Chapter 160
Chapter 160. Torpus Rock Salt Mine 1
Heading east from Silveck along the highway, past the campsite, and turning south at the fork before Mount Lazarag, continuing onward leads to Fasden. Taking the side road east along the way brings you to the Torpus Rock Salt Mine.
If you cut across the grasslands away from the highway, it lies southeast of Silveck and northeast of Fasden.
The Torpus Rock Salt Mine isn't just sitting alone on the flat grasslands—it's nestled in a corner of hills formed by steep undulations. If the rest of the plains were a calm sea, this area would be like turbulent, crashing waves.
I sat atop one of the highest rolling hills, gazing at the distant rock salt mine.
"A beastman village, huh…"
There's probably no trustworthy or reliable faction on the human side.
Selene prioritizes her own territory, and Marquis Brassladd and my grandfather, Viscount Tordis, are too far away.
Baromat is irrelevant, and I doubt there are any nobles friendly to labyrinths.
Well, the Deliek Labyrinth between the empire and the Mez Riez region is known as a beneficial source of magic tools and materials for adventurers, but that's an exception among exceptions. Normally, labyrinths are prioritized for destruction. Of course, this isn't just a human issue—it's a matter of life and death for beastmen too.
If they notice its existence first, they'll destroy it without hesitation.
That's why we have to strike first.
The adventurer who let Yuneck escape might already be dead, or it might've been a lie to give hope. Either way, I'd rather not regret skipping a small effort later.
Cutting off my thoughts, I lowered my gaze to my lap.
A rusted collar.
I took it from a slave trader's wagon just before leaving Silveck. I couldn't find the key, but after examining its internal structure with [Operate Energy], it was simpler than I thought. With my dexterity, picking it wouldn't be hard.
Inserting a tool, I unlocked it, fastened it, then unlocked it again.
Repeating this, I turned my gaze back to the fortress.
I'd wandered around trying to see inside, but—maybe I'm too far away.
The Torpus Rock Salt Mine is protected by the Lasmano Fortress.
A stone wall encircles multiple hills, standing about three meters tall. From the side, only the wall and the tops of buildings are visible.
I could barely glimpse the interior from a hill far to the east of the mine, but calling the distant, hazy fortress "visible" is questionable.
Feeling thirsty, I stopped picking the lock and reached for my waterskin.
As I wiped my mouth, an idea struck me, and I activated [Pure Water] and [Operate Water].
Peering through the two watery spheres, the world inverted.
"Ah, right. Let's see… a concave lens should work."
Tracing memories from over a decade ago, I reshaped one sphere, and the inverted world righted itself.
The magnification was off, and the image wavered like underwater due to imperfect control, but I could make out human figures. Good enough.
Manipulating the sphere, I began observing the fortress.
If viewed from above, the Lasmano Fortress would likely appear triangular.
With the hilltop residence at its apex, the walls swallowed lower hills as they stretched south, reaching the gentle plains at the base. Inside the triangle, near the residence's slope, stood an oval inner wall.
Tracing both walls resembled the symbol of a certain secret society.
If they were actually involved, it'd be laughable—but this was probably just the result of securing safety with the outer wall first, then building the fortress later.
The southern part of the fortress—the base of the triangle—was a small town.
Miners' lodgings, slave traders' inns, taverns, general stores, and a strangely elegant building likely serving as a brothel.
Moving the watery lens northward past the clustered buildings, the inner-walled section was nearly devoid of structures.
Aside from what seemed like barracks, only a roofed facility to the west and a massive bellows-like device in the hollowed-out center remained.
A few slaves operated the bellows, while others carrying buckets or large sacks appeared and disappeared nearby. The roofed area to the west seemed like a forge, but it was too far from the bellows. Probably pumping air into the mine.
If so, the entrance must be around there.
Fine-tuning the sphere, I tracked the slaves' movements.
