Chapter Fifty-Six: Taut Nerves

About five kilometers east of Imperial City Glancos, the landscape is dominated by stretches of shrubbery and forest. Though magical beasts roam freely in these parts, human presence is scarce, especially at dawn. The silence is profound; even the calls of birds and insects are few and far between. At this very hour, the ground in a certain spot within the forest suddenly split open, forming a massive chasm. Jagged cracks, like a spider’s web, radiated outward, and vast swathes of earth collapsed beneath the fissure. Towering trees toppled instantly, their roots torn from the soil. The beasts, birds, and insects in the forest were startled awake by the thunderous sound of earth breaking apart, fleeing in waves, their shrill cries echoing ceaselessly.

The upheaval did not last long; within ten minutes, the ground ceased its collapse. Nearly a kilometer of land had inexplicably caved in, and from afar, the sunken terrain resembled a gigantic pit, strewn with chaos and debris.

“Ugh! So heavy!” Vil grunted as he threw Charlesberg onto the ground, wiping the sweat from his brow. This fat man weighed even more than he appeared! To ease his burden, Vil had cast three spells of lightness on Charlesberg, yet he was still exhausted, collapsing onto the earth with a loud thud, panting heavily.

“Ow!” Charlesberg finally stirred after being dumped onto the ground. His eyes, mere slits in his round face, reluctantly opened, revealing a trace of confusion as he took in his surroundings. Eventually, his gaze settled on Vil.

Seeing the bewildered look in Charlesberg’s eyes, Vil sighed inwardly. Ever since the fat man had fallen into the underground fortress, he had been unconscious for hours, stubbornly refusing to wake, no matter what Vil tried. Unable to do anything else, Vil had struggled to carry him out through a special passage connecting the fortress to the surface. Charlesberg remained oblivious throughout the ordeal, waking only after everything was over. Vil couldn’t help but marvel at his luck; it was almost too good to be true.

Charlesberg shook his round head vigorously, trying to clear his mind and piece together his scattered memories.

“Wolf pack attack... the mage... East... attacked by soul masters... then... what happened next?” he muttered, struggling to recall events as if talking in his sleep. Suddenly, his gaze landed on the massive pit nearby, and his plump body shuddered. In an instant, all his memories snapped back. He slapped his thigh with a loud smack and exclaimed, “That’s right! The earth split! The earth split, and I fell down! And those two soul masters, and—”

Charlesberg pointed at Vil and shouted, “And you! You little rascal!”

“A rascal?” Vil’s lips twitched involuntarily at the insult. Though he was still young, he loathed being called such names, especially by this fat man.

After a few more shouts, Charlesberg calmed down and tried to get up, but a wave of pain surged through him, making him grimace and howl.

“Stop moving! Falling from that height and not dying is already a stroke of luck!” Vil remarked dryly. Watching Charlesberg’s pained expression, he couldn’t help but find it amusing, shaking his head before helping him into a sitting position.

A note: previously, Charlesberg had been sprawled on the ground.

Charlesberg spat several times, but his mouth still felt full of sand. He looked around and then fixed his gaze on Vil, asking, “The ground caved in?”

“Yes,” Vil replied with a nod.

“What about the hole?”

“It’s filled with collapsed earth,” Vil answered casually, knowing Charlesberg was unaware of the underground fortress. In fact, the fortress had been completely buried, concealing any trace of its existence beneath the surface.

“You brought me up here? I remember the hole was very deep...” Charlesberg glanced at the huge pit, a flicker of fear in his eyes as he questioned Vil.

“More or less,” Vil responded offhandedly and turned away, unwilling to say more. He knew Charlesberg was far less simple than he appeared; a few more words and the sly fat man might discover something he shouldn’t.

“Oh... is that so?” Charlesberg eyed the pit again, uncertainty flashing in his gaze. Fortunately, he didn’t press the issue, and seeing Vil’s silence, he closed his mouth and rested. Damn it! His body still ached terribly!

Charlesberg lay on his back, his face twitching with pain, while Vil, equally exhausted, sat down to rest as well.

As the sky grew steadily brighter, Vil took a deep breath and stood up. With the earth’s collapse driving away all the magical beasts, he and Charlesberg need not worry about encountering any monsters out searching for food at dawn.

“Let’s get moving,” Vil said, scanning the area. He couldn’t be sure whether any assassins remained nearby. The longer they stayed, the greater the danger, so he decided it was best to leave as soon as possible.

“Alright!” Charlesberg understood, and with Vil’s help, managed to stand. Just then, a faint sound came from the distant shrubbery, making their hearts race.

“Who’s there?!” Vil immediately drew his wand, watching the bushes where the noise had originated, wary and alert.

Rustling.

Rustling.

Rustling—rustling.

The sounds from the thicket grew louder, and Vil could smell a strong scent of blood. With a wave of his wand, three blades of wind appeared at his side, just as a figure suddenly burst from the dense shrubs.