The cooperation between the two sides had indeed proven quite fruitful—or at least, that was how the members of the Azure Feather Mercenary Corps saw it.
For the mercenaries, years of living in the wilderness had made them intimately familiar with the dangers lurking in the forest. What was more, unlike the Wraith Warriors, they were not encumbered by heavy armor, allowing them to move with remarkable ease. Thus, during their advance into the Duskwood, it was always the mercenaries who took the lead. The moment they spotted a formidable foe, they would send out a signal, and then the Wraith Warriors, under Blake's command, would surge forward and tear those poor beasts—unlucky or lucky, depending on how one looked at it—to shreds.
Of course, this was merely the Azure Feather Mercenary Corps' own perspective. In truth, the Wraith Warriors were no less skilled at scouting than these mercenaries; indeed, in the wraiths' eyes, the mercenaries' reconnaissance methods were downright backward and monotonous, lacking any ingenuity or flair whatsoever.
That being said, laziness was part of human nature. What was more, the Wraith Warriors had not yet manifested physical bodies. While they could replenish their expended energy by devouring the souls of enemies and prey in battle, scouting was a task that only drained their strength with no means of recovery. Naturally, the Wraith Warriors were more than happy to shirk it whenever possible. Besides, there were no particularly powerful beings in the mountains and forests ahead—only mutated beasts. These creatures might have posed a tough challenge for ordinary mercenaries, but they were still no match for the Wraith Warriors. Thus, there was no need for the wraiths to cover the mercenaries' shortcomings; as long as all threats were eliminated, those shortcomings ceased to matter at all.
Precisely because of this, the Wraith Warriors had taken to imitating their master. They would idle about, doing nothing but trailing behind Blake, and only spring into action when battle erupted.
In the eyes of the Azure Feather Mercenary Corps, these bizarre black-armored warriors possessed truly formidable strength. In particular, their elemental powers had given the mercenaries their first taste of what true might looked like. Just the previous noon, the group had encountered a mutated black bear. Empowered by Mana, the bear was not only towering in stature and incomparably strong but also boasted a terrifying regenerative ability. To make matters worse, it was shielded by a protective aura. Even if their weapons managed to pierce its defenses and wound its flesh, the injuries would heal in the blink of an eye. For the mercenaries, this was undoubtedly an extremely troublesome adversary. But then, they watched as one of the black-armored warriors brandished her longsword and charged forward, driving the blade into the bear's body with effortless ease. Of course, such a wound was negligible against the bear's regenerative prowess. Yet what happened next left the mercenaries gaping in disbelief—the black-armored warrior simply twisted her sword, and in an instant, a bolt of lightning materialized out of thin air, striking the bear squarely. The poor beast, clearly lacking the fortitude to withstand a million volts of electricity, soon let out a roar of resentment and was reduced to a pile of blackened charcoal.
Elemental power.
The mercenaries had heard rumors about elemental power before, but they had never paid them much heed. It was not until they witnessed its might firsthand that they realized how utterly wrong their assumptions had been. Alongside their astonishment, a faint sense of bewilderment crept into the mercenaries' minds: where had this young noble found such a powerful retinue of guards? While these black-armored swordswomen seemed to possess only Mid-Tier Upper-Rank strength, their bizarre elemental powers granted them the ability to go toe-to-toe with High-Tier Swordsmen. If the mercenaries had once doubted the claims that elemental power could more than double a warrior's combat effectiveness, they were now thoroughly convinced.
But the mercenaries' confusion did not end there.
One must remember that the Wraith Warriors were not born in this era of peace. They had fought beneath a blood-red sky, battling for kingdoms, races, and ideals that had long since faded into oblivion. This meant that the Wraith Warriors would unconsciously revert to their old battle habits in combat. What was more, the era they hailed from had been far more perilous than the present day, with wars, battles, and dangers that dwarfed those of the mercenaries' time. Thus, the combat techniques mastered by the Wraith Warriors were ancient, practical, and devastatingly powerful.
To the younger mercenaries, these black-armored warriors merely fought in strange and eccentric ways. But to others, there was far more to it than that.
Take the veteran mercenary of the Azure Feather Mercenary Corps, for example.
Having risen to the rank of corps leader through sheer merit, the veteran had no illusions about his own strength. Unlike the other mercenaries, he did not possess brute physical power, but he was confident in his combat skills. In fact, ever since he was a young man, he had been utterly fascinated by the swordsmanship of ancient times. In the veteran's view, mastery of technique far outweighed raw strength; if one could wield and harness this advantage effectively, victory in battle would come easily.
Through relentless effort, he had managed to learn and comprehend a smattering of these ancient sword techniques. But time had marched on, and many of these combat skills had become nothing more than legends. While their effects might still be recounted in various tales and rumors, the methods to learn these techniques themselves had long been lost to history. Now, however, the veteran could scarcely believe his eyes—for from the black-armored warriors, he saw the lost swordsmanship he had yearned for all his life.
Accelerated Charge, Cross Guard, Shadow Strike—even with his extensive knowledge, these were the only three combat techniques he could identify. As for the sword skills employed by the other black-armored warriors, they were even more bizarre and powerful beyond imagination. The veteran could not begin to fathom who these black-armored warriors really were. He even found himself wondering if he had somehow been transported back to that legendary era—a time of wars, bloodshed, death, glory, and myths.
Naturally, the veteran kept these thoughts to himself, sharing them with none of his subordinates. For one thing, there was no need; for another, he had no desire to incur the noble's wrath. Though Blake's official title was Lord of the Duskwood, the veteran had long since concluded that he must be the heir to some ancient and illustrious family. After all, no ordinary noble could possibly recruit so many warriors—each of Mid-Tier Upper-Rank strength, blessed with elemental powers, and even proficient in ancient swordsmanship! By the grace of the Saints, the Azure Feather Mercenary Corps had traveled far and wide, but not even the personal guards of kings and dukes could boast such might.
Just what was this young man's true lineage?
If the veteran was wary of Blake's origins, then the ordinary mercenaries were utterly fascinated by the Wraith Warriors. This was hardly surprising; after all, they had been acting alongside each other for days, and the mercenaries had witnessed every feat the black-armored warriors performed. Their fearlessness in battle had naturally earned them the mercenaries' admiration. But when the mercenaries realized that these warriors were actually women, their curiosity and confusion only grew. It made sense, when one thought about it—the Wraith Warriors currently relied on their armor to move, and those ornate suits of armor were incredibly large and heavy, far beyond the ability of an average person to wear. Yet these young women could don them with such ease, moving without the slightest hindrance. This left the mercenaries both astounded and intrigued. They even wondered if these black-armored warriors were the legendary female barbarians of the Surant Plateau. But they did not seem to be; in particular, the women's voices were clear, melodious, and refined—nothing like the hoarse, coarse tones of the barbarian women.
In contrast to the Wraith Warriors, however, Blake was clearly not very popular among the mercenaries. The reason was simple: he was a noble, while they were commoners. What was more, many mercenaries had been forced to leave their homes and take up the wandering life of a sellsword due to oppression by the nobility. Of course, not every mercenary had endured such hardships, but after spending years in a mercenary corps, listening to the grievances and complaints of their seniors and juniors, even those who had originally held no prejudice against nobles could not help but develop a hint of resentment. And Blake was not just any noble—he was the Lord of the Duskwood, and they were currently treading on his land. Naturally, the mercenaries had no desire to provoke a conflict with him.
That said, the mercenaries' dissatisfaction stemmed from more than just Blake's noble status. In truth, they had all noticed that in every battle, the young lord would always stand idly by in the rear, watching the fight like a spectator. At most, he would gesture to the black-armored warriors to direct their movements; beyond that, the noble lord seemed disinclined to lift a finger. The mercenaries, of course, also played a supporting role in battle, but at least they were responsible for scouting ahead. What had Blake done? Absolutely nothing. Even when setting up camp, it was the black-armored warriors who tidied up his quarters for him. He was no different from the arrogant nobles depicted in tales, with no intention of sullying his hands with menial labor whatsoever.
Truly lazy and useless.
Faced with Blake's behavior, the mercenaries naturally looked down on him. Still, despite their inner disdain for the noble, they made no outward show of it. The Azure Feather Mercenary Corps had not grown to its current size and influence through sheer strength alone. If its members had failed to master the simple social skill of reading the room, they would have long been eliminated by nobles and officials on some flimsy pretext—so how could they have ever achieved such prominence?
Today, however, they had no choice but to approach the noble.
"Lord Blake, we have been traveling for three days now, and yet we have still found no trace of the source of the mutations," the veteran mercenary said, his voice grave as he stared at the young man before him. He was not merely reporting the situation; in truth, the veteran had noticed that the deeper they ventured into the forest, the more events seemed to defy all their expectations. When they had first accepted the mission, the client from Green Village had only mentioned that something unusual was happening in the forest, without providing any details. While the members of the Azure Feather Mercenary Corps were seasoned adventurers, the "Source" was the most closely guarded secret of every faction. Mercenaries like them would never have access to such information. Thus, at the outset, the veteran had not anticipated much danger, which was why he had taken the job. But they had never imagined that the mission would prove far more perilous than they could have ever guessed. They had never seen so many aberrant creatures before. While mutated beasts were not unheard of across the continent, such a high concentration and sheer number of them was unprecedented. What was more, the further they traveled, the more powerful the aberrations became. The wolves that had attacked them earlier had only been of Mid-Tier Lower-Rank strength, but now they were encountering aberrations of Mid-Tier Upper-Rank power. This was clearly abnormal. Although they had not faced any real danger so far, thanks to the black-armored warriors' elemental powers, the veteran could not help but hesitate about pressing further inward. Such a large number of aberrations was already highly unusual—what if they ventured deeper and encountered a High-Tier aberration?
After discussing the matter with his subordinates, the veteran had finally decided to temporarily withdraw his forces and return to Green Village. Once they had reported the situation to their superiors, they could request the dispatch of more capable individuals to handle and complete the mission.
"What is more, the dangers we face are growing greater with each passing day, my lord. I suggest we fall back temporarily and resume our investigation once we are fully prepared," the veteran said.
"Fully prepared?" Blake looked at the veteran mercenary before him with a meaningful glint in his eyes, the corners of his lips curving upward in a faint smile that seemed to indicate his disapproval of the suggestion. "Then tell me—what exactly constitutes 'fully prepared'? I made ample preparations before embarking on this expedition. Or are you implying that my men and I are incapable of seeing this through?"
"That is not what I meant," the veteran replied, furrowing his brows as he heard Blake's words. Was the young man truly so naive, or was he merely feigning ignorance? Or was he simply far too overconfident in his own strength? It was true that ten swordswomen of Mid-Tier Upper-Rank strength, blessed with elemental powers, formed a formidable fighting force—but they would still struggle against High-Tier opponents. Besides, it was plain as day to anyone with eyes that the deeper they went, the more dangerous it became. Why was the young man so oblivious to this?
"But Lord Blake, surely you have noticed that the further we venture, the more dangers we encounter. Your guards are undoubtedly powerful, but what if we run into a High-Tier aberration? I implore you to consider this carefully. After all, the depths of the forest are an extremely perilous place—we mercenaries know this all too well. Even a seemingly tranquil woods can hide deadly threats and traps. For the sake of caution, I suggest we retreat from here and reconsider our options," the veteran said, his tone diplomatic. He had not only pointed out the hidden dangers but also given Blake the courtesy of not embarrassing him. At the same time, he had subtly implied that the dangers might exceed their expectations—and in such circumstances, it was always better to err on the side of caution.
Blake raised an eyebrow at this, saying nothing further. He understood the veteran's concerns perfectly well, of course. In fact, he had anticipated them long ago. Unlike these mercenaries, Blake possessed a far deeper understanding of the Source. The closer one drew to the Source, the higher the concentration of Mana became—and the more powerful the aberrations would grow as a result. He had little doubt that at the very heart of the Mana Source, a Lord-Tier aberration stood guard. While its strength was not quite on par with a Knight's, it was not far off.
Naturally, Blake would never breathe a word of this to the veteran. If he did, he feared the old mercenary would turn around and leave immediately. After all, in the eyes of ordinary people, High-Tier strength was already beyond reach—let alone a monster nearly as powerful as a Knight. Against such a foe, victory would be utterly impossible. But Blake had no intention of telling him—not because he was afraid of the Source's secret leaking out, but because these mercenaries were essentially free laborers. They had saved Judith and the others a great deal of soul energy. To drive away such useful pawns would be nothing short of foolish.
"I understand your concerns," Blake said, waving a hand to cut off the veteran before he could continue. "But rest assured—I would never have dared to venture this far if I did not have complete confidence in my ability to see this through. Thus, I have no intention of turning back. What is more..." Here, Blake turned to the veteran mercenary, his gaze taking on a profound, almost ominous quality. "I suspect that if you insist on leaving, you will only find yourselves in far greater danger."
The veteran said nothing, but his heart sank like a stone. The truth was exactly as Blake had implied. While their journey had been smooth so far, they all knew deep down that without Blake's black-armored warriors, they would never have been able to penetrate this far into the forest. Now, if they were to leave the group and attempt to escape the Duskwood on their own, it would be just as difficult. Without the aid of the black-armored warriors, whether these mercenaries—who possessed only Low-Tier Upper-Rank strength—would be able to make it out of the forest alive was a question no one could answer.
But if they continued forward like this, they would be walking straight into their graves!
The veteran glanced at Blake again, studying him closely. No matter how he looked at it, the young man seemed like an ordinary youth, with no signs of exceptional strength whatsoever. No, wait—while the young man undoubtedly hailed from a powerful family, and his strength was probably not to be underestimated, his age was against him. At his age, reaching the rank of Mid-Tier Swordsman would already be a remarkable achievement. Did he really think he was an Elf, or one of those prodigies blessed with innate talent, who could attain High-Tier Swordsman or even Knight status at such a young age?
Of course, the veteran only thought this to himself. He certainly did not believe that Blake possessed such power. Thus, he still clung to his suggestion of retreat. But despite the veteran's earnest pleas, Blake remained unmoved. In the end, the veteran had no choice but to leave dejectedly. In his opinion, the deeper they ventured, the sooner they would encounter a High-Tier aberration. Perhaps once the young man had tasted defeat, he would finally learn to make the wise choice and retreat.
As it turned out, however, the veteran's worst fears would be realized far sooner than he had anticipated. On the evening of the very next day after his conversation with Blake, the mercenaries scouting ahead sent word back—they had discovered another powerful aberration.
Hidden among the bushes, the veteran and his subordinates frowned as they stared at the colossal aberration before them. It was a giant multi-horned beast. Even in its normal state, this species was known for its massive size; after mutating, it had swollen to the dimensions of a small hill. What was more, its scales were incredibly tough and hard. Even in its unmutated form, the multi-horned beast was considered one of the most difficult creatures to deal with in the forest—its scales could easily deflect the spears and swords of ordinary men. Now, after mutating, no one could say just how impenetrable its defenses had become. But that was not the most dangerous thing about it. Within a three-meter radius of the multi-horned beast, every blade of grass and every flower had withered away to nothing; even the sturdy trees had been corroded and reduced to rotting husks.
Elemental power.
The veteran could sense the terrifying energy emanating from the beast's massive form almost immediately. Clearly, they had encountered an aberration that had awakened elemental powers—and one that possessed High-Tier Lower-Rank strength at that. This was no mere fodder that could be dispatched with ease, unlike the creatures they had faced before.
"Frankly speaking, Lord Blake, this is an extremely formidable adversary. I do not believe your subordinates will be able to defeat it without great difficulty," the veteran said. This time, armed with concrete evidence, he spoke to Blake with far more conviction. After all, the beast's power was so overwhelming that Blake must have seen it for himself. The proof of this was that upon spotting the aberration, he had not immediately gestured for his men to attack as he usually did. Instead, he remained standing where he was, carefully observing the monster in the distance.
"I mean no disrespect, but this damned beast has attained High-Tier Lower-Rank strength—and judging by its appearance, it has awakened corrosive elemental powers. Even if your subordinates manage to emerge victorious in the end, casualties will be unavoidable," the veteran added.
"You are absolutely right," Blake conceded, for once not bothering to refute the veteran's words. He continued to stare at the massive aberration, then nodded his head in agreement. Seeing this, the veteran felt a surge of hope and pressed his advantage at once.
"Then I implore you—let us retreat immediately. To face such a creature, we need not only a thorough plan but also greater strength. Retreat is nothing to be ashamed of, my lord. And to be perfectly honest, we never imagined we would be able to penetrate this deep into the forest. Now is the time to make the right decision..."
"I will not retreat," Blake said, shaking his head and cutting the veteran off before he could finish his sentence. He rejected the proposal once more, without the slightest hesitation.
"You are correct—this creature would indeed be a tough challenge for Judith and the others right now. But do not worry," Blake said, rising to his feet.
"I will handle it myself."