Those with sacks headed south down the hill, while bucket carriers went toward the western roof. The sacks likely held rock salt, but the buckets probably carried groundwater. Steam rose thickly under the roof—maybe a saltworks, not a forge.
Spotting sentries, most clustered near the southern gate, with the rest atop the inner wall. I'd imagined soldiers whipping slaves, but orders seemed handled by overseers.
Either way, blind spots were plentiful. Slipping in would be easy.
Dispelling the water sphere, I moved to a random slope.
Using [Operate Soil] to shift the surface layer, I created a narrow underground space with [Earth Wall].
For the mine, I'd bring Esard's documents, lockpicking tools, and the Leaping Rabbit chest ornament.
The rest would stay here—but the moment I opened the small pouch, I reflexively recoiled.
Inside were Ezetini leaves.
Ezetini, a type of fragrant wood, could be boiled with large sacks to make hunters' or adventurers' fur pouches. Normally, the scent only masked monsters' senses, but this concentration reeked.
Deactivating [Beastform], I lined the space with the leaves while holding my breath.
Since I'd already discarded perishables, no monster should dig through [Earth Wall] to invade. The Ezetini was just insurance to protect my alchemy tools.
Next, I wrapped Esard's research notes in cloth and tightly bound them to my torso.
In the end, I used the [Preserve Item] scroll on the documents.
Parchment wouldn't become unreadable even if roughed up, but a single misread character could lead to errors. Plus, this was my first time using [Preserve Item]. It felt like fusing a mana film with the item's mana—somewhat like lamination.
Testing the documents' feel with light squats and bends, I strapped the lockpicking tools to my legs. Ready.
I'd be in the Torpus Rock Salt Mine for at most a day and a half.
A thorough search would take longer, but I had [Appraisal]. Slave ex-adventurers shouldn't be common—if things went smoothly, I could return by tomorrow before sunset.
Confirming the Leaping Rabbit ornament was equipped, I started walking—then paused.
"Ah, this won't work."
The clothes from Nort were neat, without a single frayed edge.
I looked nothing like a slave.
Immediately, I retrieved the leg tools, apologized mentally to Nort, and tore holes in the sleeves and hem.
Then, I dirtied the clothes and myself with [Operate Soil] and [Operate Water], donning the thoroughly worn outfit.
The sand tickling my back was irritating, but now I was fully prepared.
I began descending the slope toward the Torpus Rock Salt Mine.
◇◇◇◇
Moving stealthily through hills and thickets, I noted sentries on the outer wall, though they seemed lax due to the clear visibility.
Understandable. Large monsters like Eras Rhino would be spotted from afar, kackles don't hide, and goblins or wolves can't scale walls. Only Tepa Turtles pose a real threat, but they dwell underground, making stone walls useless against them. No wonder they're relaxed.
Still, the hilly terrain offered little cover.
Especially near the triangle's apex—the stronghold's lookouts were vigilant.
Creeping as close as possible, I moved along the outer wall, matching my memory from the watery telescope.
Beyond the wall should be the barracks' rear.
The safer infiltration point was the southern commercial area with miners' lodgings, but traversing it would take too long. Plus, adventurers stand out. Few could pierce [Stealth 7], but they'd spot me faster than soldiers.
Resolved, I activated [High-Speed Move].
Timing my sprint with the patrols, I vaulted the wall with [Leaping Rabbit], landed in a building's shadow, and held my breath.
Confirming no nearby movement, I probed the building's interior with [Presence Sense]. Countless resting presences—likely barracks, with no strong individuals.
Expanding [Presence Sense], I detected notable auras near the residence.
If adventurers, high D-rank or low C-rank—too weak for dispatched knights, but maybe skilled commanders. Or just noble blood.
Further expanding [Presence Sense], I tracked the soldiers.
Scattered and grouped presences—lookouts and patrols. Most concentrated near the inner wall (likely the mine) or the southern commercial area. This zone, near the barracks, was lightly guarded.
