Translator: CinderTL
When the moon rose again, its light barely visible through the dense fog, Roland opened his eyes.
Gazing at the moonlight almost completely obscured by the fog outside, he exhaled deeply and slowly sat up from the floor.
After carefully assessing his condition and confirming that his body had fully recovered to its peak, he nodded in satisfaction and stretched vigorously.
Since leaving the River Domain Nations and embarking on his pirate-hunting journey, Roland hadn't enjoyed a single restful night's sleep.
Earlier, aboard the ship, he had been mentally disoriented by the Mistland's dense magic element.
Then came repeated battles, followed by over ten days adrift at sea, leaving him utterly exhausted.
Throughout this ordeal, his nerves had remained taut, allowing no room for relaxation.
Now, residing in this cabin protected by a witch's spell and lying on the solid ground...
This sense of relaxation felt almost foreign to him.
"You're awake, Roland?"
Seeing Roland rise, a ball of green light floated over to his side.
Tracy puffed out her chest and spoke proudly.
"I didn't slack off while you were sleeping! I patrolled the area and didn't find any monsters!"
Seeing the proud look on Tracy's pixie face, Roland chuckled softly and gently tapped her head with his finger.
"Thank you, Tracy. By the way..."
He glanced at the empty bed beside him.
"Where's Mason?"
"Over there."
Tracy nodded toward the fireplace.
The noble youth was sitting by the hearth, just as he had the previous day, engrossed in reading the Veiled Moon Codex.
His soft, murmuring voice, combined with his devout expression, made Roland feel as if he were in a church, listening to a priest's prayers.
After a moment of disorientation, Roland's brow furrowed slightly.
The problem wasn't Mason's behavior, but rather...
The fireplace was only a few steps from where Roland had been sleeping.
Yet the mental power he had unconsciously emanated earlier had failed to detect Mason's presence, as if the youth had vanished into thin air.
It was only now, fully awake and focused, that Roland could easily sense his presence.
This sensation struck Roland as odd.
He probed repeatedly for a moment but found nothing amiss, ultimately shaking his head in resignation.
Just then, Mason seemed to notice Roland's gaze and turned to greet him with a smile.
"Good morning... uh... good evening, Roland."
"Good evening, Mason," Roland replied.
After a brief exchange, the two shared a simple meal, packed their belongings, and pushed open the somewhat decayed wooden door.
With a piercing creak, Roland looked out into the night.
As far as the eye could see, a dense white mist blanketed the landscape, completely obscuring the already faint moonlight. The surrounding environment was utterly indistinguishable to the naked eye.
Worse still, the abnormally high concentration of magic elements in the air, like a damp cloth clinging to his senses, rendered Roland's keen perception—granted by his eighteen points of mental power—nearly useless.
Yet Mason seemed unfazed by this.
He turned to offer Roland a few words of caution before stepping into the fog, carrying a battered kerosene lamp.
Seeing this, Roland reluctantly let the petite pixie perch on his shoulder and hurried after him.
As on the previous night, wraith-like figures flickered through the fog.
Their numbers were legion, their faces twisted with intense negative emotions—resentment, fury, and hatred—as if they were about to pounce and tear Roland and his companions to shreds.
Yet, bound by the so-called "witch's blessing" on Mason, they remained trapped behind an invisible barrier, daring not to cross the line.
The surrounding demonic beasts, distracted by the wraiths, ignored Roland's group entirely, making their journey remarkably smooth.
After leaving the town, Roland caught a glimpse of a massive, looming shadow rising high above the northern fog. A sense of unease stirred within him.
Though he had never set foot in this town before, it wasn't far from the fishing village where he had previously taken a commission to exterminate demonic beasts.
Back then, he had never seen such a towering presence to the north.
Thinking aloud, Roland voiced his question.
Mason pondered for a moment, then replied as he expertly led the way through the fog:
"When I tried to escape this area before, I explored that region..."
The noble youth sighed softly.
"But that's a treacherous, craggy mountain range, towering into the clouds and stretching endlessly. It almost completely blocks the path north, so if we want to leave now, we have no choice but to head west."
"A treacherous mountain range?" Roland frowned deeply.
Though the River Domain Nations weren't vast in territory, their lands consisted entirely of expansive plains, marshes, and wetlands. Even the border regions shared similar terrain. This naturally advantageous geography had fostered seamless trade between the River Domain Nations and their neighbors.
While Roland hadn't explored every inch of the River Domain Nations, he had never heard of such a formidable mountain range within their borders. Moreover...
Roland's gaze shifted back to the massive shadow looming to the north, and he unconsciously tightened his lips.
The mountain range was impossibly tall, stretching endlessly from east to west until it vanished into the dense fog. Before the Mistland had swallowed this land, such a colossal mountain range couldn't have escaped his notice.
Could it be... another colossal creature controlled by mind flayers, like the one at Howling Gorge?
At the thought of that terrifying, island-sized entity that had moved across the land, Roland's steps instinctively veered slightly away from the mountain's shadow.
They traveled in silence.
After an unknown amount of time, following Mason's lead, Roland's feet left the solid ground and sank into the sticky, slippery swamp.
The surrounding dense forest had fallen into an eerie stillness.
The demonic beasts that had been rustling in the thick fog moments ago seemed to have vanished instantly, and even the wraiths that had been circling nearby had abruptly disappeared.
For a moment, the only sound in the swamp was the squish of their boots in the muddy water, echoing in the oppressive air.
They followed a narrow path into a clearing in the forest.
Soon, a dilapidated wooden hut came into view.
Unlike the surrounding forest, the hut was not surrounded by trees but by clusters of deep green vines that writhed silently in the mist, as if alive.
Before Roland and his companions could approach, the vines suddenly began to writhe wildly like living snakes.
The next moment, a sharp whistling sound pierced the air.
The vines, like poisoned claws, tore through the fog and shot toward the trio with lightning speed.
Mason's face turned deathly pale.
Tracy gasped, her small figure shrinking behind Roland.
As for Roland...
The Mithril Longsword at his waist was already drawn.
The vines seemed to possess sentience, skillfully avoiding Mason ahead as if sensing the witch's blessing upon him, and instead lunging directly at Roland behind him.
But silver light cascaded down like a waterfall.
In an instant, dozens of thick, aggressively advancing vines were severed completely.
The severed vine segments crashed to the ground like raindrops, landing with dull thuds.
They writhed and twisted violently on the ground like severed earthworms, a nauseating sight.
Even more bizarrely, these severed limbs began to intertwine and fuse together. Within moments, they burrowed back into the muddy earth.
Immediately afterward, new vines erupted from the ground, launching another frenzied assault on Roland.
Witnessing this, Roland's eyebrows twitched slightly.
He subtly raised his shoulder, signaling Tracy, and the pixie keenly understood.
As a faint glow spread, scorching flames danced at Roland's fingertips.
Just as he was about to unleash the flames, a voice drifted from the depths of the wooden hut.
The voice, languid yet deeply weary, carried a bone-deep, seductive magic, as if plucking the very strings of the soul.
All three present—
Even the steadfast Roland felt his mind involuntarily waver, and the flames flickering at his fingertips flickered momentarily.
(End of the Chapter)
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