"You?"
At Blake's reply, not only the veteran mercenary but all his subordinates froze in stunned silence. Their gazes toward Blake instantly shifted to those of people staring at a fool. By the Saints, was he truly oblivious or just pretending? That was a High-Tier Lower-Rank aberration—how could he possibly stand a chance against it? Yet despite their thoughts, none of them voiced their doubts. Instead, they turned to the black-armored warriors. After all, the mercenaries held little faith in Blake, but they had full confidence in his subordinates. In their eyes, these black-armored warriors were seasoned, masterful swordsmen who surely recognized the danger posed by the aberration before them. They surely wouldn't need any prompting to step forward and stop their master from this foolish endeavor.
But when they looked, the mercenaries were once again left dumbfounded. The black-armored warriors remained rooted in place, continuing their quiet conversations among themselves without the slightest intention of stopping their master. It was as if they hadn't even noticed the commotion unfolding nearby. And in the split second the mercenaries stood frozen in shock, Blake's figure had already vanished without a trace, leaving them behind.
"Everyone," the veteran mercenary's heart sank like a stone as he watched Blake reach the edge of the woods. He hurried over to the black-armored warriors and spoke urgently. "Please, you must stop your master from this reckless challenge! With his strength, he has no hope of defeating a High-Tier Lower-Rank aberration alone! I would think you of all people would know that perfectly well!"
"Do not worry, mercenary sir," Judith, who had been murmuring to her companions, looked up at the sound of the veteran's voice. She glanced at Blake's retreating back, then turned back as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening, offering the man a reassuring smile instead. "With his Excellency's power, dealing with an aberration of this caliber poses no danger whatsoever. So I'm afraid there's no need for any of us to intervene—we only need to stay here and enjoy the show."
"Wh—what?"
The mercenaries were left gaping in disbelief at Judith's words. They stared at the young man's figure, utterly unable to comprehend how they could have received such a response. Frankly speaking, they refused to believe Blake stood any chance against a High-Tier Lower-Rank aberration. True, he hadn't lifted a finger in battle this entire journey, but his age alone was proof enough. A young swordsman barely in his early twenties—and a noble to boot. In the mercenaries' eyes, he surely couldn't have dedicated as much time to honing his swordsmanship as other warriors. No matter how gifted he was, there was no way he could have broken through the near-insurmountable barrier to High-Tier status at such a tender age!
That had been their unanimous belief, but Judith's reply had cast them all into doubt once more. After all, unlike their lord, who was all talk and no action, the mercenaries had witnessed firsthand the battles fought by Judith and the other wraith warriors. They knew all too well how formidable and fearsome these black-armored warriors truly were. With the power they had displayed, there was no way they would bother lying to a group of mercenaries. Moreover, Blake was their master—if anything were to happen to him, these black-armored warriors would undoubtedly face severe repercussions. Yet now, seeing their unwavering confidence, the mercenaries' resolve began to waver. They couldn't help but turn back to stare at the young noble, eager to see what kind of power he truly possessed.
The aberration had not yet detected Blake's presence. It continued to patrol its territory, gnawing on the surrounding trees as it went. Originally a herbivore that subsisted on tender leaves and fresh grass, its massive mutated form now found its old diet far too meager to satisfy its hunger. Thus, it had been forced to seek out larger, more substantial "prey" to sate its appetite. By now, it had devoured all the trees in its vicinity, and the remaining ground, corroded by the noxious aura emanating from the aberration's body, had turned into a murky, treacherous swamp. Charging headlong into such terrain would mean certain entrapment, rendering any combatant immobile and helpless. It was precisely this that made the mercenaries view the creature as such a daunting foe. After all, the area surrounding the aberration was nothing but this quagmire—unless one could fly, how could anyone possibly maneuver upon it?
With this thought lingering in their minds, the mercenaries fixed their gazes on Blake, waiting to see what he would do next. But to their surprise, Blake came to a halt the moment he reached the edge of the swamp. He glanced at the colossal beast in the distance, shrugged his shoulders, and then took a deep breath.
Then, they watched as his right hand rested upon the hilt of his sword.
In the next instant, a brilliant white light tore through the air, erupting forth without warning.
The mercenaries' eyes widened in disbelief as they beheld the scene unfolding before them. A crescent-shaped wave of white energy burst forth from the black blade, howling through the air as it streaked toward the aberration in the distance.
Sword Qi unleashed—High-Tier Swordsman?!
At that moment, the mercenaries felt their minds go completely blank. Are you kidding me? This young noble was actually a High-Tier Swordsman? Could it be that he was a once-in-a-century prodigy?
This sudden revelation left the mercenaries reeling, robbed of all ability to think or react. They could only stare dumbfounded as the white energy wave sliced effortlessly through the aberration's steel-like defenses, leaving a deep, gaping wound across its massive body.
"ROOOOOOAR!!!"
Agony wracked the aberration's body, and it let out a deafening roar as it wheeled around. Its four eyes quickly locked onto the lone human standing at the edge of its territory. The searing pain and overwhelming rage sent the beast into a frenzy, and the faint corrosive aura surrounding its body suddenly thickened, billowing outward in all directions. Though the aberration's intelligence was limited, the intense pain triggered its primal instincts, and it immediately singled out Blake—the only living being within its sight—as its mortal enemy.
A putrid stench instantly filled the air. Even the vibrant green leaves nearby began to wither and turn brown at a visible rate, drying up completely before crumbling into dust and vanishing into the wind. The lush grass on the ground suffered the same fate, shriveling up and sinking into the soggy, decaying mud until it disappeared entirely.
What a terrifying ability.
Noticing this, the mercenaries drew in sharp breaths of horror. After all, they had never encountered such a potent corrosive aura before. Trapped within its influence, an ordinary person would surely be reduced to a puddle of rotting flesh without even needing to be attacked.
With this thought in mind, the mercenaries' gazes once again fixed on Blake. How would this High-Tier Swordsman go about defeating such a troublesome aberration? Could it be that he also possessed elemental powers like the black-armored warriors?
But what they saw next was Blake gripping his sword with both hands, holding it level with his shoulders as he stepped sideways, his posture resembling that of a warrior preparing to charge.
Charge?
This stance was not unfamiliar to the mercenaries. Did this young High-Tier Swordsman intend to defeat the aberration with a charge? Did he possess that kind of strength?
Yet contrary to all their expectations, despite assuming the charging stance, Blake did not activate any skill. He simply held his sword steady, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the aberration charging directly toward him.
The ground trembled beneath their feet.
The sheer impact and pressure generated by the colossal aberration's charge would have been enough to strike fear into the heart of any ordinary man. Merely watching that massive form barreling toward him would have sent most people fleeing in terror. But Blake stood his ground, holding his sword aloft with both hands, making no further move. Was he going to attack? Or dodge? No one knew—not even the mercenaries watching with bated breath. And then, in the blink of an eye, the aberration's sharp, deadly horns were mere inches away from impaling the audacious human who dared to stand in its path, ready to fling him aside like a worthless rag.
But that was as far as it got.
Faced with the aberration's ferocious assault, all Blake did was thrust his sword straight forward.
Then, in a motion that seemed almost weak and powerless, he "tapped" the tip of his blade against the aberration's horn.
A split second later, a roar of agony—like the crash of thunder—rang out across the forest.
The colossal beast, which had been charging forward at full tilt, came to an abrupt, jarring halt the moment Blake's sword made contact. Not only that, but its massive, impenetrable skull caved inward instantly, with web-like cracks spreading across its surface in the blink of an eye. Then, as if struck by an invisible force, the beast's enormous body was sent hurtling backward, crashing heavily into the swamp behind it with a resounding thud.
The mercenaries stared in utter bewilderment at the bizarre scene unfolding before their eyes. It looked as if it had been Blake, not the aberration, who had been charging at breakneck speed. Yet every single one of them had seen it clearly—Blake had stood rooted to the spot the entire time, never moving an inch. So how had he unleashed such immense power, enough to send a High-Tier Lower-Rank aberration flying through the air? After all, the aberration's massive form was practically a mobile hill. And yet, faced with such a formidable opponent, Blake had dispatched it with a single, effortless tap?
What kind of High-Tier Swordsman possessed strength like this?
While the mercenaries stood frozen in shock, Judith and the other wraith warriors were clearly unfazed, having witnessed such feats countless times before. The moment the aberration hit the ground, they stepped forward at once to clean up the battlefield. It was not until Blake sheathed his sword and walked back toward the group that the mercenaries finally seemed to snap out of their daze.
"I believe we can continue our advance now, don't you think, mercenary sir?"
The veteran mercenary stared into Blake's eyes, which glinted with obvious amusement, and swallowed hard involuntarily. He was completely at a loss to understand what kind of being the young man before him truly was. But one thing was crystal clear—he had no power to refuse now. The young noble had demonstrated his overwhelming strength, and all the veteran could do now was follow in his footsteps and press onward.
By the Saints, he prayed the mission would be over soon.
The veteran let out a heavy sigh at the thought, beginning to regret ever taking on this commission. One wrong step had led to another, and now he wanted nothing more than to turn back—but it seemed the young noble had no intention of giving him that chance. He could only wonder if continuing down this path would bring him fortune... or disaster.
Blake noticed the look in the veteran's eyes and simply smiled, saying nothing more. In truth, he had his own reasons for dragging the Azure Feather Mercenary Corps along on this journey. But pawns on a chessboard never needed to know their place.
But their masters were a different story entirely.
With that thought, Blake lifted his head and gazed up at the clear blue sky.
By now, he mused, Her Royal Highness the Princess should have already set her plan in motion.
Ophelia let out a soft sigh and tore her gaze away from the scenery outside the window.
At this moment, they had already left the Duskwood behind and entered the city controlled by the Byrd family. Unlike the quiet forest, this city, located at the intersection of the Golden Trade Route and the plains, buzzed with vitality. The crowds bustling along the streets, the patrolling soldiers, and the lively shops all attested to this fact.
Of course, this was not due to the Byrd family's exceptional governance. While they did rule over this territory, their efforts were merely perfunctory at best. They had never undertaken any particularly innovative or constructive initiatives—after all, the Golden Trade Route alone was lucrative enough to fill the Byrd family's coffers to overflowing, so they saw no need to waste their time and energy on unnecessary developments.
Moreover, the current prosperity was not solely thanks to the Golden Trade Route. In truth, the annual Midsummer Festival was fast approaching. For three days after the Star of Enlightenment appeared in the night sky, the people would hold grand feasts to pray for good fortune in the coming year and give thanks to Mana for all the blessings it bestowed upon humanity. It was also an ideal opportunity for nobles to forge alliances and strengthen their bonds.
Ophelia knew full well why the Byrd family had decided to invite Blake after receiving the report from that viscount. Clearly, they wanted to see his strength for themselves, up close and personal. But instead, Blake had dumped this troublesome task on her and run off to play in the forest with his wraith warriors. The thought made the princess feel a twinge of annoyance—but then again, it was of little consequence. She understood perfectly well why Blake had done it. Since he trusted her abilities so implicitly, she was determined to do her utmost to live up to her lord's expectations.
She couldn't help but wonder, though—how was the search for the Source progressing? Was it really going as smoothly as her lord had claimed?
Ophelia shook her head, dispelling the messy thoughts from her mind, then glanced at the black-and-white carriage following behind them. She let out another long, weary sigh.
"Miss Ophelia, are you feeling unwell?" Charlotte, sitting beside her, noticed her troubled expression and offered her a gentle smile, asking softly.
"No, I'm just a little worried," Ophelia replied, turning to look at Charlotte. She parted her lips, wanting to say something more, but in the end, she fell silent. In truth, ever since they had set out on their journey, Ophelia had been fretting over those two young ladies. In total, four people had been sent to represent Blake at the Byrd family's Midsummer Festival: besides Ophelia herself, Charlotte had accompanied her as head maid, and the remaining two were the twin sisters. To Ophelia, Charlotte's background was somewhat mysterious, but at least she was gentle-natured and sensible. With her by her side, Ophelia felt confident that no major mishaps would occur. But the twin sisters were an entirely different matter. Though she hadn't known them long, Ophelia was well aware of their eccentric personalities—they often acted in childish, impulsive ways. That wouldn't have been such a problem on its own, but when combined with their terrifyingly immense power, it became a source of great concern. Frankly speaking, while Ophelia understood why Blake had left the twins in her care, she had little confidence in her ability to keep them in line.
After all, technically speaking, those two sisters were her "teachers."
By the Saints, she could only pray the twins wouldn't cause any trouble here.
Just then, Ophelia caught a whiff of a delicate, fragrant scent. Curious, she turned around and saw Charlotte produce a small glass vial from somewhere, the sweet aroma wafting forth from within.
"What's this?" Ophelia asked.
"It's just a little potion, Miss Ophelia," Charlotte replied with a smile. "It will help calm your nerves. Besides, you've been working so hard these past few days. I suggest you take some time to rest properly before we begin his Excellency's mission."
"Thank you, that's very kind of you," Ophelia said, offering the woman a grateful smile. In truth, the Duskwood was already running like a well-oiled machine under her management now. After all the tedious preparations in the early stages, the forest had undergone a dramatic transformation—while it still couldn't compare to the bustling cities along the Golden Trade Route, it was no longer the desolate, sparsely populated place it had once been. As she breathed in the pleasant fragrance, Ophelia felt her tense shoulders relax slightly.
"Honestly, I'm just a little uneasy about those two young ladies," she admitted.
"If that's all that's worrying you, then there's no need to fret, Miss Ophelia," Charlotte said, smiling as she narrowed her eyes, seemingly having seen right through Ophelia's concerns. "While those two young ladies do have their eccentric moments, I assure you they are far more sensible than they appear. Especially when it comes to tasks assigned by his Excellency—those two have never once failed to deliver."
"In that case, I feel much better," Ophelia said, a faint, relieved smile tugging at her lips. She then turned to gaze out the window, her expression growing serious once more.
At that very moment, the carriage came to a stop, and the door swung open.
"On behalf of the Byrd family, I welcome you all," Viscount Wen stood outside the carriage, wearing a warm, humble smile as he extended a hand in invitation to the passengers within.