The moon hung high, its clear, cold light pouring down like mercury, outlining the distant mountain ridges with sharp yet somewhat eerie contours. Sparse trees cast mottled shadows under the moonlight, and the night wind stirred occasionally, rustling dry leaves with a faint whisper, adding a subtle tension to the silent wilderness. Corbin could feel this tension; it was like a faint current in the air, stimulating his extraordinary senses—the potential threat hidden beneath the mountain's stillness, the taut heartstrings of his companions, and the heavy pressure from the abnormal aura in the distance.
Knight Owen led the group of five, including Corbin, Matthew, Rhodes, and Lyra, cautiously moving deeper along the mountain foothills towards their target. Knight Owen walked in the front, his back straight under the moonlight. Corbin noticed that his usual whistling was absent, and his grip on the reins was tighter than usual. Even he, facing the Viscount's command and unknown danger, could not be entirely relaxed.
As they reached a deep shadow near the mountain ridge, where the light was completely blocked by tall rocks, Owen made a gesture, signaling everyone to stop.
"Hide the horses here," Owen ordered, his voice low and concise. "We'll move forward lightly, heading towards where the cooking smoke is rising." His gaze swept over the four young people behind him, his eyes holding not just instructions, but an unspoken gravity.
The four quickly and skillfully led their horses into the deep shadows, concealing them with bushes and loose rocks to ensure they would not be easily exposed. After unloading their heavy riding gear, they immediately felt much lighter. The night served as the best camouflage; they moved like ghosts blending into the darkness, their steps light and cautious, trying to avoid making any unnecessary sound.
Corbin's heightened senses were pushed to their limit now, focusing entirely on perceiving everything around him—the coolness of the night wind on his face, the faint chirping of insects in the bushes, the distant alert growl of wild beasts, and even the faint scent of sulfur and damp earth that could not escape his notice. Matthew and Rhodes followed closely; their training had accustomed them to staying alert in the dark. Their steps were light, yet each landing was steady.
After a prolonged period of nighttime stealth, they finally reached the backside of the mountain ridge and began descending slowly down the slope. The night wind howled past the ridge, carrying a sense of desolation and oppression. Eventually, they concealed themselves behind several clumps of dense, dew-laden bushes. From here, the view was open, allowing them to overlook the area below. The concentration of the abnormal aura in the air was noticeably higher, pressing down on their hearts like invisible lead weights.
"Start observing," Owen whispered, his gaze sweeping the darkness below like a hawk's.
Corbin was the first to spot something unusual. His sharp senses, in the hazy moonlight, detected a faint firelight, and flickering figures. The firelight danced, casting blurry outlines, and he heard a chaotic mix of low murmurs and occasional sounds in the air. He could sense a large concentration of life force there, mixed and disordered.
"Over there, about two miles away, there's firelight and figures." He pointed towards a certain spot in the valley, his voice barely a whisper, trying not to attract attention.
Matthew and Rhodes strained to see, but could not make out vague shapes, unable to discern any specific details. They did not possess Corbin's ability to perceive through the night.
"Too far, can't determine numbers or the situation," Owen frowned, making his assessment. "We need to get closer. Lyra."
He turned, his gaze falling on Lyra, who stood calmly beside him, his voice dropping even lower, tinged with seriousness. "We need the blessing of the 'Lightfoot Charm' to reduce the sound of our footsteps as we approach, preventing detection by those with enhanced senses. Please be careful to suppress fluctuations when casting." It was then that Corbin realized Knight Owen was nothing like the image he usually projected, the one who frequented taverns and told jokes. His eyes were steady and calm, like a sword about to be drawn. And the almost commanding seriousness in his tone towards Lyra made Corbin see this seemingly bookish young girl in a new light—she was not just a Mage apprentice; in this team, she played a crucial role.
Lyra nodded, without excess words. A seriousness unusual for her age showed on her small face. She closed her eyes, hands clasped in front of her, fingertips glowing faintly. A familiar energy fluctuation, different in nature, gathered around her.
"Spirit of the Azure Sky! Lend your breath! Aerion Sil'thalas! My steps shall be wind, silent upon the earth!" A low, pure incantation issued from Lyra's lips, and a strange sense of lightness instantly enveloped their bodies, making them feel as silent as feathers. Corbin could feel the wondrous sensation of this energy flowing through him, light enough to make him want to leap. He glanced at Matthew and Rhodes beside him; a flicker of surprise and delight also crossed their eyes, clearly sensing the ease this lightness brought. Knight Owen's face remained calm, as if accustomed to magical effects, but his gaze grew more vigilant.
Immediately after, her incantation sounded again, her tone deeper, carrying a sense of shaping and distorting the air.
