Chapter 41 - 17: [Suspicious Lucky Day]

Chapter 41: Chapter 17: [Suspicious Lucky Day]

"Could it be... No... impossible. That would be too crazy... And the Undead part doesn’t add up," Eliot thought. He shook his head, keeping silent.

After all, only Demonized Creatures would be deterred by the aura of the Demon Race, whereas the Undead indiscriminately attacked all living things; no living creature, including the Demon Race, could avoid the natural hostility of the Undead.

"Not being attacked by Demonized Creatures or the Undead... maybe we just have good luck today," he mused. That was the only explanation.

As the sun set in the west, the bronze and white twin moons gradually hung high in the sky, illuminating a man-made structure on the horizon. It was the ancient, dilapidated ruins of a building constructed from the white stone of the Kana Plain. Eroded by corrupted dust containing demonic essence, its surface was pitted and pockmarked, looking as if it would collapse at any second.

However, thick wooden beams had been horizontally installed within the crumbling ancient structure, forcefully bolstering its structural integrity. Atop the low, two-story tower were battlements and arrow slits resembling those of a city wall, encircling a massive, empty brazier. Behind the building was a crude stable housing two horses. Scattered around were several stolen wagons, and sharp wooden stakes had been erected into jagged barricades, enclosing a disorganized camp.

Scattered torches barely illuminated the camp. Bloody jerky of Split Claw Birds hung on walls tinted yellow by the fading sunset glow, while the first floor of the tower was piled high with tattered sacks full of wheat. The grain sacks that couldn’t fit inside were simply tossed at the doorway for the bandits to use as chairs.

Several rugged, burly men draped in tattered cloaks, their lower faces obscured by scarves, patrolled the area. Wielding broad-bladed short swords, whips, daggers, and longbows, they cursed while downing cheap liquor and throwing dice. Two bandits were throwing punches in a brawl. The surrounding bandits roared with laughter, placing bets on the fight.

"Excellent... there are many grain sacks. Those are the goods hijacked from the alliance’s convoy."

Randall put down his telescope and eagerly unshouldered his heavy backpack onto the ground. He stumbled, nearly falling over along with the pack. Panting, he observed the silhouette of the structure on the distant horizon before slowly shrinking back behind the cover of the white stone slope.

"According to the map, that place ahead is the ruins of a beacon tower from an ancient Ederic Empire outpost. It has simple windbreak walls and cover. The bandits have occupied it and made the beacon tower ruins their camp," Randall said. He passed the telescope to the others to look, shuffling his feet and pointing at the map to guide them.

"Great, we’re finally here. Let’s go, Samo. We’re going to slaughter our way in right now," Talia said casually.

"No, no, no, night has just fallen. The bandits have just lit their torches and are still very alert," Randall subconsciously stopped her. "Besides, we just completed a long trek, and the team’s condition is currently quite poor. It’s best to rest for a while and recover. We should wait until the early hours of the morning when the bandits’ vigilance lowers, their attention wanes, and most of them have fallen asleep. Then, we can sneak in and engage them at our peak condition."

"There’s no need," Talia replied dismissively.

"Talan Cultivators, bandits are fierce desperadoes. If we launch a frontal assault on the Bandit Camp while they’re awake, and they realize they can’t defeat us head-on, they will likely just set the entire camp ablaze in a desperate bid for mutual destruction," Randall explained. "But we need the loot inside, including those hijacked grain sacks. If we don’t secure that loot, our payout for this mission will be heavily discounted."

"Hmm... fine." Talia hesitated for a moment, let out a cold snort, and sat in the corner with Samael.

"Alright, let’s... rest right here for now. Have a simple bite to eat and some water, but do not start a fire. We’ll wait six or seven hours until the torches have mostly died out before sneaking into the Bandit Camp." Randall collapsed onto his oversized backpack, panting heavily. "Oh my god... We didn’t use a single supply today. I haven’t even opened my backpack! And to think I prepared so many things just in case! Why didn’t we run into any Demonized Creatures or Undead today? We didn’t even see a shadow of a dragon-vulture!"

"Uh... yeah, why is that?" Talia said. "How strange."

