Rauan sat slightly apart on a fallen log, intently wiping the smooth facets of his square device with a clean rag.
A drawn-out yawn broke the morning silence of the camp. Torin was awake. He stretched, winding up to let out a second round of morning noises.
Lorand, lying nearby and still trying to finish his dream, jerked awake. Without opening his eyes, he blindly grabbed a camp pillow and shoved it hard against Torin's face, gagging him completely.
Torin let out a muffled wheeze of surprise, kicked his legs frantically, and after a brief, violent struggle, finally broke free from his comrade's heavy hand.
"Are you out of your damn mind?!" Torin yelled indignantly, gasping for air.
"You yell too loud," Lorand grumbled sleepily and with annoyance, not even thinking about getting up. He rolled over and wrapped himself tighter in his cloak.
Torin huffed angrily. Suddenly, his eyes fell on a half-empty water bottle he had left right by his bedroll before sleeping. A plan instantly formed in his head. You shouldn't have pissed me off, he thought vindictively.
Torin smirked quietly, silently scooped up the bottle, walked over to the sleeping Lorand, and with one sharp motion, poured all the water right over the back of his head and face.
Lorand scrambled sideways with a shout, instantly springing to his feet. Water streamed down his hair and neck, and he looked around wildly, having no idea what had just happened. Meanwhile, Torin was already roaring with laughter, pointing a finger at him.
"Oh, so that's how it is..." Lorand hissed.
His hand instantly shot down and gripped the hilt of his nearby sword. Lorand made a lightning-fast lunge. Torin managed to throw his entire body backward at the very last second. The razor-sharp blade passed a mere inch from his face.
Catching his balance, Torin burst out laughing and took off running, dodging between the trees.
"You've held that sword your whole life, and you still can't hit a thing!" he yelled on the run.
This insult pissed Lorand off even more, and he chased after him at a full sprint.
Oswin leisurely walked up to Rauan, who was still polishing his device. He shot a brief glance at the noisy pair and shook his head in displeasure.
"We shouldn't have fallen asleep like that yesterday. We basically lost a whole day," Oswin noted grimly.
Rauan didn't even raise his head, continuing to rub the metal facet.
"You're right. But on the other hand, at least the horses got a proper rest."
Oswin followed his gaze. Nearby at the hitching post stood the coachman, Kron. Ignoring the mercenaries' shouting, he patted one of the mares on her thick neck, whispering something quietly to her.
"Alright, I'll be waiting in the carriage," Oswin sighed, turning around.
"Hold on, I'm with you," Rauan replied. He gave the device one last wipe, carefully tucked the rag into his pouch, and clicked the latch on his metal cube.
By the time they reached the carriage, Lorand and Torin had already tossed their weapons aside and resorted to a pure fistfight. Now they were rolling around in the dead grass, panting heavily and collecting all the dirt on their backs, unsuccessfully trying to tie each other into a knot and trading blows.
Rauan stopped by the carriage wheel.
"Lorand! Torin! We're leaving without you," he shouted loudly.
Torin, who was just trying to break out of Lorand's brutal chokehold, yelled back:
"Then go!"
Rauan merely narrowed his eyes slightly. His fingers familiarly gripped the corners of the metal square, and with a dry clack, the cube instantly unfolded into a bow. Rauan swept his hand back smoothly, drawing a spectral bowstring. A yellow arrow hissed into existence in the air.
Without hesitating for a second, he released the projectile.
Lorand and Torin caught the flash out of the corners of their eyes and instantly leaped apart, breaking their grapple in a heartbeat. The energy blast slammed into the dirt right behind them with a roar, leaving a deep, smoking crater.
"Are you insane?!" they bellowed in unison, their eyes darting wildly between the crater and Rauan. "Trying to kill us? Use your head!"
Rauan lowered the bow, which folded back into a compact metal block with a quiet click.
"If you don't want me to actually knock some sense into your heads next time," he said in an even tone, "pack up your bedrolls now and get in the carriage."
The guys, though muttering under their breath, didn't dare argue anymore. With quick, jerky movements, they rolled up their sleeping bags, shoved them haphazardly into the carriage with the rest of the gear, and sat down sullenly on the wooden benches. The carriage was ready to move on.