"Spirit of the Endless Night! Descend your shroud! Umbra'zar Mor'gul! Weave the veil, conceal me from prying eyes!" An invisible energy fluctuation spread outwards from her, beginning to envelop everyone. A faint, almost imperceptible shadow wove around their forms, completely blending them into the night, making them undetectable by ordinary sight. Corbin felt his surroundings dim, his physical presence greatly reduced, as if he truly became part of the night. He could sense this energy adhering to his body like a thin film, subtly deflecting surrounding light and auras. He noticed his companions' outlines becoming blurred, almost merging with the shadows, and his eyes showed awe and admiration.
Under the magic's blessing, the five moved with greater boldness and speed. They cautiously avoided a few scattered patrol teams, who seemed somewhat careless, their faces showing fatigue and boredom. Knight Owen walked in front, Matthew and Rhodes followed closely, and Corbin and Lyra brought up the rear.
Although his body was weak, Corbin's mind was more active than ever. Soul power... directly manipulated? At high cost? Lyra's words echoed in his ears, but what he cared about most was that feeling of power being drawn out and then channeled just now. He tried to capture that feeling again, sinking his consciousness into the pool of mutated energy deep within his soul from the fusion…
His body stumbled slightly. Corbin jolted awake, sensing Knight Owen's sharp glance back at him, his eyes holding a hint of warning, while Lyra gently tugged his sleeve. Corbin forcefully pulled back his focus, suppressing the urge to delve deeper. Now was not the time for research! A strong survival instinct pulled his attention back to the surrounding environment and his companions' footsteps.
Soon, they crept up behind several large rocks and thick bushes on the outskirts of the camp, less than a hundred yards from the flickering campfires. Here, the camp's noise was clearer, and the air was filled with a mixture of burning wood, sweat, blood, and a certain nauseating animal stench.
In the chaotic camp, firelight flickered, and figures moved.
Ragged Refugees occupied most of the space; they were gaunt, their eyes showing greed and despair, sitting around several bonfires, gnawing on food of unknown origin. Coarse laughter and shouting were constant.
On the other side of the camp was a group of short, ugly, and ferocious Goblins, their grey-green fur gleaming oily in the firelight, emitting harsh shrieks. They occasionally brandished crude weapons, appearing restless, and their foul stench permeated the air.
Most worrying were some well-equipped men, clearly disciplined and trained; they wore leather armor, short blades tucked into their belts, their every movement betraying the aura of hardened bandits accustomed to violence—these were the smugglers who had long operated along the border! They sat around another fire, talking in low voices, their eyes fierce.
Using the firelight and Lyra's magic as aid, some key whispers of conspiracy, laced with coldness and greed, intermittently reached their ears.
A coarse, commanding voice snarled, sounding like the leader of the smugglers: "...four o'clock sharp, we move! No mistakes!"
Another voice chuckled in agreement: "This time we'll hit Windbreath Town hard, let that fat pig Viscount who wouldn't cooperate know what happens when he doesn't listen!"
Suddenly, a third bandit, who sounded like one of the smugglers, cut in, his voice carrying a harsh mockery: "Hahahaha! Isn't that the truth! The other lords hinted at it, that old fool is just a fat mouse who only dares to hide in his hole. The slightest stir scares him to death! The last review group from Falling Leaf City hadn't even left, and he peed his pants, immediately shut down all the smuggling routes, leaving us high and dry! This time when we go over there, he won't even dare fart!" This was followed by a bout of vulgar laughter.
The first voice spoke again, his tone colder: "Enough! The higher-ups said, if we succeed, the spoils from this route will be ours, and the other lords are already sorted out! Storehouses, women, this time none of them will escape!"
Owen's face became exceptionally grave. He gestured to Corbin and the others behind him, whispering, "They plan to launch a surprise attack on the town at dawn... and it's a planned looting. The target is the Viscount, the entire town."
However, in Corbin's keen Perception, two figures deep within the camp were particularly noticeable. They wore pitch-black hooded cloaks and emanated a cold aura completely out of place with their surroundings. Corbin was very vigilant of this; the aura was similar to the "bandit" aura he had sensed on the town's edge, but more concentrated and pure, like an ice-coated blade in a winter night. They stayed away from the fires, did not participate in any conspiracies, and had no interaction with the other bandits, simply standing like two statues in the shadows, as if waiting for something, or as if they did not belong in this noisy, chaotic world at all. This cold, powerful presence sent the alarm bells in Corbin's heart ringing wildly.
"The situation is worse than we imagined," Knight Owen's gaze swept over everyone's faces, clearly signaling. "A premeditated attack, large numbers, and... that unsettling aura is present. We need to retreat, report back."