Peeking out, I observed the inner wall.
Most soldiers stood atop it or clustered near the southern commercial area. If preventing slave escapes, the entrance was likely there.
Either way, their attention was inward.
Creeping closer to the inner wall, I leaped again with [Leaping Rabbit].
Landing on a ledge, I checked my surroundings.
Unnoticed.
Ensuring this spot was a blind spot with time before the next patrol, I peered inside.
The first sight was a slave staggering south with a large sack, entering a side door near the wall. The southern inner wall bulged outward, echoing loud noises—likely a workshop inside. Rock salt is vulnerable to rain.
Shifting my gaze west, massive cauldrons sat under a roof.
A saltworks.
Most workers were burly artisans, with slaves mainly hauling groundwater. Only a few handled menial tasks.
Further west lay the giant bellows at the bottom of a hollowed-out slope, near a stone-lined underground entrance. They'd exhausted surface deposits and dug deeper.
But how to infiltrate?
The wall sentries weren't diligent but still tracked slave movements. Blending in seemed tough.
Pondering, I noticed a young slave hauling water. Others were elderly or frail—assigned unfit labor.
A grim mood settled, but if blending in, bucket carriers were the way.
Recalling bed sterilization, I took aim.
I'd never cast [Multi Chant] on this scale, but imperfect control would suffice.
Channeling mana, I unleashed dozens of [Breeze], guiding them centrally with [Operate Air].
Leaked [Breeze] mingled with natural wind, creating a sudden gale.
Lookouts shielded their eyes; slaves stumbled.
Now or never—
Seizing the chaos, I dropped inside and blended with the slaves.
Just then—
"Ah—"
A young slave tripped in my peripheral vision.
Swerving, I caught his bucket.
"Let me help."
As the wind died, I spoke to the wide-eyed boy.
Carrying the bucket, I walked while he followed.
Amid the commotion, no one noticed me, and no one questioned his empty hands.
Successfully infiltrated.
Relieved, I addressed him:
"I'm assigned to groundwater. Where are the buckets?"
"By the furnace."
Makes sense—no one would question an empty bucket there.
Exchanging buckets at the saltworks, the boy got his. Next, infiltrating the mine. Mining slaves have short lifespans—guards and miners wouldn't remember their faces.
Walking on, I felt an odd gaze.
Glancing back, the boy was staring at my ears.
"Rare to see a beastman?"
"N-not exactly…"
His flustered denial sparked dread.
Don't tell me—there are no beastman slaves here?
Scanning again, I spotted a few beastmen among the humans.
Phew. A false alarm now would've been disastrous.
Despite the boy's stare, I passed the bellows and entered the mine.
The gentle slope was wider than expected—three adults could walk abreast.
About to introduce myself, I hesitated.
My real name was out, and borrowing Yuneck's was risky.
After a pause, I spoke:
"Alan. You?"
Flustered, the boy stammered, "Jake."
"Alan" is my go-to pseudonym. Next time, I'll use "Smith."
Reaching a spacious room, I noted an iron door ahead and a left passage—likely a soldiers' lounge.
A guard glared, so I wordlessly passed through.
At a crossroads, I sensed clusters of presences ahead and left.
The right path had air ducts—likely correct. Jake headed right, confirming it.
Ahead and left were probably slave quarters. Even in harsh conditions, they'd get rest.
Letting Jake lead, I questioned him as we descended.
Initially hesitant, he gradually opened up.
He'd been here a week, sold from a poor village after repeated failures. [Appraisal] showed abysmal dexterity—born clumsy.
En route, we passed slaves with iron balls chained to their legs.
Jake warned me not to look—they were "problem slaves." Escapees, violent types, or strong individuals.
Chatting, we passed old dig sites and forks, descending deeper.
The atmosphere shifted, and Jake relaxed.
"The upper levels are dangerous. You get attacked."
