"This is really the worst."
Beside Ragnar, the man calling himself Bushal kept chattering. He was a local militiaman who had gotten separated from his comrades while on a reconnaissance mission and could only hide here.
But Ragnar did not believe he was necessarily telling the truth. He was more likely a deserter.
Still, under the current grim circumstances, such behavior was common enough. Ragnar had no intention of pursuing the matter; after all, he was not military police, nor did he have the right to decide another man's life or death.
He merely had the man guide him along a relatively safe route toward Aishewen.
"Pretty terrible."
Ragnar nodded in agreement.
The roar of guns and artillery still drifted faintly from afar. Yet even so, this secret underground passage was filled with a peculiar silence.
Ragnar had felt something similar before, but only in places steeped in human faith for countless generations.
But these tunnels were strange.
He knew that, aside from building numerous barricades throughout Dunwich, the defenders had also made full use of the city's sewer network to expand dozens of kilometers of underground passages. That was why the human defenders could continue fighting even after being cut apart.
Yet very few people fully understood these underground passages, and Ragnar was even less familiar with this area. He had no choice but to rely on this deserter to find the right path.
Boom!
A deafening blast made the tunnel walls tremble. Falling dust slipped down Ragnar's neck, leaving him deeply uncomfortable.
It was said that the retreating forces had planted vast numbers of mines throughout the city. The fires triggered by them had buried all of Dunwich beneath deadly black smoke. Those billowing clouds, which blotted out the sky, were thick with ash—denser than sea fog and