Chapter 263 Screech!

Vergrove Town.

A quiet street.

Still wearing the Plate-Chain Composite Armor that looked a bit tattered after the battle, Xia Nan walked alone down the street.

His eyes were slightly unfocused, his mind recalling the conversation he had just shared with Verol.

Faced with his direct question right before parting, the girl with a mysterious background had become incoherent, appearing completely flustered and at a loss.

It was a stark contrast to her composure the day she had faced down Kraugbari—the adult red dragon whose Dragon Breath could have wiped out their entire party.

The contrast struck Xia Nan as completely absurd.

'There's no way I'm more terrifying than an adult red dragon, right?'

After a moment of panic, Verol had stumbled through an explanation for his suspicions.

It was nothing substantial, just vague excuses like "a coincidence," "you look like someone I used to know," or "I saw it wrong."

Naturally, Xia Nan didn't believe her.

But since she reacted that way, clearly resisting the topic and unwilling to talk in depth, he couldn't be bothered to pry.

It was just an offhand remark before they parted ways, anyway. The next time they met wouldn't be for at least another three years.

Having spent plenty of time in tavern halls listening to the tales of countless passing adventurers, he knew the rules well.

Unless it was absolutely necessary and both parties were well acquainted, blindly digging into other people's secrets was rarely a good thing.

It would only drag him into unnecessary trouble.

As for why he hadn't invited her to form a party and adventure together, to be honest, Xia Nan felt a bit uneasy about it.

She had already proven her reliability at a critical moment by banishing an adult red dragon to another plane.

And as a Spellcaster with solid foundations, she could provide significant support to any team.

But he had to admit that Verol was hiding far too much.

Whether it was her combat power—which allowed her to face an adult dragon head-on despite her seemingly low Class Level—or her inexplicable decision to join the escort squad for a few hundred gold coins most mages wouldn't even care about, no one knew the young girl's true motives.

Xia Nan even harbored doubts about whether "Verol" was her real name.

Under these circumstances, with lingering shadows in his heart, how could he possibly invite someone he couldn't see through at all to join his party?

The same was true for Verol. Her identity as a "Reincarnator" and the heavy burden of "saving the world" on her shoulders left her almost breathless.

In the dead of night, she had thought more than once about how the Aifala Continent was filled with candidates far more suitable than her—more numerous than the grains of sand in an hourglass.

Why did it have to be her? Why was an obscure, ordinary Transcendent Tier mage who still worked for her mentor in a mage tower's laboratory chosen for such an opportunity?

But since it had already happened, her inner sense of responsibility and conscience left her no room to refuse. Naturally, Verol wanted to tell her past life's mentor about her situation, or perhaps confide in a few major figures from the continent's righteous factions, hoping they could share her burden and provide assistance.

However, the existence above the river of time watched her constantly. The slightest reveal of her identity as a "Reincarnator" would only result in the loss of this precious, singular chance to save the world.

With this as her premise, her incomprehensible goals, her bizarre actions that defied common sense, and the supreme need for secrecy meant that Verol was destined to walk this journey in the world's shadows all alone.

Short-term cooperation was perfectly fine;

Long-term teammates were simply impossible.

Nothing was said aloud, but a strange tacit understanding had formed between Xia Nan and Verol.

Right up until they parted and vanished from each other's sight, neither side mentioned anything about forming a party.

Stepping slightly sideways, he made way for a middle-aged man walking toward him in shabby clothes, wearing a panicked expression.

Xia Nan pondered his next move.

The Snake-Scale Arm Shield should be finished forging by now, so returning to Rivervale Town was a given. But forcing himself to stay in such a desolate, remote town with nothing to do for several months was also unrealistic.

Therefore, he decided to follow Verol's advice: he would leave from the other end of the Abyssal Veil Province and take a route around the Molten Scale Mountains to return to Rivervale Town.

As for the address she had provided—at least based on her performance during this mission, Verol harbored no hostility toward him.

