"Forgive my bluntness, Mr. Roland..."
Watching the Pikachu ahead, which was acting uncharacteristically—no longer sullen, but instead circling and dancing joyfully—the Purple-haired Witch spoke softly.
"I’ve never heard of a Pikachu capable of using Space Spells."
"Don’t worry, Vanessa. Your mory serves you correctly."
It wasn’t just Vanessa; Roland had never seen any records of a Pikachu mastering Space Spells in any ancient texts either.
In fact, the Pikachu in ancient texts were never depicted as Casters.
So, after that lighthearted joke, Roland signaled for Beastman Freddy beside him to remain alert, then slowed his pace and explained.
"But as Tress just said, the clue to her kin is not far to the south."
"We were already planning to head south, so why not try our luck? It’s better than running around like headless chickens in this sealed-off area."
"That makes sense."
Vanessa neither agreed nor disagreed, simply giving a slight nod.
Noticing that she still wore her usual carefree expression, a sliver of doubt rose in Roland’s mind.
’Isn’t this Witch worried about being trapped here until she dies?’
’Or is it that...’
’She actually has a way to leave?’
Every extra mont spent in this perilous land increased the danger.
So, as soon as the thought occurred to him, Roland carefully chose his words and voiced his suspicion.
Unexpectedly, however, Vanessa wasn’t angered by his question. She just gave a low chuckle and said,
"My apologies, Mr. Roland. I really don’t have a way to leave this place. As for why I’m not afraid..."
The Witch leaned forward slightly, her lips curling into that familiar, playful smile.
"It’s simply because, for , death is not the end."
Upon hearing this, Roland’s brow furrowed tightly. Just as he was about to press her for more, Freddy’s signature, simple-and-honest voice reached his ears.
"Mr. Roland! There’s sothing ahead!"
Freddy’s warning made Roland instantly dismiss the thought of questioning her further.
He gave Vanessa a gesture to be quiet, then crouched low, signaling for Freddy to stay put and keep watch while he himself glided forward as silently as a Shadow.
Every footstep was exceedingly light, his sharp gaze sweeping over the silhouette of every bush and rock ahead.
Pushing aside the last low-hanging vine, the scene before him ca into view through the thin mist.
A small squad of armored Guards, their backs to a massive, wind-eroded cliff face, were locked in a desperate battle.
They brandished their Longswords, the cold tal flashing in the dim light as they struggled to fend off a tide-like onslaught of dozens of Demons and Ghosts.
The twisted figures let out piercing shrieks, their claws and fangs relentlessly assailing the defensive line the Guards were struggling to maintain.
The battle was fierce and brutal, the air thick with the stench of blood and the unique foul odor of Demons.
"They’re from the River Domain."
Seeing the blue and white insignia on their armor, Roland instantly recognized the Guards’ identity.
However, these Warriors were in terrible condition.
Even through the thin mist, he could see their sallow, sunken cheeks—the deep marks left by prolonged hunger and exhaustion.
Their dark blue armor had long lost its sheen, covered in slash marks, claw prints, and dark bloodstains. One man’s breastplate was even split wide open, held together precariously with a blood-soaked bandage.
As they moved, you could see askew gorgets and loose leather buckles. The entire squad looked like a spent force, their exhaustion palpable.
’It seems the River Domain’s expedition into the Land of Mist isn’t going well.’
Looking at the battered soldiers, Roland understood.
In fact, he had harbored doubts earlier while escaping this region.
Why had he never encountered any trace of the River Domain’s main force?
After all, by all logic, the River Domain’s grand army should have pushed deep into the Land of Mist long before he had set sail for Wailing Gorge.
This scene before him now undoubtedly confird his suspicions...
As his thoughts raced, Roland’s hand had already silently found the hilt of his sword.
The next mont, the Secret Silver Longsword at his waist slid soundlessly from its sheath, accompanied by a flash of cold light.
The Demons besieging the Guards were of average strength, and as for the Ghosts...
...in the face of Vanessa’s specially-made Protective Negative Energy Potions, they posed no real threat.
Rescuing this group of people would be a trivial matter for him.
And if he saved these Guards, even if he only obtained so scattered intelligence, it would be far better than his current aimless wandering.
His mind made up, Roland gestured to Freddy, who was not far off, and his figure cut into the battlefield like a phantom.
In his hand, the Secret Silver Longsword beca a cold, silver Storm, precise and deadly.
The Demons that had just been ferociously pouncing on the Guards were now like rotten wood before him.
Every flash of his sword was accompanied by the dull thud of shattering bone or the abruptly silenced shriek of a Demon.
The twisted figures fell in swathes, the foul blood not even having ti to spatter the hem of his clothes.
In the span of just a few breaths, the tide of Demons was reaped as if by an invisible scythe, leaving behind nothing but a field of mangled remains.
The last pouncing Terror Claw Beast was easily run through the head by his Longsword, and it collapsed to the ground, twitching.
The battlefield suddenly fell into an eerie silence.
The few surviving Guards of the River Domain stood frozen, staring in disbelief at the figure who had suddenly appeared and ended their nightmare in an instant, and at the rapidly cooling Demon corpses at his feet.
A mont later, a leading Guard supported himself with his Longsword and staggered over to Roland, bowing deeply in a gesture of profound respect.
"S-Sir... who are you...?"
Roland’s gaze swept his surroundings, confirming that no more Demons had survived. Only then did he flick the foul blood from his blade and turn to the Guard with a calm smile.
"Roland. You’re Guards from the River Domain, right?"
"Y-Yes, that’s right..."
the Guard Captain hurriedly replied.
Although Roland had a youthful face, the Guards, having witnessed his Thunderbolt-like thods monts before, dared not show the slightest disrespect.
The captain glanced back at his battle-scarred comrades, his throat bobbing as if his voice was choked by so terrible mory. In the end, he only managed a heavy sigh.
Seeing this, Roland frowned slightly.
He slid his Longsword cleanly back into its sheath and asked tentatively,
"Of the forces that entered the Land of Mist... are you the only ones left?"
"Of course not!"
The captain, realizing his expression had caused a misunderstanding, hastily added,
"There’s a camp not far from here. We... we were just ordered to go out and search for food and supplies. We never expected to run into a Demon horde of this size..."
"A camp?"
A glint flashed in Roland’s eyes.
"How many people are in the camp?"
"About... fifty or so."
Hearing this number, Roland nodded to himself.
’With that number, even if these Guards from the River Domain have ill intentions, I’m confident I can handle them.’
Having made up his mind, he spoke slowly.
"In that case... would it be possible for my companions and to follow you back to the camp and rest for a few days?"
"Of course, no problem!"
The captain agreed without hesitation, but then added with a hint of reluctance,
"It’s just that... our commanding officer has been a bit... strange lately."
"I hope that you, Sir... can be understanding when the ti cos."
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