"Exactly! It’s too strange! Before, we had to fight a battle every two steps we took in the Barren Land, and it was incredibly dangerous!" Samael echoed repeatedly. "We were really lucky today."

"It just goes to show that we have pretty good luck today." The Alchemist, Ruby, stood on her tiptoes and reached out to pat Randall’s head. "This is a good thing, you idiot captain. Stop complaining about a good thing. The leftover supplies can be used on the next mission... Eww, your head is full of sweat..." She flicked her hand in disgust and wiped it on Randall’s clothes.

Eliot took out a Beast-Repelling Torch and struck his Flint, sending two sparks onto the torch head. The specially made torch head had been soaked in Magic Potion. Instead of bursting into flame, it gradually turned into charred Pine Charcoal, emitting a bizarre, pungent odor. This scent could weaken the senses of Demonized Creatures, making them feel disgusted and nauseated. In times of need, the torch could also be used as a weapon; the choking smoke from the torch head could interrupt the attacks of Demonized Creatures or forcefully blind them. Using the smoldering carbon tip of the torch, he drew a large circle of thick, charred marks that emitted the pungent odor around their resting spot. He couldn’t help but turn his head again, narrowing his eyes to scrutinize the silhouettes of the two Knights in the camp.

"Is it really just good luck?" he wondered.

The pale white and bronze twin moons hung high in the sky. The members of the team ate their dry rations while checking their own equipment and abilities, waiting for the early morning to arrive. The Alchemist, Ruby, placed seven or eight leather bags on the ground in a circle, inspecting the labels and quantities of her various bottles and jars.

The Mage, Selena’s long, wavy hair fell over her shoulders like fresh, gentle seaweed, accentuating the contours of her face. Holding a short staff inlaid with a Rune Stone, she rummaged through her material pouch for suitable Catalysts. Deep in thought, she pre-loaded them into the cavity of the universal miniature Magic Array on the short staff’s Rune Stone in a specific sequence and type.

As a Transmigrator, Samael was very interested in Magic. He couldn’t resist scooting his metallic rear end little by little in Selena’s direction, wanting to get a clear look at her process. It looked like something he had seen in his previous life... almost like a game called "Noita" from his past life, where one programmed Magic by arranging and combining different materials to achieve specific Magic effects. For some reason unknown to Samael, Talia’s shoulder armor bumped into him for no apparent cause, making him withdraw his gaze from Selena. Oblivious to the truth, Samael stared at Talia with his hands on his hips in dissatisfaction. In a fit of pettiness, he bumped her right back, producing a soft clink of colliding metal.

The Heavy Swordsman, Glad, had already swapped his weapon for a long spear before they set off. Leaning on his spear, he took the first watch on the outer perimeter, simultaneously using the telescope to monitor the situation at the Bandit Camp on the distant horizon.

"Why are you two just sitting there? Do you want to eat some of the dry rations I brought? I packed extra flatbread," Randall said sincerely. "Please, if you don’t eat it, I’ll have to carry it all the way back just as it is."

"Thank you for your kindness, Randall, but I’ll pass. I am in a fasting period. To express my devotion to the gods, I cannot eat," Samael replied.

"No thanks. We have dedicated our names and faces to the gods; we cannot take off our helmets to eat in front of worldly mortals," Talia answered casually. Regardless, the Demon Race’s resistance to hunger rivaled that of a camel; it didn’t matter even if they went without food for seven or eight days.

"Ah, alright. I’m sorry, I’ve offended your religious and cultural traditions," Randall apologized repeatedly.

"This is... getting stranger and stranger," Eliot thought. In the shadows beside Randall’s backpack, he silently inspected his poisoned Curved Sword. He wordlessly watched the silhouettes of the two Knights, the gloom of the dark night obscuring his face. The two Knights rested against their large, square bundle, as if that so-called "box of supplies" was merely a prop.

"The suspicions are piling up," he mused. He pulled up his dark red scarf, covering the lower half of his face. Adjusting his rough black leather clothes and the chainmail underneath, he revealed only a pair of sharp eyes, watching the two Knights beneath the bronze and white twin moons from the shadows.

"Was not encountering any Demonized Creatures or the Undead today really just luck?" he wondered. "Such... suspicious luck."