As they spoke, a flea, illuminated by a blue luster, drifted from above his head and entered through a cracked window into a file room.
Though the outpost had mostly been conquered, the Aarons didn't see a need to organize or hide flies since it would be abandoned quite soon when they entered the ravens keep.
So all around the outpost were different rooms—unexplored or just plainly abandoned. They already knew most of what they needed to know about the entire situation.
"One man's trash is another man's treasure, I guess,"
Guilliman thought to himself as he made the flea drift onto several pieces of paper lying around on a desk.
"Seeing through this thing's eyes is so annoying,"
Guilliman muttered to himself as he saw a hundred copies of the sa file through the eyes of a flea.
He could only complain, though; this flea was his best soul beast for sneaking and tagging. Without it, getting into this place without a fight would be near impossible.
That night, he read through countless reports—most were useless.
I an, he read through so lunch reports, water supply fixes, and even training regins—all useless things for what he needed.
But they weren't all useless. He read a few battle reports and combat tactics, and in every one of these reports there was ntion of "reinforcents," which was sowhat strange.
Summoning reinforcents? There was a whole ritual to do so, and the description of what to do when "reinforcents" arrived was eerily similar to how they avoided the fog.
"The mont the ritual is completed, it is imperative that you find higher ground as fast as possible, or else you might just beco collateral damage."
The quote read.
It was an eye-opening mont that confird what he had read in the old note that Ghost had brought to them.
Indeed, the fog was an ally. It was also their reinforcents.
He had once thought the fog to be a roaming beast, maybe even of the Great rank. The thought of it made him run away whenever he encountered it, yet it seed that this fog was an ally to the slayers of Ravens Peak.
It was mind-boggling.
Of course, that wasn't the only thing he learnt. For example, unlike the well-known fact that Ravens Keep fell in a couple of days, he could now confirm that it held for months on end.
This was enough ti for the other shelters to co over and help, but none of them did; instead, they opted to let everyone in the shelter die or fend for themselves.
It was cruel, but the Ravens Lord never begged; he stood his ground, and his n held onto the shelter for as long as they possibly could.
That right there was a hero.
.
.
.
The night quickly passed, and even though he learnt a lot about what had happened in the past, he still had no clue what the three clans were doing to bypass the fog.
The next morning, though, a gentle voice called to him from outside the tent, and without a second thought, he knew it was the old man Wilson.
They had completely healed up, and the old man, aware of this, ca to get his team together to hunt so ga.
"Glad you're back on your feet," the old man smiled, seeing Guilliman, Jemie, and Morgan make their way out of the tent with their hunting gear.
"Thanks, old man," Morgan smiled. A few seconds later, they were off into the woods.
After staying in bed for around six days, their stocks of at had dwindled. Every team had a quota to fill, and theirs was way behind, so they needed to work extra hard today.
But unlike last ti, the old man no longer thought they were weak. In fact, far from it, he had seen Jemie and Morgan fight against a troop of six Nu slayers and still hold the upper hand.
It was a sight to behold—not to ntion Guilliman here.
Word around was that Vincent was at level 8 and had a special aspect. Yet Guilliman was not afraid to fight him—even going as far as forcing him to go all out?
He was walking around with monsters and never even knew it.
Thirty minutes later, they had hunted their first beast and were now flaying it in the middle of a clearing.
"Hey, old man, you know I still don't get how you got away from that ss. That Nu guy seed to be really gunning for you," Jemie asked, looking directly at the old man Wilson.
During their fight with the Nu, only one person succeeded in killing a Nu slayer, and it was, surprisingly, the old man Wilson.
But the way he did it felt like luck or sothing—the guy had just seemingly thrown himself into Wilson's line of fire and was, unfortunately, ended.
"Yeah, I heard that… don't tell
you're secretly powerful too, old man! Are you the mysterious Carlson?" Guilliman laughed, calling the old man out. Enjoy more content from My Virtual Library Empire
Such a feat was incredible for soone at level 5. From what he could see, the Nu he killed was at level 6, so it wasn't impossible—just incredibly hard.
That wasn't all, though—the fact that the old man killed soone from the Nu and was not reprimanded or even punished was sothing else.
The Nu was one of the three clans; they had a sort of alliance—even if one party attacked another, killing was not allowed, at least not so blatantly.
The old man should have at least gotten a slap on the wrist or so form of punishnt, but they all acted as if it hadn't even happened.
Could they even be sure if the Nu had retrieved the body successfully? The lack of drama after the fact was appalling.
"Ahh, look at the ti! I should go look for another prey—we have a lot to cover quota-wise," the old man quickly dodged the question and made his way towards the large tree.
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