Chapter 166: Rest and Recuperation
Rex’s mouth fell open.
Lillian froze as well.
“This... this is...”
Ryan stared at the opening without saying a word.
At the sa ti, on the other side of the marsh—
Parker stopped in his tracks and looked at the opening that had suddenly appeared before him. It had risen up out of the swamp, built of black stone, with steps carved all over with strange patterns, descending into the depths below.
“How interesting.”
He tightened his grip on his sword and glanced at Hayden.
Hayden nodded.
Without the slightest hesitation, the two of them headed straight for the entrance.
Farther away, near the edge of that dark green forest—
Vera stood on a patch of dry ground untouched by the corruption, her gray-green eyes fixed on the opening that had suddenly erged. She watched it for a while without moving.
The wind lifted the hem of her pale green clothes.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
Then she turned and walked toward the forest instead.
Not yet.
She was going to wait.
Elsewhere in the marsh, deep in the reeds—
Eleanor stood in front of the opening with her sword in hand.
She was covered in blood—so of it belonged to the monsters, so of it was her own. The black corpses of those creatures lay piled around her like a small hill. Her breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling violently, but her eyes never left the entrance.
The opening stretched downward into darkness.
She thought of him.
He had to be sowhere in this place too.
He would see this entrance as well.
Eleanor drew a deep breath, tightened her grip on her sword, and walked toward it.
Her figure vanished into the dark.
At the center of the marsh—
Ryan withdrew his gaze and looked at Lillian and Rex beside him.
Both of them were injured, and both were exhausted to the point of collapse. Blood was still seeping from the wound at Rex’s waist, while Lillian’s palms were split open and her face was pale. In their current state, going inside would be suicide.
“Should we head in first?” Rex asked.
Ryan shook his head.
“Rest,” he said. “It’ll be dark soon.”
Rex blinked, then nodded. “Right. In the shape we’re in now, going in would just be asking to die. We’ll find a place to spend the night and deal with it tomorrow.”
Lillian nodded as well.
The three of them turned and headed toward the forest.
After a few steps, Lillian suddenly glanced back.
The entrance was still there, black and silent, like a gigantic eye watching them.
A chill ran through her, and she quickened her pace.
They found a dry clearing at the edge of the woods. There was no swamp there, no reeds, and no black monsters. Several giant trees stood around it in a rough circle, blocking out the wind.
Rex gathered so dry wood and lit a fire. Its glow illuminated the small clearing and the exhaustion on all three of their faces.
Ryan leaned against a tree trunk with his eyes closed.
Rex sat beside the fire and began treating the wound at his waist. He bit open a healing potion and poured it over the gash, baring his teeth in pain but making no sound.
Lillian sat beside him, watching the way he looked, her lips parting as if she wanted to say sothing. In the end, she only turned her face away.
The fire crackled.
Far away, that entrance still stood there.
Night gradually deepened.
In one day, they had killed more monsters than they could count.
In one day, they had nearly died here.
In one day, soone had saved them.
Lillian leaned against a tree trunk with her eyes closed, her thoughts in complete disarray. The images kept replaying in her mind over and over again—that tongue, Rex charging forward, that gray figure appearing out of nowhere, and that long blade wrapped in fla.
She opened her eyes and stole a glance at Ryan.
He was leaning there with his eyes closed, breathing evenly, as though he had already fallen asleep.
The firelight flickered over his face.
Lillian suddenly rembered what he had said earlier.
“Keep an eye on your young lady.”
Her face flushed, and she quickly turned away.
Who was his young lady supposed to be?
That idiot.
But then she thought of the instant when Rex had rushed forward.
That idiot, who had clearly been outmatched, had still charged straight in.
What an idiot.
Lillian closed her eyes and forced herself to stop thinking about it.
The fire kept burning.
And the night was still long.
Ryan leaned against a tree, the campfire crackling before him.
Its light illuminated a small patch of ground and revealed the wounds on his body.
None of them were deep, but there were many of them. There were claw marks on his arm left by that earlier monster. There were scrapes on his shoulder from branches he had brushed against while running through the forest.
The most troubleso injury was on his right hand. A patch on the back of it was swollen and red, where the toad’s poisoned blood had splashed onto him. It had swollen so badly that the skin was stretched tight and glossy, and it felt hot to the touch.
He took several potion bottles from his clothes.
Healing potions. Antidotes.
There were no labels on the bottles, but the quality was obvious at a glance—they were top-grade goods.
Ryan bit open the stopper of an antidote and poured it over the back of his right hand.
The liquid was clear and carried a sharp, pungent sll. The mont it hit the swollen skin, it hissed. He gritted his teeth and endured the searing pain as he watched the dicine soak into his flesh and the swelling gradually begin to subside.
One bottle emptied, and then another followed.
After two bottles, the swelling on the back of his hand had finally gone down by more than half, leaving only a faint pinkness behind.
Ryan let out a quiet breath and tossed the empty bottles into the fire. The flas licked over the glass with a series of crackling sounds.
Then he took out a healing potion and treated the claw wounds on his arm. The cuts had already scabbed over, but the edges had beco inflad. He poured the dicine over them, wrapped them tightly with a strip of cloth, and tied a knot.
When he was done, he leaned back a little farther to make himself more comfortable.
The firelight cast its glow over the surroundings.
The clearing was small, ringed by a few giant trees that kept the wind outside. On the side nearest the brook stood two tents. Rex’s snoring rumbled from one of them like thunder. The other tent was completely quiet. Lillian had probably already fallen asleep.
Ryan had scattered a circle of powder around the clearing. It was a beast-repelling powder he had prepared himself, made from several herbs that monsters hated. Whether it would work in this place was anyone’s guess. Still, it was better than nothing.
Leaning against the tree, he watched the fire and began to think.
The first thing that ca to mind was Ilis.
He took out a badge-like magic tool from his clothes. Ilis had given it to him and told him it could be used to sense each other within the realm. If necessary, she would use it to contact him.
Ryan turned it over in his hand several tis. The runes etched into it were dim and lifeless. There had been no reaction at all.
Not once, from the mont he entered until now.
Was she alright?
Ryan frowned. He knew Ilis’s strength—at the very least, she was stronger than the two bickering fools sleeping in those tents. But this place was too strange. Those black monsters, those bizarre crystals, and the turbid Mana that even Syl had rejected—
There was no telling what she might run into.
He tucked the magic tool back into his clothes.
As for Randall and Evans, who knew where those two had ended up.
They had been scattered by the teleportation and had not shown up since.
Randall was the son of a southern border count and had decent strength. He should be able to protect himself.
Evans—that silent one looked like he had little combat ability, but who could really say?
“There may be more than one snake inside Saint Roland Magic Academy.”
At the ti, Ryan had not paid much attention to that remark.
Now that he thought back on it, the two of them really had been a little strange.
Randall had been too enthusiastic. From the very beginning, he had been busy trying to organize everyone into a team and introducing people to one another, as though he could not wait to bind them all together.
And Evans had been too quiet, so quiet he felt like a patch of mist that might disperse at any mont.
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