The garrison was in chaos with scripers running all around. It was night, and Alator was watching from a distance. Hence, he didn't quite understand what was actually happening. The situation seemed like the Domain was under attack or something serious was about to happen. Alator wasn't scared to die; in fact, with his current situation, death was an easy way out for him.
As Alator was still thinking on how to get into the garrison, he suddenly felt a strong grip on his ankle. His eyes went wide in shock.
"Bandits."
Alator wasn't entirely surprised; this kind of attack was pretty common here. And this wasn't the first time he had encountered this kind of situation.
Bandits and thugs would often hide in the bushes to rob people, especially one who looked rich. But Alator knew he was far from looking rich, hence no reasonable person would try to rob him. He turned his head swiftly towards his leg and saw a hand from the bush tightly holding his ankle.
"Shit!"
Alator jerked back, desperately trying to break free, but he crashed to the ground instead. The grip on his leg was iron-tight. The hand stubbornly clung to his foot, refusing to let go. Alator scrambled backwards, with his hands taking the lead and moving as fast as he could, hoping to free his leg. However, the grip on his leg was so tight that he ended up pulling the person out of the bush instead. But when the figure came into his view, he was shocked.
There, a man covered in blood raised his bloodied hand towards Alator while muttering words Alator was finding difficult to understand, but he soon lost consciousness. His head slumped low, and his hand that was raised towards Alator dropped down on the ground. Realizing the man was no longer moving, Alator calmly pried his fingers off his leg and freed himself.
"Whew... who the hell is this?"
Alator calmly crawled closer to the figure lying on the ground. He brought his index finger close to his nose, but there was no sign of breathing at all. The man was dead. Alator observed the dead man closely; he could see knife stabs and sword marks on his body. He thought the man must have been attacked and robbed by bandits after getting drunk. After all, he was perceiving a strong smell of alcohol from him. Alator shook his head in pity.
"Poor soul."
Just as he was about to stand up and go his way, the crest on the man's cloth caught his attention. He stopped and gave it a careful look. A circle-shaped metal ring, with a dragon coiling itself inside it. His brows furrowed as he stared at the crest. Not long, his eyes widened in shock.
The metal crest pinned to the man's clothing was the crest of the Storm House Scripers. The dead man turned out to be a Scriper from the garrison. An idea suddenly popped up in Alator's mind. Not long, his lips stretched into a wide smile. It seems heaven was on his side.
Without wasting time, Alator dragged the dead body into the nearby bush. Within a few minutes, he was all set; he had changed into the man's clothes and boots. Alator picked up a small leather waist pouch belonging to the man. He opened it, but it was empty. He sighed. What was he even thinking? Of course, the bandits who killed the man have already stolen his things as well.
Just as Alator was about to throw the leather pouch away, a slight red light gleamed from the pouch. Alator paused his actions and brought the pouch down. He opened the pouch again and stared at it, but the pouch was empty. Alator slowly slid his hand inside. He felt his hand bypassing the bottom of the pouch.
His brows furrowed in confusion as his hand entered into another opening. As he moved his hand inside, his hand clashed with strange objects, metal, steel, and all kinds of things. Alator suddenly felt a sharp pain on his index finger. He quickly pulled his hand out of the pouch. There was a sharp cut on his finger, and blood seeping out of the wound.
"What was that?"
Alator slid his hand back into the leather pouch again, but this time, he was careful. As he rummaged through the pouch, he caught a rounded object and pulled it out. His eyes widened in surprise.
"How is this possible?"
Alator was wondering how the leather pouch worked, and why he was able to bring out something from an empty pouch. He stared at the red-like stone object in his hand, giving out a reddish glow. This was a Mana Crystal. Alator stared at it in confusion. He didn't know what it was or its value, but he was sure it was something that could be useful. He kept it and tried to see what else he could find as he slid his hand back into the pouch.
His fingers brushed against something sturdy and cool to touch. Alator grabbed it and pulled it out of the pouch. His eyes went wide as his hand was accompanied by a shiny blade of a sword. He glanced at the long sword in his hand and glanced back at the pouch.
He was wondering how such a long sword managed to fit inside such a small pouch. Of course, this was a Spatial Pouch, used by Mages to carry their weapons or other useful materials. One could literally store anything he can touch, move, or carry into the Spatial Pouch, except sturdy and immovable things like houses or a tree.
Alator smiled as he gazed at the shiny blade. Though he didn't quite understand how weapons were being graded, he didn't even know if the sword was powerful or not, but he believed the sword must be a top-tier weapon, considering it was belonging to a Mage. But honestly, the sword was just a One-Star weapon, which can barely scratch a Mana Condensing-tier Mage.
After he examined the sword for a few more seconds, he put the sword back inside the leather pouch and hung it on his waist. He was sure the pouch has other things that could be useful inside.
But for now, he needed to enter the garrison, and looking at his appearance now, he was wearing the Scriper's uniform, and coupled with the commotion inside the garrison, Alator was sure that his chances of sneaking in has gone from zero to ninety-nine percent.
Without wasting time, Alator made his way towards the garrison. Not long, he arrived at the fence. He observed the inside through the small hole in the fence. Once he was sure that no one was around, he jumped up and grabbed the top of the fence, pulling himself up with some effort. After a brief struggle, he managed to climb over. He didn't need to go through the sewers anymore; the commotion earlier has done most of the job for him.
Meanwhile, after observing his surrounding carefully and making sure no one had seen him, he dropped down inside, rolled on the ground, and quickly hid behind a cart.
At this moment, he saw people wearing the same uniform as him, rushing forward, towards the main gate of the garrison. He quickly joined them, blending into the group without being noticed.
Not long, Alator found himself standing in line with other Scripers. They were about hundreds of Scripers lining up in front of the gate. There, a man stood in front of the assembled Scripers; his uniform was different from others.
He was wearing a long white leather coat and a white doublet beneath. This was Arlen, the Regent of the Storm House. Meanwhile, others were wearing a white doublet and a leather tactical vest on top. Everyone was putting on their gear and was ready for some action.
"Everyone," the Regent began. "It is time to defend the Domain again from the demonic beasts, who have been invading our territory." The Regent said as he walked towards them. "We just got information about traces of demonic beasts in the Domain. So let's go out there and protect our families and loved ones from these evil creatures.
Reinforcements have been sent from the House and are on their way, but until they arrive, we hold the line!! We shall not let Raven's Peak Domain fall into the hands of these monsters!" The Regent said with a serious face as he walked in between the lines, sweeping his gaze around.
"The Domain Lord is waiting for our victory, so we shall not disappoint!" He shouted at the top of his voice as he raised his fist.
"We shall not disappoint!!"
"We shall not disappoint!!!"
The Scripers roared in unison, filled with high spirits, and their eyes burning with resolve.