. The statue toppled in a snapshot of collapse, the inn’s roof caved in. Embers flared through broken windows. Black smoke spiraled into a gray evening sky.

They waited for the earth to stop shaking before moving closer.

When they finally crept forward, the town wasn’t what it had been. Foundations and beams lay in splinters; rubble choked the cobblestones. Dust covered twisted metal and scorched timber. But the earth beneath it was cracked and strangely hollow in one spot—a low tremor suggested something still alive below.

Arienne, still drained, laid her hand on the rubble and whispered a cleansing prayer. Pale green runic light drifted across broken stone. "Foundation’s broken," she said. "No trace anchor remains on the surface."

Inigo surveyed the ruins, tension prickling through him. "We did it."

Before they could move on, a deeper groan rattled the ground. A seam cracked open among collapsed debris. That hidden hatch—sealed by cultists—slid open, triggering a burst of dust and stale air. Behind it lay a tunnel. Fractured stone walls led downward.

Arienne stepped forward. "They built under Hollowmere, too."

Inigo clenched his jaw. "We stop it now. Or it lives for the next guy."

He gestured to his pack. "Flash‑flour and det‑cord—let’s collapse this." They placed charges in the hatch and along its edges, lit the fuse, and dove back just as fire & dust cascaded into the opening. A loud boom followed, the tunnel collapsing in on itself. Debris compacted. The rumble subsided. The ground settled—but the hatch was gone.

Lyra stood trembling, her breath harsh in her chest. "I don’t ever want to see this place again."

Korrik wiped sweat from his brow. "Then we make sure it never comes back."

Night fell. They made a rainproof camp on the ridge. No one slept for long—not properly. The embers below glowed against black collapsed walls.

At dawn, they packed up. A fresh wind caught embers and carried ash across the ground. All that remained of Hollowmere was scorched rubble, a collapsed crater, and cold wind in empty streets.

Lyra squatted beside the statue’s cracked base, a piece of ash caught in her palm. "They’ll remember the name, but not the town," she said softly.

Arienne nodded. "It’s ours as long as we carry it."

Inigo looked distant. "We go tomorrow. Elandra needs this mess cleaned up. The Guild needs every scrap of intel on cult networks. If this wasn’t the only site... we need to move fast."

Garen mounted his horse. "The King will be glad you handled it so thoroughly. Military‑grade solution."

Lyra gave him a half‑smile. "Destruction is easy. Rebuilding always costs more."

Korrik slung his axe. "Then let’s just keep moving. Cleanup and follow‑up."

Before leaving, they spread the ashes in a line across the ridge’s edge—so nothing could grow or take root. A simple ritual: clear the ground, sprinkle what remains, bury the negative.

As they departed, Hollowmere’s crater melted behind them in misty sunrise. None of them spoke much. Each carried their own thoughts: the evil they’d seen, the people they’d fought, the cost of victory. It felt more like sacrifice than triumph—but they had survived, and they had won tonight.

Inigo slowed the MRAP just outside the crater’s edge. He jumped down, approached the crater, and looked into the smoldering mess. A few embers still burned. The shapes were indistinct under the smoke, but the message was clear: nothing was left. No roots, no tunnels, no chance to return.

He took off his gloves, touching his fingers to the ash. It felt cool. Empty. Final.

He climbed back into the driver’s seat.

"Let’s go," he said softly.

Lyra eased into the passenger seat, exhaustion in her stance. Arienne sat in the back. Garen rode alongside. Korrik climbed in behind the wheel bay.

He started the engine.

As the MRAP crawled away from Hollowmere, he glanced back just once at the smoldering crater. It looked like a scar on the land—something raw and hard to forget. But if that’s what real change looks like, he told himself, then scars are worth bearing.

They drove west, toward Elandra and the Guild. Their journey was far from over. What they destroyed here was just one site in a larger darkness—and something else waited beyond these hills. A bigger fight. A broader war.

***

The road to Elandra was muddy from the last week’s rain, but their MRAP pushed through without trouble. There were no ambushes, no patrols, no strange sights—just the quiet, steady approach of a group who had seen too much and had too much to say. freēnovelkiss.com

When the city walls finally came into view, it was late afternoon. Smoke drifted lazily from chimneys. Merchants were packing up stalls. A few children watched them from the edge of the market road, eyes wide as the soot-streaked MRAP rolled past. They weren’t used to seeing vehicles that looked like it had come straight from a battlefield. Not to mention, a real ICE vehicle, not drawn by horses.

They arrived and parked in front of the guild.

They didn’t speak as they disembarked. Lyra pulled off her gloves. Arienne straightened her robes. Garen and Korrik stepped out with weapons still slung. Inigo wiped the ash from his jacket, but didn’t bother cleaning the rest of him. It would tell the story well enough.

Inside, the Guild’s main war room was waiting. Thorne, the Guildmaster, stood with two aides and a wall-sized map behind him. He didn’t sit. He never did when expecting reports from field teams. His expression sharpened the moment they entered.

"You made it back," Thorne said. "We got your relay message yesterday. I want the full debrief."

Inigo stepped forward, removing a folded report from his coat. "We destroyed Hollowmere."

Thorne frowned. "Destroyed it? Why did you do so?"

Arienne stepped beside Inigo. "Because there was a partial opening. We engaged what looked like a demon. Possibly a lieutenant figure. It pulled back when we closed the rift, but the site was tainted. The structures, the ground, even the crypt foundation. It had to be destroyed."

"We buried the town," Korrik added simply.

Thorne folded his arms. "I assume that wasn’t metaphorical."

"We planted C-4 at five major anchor points," Inigo confirmed. "Then collapsed a sealed tunnel underneath the town. Any remaining trace was neutralized."

Thorne tilted his head to the side. "C4?"

"It’s an explosive that we use," Inigo explained.

"I see."

"What about the other sites?" Lyra asked.

Thorne motioned to the map behind him. "Two other Guild teams were dispatched to similar suspected anchor points. Both encountered resistance. One had to call in reinforcements from the Royal Guard."

"They survive?" Garen asked.

"Barely," Thorne said. "But they destroyed the anchor points. The ruins are under protective warding until the mages can finish cleansing. This isn’t an isolated effort anymore—whatever this cult is, they were acting fast. Too fast for how scattered they appeared six months ago."

Inigo asked, "Any leads on the figure in the mask? The one Arienne called a herald?"

"Nothing conclusive yet," Thorne admitted. "But three different teams reported similar descriptions. Robed, masked, not entirely corporeal. We think it’s the same entity moving between sites. Possibly even coordinating."

"That’s not just a cult anymore," Lyra muttered. "That’s the command structure of a demon race."

Thorne nodded. "We agree. Which is why you are to resume your duties to venture into the rift and hunt the demon king."

Arienne looked up. "Very well, we will do so."

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