After eight hours on the road, the carriage finally stopped for a break. The squad, exhausted by the jolting and the journey, spilled out onto the shoulder to stretch their legs and grab a bite. Rauan handed everyone a ration of dried meat and flatbread. Finally relaxed, the guys dug in.
At that exact moment, the ground beneath their feet trembled slightly but distinctly. The dirt rippled, and the unexpected jolt made Torin lose his balance. His hand jerked, and his plate with the remaining stew spilled right onto the carriage's wooden floorboards.
"You're such a klutz," Oswin chimed in immediately, without even looking up from his meal.
Rauan, who maintained order even during meal times, shot him a heavy glare and snapped:
"Wait for dinner."
"That's not fair!" Torin protested, staring at the spilled food in shock. "It wasn't my fault the ground shook!"
"The plate was in your hands, not mine," Rauan countered, continuing to chew. "Look at the others. No one dropped a thing. Even Kron, who hasn't left the horses once. Let this be a lesson for the future."
Torin fell silent in offense and, pursing his lips, sat down on the edge of the carriage. His stomach betrayed him with a growl, reminding him of his lost lunch. However, the silence didn't last long. Lorand, who had been watching the scene quietly until then, let out a heavy sigh. He glanced sideways at the miserable Torin, tore his flatbread in half, and held it out to his comrade.
"Here," he muttered shortly, trying to avoid eye contact.
Torin looked up, his face lighting up with pure shock.
"Really?!"
"Yeah, really, stop yelling," Lorand grunted. "Just make sure you don't eat it all, leave some for me too!"
Without waiting for a second invitation, Torin practically snatched the food from Lorand's hands and started wolfing it down.
"I'll leave some, I'll leave some," he mumbled with his mouth full, barely able to swallow it down.
Once lunch was finished and the well-fed mercenaries began clearing the dishes, Rauan abruptly stood up. His gaze locked onto the thick brush along the road.
"Again?" Oswin sighed, instantly gripping the hilt of his weapon.
"Yeah," Rauan said shortly.
Lorand quickly jumped to his feet as well, cracking his shoulders. An anticipatory smirk played on his face—he was already visualizing his blade carving through monster flesh. The scenario repeated itself with absolute precision: the earth shuddered again, split into deep cracks, and from the underground depths, new two-headed beasts began crawling out one by one. The mercenaries met them fully armed.
Half an hour later, it was all over. The road was once again littered with smoking carcasses, and the fighters, breathing heavily, wiped down their bloodied steel.
"There were more of them than last time," Lorand noted, sheathing his sword and tossing back his sweat-drenched hair.
"Does it make any difference?" Oswin asked, heading toward the carriage.
"Nope, none at all," the swordsman smirked.
The defenders tiredly climbed back into the covered bed. The carriage started moving again, rocking steadily over the bumps, and the fighters slowly began drifting off to sleep. Only Torin sat by the sideboards with a blissful look on his face. Only one rosy image was looping in his mind: As soon as we get to Dornheim, I'm finally gonna find myself a wife!
Opening one eye, Lorand scowled at his dreamy expression for a moment before giving in and slapping him hard upside the head.
"Why the goofy face?" he grumbled. "Living in your fantasies again?"
Torin hissed, rubbing the bruised spot, but didn't get to finish.
Right in the middle of the moving carriage, right above them, a silhouette materialized out of nowhere. The stranger appeared so suddenly and silently, it was as if he had always been there. He calmly settled onto the wooden bench next to the frozen mercenaries, turned to face them, and asked quietly:
"Where are you heading?"
Rauan, reacting a fraction of a second faster than the others, instantly sensed the alien energy. His fingers locked in a death grip around the metal cube. The device slammed open into a combat bow, and without wasting time on questions, Rauan fired a yellow arrow point-blank straight into the uninvited guest's chest.
A massive pop rang out. The energy blast tore through the carriage's paneling, but the stranger was no longer there.
The coachman Kron violently pulled back on the horses in a panic, and the carriage slid to a halt, kicking up a cloud of dust. Rauan was the first to jump out onto the road, breathing heavily and looking around frantically. The stranger wasn't dead. He stood far ahead, right in the middle of the abandoned dirt road, silently watching the approaching squad.
Only one alarming thought hammered in Rauan's mind: Who the hell is he?..
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter