As Jonn rode with his contingent toward the northern threat, he assessed his status with a critical eye.

  The last few weeks had been of intensive training and study. Beyond his village duties, he’d focused on mastering his heavy armor. Combined with a steady diet of mana-enriched provisions and crystals from William and Hank, his progression toward level 4 had been remarkably smooth.

  Reviewing his current capabilities in the gathering dusk, Jonn found minor fault with his progress. Yet, faced with the problems of his village, particularly Eliot’s troubling report, he felt weighed heavily on his mind.

  His expression betrayed his inner turmoil—eyes narrowed to slits, jaw clenched tight, forehead creased with tension. Though his breathing remained measured, an underlying current of barely contained fury colored his complexion a shade darker than usual.

  From his position at the vanguard, flanked by Petyr and Asher, Jonn guided his forces toward Acelin’s encampment, his mind racing through potential strategies.

  Their passage stirred up a dense curtain of obsidian dust across the lifeless terrain. The only sounds were the rhythmic thunder of hoofbeats and the metallic symphony of armed riders and beasts—forty mounted warriors and ten combat animals moving as one deadly unit.

  Though outnumbered by Petyr’s estimates, the force rode forward without hesitation, their beasts ready and two mages in their ranks. Each member silently acknowledged the evening’s risks, accepting all the risks.

  But just in case, most of the men in the group were dressed in the armor and military uniform of their old enemies, wearing the symbols of the Dayflare Family themselves.

  Since the problem had come to them, the Eternal Village intended to use its possibilities to steer the situation in the most interesting direction for them!

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  North of the village core, a sprawling camp of two thousand square meters nestled in a natural depression, hidden from distant eyes. As night descended, torches and campfires pierced the darkness of this undulating landscape.

  The evening air carried the rich aroma of bubbling soup and roasting meat from scattered cooking fires, marking the evening meal for the assembled force.

  Despite months in the field, this was no ragtag band of mercenaries. Coming from Lost Treasures and partly from Sylvestria, this group had enough food and meat to take their journey to the end with daily meals. Lost Treasures was a major producer of animal meat, while Sylvestria produced grains, vegetables, and fruits in abundance.

  It came as no surprise that Acelin maintained his large girth even on the campaign, never missing his three daily feasts.

  Now he sat contentedly, tearing into a succulent chicken leg with obvious glee. Yet his satisfied smile stemmed from more than just his evening repast. After days of methodical searching, he was convinced he’d locate the Eternal Village within three days. At last, Hewet Irondoom’s legacy would be within his grasp!

  Lost in a trance, Acelin tuned out the Uranius-appointed leaders’ chatter, his mind fixated on the Destroyer’s legacy.

  'They say the Destroyer had a Celestial Jewel… Could it be with that brat? The Etherian Queen has an obsession with those items. She will pay dearly for it!’ His gaze swept across his companions, their discussions of territory searches fading into background noise. ‘If I find it in the Eternal Village, I’ll keep that to myself. No need to share with this lot.’

  ‘These rumors could be my family’s salvation—our escape from this decaying region. We’ll live in luxury while the masses devour themselves!’

  Beyond the Barren Hills of Deepshadow, society’s fabric was unraveling. Villages vanished, towns collapsed, and whispers of civil war reached Valorian’s elite.

  A populace stripped of hope and sustenance was a powder keg waiting to explode!

  As Valorian’s food crisis deepened, desperate citizens abandoned morality and law in their struggle to survive. Even a prosperous merchant like Acelin felt his security slipping. Because of this, he saw the Eternal Village as his last opportunity to ascend!

  As he thought about his next steps, still finishing his meal, his strategic contemplation was shattered by the sudden blare of patrol horns. Acelin wasn’t expecting a night surprise and immediately bolted upright from his cushioned seat, his demeanor shifting to high alert as his pulse quickened.

  “Southern approach! Enemies!” The warning echoed through the camp, triggering a chaotic scramble for arms and armor. Barely a third of their force stood combat-ready; the rest rushed to prepare for the unknown threat.

  Acelin was not a warrior. So he maintained his civilian dress but moved swiftly south alongside Uranius’s battalion commanders.

  “Who are these enemies? Men from the Eternal Village?” he demanded as mounted warriors formed their lines.

  The battalion captain, astride his warhorse, shook his head. His mage-enhanced vision granted him clarity that Acelin’s mundane sight couldn’t match.

  “Unlikely. We’re facing a professional cavalry unit, fully armed and uniformed. They fly tower banners.”

