Heavy Metal [ A Monster Evolution LitRPG ]

The announcer raised a hand for silence and then stepped aside. Lord Borran shifted on his throne, grunting as he pushed himself forward. With one pudgy hand gripping the armrest and the other wiping sweat from his face, he began to speak. His voice, though deep and slurred by indulgence, carried a weight that forced the square into absolute silence.

“My loyal… people… Dark tidings have reached us. A warband of orcs... is marching upon Ferndale.”

Gasps erupted across the crowd, but their protests were quickly silenced by sharp glares from the many soldiers stationed around them. Rusty knew barbarians and monsters periodically attacked this settlement, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. He had hoped to gain a few more levels in the dungeon before it came to this, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad turn of events. After all, experience and rewards could still be earned on the battlefield.

Lord Borran paused to cough wetly into his silk handkerchief, his jowls trembling with each breath. A few awkward seconds passed before he gestured feebly to the man in purple beside him. With a slight bow, the thin man stepped forward again, taking over with a voice that now sounded a lot more urgent.

“You have heard His Excellency, the orc warband is no rumor. Our scouts have confirmed it on three separate sightings. They are less than a day’s march from our gates.”

A hush fell over the square. Even the wind seemed to pause.

“No one is to leave the city”

The man continued, his tone harsher now. 

“From this moment onward, the gates are sealed. Anyone attempting to flee will be treated as a deserter…”

That sent a new wave of murmurs through the crowd. Panic. Despair. Anger. But no one dared raise their voice.

“Another one so soon?”

“How could this be… I barely survived the last one…”

Rusty could hear them mumbling nearby. It seemed the people here were well aware of the dangers. What concerned them wasn’t so much the orcs themselves, but the frequency of the attacks, which appeared to be increasing over time.

"I won’t be able to go to the dungeon like this… but those orcs should give me good experience too, so this might not be so bad."

He had been apprehensive about leaving Ferndale and the children in his lair behind. It was possible they would get into more trouble while he was gone, but this situation could help alleviate his current problem. All he needed to do was slay the orcs as they attacked the city. The only drawback was that others would be watching, which meant he couldn’t fully use his skills. Using his elemental attacks would be risky, especially after he had already revealed his darkness while attacking the mercenary base. Soon the thin man’s voice turned colder as he continued and made sure that everyone understood the gravity of this situation.

“Every able body will take up arms. If you can hold a weapon, you will be given one. You will fight. Cowards, deserters, or anyone who refuses will be considered traitors to Ferndale, no to the entire Empire! And traitors are dealt with swiftly.”

He let those words settle. Silence reigned, broken only by the uneasy shuffling of feet. Rusty tensed, but not from fear. This was confirmation. A battle was coming. An opportunity. The announcer turned slightly, glancing back at the guards near the stage. One of them held up a scroll and began reading.

“Those with prior combat registration will be deployed to the southern wall. New conscripts will report to the central barracks for immediate assignment. All citizens are expected to report by nightfall…”

Rusty tilted his head slightly as he continued to listen. It seemed there were several types of conscripts. The first group consisted of adventurers. Since he had registered as one, he would be placed in that unit. The second group was made up of mercenaries who were not officially registered but still had combat classes. Rolo probably fell into that category. The third group consisted of people without battle classes, including women. They would be given support roles and some basic weaponry for self-defense. Their main responsibility was to evacuate the injured from the battlefield and help them recover more quickly.

"You are dismissed for now, but remember, any attempt to leave the city will be punished."

The people grumbled quietly, but it seemed they had already come to terms with how they were being treated. Rusty remained there for a moment, observing the soldiers and other adventurers. They did not appear particularly worried, which made him think they were at least confident in their chances of victory. The ones who looked truly afraid were the regular citizens without combat classes, and the younger ones.

"Who do these scoundrels think we are? Do they think they can order us around? Rusty, let’s just hide out for the duration of the battle. There’s no reason to risk our lives for these peasants."

