Translator: CinderTL
Compared to the towering mountains and dense forests of the Blackwater Territory, the terrain surrounding the River Domain's Royal Capitals was far more open.
Beyond the cultivated lands, the region consisted primarily of swamps, low-lying wetlands, and scattered patches of dense forest.
These difficult-to-cultivate wetlands, perpetually shrouded in miasma and rarely visited by humans, naturally became havens for various demonic beasts.
Lizardmen were particularly prevalent, thriving in these damp, shadowy environments.
Deep within the swamp, amidst decaying leaf litter, several semi-circular nests constructed from withered wood and mud stood crookedly between stagnant pools.
Faded scales hung from bone frames at the entrances, emitting an eerie green glow in the humid air.
Between the withered wood nests, lizardmen crawled with hunched, grayish-green backs, using their webbed claws to sift through the fish bones from the previous night's hunt.
An elder lizardman squatted on a central mud platform, scraping the skull of some large aquatic beast with a Bone Knife.
The younglings tore at the half-rotted carcass of a frog, their tails, not yet fully covered in hardened scales, splashing wildly in the muddy water.
Suddenly, a hoarse roar shattered the swamp's stillness.
Two adult male lizardmen wrestled in the mud, their sharp claws scraping against each other's scales with a grating screech.
Thick tails lashed against each other, sending putrid mud splashing and scattering the feeding young.
One of the combatants suddenly lunged forward, its tooth-filled maw clamping down on its opponent's shoulder. Dark red blood immediately seeped into the murky water.
The injured lizardman roared in pain, but retaliated fiercely by ramming its head into the other's abdomen.
Instead of intervening, the surrounding lizardmen formed a circle, clawing at the ground and drumming up an excited clamor.
The brawl only ceased when an elder's bone staff struck the rock with a resounding thud.
The two battered warriors separated, panting heavily, the feral glint in their vertical pupils undiminished. They licked their wounds, their scales still slightly flared from the battle's frenzy.
In this swamp governed by the law of the jungle, such bloody skirmishes were commonplace. Only the most ruthless individuals could claim mating rights and the choicest prey.
As the aftershocks of the fight still lingered, an ethereal song drifted from the swamp's depths.
The melody rippled through the humid air like water, carrying an ancient rhythm that gradually enveloped the entire camp.
The lizardman warriors froze mid-lick, the ferocity in their vertical pupils fading.
Several young lizardmen curled up in the mud, their tails unconsciously tapping the water's surface, creating drowsy ripples.
Even the eldest Chief lowered his bone staff, his rough scales rising and falling slowly with each deep breath.
The song grew clearer, as if countless tiny droplets of water were dancing across their scales.
The camp's cacophony of hisses gradually subsided, leaving only the swamp's familiar croaking of frogs and rustling of wind.
All the lizardmen froze in a strange stillness, as if petrified. Only the tips of their tails, swaying slightly to the rhythm of the song, proved they hadn't completely succumbed.
Yet this fragile consciousness was rapidly slipping into a deep slumber.
Just as the lizardmen were lost in the song's trance, a sharp, piercing sound tore through the mist.
Three feathered arrows pierced the thin fog with deadly accuracy, instantly piercing the eye sockets of three lizardmen.
Before the dark green blood could even splatter, two shadowy figures darted from the reeds.
A cold glint flashed.
The slender figure in the lead, clad in black robes, leaped forward, their thin sword piercing the throat of a still-dazed lizardman guard with precise accuracy.
The burly figure behind them swept their longsword in a horizontal arc. Where the cold light passed, two grotesque heads spun into the air.
It wasn't until the eighth corpse crashed to the ground that the lizardmen snapped out of their trance, unleashing ear-splitting battle cries.
Dozens of enraged lizardmen swarmed forward, only to be systematically cut down by arrows fired from the shadows.
Even more terrifying, the lingering song suddenly shifted into a dizzying, eerie melody that slowed and stiffened the lizardmen's movements, causing their attacks to repeatedly miss their targets.
The slender figure seized the opportunity to plunge into the enemy ranks, the sword flashing like a silver serpent coiling around its body, leaving a trail of severed limbs in its wake.
Meanwhile, the burly figure focused on the lower body, each heavy swing accompanied by the snapping of tails.
By the time the final arrow pinned the lizardman elder to its nest, the entire camp was littered with twitching corpses.
Thwack!
With a soft sound, Roland flicked his Mithril Longsword, sending a crimson arc of blood arcing through the air before the blade slid smoothly back into its sheath.
He then turned to the silver-haired woman inspecting the battlefield beside him.
"Theresa, any survivors?"
After receiving a negative reply, Roland exhaled deeply and mentally summoned his Job Panel.
Seeing that he had already met the requirement for the Apprentice Knight job—"slay one hundred hostile creatures using the breathing technique"—he nodded in satisfaction.
A month had passed since they left the River Domain's Royal Capitals.
Thanks to the detailed intelligence gathered by Avril and Theresa, their operations proceeded without a hitch.
They would often clear out a demonic beast's lair, rest briefly, and immediately rush to the next target.
Although Roland's application of the breathing technique in actual combat still felt somewhat clumsy, this highly efficient combat style allowed him to successfully meet his kill quota.
Even more valuable was how his mastery of the breathing technique had steadily improved through this period of rigorous training.
At least now, after activating the Focus trait, he could barely maintain the breathing technique's operation during intense battles.
Meanwhile, a month of fighting side-by-side had forged an increasingly seamless synergy among the four companions.
The results before them served as the best proof of their teamwork.
While lizardmen, like other demonic beasts, relied on their formidable physical strength, their intelligence far surpassed that of their kin. Especially when coordinating their attacks, they often displayed astonishing tactical coordination.
This camp, garrisoned by nearly a hundred lizardmen, would have required meticulous planning for an ordinary adventurer's party or mercenary band to conquer.
Even with such preparations, casualties would have been inevitable.
For Roland and his group, the process was far simpler.
Galvis disrupted the enemy's formations from afar using his abilities.
Avril lurked in the shadows, prioritizing targets with ranged capabilities or command roles with her precise arrows.
The remaining battlefield was left entirely to Roland's lethal swordsmanship and Theresa's ghostly agility.
With such perfect coordination, even a lizardman camp of this scale was swept clean with overwhelming force.
"So, to become an Apprentice Knight, all that's left is..."
Just as Roland was lost in thought, a clear voice called out from the distance.
"Roland!"
He turned to see Avril waving her arm and hurrying toward him.
The scattered limbs and the thick, metallic scent of blood in the air did nothing to dim the bright smile on the elf girl's face.
"Avril, did any escape?"
"Reporting for duty, sir!"
Hearing Roland's question, the elf girl deliberately straightened her posture, adopted a stern expression, and replied with mock formality.
"No demonic beasts escaped!"
"Alright, Avril..."
Roland shook his head, amused by her playful antics.
After a brief exchange, the trio dispersed across the camp.
While searching for valuable loot, they began prying off the unusually tough, dark green scales from the lizardmen's foreheads.
Like the pointed ears of kobolds or goblins, these scales served as proof of mission completion, redeemable for bounties at the Adventurer's Guild.
Though Roland wasn't short on funds, he saw no reason to refuse free money.
As the twilight deepened, and they had nearly stripped the camp bare, a horse's whinny echoed from the distance.
"Say, folks..."
A melodious music drifted through the air, accompanying the voice.
Galvis wrinkled his nose, sniffing the lingering stench of blood. "It's almost dark," he grumbled. "Shouldn't we get moving? I don't want to camp here tonight."
(End of the Chapter)
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