  Acelin’s expression darkened with recognition, though confusion clouded his features. “Eldorian Duke’s men? What business brings them to these wastes?” His tone soured with each word.

  “I don’t know, but it doesn’t look good. Get ready to fight, men!” the captain barked as battle formations solidified.

  Acelin’s political instincts kicked in. “Wait a minute! The noble houses of Eldoria have mages in their ranks! Let’s not start a fight that could chase us home!”

  “Do you think we have any options?” A burly warrior turned to him, gesturing south. "Do you see those battle signals through the darkness? They’re coming for blood.”

  Acelin couldn’t see as well as the mages in his group. While he could barely discern the distant torchlight, these magical warriors could pierce the night’s veil with supernatural clarity.

  Yet he pressed on, drawing on years of political maneuvering. “Uranius tasked us with the Eternal Village, not picking fights with Eldorian nobility. Let’s understand their purpose before risking needless bloodshed!”

  The captain’s gaze shifted from the approaching force—now barely two minutes out—to Acelin’s earnest face. Avoiding conflict with an Eldorian Duke’s might was tempting, but could they afford to hesitate?

  A quiet curse escaped his lips before he commanded, “Deploy the white flag!”

  Meanwhile, on the other side of the field, about to see the start of a battle, Jonn, Asher, and Petyr now had masks on their faces, commanding the group to slow down. Before they even stopped, they spotted a single man riding away from the enemy camp, carrying a large white flag.

  “They want to talk,” William murmured, satisfaction coloring his voice. “Your ruse with the Dayflare insignia seems to have struck fear into them.” A hint of pride tugged at his lips.

  “How should we proceed?” Asher glanced at Jonn, recalling his leader’s last ‘negotiation’—which had ended with a dead messenger before the battle was joined.

  “We’ll hear them out,” Jonn replied crisply. “I’m curious to understand their motivation.”

  “Who will we send?” Petyr fidgeted with his mask—a necessary deception in Jonn’s strategy to masquerade as Dayflare forces and obscure the Eternal Village’s involvement. With Acelin present, even a glimpse of a familiar face could unravel their charade.

  “I count six mages in their ranks,” Jonn observed.

  “Me too," William agreed.

  Jonn continued, “Then we match magic with magic.” He turned to the Dayflare mage. “William, you’ll be our voice. Your mission is to find out why they’re here before anything more bloody. I’ll observe silently at your side.”

  William acknowledged, studying the enemy’s level 3 mages with measured respect. The Dayflare name commanded deference, but these opponents were far from insignificant.

  “Petyr, be prepared to fight. Something feels wrong about this.” Jonn’s warning hung in the air as he and William rode forward, leaving their force 250 meters from the enemy encampment.

  They halted ten meters from the white-flagged messenger. As the expendable herald retreated, two mounted mages advanced from the camp. Within moments, both parties’ leaders faced each other across a narrow gap.

  “An unexpected encounter, friends of Eldoria,” the battalion captain called, his forces arrayed behind him.

  “Indeed…” William’s gaze swept over their opponents and the distant camp. “You know our house, but where are you from? Your crest is unfamiliar to me.”

  The captain of Uranius’ troop didn’t take this comment badly. Though the lack of recognition stung, his family’s insignia wasn’t renowned enough to warrant recognition beyond Eldoria’s borders.

  “We ride from Lost Treasures. Seeking something, traveling peacefully through the region.” The man, armed with armor and a sword, with hardly any skin visible on his body, asked after giving away some of the truth. “What about you?”

  “We’re also on the lookout for something. Naturally, when our scouts spotted a camp so close to ours, we found it strange.” William gestured smoothly. “You see, some of my companions are afraid that you’re here for us or for what we’re looking for... What exactly do you want? I sincerely don’t want a pointless fight.”

  The captain, hearing an echo of Acelin’s earlier sentiment, calculated that transparency might avert conflict with noble house forces.

  “We seek a trading partner,” he smiled, showing his camp. “A nearby village. Our employer bears a proposal for its leadership.”

  Jonn’s attention sharpened. These men indeed targeted his village, though their exact purpose remained unclear.

  We’ve left no trace that we can make anything of value apart from a few low-grade weapons. Why would they want anything to do with us?

  His eyes sought Acelin’s distant figure, puzzling over the merchant’s motives. Deepening his voice, he probed, “What kind of proposal is it that requires such a strong battalion? Is this Eternal Village that formidable?”