He explained rare Tepa Turtle raids—slaves vanishing mid-walk or sleep.
Unsurprising. Underground, with few escape routes, was their domain.
But Jake added the turtles couldn't penetrate bedrock, making this area safer.
"But some spots are still risky."
He pointed to a well-lit tunnel.
"Water softened the rock there."
"Cave-ins?"
"That too, but… haven't you heard the rumors?"
Supposedly, water weakened the rock, letting Tepa Turtles in. Several deaths already.
Nodding, I felt uneasy.
Tepa Turtles ambush prey from below, fleeing at the slightest disadvantage. Would they stay in one spot?
Jake confirmed no eyewitnesses.
Likely a different species. With Deep Forest nearby, anything could lurk.
Staying alert for non-human presences, I pressed on.
Passing dig sites, we descended further.
As slaves grew scarce, we reached our destination—a flooded excavation site.
Lantern light shimmered over endless water.
With all that snow, flooding made sense. Why no drainage pumps? Maybe temporary flooding made manual labor the choice.
Our task was bailing groundwater with buckets—a ten-second job per trip, repeated endlessly.
Futile, but necessary.
After countless trips, the shift-end bell finally rang.
Outside, the sun had long set, the moon veiled by thick clouds.
Past midnight.
Returning buckets to the saltworks, we re-entered the mine, meeting slaves emerging from rest.
Assigned new tasks by overseers, they dispersed.
Seeing their numbers, I realized over a hundred slaves worked here.
Finding my target wouldn't be easy.
Scanning with [Appraisal], I followed the crowd until a savory smell signaled rations.
Joining the line, I received a wooden bowl of soup—surprisingly decent.
Translucent broth with diced meat and veggies. Fancy for slaves—likely monster meat from traders' guards. Tastes awful, but meat's meat. I've eaten worse.
Entering the slave quarters past the crossroads, I found a vast, elongated former dig site.
High ceilings left the far end dark.
The walls were honeycombed with horizontal holes—sleeping niches.
No bedding, furniture, or doors, but this was "home."
Slaves devoured soup and retreated to their holes.
The deeper niches held dying slaves, too weak for rations, awaiting death.
Swallowing bitterness, I noticed a slave approaching—not me, but Jake.
"Hand it over."
Baffled, I watched Jake offer his soup.
Realization dawned—the man was stealing meals.
Stepping between them, I spoke:
"Startled me. You steal from fellow slaves? Surprised you're not punished."
"They'll die soon. Who cares? And what's this mutt doing here?"
"A slave, like you."
"Sure."
His eyes narrowed.
Violence thickened the air, driving nearby slaves away.
His fist lashed out—a seasoned brawler, but weak by my standards.
"True. Utter indifference."
A kick to his gut sent him crumpling mid-swing.
Nearby soldiers glanced over, uninterested, and walked off.
Mine slaves were often criminals or discarded slaves—fights were routine. This guy was likely an ex-adventurer or notorious thief. With his strength, he'd had his way until now.
Turning to Jake, I hesitated.
The surrounding slaves' stares held neither awe nor fear—hostility.
Allies? Unlikely.
Jake's eyes showed rejection.
Before I could react, a clattering stone shattered the tension.
A beastman boy stood at the crossroads.
"Your spot's not here."
He jerked his chin, signaling me to follow.
Scanning the room, I understood.
Every slave here was human.
Even at society's lowest, they scorned beastmen, creating someone "beneath" them to soothe their misery. Jake, too, had been distant at first, warming up only to revert under peer pressure.
I couldn't fully blame them.
I could escape anytime—I had that power.
But if I were weak? I'd never have considered infiltrating the mine.
Weakness isn't evil.
But it warps people.
Downing the soup, I met Jake's eyes—but the beastman boy spoke first:
"No business with him. Leave him."
Agreed. My target was a beastman ex-adventurer, not a human.
"Drink up before he wakes."
Tossing the bowl aside, I left the humans' den.