Upon hearing this, Matthew was about to stand up, but as he moved, his foot accidentally stepped on a dry twig. Snap, the sound was sharp, even against the backdrop of the camp's noise in the night. Corbin's nerves instantly tightened to the extreme. He could feel the cold fear spreading through the air around him, the physical manifestation of his companions' tension. He looked at Matthew; the tall figure was rigid as a rock, his face showing a slightly bewildered expression, his eyes filled with apologetic awareness of being noticed. Rhodes looked at Matthew with a strange expression, as if silently sighing at his carelessness. Lyra also stopped, a hint of almost imperceptible amusement in her eyes, quietly observing the tense scene before her. Knight Owen's body tensed instantly, his gaze sharply sweeping towards the source of the sound. Corbin's extraordinary hearing clearly picked up the immediate alert growls and sniffing sounds from the Goblin patrol team, as well as the abrupt halt in the smugglers' conversation. The tension in the air instantly reached its peak, as if it could explode at any second!
The nearest patrol team happened to be a group of Goblins. The sudden sound immediately alerted the keen Goblins; their grey-green long ears twitched rapidly, noses sniffing the air. They then let out a few low snarls, pointing their crude weapons towards the source of the sound, cautiously approaching.
In this critical moment, Knight Owen suddenly lowered his voice and cursed, his voice sounding rough and slightly impatient: "This damn place is full of bugs, can't even take a piss in peace!" His voice was perfectly disguised, as if he truly were just an annoyed refugee whose moment of privacy had been disturbed. Listening to this distinctly rural-sounding disguised curse, a flicker of understanding passed through Corbin's mind—Knight Owen was highly adaptable.
The approaching Goblins heard the rustic-sounding curse; their grey noses twitched, and they clearly hesitated. They had seen many refugees lately and were not unfamiliar with such complaints, seeming to temporarily lower their guard and stopping their approach.
Everyone felt a wave of relief, slowly backing away, believing they had narrowly escaped. However, just as they were about to fully merge into the deeper shadows of the woods, Corbin instinctively glanced back. He saw a pitch-black figure standing silently like a ghost atop a tall tree nearby—one of the two strange hooded figures from the camp! The gaze beneath that hood, cold as a viper's, was fixed in the direction of their hiding spot. Corbin could feel the sudden spread of a scorching, alien energy fluctuation in the air; the alarm bells in his heart rang wildly.
Run! A silent roar echoed in Corbin's mind.
The next second, the dark figure raised a hand, palm facing their hiding spot, and a low, hoarse incantation sounded: "Spirit of the Living Flame! Arise and strike! Pyralia Solara! Be a bolt of fire, burning bright!" Danger! Corbin's Perception shrieked a warning. A ball of scorching flame abruptly condensed at the figure's fingertips, rapidly expanding into a dazzling Fireball!
Tearing through the night sky! The Fireball, whistling through the wind, landed precisely behind the bush they had been hiding in. With a loud boom, accompanied by dazzling firelight and flying earth, the blast wave, mixed with the smell of burning plants, rushed towards them, hot and searing. Corbin could feel the blast wave... and the residual, strange and powerful energy aftershock in the air.
The sudden attack sent everyone's adrenaline surging; there was no time to think, only to run for their lives.
Even in their desperate escape, a part of Corbin's mind was still working furiously. This energy... it is the same as Elder Lysander's and Lyra's! Just much more violent, malicious! This is how that power is used!
Corbin saw Matthew's large frame displaying astonishing burst of speed; his facial muscles were tense, each step pounding heavily on the ground, sending dirt flying. Rhodes was agile as a leopard, weaving between trees, his eyes sharp and focused, his steps swift. Corbin's longsword was now an obstacle to his running; he kept the blade pointed backward, using the sword to cleverly deflect branches and avoid getting entangled. Corbin's hearing picked up the rapid scratching sounds of Goblin claws on the dirt behind them, and the heavy breathing of the smugglers in the distance, mixed with the smell of tobacco and sweat.
Lyra, meanwhile, remained astonishingly calm during the escape. She followed closely behind Corbin, her form impossibly light, as if she had no weight underfoot. She seemed to be silently reciting something, ready to cast another spell at any moment. And Knight Owen, while adjusting his direction, kept his peripheral vision trained on the rear, ensuring every companion was in sight. His lips were pressed tight, his gaze steady, and his calm voice whispered in the wind:
"Maintain formation, head towards the horses! They have numbers, we can't engage!"
The firelight behind them grew closer. Goblins emitted piercing shrieks, and the smugglers cursed as they quickened their pursuit. Further in the distance, other bandits in the camp also began to stir, shouts of killing gradually rising. The two hooded figures were like omnipresent ghosts; their magical attacks of fireballs and tongues of flame, carrying the scorching heat of alien energy, landed behind them from time to time, blasting holes in the night woods. The hot blast waves and shattered branches constantly threatened their lives. This was a pure fight for survival.
Their only hope was to quickly shake off their pursuers, reach their horses, and then race back to Windbreath Town at top speed to raise the alarm!