A little teasing can liven up the atmosphere, especially when energy is put into talking; the feeling of hunger becos less noticeable. They traveled along an ancient road, but due to the passage of ti and shifting landscapes, it was now lower than the surrounding land, conveniently hiding the tops of their wagons. Beyond the road lay slopes covered with a gloomy forest, appearing as if shrouded by dark clouds, reflecting their oppressive mood since being occupied by the Beastn. The slopes were filled with heather, broom, gorse, and other shrubs they didn’t recognize. However, as it was now late autumn, most of the plants had started to wither, appearing sowhat dry. In addition, they could see clusters of tall pine trees growing all around. But on the other side of the forest was the Beastn’s camp. They chopped down the towering trees without any respect for these beings that had been living for hundreds of years. Their crude axes and torches were their accomplices, and the camps and the bonfires built to roast rotting at were the final resting place of these trees.
Morning mist drifted from the pine forest, accompanied by a foul stench. Lynch kept his gaze focused on the movents within, controlling the speed of the wagon, pausing occasionally to avoid the Beastn patrols. A few tis, they even heard the creatures berating each other, along with rough snoring and creepy laughter. Soka’s bow was already aid in the direction of the sound, ready to attack as soon as they appeared. Fortune seed not to have abandoned them at this mont; the owners of those voices rely passed by the wagon without even glancing at the ancient road below, then disappeared into the forest.
They crossed the land known as the Pine Forest Plain and now stepped onto those low hills, the first steps in ascending the Ridge Mountains. The Dwarf Morgan gestured for everyone to head in the direction of Ice Furnace Peak. Although it was the most treacherous place in the entire Ridge Mountains, it was also Morgan’s holand.
The Beastn’s camp was now clearly visible because Lynch and his group were standing higher than the encampnt. Looking at the busy dark figures inside, it looked like a swarm of black insects wriggling, plotting larger-scale actions against the southern lands. "If only there was a long-range spell now," Lynch said, "then we could rain fire on their heads."
The cool air gradually turned into a biting cold wind, especially in the mornings and evenings. The air blowing down from the Ridge Mountains carried the sll of ice and snow, although it diluted the odors left by the Beastn, it also reminded everyone of what the high cold of the peaks was like. A day’s journey away from the Beastn camp, Lynch decided to stew a pot of rich broth to help everyone recover their strength.
After having so berries stored in the Spatial Bag, the little angel spat out the seeds while searching for dry branches and deadwood. These were not hard to find in the late autumn season, and she flew back in no ti. Lynch dug a small pit in the ground, first layering it with dry fern leaves, then carefully turning it into a stove. Although it emitted faint blue smoke, the fragrance of the fire was enticing enough for them to take this risk.
After setting up the pot, Lynch carefully stirred the mushrooms inside, first making the base of the soup, then focusing on waiting for the hunters, Macken and Morgan, to return quickly.
A light flashed nearby and then quickly disappeared, but it had already alerted the mage. Lynch picked up the Powerful Wand and imdiately turned his gaze in that direction.
Before he could call Zilvra over, a loud noise caught the mage’s attention. In the firelight, the Dwarf Morgan, disheveled and dirty, fell from the air, shouting, "Everyone be careful, there’s a skeleton that can cast magic!"
On the Anriel Continent, there was only one thing with such power, and it must be the Witch Demon. Lynch waved for Zilvra to take Soka and hide, then he himself charged toward the place of the explosion, holding the Undead Magic Bead. Although he didn’t know why the Witch Demon had left its abode to wander outside, encountering such a powerful undead creature was not sothing Lynch would shy away from.
Just as he peeked over the hill, he saw the Witch Demon in combat with Macken the Knight. It was a tall, dark silhouette, one that even the sun’s rays couldn’t reveal its features. A tattered robe draped over it, not swaying with the cold wind but floating outward as if a sinister breeze was blowing up from the Witch Demon’s feet. Its icy eyes emitted a faint glow from the depths of the Abyss, while its hard, cold bony arm pointed at the Knight, obstructing Macken’s advance.
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