Since she said the place might have something that could help him, and it was on the way regardless, Xia Nan didn't mind going over to take a look and doing her a small favor.

Ash Valley Village.

A remote village located within the Abyssal Veil Province, near the borders of the Sticky-Tree Territory.

Like countless other remote, nameless human settlements within the kingdom, it had no unique local products of economic value, nor was it situated near any major transportation routes.

This meant that many of the elderly residents had likely never stepped beyond the fragmented fences bounding the village in their entire lives. Likewise, few outsiders were willing to traverse the dense forest to visit such an unremarkable little place.

Speaking of which, many years ago, Ash Valley Village had once been presented with a chance to change its fate.

This was also the origin of its "Ash Valley" name. After trekking through the woods to the southwest of the village for half a day, one could find a barren little valley strewn with gray rocks.

A lost merchant had once passed through, spotted a business opportunity, and wanted to develop the area into a quarry.

If the development had succeeded, the village—as the only human settlement nearby—would have undoubtedly gained a massive source of income and numerous jobs.

If they had discovered mineral deposits, it wasn't impossible for "Ash Valley Village" to become "Ash Valley Town," or even "Ash Valley City."

Unfortunately, disaster struck on the third day, right as the merchant brought experts and guards to survey the valley and draft a development plan.

A group of powerful and cunning monsters dwelling deep in the valley attacked their camp.

The merchant died in the attack.

And the "quarry project" that was supposed to lift Ash Valley Village out of poverty naturally fizzled out, becoming nothing more than a lamentable tale recounted by the village elders.

Tom had heard this story from his father countless times. Even on the night before he passed away, the gray-haired old man with his deeply wrinkled face had held Tom's hand, rambling on about how different their lives would be if that merchant hadn't died and the quarry development had continued.

Tom didn't think the old man had any sense of honor or belonging to the village, nor did he believe his father wanted all the villagers to live well, like those merciful clerics in the outside churches.

The reason he was so obsessed with it was simply that when the merchant had come to the village to hire a guide, he had patted his then-young father on the shoulder, praising him for his sturdy build and calling him a prime candidate for hauling stone once the quarry opened.

A man who had spent his entire life swinging a hoe in the fields, growing up amid sweat and duty, whose highest praise was his wife saying, "The harvest is good this year, we should be able to survive the winter"—how could he resist such recognition?

After returning home that night, he had broken his usual taciturn demeanor and sat at the dinner table with Tom's mother and a young Tom, fantasizing about the good life they were going to have.

Maybe they would finally have the time to fix the leaky roof, sprinkle a bit more salt when cooking, eat meat twice a week, or even buy a calf for the family.

Tom had to admit, he had fantasized about the meat his father spoke of back then, too.

But up until now—years after the honest man who had tried to exchange his backbreaking labor for a better life for his family passed away, and long after Tom had started his own family, raising a pair of children and taking up the mantle of "father" himself—those childhood fantasies and hopes for the future remained unfulfilled.

"Tom, stay alert! Don't fall asleep!"

The sudden low shout by his ear made Tom jolt in fright. His groggy, half-asleep state instantly vanished, and he was wide awake.

"Got it, got it!"

Nodding vigorously, he reassured the middle-aged man beside him, who was known as Uncle Mike.

He didn't really have any complaints.

Tom knew full well that Uncle Mike, as his own family's sole source of labor, had toiled all day in the fields just like he had.

At this late hour when they should be sleeping, the older man was just as exhausted.

He was merely relying on sheer willpower to hold on.

"Hold on a little longer," the middle-aged man beside him comforted the younger Tom, his cloudy eyes bloodshot. "Andrew and the others should be here to take over in two or three hours."

Tom didn't reply. He just took a deep breath, taking in the scent of the hay bales and the faint smell of sweat filling his nose. Tightening his grip on his pitchfork, he gave a firm nod.