Aburdon complained as usual, and for some reason, there was no response from Alexander, who would typically rebuke him at this point. Instead, Rusty found him floating in his chest cavity, seemingly deep in thought. Then, without warning, strange images began flooding his mind. They showed things he had never seen or experienced before.

"What the…"

Rusty staggered slightly, his metallic limbs clanking as a flood of unfamiliar memories surged through him. Blurry at first, the images quickly began to sharpen. He was seeing through someone else’s eyes. In his right hand, he held a long, gleaming sword, its tip pointed at a person on the ground. The man looked familiar. Younger, thinner, and visibly afraid but it was unmistakingly Lord Borran.

Borran wore a simple tunic, more fitting for a merchant than a noble. This was clearly a memory from Alexander’s past life, and for some reason, he was confronting the ruler of Ferndale. Several others stood around him, though most of their faces were blurred, as if the memory was being intentionally obscured. They held various weapons and appeared to have taken part in the battle that had left many bodies scattered across the ground.

"No, please, have mercy!"

"You want mercy from me? After everything you’ve done?"

The bodies of armored men lay motionless on the floor. They were likely the ones who had been guarding Borran. Off to the sides, Rusty could see what looked like prison bars or something resembling them, with numerous people held behind them. Many appeared malnourished. Some were already dead. All of them wore collars, the unmistakable sign of slavery.

As the memory continued to unfold in Rusty’s mind, the emotions running through Alexander began to seep into his own thoughts. He could feel his rage but also betrayal and grief. The point of the sword trembled slightly as Alexander held it to the throat of the younger Borran, who lay sprawled on the blood-slick stone floor, his luxurious tunic torn and stained with ash and gore.

“You sold them. You sold them like livestock!” 

Alexander’s voice echoed, thick with fury. The man had nowhere to run so he just continued pleading.

“I… I just did what was asked of me, It… It’s just business…”

“Business?”

Borran shrieked, crawling backward until his shoulders pressed against the wall. The blade remained at his neck, and a single drop of blood slid down its edge. The atmosphere within the memory grew heavier, the silence thick and suffocating.

"Alexander..."

A voice called out to him. It was gentle, yet carried a noble weight. It came from one of the figures with a blurred face—someone who seemed to be one of Alexander’s old allies. His presence felt strangely familiar to Rusty, even though he had no memory of ever meeting him.

"Leander..."

Alexander replied, his voice still laced with rage. The man named Leander stepped closer and placed a hand on Alexander’s shoulder with surprising gentleness.

"Alexander, you are the hero, the hope for the people. You shouldn't trouble yourself with these lowlifes. He is unworthy of your sword. Leave it to me."

Rusty could feel the fury beginning to fade in Alexander’s heart. He had known him long enough to understand that the hero disliked taking lives, even those of villains. Leander seemed to know this too. His offer to carry out the punishment himself showed he understood Alexander’s nature and perhaps even manipulated it. The man before them had clearly been involved in slavery, and Leander was more than willing to deliver justice.

“T-thank you…”

The blade Alexander was holding trembled once before slowly being lowered. His grip relaxed, and with a deep, shuddering breath, he stepped back, his eyes never leaving Borran’s pitiful, crumpled form.

“He’s yours.”

Leander gave a faint nod and stepped forward, his blurred face unreadable. The memory began to flicker, unstable now that the moment of climax had passed. The final thing Rusty saw before it dissolved completely was Leander kneeling beside Borran, speaking to him in low tones that the memory didn’t bother preserving. Then, everything went dark.

“…What was that?”

“Are you two finally back with me? It’s better not to dilly dally, the soldiers will get suspicious.”

Rusty snapped out of the forced memory at the sound of Aburdon’s voice. The speech had ended, and the noble was already gone. He had been standing there motionless for several minutes, and now people were starting to stare. After lowering his head quickly, he slipped into a nearby alley. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself.

