“How is it, Gilbert, where are they now?”
Behind the convoy, Thorne, Gilbert, and one member from each of the five other squads—seven individuals in total—stood ready. Having received news of an impending Orc attack, some appeared visibly tense, while others eagerly prepared for battle.
Additionally, members from two other squads, injured and thus unable to join the fight, remained in the convoy, awaiting news.
“Ah… how should I put this? The situation is dire, no matter which direction I look—front, left, or right. By my estimation, their numbers easily exceed a thousand.”
“What! A… a thousand!?”
Below, an adventurer gasped, his mouth agape, as he incredulously questioned Gilbert, who was currently perched atop a towering tree, still scouting.
Though the other squad members remained silent, their uneasy, fearful expressions betrayed the turmoil raging within them.
“A thousand Orcs?” Thorne was taken aback, though he held unwavering confidence in Gilbert’s scouting abilities. Their squad had navigated numerous life-or-death crises, always relying on Gilbert’s precise intelligence to evade peril and ensure their safe retreat.
Yet, the critical factor now was the specific timing and their current location.
“There can’t possibly be that many Orcs, can there? Gilbert, are you sure you haven’t made a mistake?”
Even as Thorne spoke, a part of him knew Gilbert was incapable of such a fundamental misjudgment.
“No mistake, I assure you. The Netherworld Wolf pack numbers roughly six hundred to eight hundred, and the Orcs are around three hundred. As for that dark mass to the left… the black aura is simply too dense for me to make out its contents!”
“I see…”
Thorne stroked his chin, his gaze distant as he fell into a prolonged contemplation.
Considering their current predicament, a direct confrontation was futile. However, given that most of the threat comprised Netherworld Wolves, he believed they could still buy some precious time, covering the convoy’s retreat while fighting defensively.
“What about the distance?” Thorne inquired.
“The Netherworld Wolves are currently the swiftest; they’re expected to reach us in about three minutes. The Orcs will follow, arriving in roughly five. As for that colossal black mass, we needn’t concern ourselves with it for now. At its sluggish pace, it would be impressive if it arrived in even ten minutes.”
“Haha, excellent! A mere few hundred Netherworld Wolves? The seven of us can manage them without issue! If we can just delay them for a moment, granting the convoy sufficient time to withdraw…”
Upon hearing this, the surrounding adventurers visibly shed their earlier apprehension, their confidence for the impending battle significantly bolstered.
Netherworld Wolves, after all, possessed meager individual combat prowess, relying solely on their overwhelming numbers to crush adversaries. Against such foes, the group had every reason to believe that with precise coordination and a tactical fighting retreat, they could escape before the Orcs even reached them.
“Hmm… is that so? Still, we mustn’t be careless. How about this…”
Just as Thorne prepared to voice his thoughts, a sudden clamor erupted from the rear.
An adventurer stepped forward, his voice firm. “Captain Thorne, let’s put it this way: since you’ve already decided to abandon this mission, there’s no need for your participation.”
“Uh…”
“Wha… what!” Before the visibly awkward Thorne could utter a single word, Gilbert, unable to contain his indignation, swiftly clambered down the tree. His eyes blazed with fury as he stared at the adventurer who had just spoken.
“What exactly do you mean by that? Are you oblivious to the imminent arrival of a vast horde of magical beasts? This is precisely the moment for us to stand united, yet you choose to…”
“Us? What about us? Wasn’t it you, Captain Thorne, who first betrayed us all by abandoning the mission?”
“Damn it, say that again!?”
As the situation threatened to spiral into an uncontrollable quarrel, the others quickly intervened, attempting to de-escalate.
“Alright, alright, everyone stop arguing!”
“Indeed! With such a formidable enemy at our doorstep, surely we shouldn’t be squabbling amongst ourselves?”
****
Unbeknownst to the bickering group, however, the true danger was stealthily closing in from their left flank.
Meanwhile, far away in the village, Elder Ingmar knelt mysteriously before the statues of the Goddess of Wisdom and the Goddess of Earth.
Of course, that held little significance. What was truly captivating, however, was…
A few meters before him, a peculiar black aura had coalesced into a square screen.
The image flickering across the screen was unmistakably Leya and her companions, moments away from escaping the Netherworld Forest.
“May the greatest [You] grant forgiveness to your most devoted followers…”
Ingmar’s expression was one of profound reverence, his hands continuously tracing intricate, archaic characters in the air.
“All of this is for the ‘Heavenly Descent’! Our Elhwashixiuist Sect has remained dormant for far too long… If, this time, we can successfully summon a ‘Divine Remnant’…”
“Hiss!—”
“Hmm?”
Ingmar, deep in his continuous prayers, suddenly found his attention diverted to the image unfolding on the screen.
That was a snake… a colossal serpent emanating an eerie black aura!
What words could possibly capture its essence?
Its body was as immense as a mountain range, its head the size of a small hill… no, not a snake’s head, but rather a dragon’s head, stripped of its wings.
Its eyes gleamed with a faint, blood-red light, and its black serpentine skin, hard as scaled armor, appeared exceptionally terrifying shrouded within the oppressive darkness.
“Wh-what’s wrong?”
“Hiss—”
Snakes held no power of speech, so it responded with a flicker of blood-red light in its eyes—a subtle form of telepathy.
“Wh-wha-wha-wha-wha-what!? Div… div… Divine aura!?”
****
‘Hmm? This rather unpleasant sensation…’
[Mental Probe… Host, this is dire! This aura feels utterly malevolent, and it has already detected our presence. Furthermore…]
[Buzz—]
Before the system could finish its warning, Leya, who had been sitting serenely in the carriage, suddenly felt her mind erupt with a deafening [bang—]. Her face turned a deathly pallor, like a blank sheet of paper, and she nearly crumpled to the floor.
[Moreover, the source of this mental energy appears linked to the black aura. Moments ago, it resonated with the black aura within you, Host, which is precisely why you…]
“Cough, cough, cough—”
As if her very essence had been drained, Leya coughed violently, her hand pressed tightly against her mouth.
“Ugh—”
After a moment of uneasy calm, Leya slowly opened her palm to examine it…
Good heavens! There, in her palm, was a vivid crimson stain. Truly, this was likely the very first injury her true body had sustained since arriving in this world, wasn’t it?
‘This really isn’t fun…’
“Le-Leya… are you alright?”
“Heh… hehe, I’m fine…” Leya managed to reply, her face still unnaturally pale.
Yet, her strained tone, coupled with the crimson evidence staining her hand, made her claim utterly unconvincing.
‘Could Miss Leya be suffering from some hidden ailment?’
Lost in these thoughts, Angela couldn’t help but voice her concern. “Leya, um… I am a healer, after all. If you would permit me…”
“Nah… it’s not necessary. It’s truly nothing serious…”
‘Indeed, even if it were something truly grave,’ Leya thought, ‘with your current abilities, you’d likely be powerless against an affliction that cannot even be perceived.’
“Hey, System, this black aura… it will likely become a threat to me sooner or later, won’t it?”
[Well… rather than ‘sooner or later,’ I’d assert that your current state, Host, is already quite grave. After days of analysis, compounded by the recent incident, I believe this black aura is likely a form of curse. And what just occurred essentially accelerated its activation within you…]
Leya: “…………”
Shaking her head with a resigned sigh, she wondered whom she had possibly provoked to earn such misfortune. Yet, with others actively harassing her, and adhering to the adage, ‘it’s rude not to reciprocate,’ she reasoned that instead of passively awaiting this unknown adversary, it would be far better to launch a preemptive strike.
“Angela, I need to go out for a bit…”
“Uh… huh!?”
Angela’s expression froze, and she stammered in surprise, “Wh-why? Leya, Captain Thorne and the other squads are already intercepting them outside, and we’re on the verge of escaping this forest entirely…”
Leya, however, had already made up her mind. Ignoring Angela’s pleas, she swiftly commanded the carriage to a halt.
“Wait, please wait, Leya! At least, please allow me to accompany you…”
“Hoo—”
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Leya adjusted to the lingering dizziness from her earlier bout of coughing blood. She blinked, her gaze settling on Angela.
Suddenly, the corners of her lips curved into a captivating smile, and she spoke:
“Don’t worry, Angela… there’s no need to fret over me. I’ll return swiftly, alongside Captain Thorne and the rest, so…”
[Boom—]
“Awooowooowooowoo!—”
Not far behind them, at that very moment, the air was rent by the explosion of magic and the piercing howls of wolves.
“So, until we return, please take good care of Giles here… That is all. Farewell—”