At the outskirts of Dreville, a group of adventurers advanced toward the village, carrying out the mission assigned by Baron Aritz. Among them, Keitaro paused for a moment, pointing with a crooked smile at a boy accompanied by a wolf and a girl with a tiger.
The glint of mockery in his eyes contrasted with the seriousness of the journey.
Iris, letting out a mocking chuckle, replied:
—Oh, really? But you weren't any different… always surrounded by knights, always unreachable.
Keitaro cleared his throat, feigning humility as his fingers brushed the hilt of his sword.
—Always a humble adventurer, fighting for your well-being, my dear wife.
Iris raised an eyebrow with a mix of irony and nostalgia.
—Now you've forgotten you were the heir of the Macallister… and that you kidnapped me.
Keitaro coughed, trying to soften the accusation, but the look Iris gave him didn't lessen the reproach in the slightest.
—But last night… you seemed happy by my side.
—I was only pretending —Iris replied, winking at him— so you wouldn't feel bad.
The exchange continued, light yet filled with complicity, until the village came into view. The silence struck them before the sight: empty streets, windows open like mute mouths, not a single soul in sight. Everything suggested the abandonment was recent.
Caín, leader of the Obsidian-rank group, stepped forward. His voice didn't need to rise; the weight of his words was enough to tense everyone.
—The baron's information is correct. The villages are being emptied. Find out what's happening.
The group split up, inspecting houses and streets. The nine Obsidian members positioned themselves with precision; the Diamond ranks doubled their number and formed a perimeter, while more than twenty Gold-rank adventurers checked the nearby houses.
—The baron couldn't send soldiers —Caín muttered as he advanced—. That's why we're here.
—Five groups in total? —Lusian asked, observing the scene.
—I hope it's enough —Caín replied, his eyes scanning the empty village with caution.
Suddenly, a decaying undead burst from a side street and lunged at Iris. Her staff shone, water mana flowing with surgical precision, and a swarm of liquid blades sliced the attacker into a thousand fragments.
But the relief didn't last. A horde emerged from the shadows, and in the distance, a figure wrapped in a red mana aura appeared: a Lich.
Caín paled slightly upon recognizing it.
—A Lich! If we don't stop it, it will raise the entire horde.
The battle began—brutal and chaotic. Swords and spells clashed, bodies fell, the undead advanced relentlessly. One of their companions tried to counter the Lich's spells, only to be pierced by mana spikes. Desperation could be felt in every breath.
Keitaro, assessing the situation, searched for Iris amid the chaos:
—Iris! Stay with me. You know what to do.
She didn't hesitate. Her grip on the staff was firm, and in her eyes shone the certainty of someone who had survived worse battles:
—I know. Let's follow the strategy.
From a hill, men in black robes watched. As soon as a contingent of knights approached, the Liches withdrew, obeying silent orders. With the enemy scattered, the adventurers quickly cleared the village of undead.
Lusian walked through the scene. He couldn't count how many had survived; too many bodies lay on the ground.
—Gather those who can still fight —he ordered, moving among the wounded.
Iris remained silent, her hands trembling slightly as she closed the eyes of one of the fallen. The forced calm was only a mask for what she felt.
Just as they finished regrouping, the sound of hooves broke the silence. A carriage slowly advanced through the empty village, announcing the arrival of someone else.