Chapter Seventy-Three: Entering the Mist Zone

After traveling for roughly another half day, Buck, who was leading the way, finally came to a halt. He turned to look at Weir, a peculiar expression flickering across his face.

“Boss, we can’t go any further. That’s barbarian territory ahead!”

“Oh?” Weir’s face showed a hint of surprise at Buck’s words. He glanced forward several times, noticing that a thin veil of mist hung perpetually less than a hundred meters ahead, completely blocking the view. Yet this fog differed entirely from the ones he had encountered earlier—it lacked the excessive dampness, the overwhelming humidity, and the stench of rot. Instead, it was nothing more than the most ordinary, natural water vapor.

More importantly, Weir could faintly sense that there was something strange about the mist ahead. A mage’s senses were always sharper than those of ordinary people, and for someone like Weir, who was born with extraordinary sensitivity, this was even more pronounced.

“Oh? That’s the region of the other races?” Staring at the mist in the distance, a strange feeling suddenly welled up in Weir’s heart... Vaguely, he felt that something familiar was pulling him onward from within that fog.

“Yes, boss!” Buck nodded hastily, then hesitated, adding, “Boss, I really think we should turn back. There’s something off about that place!”

“Oh?” Weir seemed intrigued and asked Buck with genuine interest, “Why do you say that?”

“That’s the boundary!” As Buck uttered these words, Weir noticed the muscles on the man’s triangular face twitch involuntarily, and a look of inexplicable fear stole over his features. “We should have counted ourselves lucky from the very start, boss! Someone else blundered into the orc lands—thanks to that, on our way through the forest, we hardly faced the dangers we otherwise would have. But now, our streak of luck ends here. See that misty region? That’s the border of the entire Wildwood Forest! Beyond it, we’ll encounter the harshest environments, beasts of a caliber we’ve never seen, and those savage tribes! My dear boss, don’t think that just because those barbarians occasionally trade with humans, they see us as friends. They are fiercely territorial. No matter who enters the mist, for whatever reason, to them it’s an invasion—and they will retaliate with the utmost ferocity!”

“Are you afraid?” Weir’s resolve was unmoved by Buck’s words. He touched his nose and asked him directly.

“No, it’s not that… I just…” Buck suddenly fell silent, fumbling for words but unable to finish a single sentence.

“You disappoint me, Buck.” Weir shook his head slightly, pointed behind him toward the direction of the town, and said, “If you’re afraid of dying, you can leave right now. As you said, we’ve been blessed by the goddess of fortune all the way here—no danger at all. If you retrace your steps alone, you’ll make it back to that filthy little town safely, go on living as a bandit, eating and loafing your life away—a worthless existence, wriggling through life like a maggot! Don’t tell me you’d choose that. If you would, then I have nothing more to say…”

“Of course I wouldn’t!” Weir’s words sent a jolt through Buck’s heart. Flustered, he replied, “But boss, I’ve already chosen to follow you…”

“But you don’t truly mean it, do you?” Weir watched Buck’s indecision, then extended his hand. “I need to do something, and I need someone to help—someone who follows me out of loyalty, not because I’ve threatened or coerced them. Buck, I’m giving you one chance: do you want to stay safe for now, go back to the town, and waste your life away? Or will you come with me, take a risk, and accomplish something great?”

As Weir saw it, Buck’s previous pledges of loyalty had been made solely under duress. The first time, Weir had used Prosis’s authority to intimidate him; the second, it was the dire threat of the venom king serpent. Both times, Buck had agreed to serve, but both times it was from fear, not willingness. Weir never believed Buck would truly and sincerely pledge himself to his cause; in fact, he’d be more surprised if the bandit didn’t stab him in the back at the first opportunity.

That was why Weir gave Buck a genuine choice now. What he wanted was absolute loyalty, because of the secrets he carried, because of the purpose that had brought him to this world.

…………………………..

Late at night, Buck sat by the campfire roasting dried meat and hard biscuits, while Weir sat quietly nearby in meditation.

Buck kept the fire burning bright. Normally, lighting a fire in this forest would have been unwise—especially with the mist zone so close. Insects and beasts feared fire, but it could also attract magical beasts. Still, since entering the woods, not a single magical beast had appeared in almost a day. This allowed Buck to relax his guard more than usual. Tossing another dead branch into the flames, the man with the triangular eyes felt the tension of the day slowly ebb from his heart.

He had made his choice. The boy he followed was more than ten years his junior, but this time, Buck had truly chosen to serve loyally.

At the time, Buck had only asked Weir one question: “Can I stop being a bandit?”

Weir replied, “Yes.”

“Then… my lord, your servant Buck hereby solemnly swears before the almighty gods to serve you faithfully forever!”

The night was peaceful. Just then, Buck suddenly heard a crisp snap not far away—something or someone had trodden on a branch. The sound was faint, but as a former bandit, Buck instantly sprang to alertness, shouting into the darkness, “Who’s there?!”

There was no answer. Under the pale moonlight, two figures silently emerged from behind the trees, their arms raised. Two faint orbs of light appeared out of thin air, and from their wrists, deadly claws of energy formed.

“Soulmasters?!” Buck’s pupils contracted in a flash; his body tensed, and he instinctively took a step back—only to bump straight into Weir, who had just come up behind him.

“Boss…” With Weir at his back, Buck felt a surge of confidence. Raising his voice, he shouted at the two soulmasters ahead, “Hey! We’re a mercenary team from the nearby town! Who are—”

Before he could finish the word “people,” one of the soulmasters suddenly leaped forward, darting toward Buck like a gust of wind.

“Buck, fall back!” Weir shouted in a deep voice, drawing his wand from his belt and hurling a barrage of wind blades at the charging enemy.

Though the blades were thin, they were countless. The soulmaster hesitated for a split second, then dodged nimbly aside, evading Weir’s attack. But before he could do anything else, he felt his legs buckle—below the knees, he was suddenly swallowed up by the earth.

“Flame Burst!” Weir cried. A wave of scorching heat erupted around the soulmaster, flames swirling like a vortex, engulfing the enemy in an instant.

“Did we get him?” Buck shouted in excitement.

“No! Not yet!” Weir’s expression darkened. In that moment, a surge of force blasted outward from the fiery vortex, scattering the flames. The soulmaster emerged completely unharmed—he had shielded his entire body with energy to withstand the fire.

A high-level soulmaster!

“Damn it!” Weir cursed inwardly. A single high-level soulmaster was more than he could handle, and now there were two! Raising his wand, Weir unleashed a torrent of fire rain, setting everything flammable around them ablaze and trapping the two soulmasters within a wall of flames.

“Into the mist!” Weir shouted to Buck, charging toward the foggy border. Despite his fear of the mist, Buck gritted his teeth—there was no time to hesitate. He braced himself and dashed into the mist after Weir.