It was already late at night. The two men, who had worked the fields their entire lives, hadn't gone to bed early to save their energy for the next day's chores as usual.

Instead, they lay prone on either side of the hay bales, using their eyes and ears to guard the villagers of Ash Valley Village against the danger that could arrive at any moment.

As for the reason—

A week ago, Henry's mother, a kindly old woman, had been attacked by an unknown beast while gathering firewood in the forest near the village.

The farmers in the nearby fields, who had rushed over after hearing her screams, found only the old woman's blood, torn shreds of clothing, and a dense cluster of small footprints in the mud that looked like they belonged to human children.

They didn't even need to call upon the highly respected and experienced village elders to identify them. The farmers could easily confirm the identity of the so-called "unknown beasts" from these unmistakable tracks:

—goblins!

A pack of more than ten goblins!

For large cities with towering walls, or small towns equipped with sheriffs and guards, dealing with a mere dozen goblins was perhaps no more troublesome than clearing rats from the sewers.

But for the villagers of Ash Valley Village, they were dangerous enemies that had to be faced with the utmost caution and all their might.

Thanks to the widespread presence of these cruel, tenacious, yet weak monsters across the continent, even the most foolish, illiterate rustic farmers clearly understood the threat these green-skinned bastards posed.

They viewed humans as the prime choice on their prey list, daring to attack anyone they caught alone or deemed manageable, regardless of gender.

And if one were caught by these beasts, dying was the better outcome, as they would at most be treated as rations to fill their stomachs. If one were dragged into their nest alive, however, they would suffer inhuman torture that even the most ruthless interrogators could barely stomach.

The disappearance of Henry's mother was only the beginning.

Having discovered Ash Valley Village, the goblins were like piranhas that had caught the scent of blood. One by one, anyone who left the protection of the sunlight and walls to enter the forest could not escape their greedy gaze.

And if their numbers were large enough to grant these green-skinned rats sufficient courage, they wouldn't hesitate to screech and charge into the village in hordes, smashing every living thing in sight to drag back to their filthy, damp burrows.

Naturally, the villagers of Ash Valley Village couldn't just wait helplessly for death.

Having lived in this remote region for generations over many years, they had encountered their fair share of green-skinned rats.

They had long since developed a comprehensive defense strategy against the goblins.

Ditches, barbed fences, traps—they had checked and rechecked all these defenses over the past few days.

Every night, they also organized villagers to take shifts and stand watch.

Tom and Mike were the ones chosen to take the first watch tonight.

"Damn it, these goblins are more stubborn than the weeds in the fields. No matter how many we kill, they spring up out of nowhere every now and then, like they just grew straight out of the ground."

Having been married for years and no longer young, Tom naturally had experience fighting goblins.

Two years ago, he had even followed the village's main group and impaled one with his pitchfork.

Yet, amidst his complaints, he was also somewhat doubtful. "But these bastards are cowards when there are only two or three of them. Without weapons, they probably couldn't even beat a goose. Would they really dare to attack a village as big as ours?"

Uncle Mike pondered for a moment before answering with a stern expression, "These green-skinned goblins might seem loud and brainless, but they're actually quite cunning."

"If there are only five or six of them, they'll at most attack a lone civilian, like Henry's old mother."

With more than ten, ordinary-sized caravans would fall into their attack range.

Mike's eyes flickered, his expression unclear in the dark. "As for attacking a village—that would probably take at least twenty, maybe even thirty of them."

"There are only so many of us in the village, as you know."

"The two of us are just an insurance policy right now. If a large goblin pack really does attack the village—"

Mike suddenly looked up, staring intently at Tom in front of him. His voice dropped to a near whisper. "Take your wife and kids and run. Don't look back."

"They can't carry that much away. Once they've eaten their fill and caught enough people, they'll leave."

Tom froze for a moment upon hearing this. He opened his mouth, just about to say something.

Suddenly, a sharp, eerie screech rang out from the dense forest nearby.

Screech—!