“( ‘ • - • `)”

Gleam, who was clinging to his body, tapped him with her forelimbs in concern. It seemed she had been trying to get a reaction from him for a while now, clearly worried.

“I’m fine, Gleam… but what was that?”

“I remember now…”

Alexander finally snapped out of it and quickly became agitated.

“How is that man still alive? Leander… that bastard lied to me!”

Some of Alexander's fragmented memories had resurfaced.

“Hoh, mind telling me what this is about?”

Aburdon didn’t like being left out of the conversation, so Rusty started explaining. Borran had apparently been a slave trader in the past and had somehow ended up before Alexander. He was supposed to have been dealt with by someone named Leander, but for some reason, he was still alive and well. To make matters worse, he had become a minor noble in this settlement, and now they had to answer to him.

“That noble family name must be made up… or stolen from someone else. This bastard is no noble. He was just a crook, selling people like livestock. Why would he be here?”

Alexander was clearly confused. Why was a petty villain he had encountered during his rise to power now hiding out as a noble? But the demon lord had heard enough and quickly pieced things together.

“How lovely. This Leander person must be behind it. Perhaps he was one of Borran’s clients? Or maybe something more? Maybe he even used him to sell slaves himself.”

“What? That can’t be true…”

“It can’t? Didn’t those friends of yours betray you? Do you think they were paragons of virtue?”

“I…”

Alexander couldn’t deny it. The whole thing was suspicious. His memories were still fragmented, but he knew that if Leander was involved, something like a low noble title was entirely possible. He was still unaware of where his old companions were or how much time had passed since his death. Borran’s appearance had changed drastically, and his age was hard to decipher, but probably at least ten years had passed. In that time, a lot could have happened.

“But why here, why now?”

His guide was confused about the situation and so was Rusty, but now was not the time for this.

“Does knowing this change anything? Not like I trusted that fat humanoid.”

As his two guides engaged in a heated conversation, Rusty called out to them. He wasn’t particularly interested in the noble’s true identity or his past actions. Unlike Alexander, he had no reason to be hunted for any association with him. What mattered more was how the memory had been triggered and whether it held any deeper meaning. One thing was certain. The rotund man could not be trusted.

“So true, Rusty. Let us focus on the problem at hand. I propose we hide somewhere and wait until the orcs ravage this place.”

Aburdon quickly changed the subject. After a brief pause, Alexander replied as if the memory had never resurfaced.

“Are you crazy? Didn’t you hear them? If one of those soldiers reports that we weren’t here, we will be killed for deserting, and what about the women and children? We need to protect them.”

“Protect women and children? Hah, we can barely protect ourselves!”

It seemed Aburdon wanted him to either hide out or start going through the homes while monsters ran amok. Alexander regained his senses and wanted him to go out there and protect the populace. Rusty, on the other hand, was just calculating how many monsters he needed to defeat to gain enough levels to evolve further. 

Nevertheless, for the time being, he returned to his lair to inform the children about what would soon happen. He wasn’t sure how they had survived previously, but at the moment, it would probably be unwise for them to show themselves. It would be best for them to remain within the reinforced building and wait it out.

When asked, Rolo informed him that, the last time, he had stayed in one of the other districts with the other kids. Usually, people his age weren’t forced to outright fight, even when they had battle classes. They were, in a sense, reserves and would only be called upon if the city was overrun. However, the slums they lived in now were much more dangerous and closer to the entrance gate.

After informing the children about the coming siege and telling them to either bunker up in the basement with the weapons or use the hidden escape, he returned to the city. Inside, he could hear windows being locked and doors being bolted down. The streets that had once been filled with people were now empty, replaced by makeshift barricades.

He had known this would happen when he reached the city, but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon. However, fear was not something he felt. Instead, he was excited. This would be a great opportunity to see how the humanoids fought in large-scale battles and also to learn how to handle larger swarms of enemies. Only a few hours remained before nightfall, and he could barely contain himself. He was still a monster and battling was in his metal.