Translator: CinderTL
In the thinning mist, Roland gazed at the endless stretch of rocky cliffs before him and shook his head slightly. He turned to the guard captain beside him.
"You are...?"
"Just call me Dylan, sir."
"Very well, Dylan."
Roland nodded slightly as he observed Dylan, who, despite his own injuries, was still supporting another wounded soldier. "Captain Dylan, do you know when this mountain range... appeared?"
"I'm sorry, sir..." Dylan murmured, first reassuring the weakened soldier in his arms before shaking his head helplessly. "We..." He glanced around at the nearly all wounded soldiers and sighed. "We were originally under Dean Graham's orders, responsible for logistics and transportation."
"When we first entered the Mistland, the mist hadn't yet spread this far. Later, when supplies at the front lines ran low, we were ordered to turn back and search for a missing transport team. But then..." His voice trailed off, and he didn't finish the sentence.
"I understand," Roland said.
Though Dylan hadn't explicitly stated it, Roland had pieced together the situation from the fragments of information.
The spreading mist had either cut off the transport team behind the suddenly appearing mountain range, or they had become lost in the dense fog, possibly even been attacked and wiped out by demonic beasts.
Dylan's squad, similarly trapped by the mist during their search, had been forced to set up camp, caught between advancing and retreating.
Though Dylan hadn't provided much crucial intelligence, Roland's keen ears picked up a familiar name.
"You said... Dean Graham is leading this force?"
"That's correct."
"What about the other transcendent professionals?"
"I'm sorry, Your Excellency... I don't have much information on that."
Dylan heaved his fallen comrade back onto his shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Three forces entered the Mistland to subdue the Wolf King entrenched here."
"Since we couldn't pinpoint the Wolf King's exact location beforehand, the three squads attacked from different directions, planning to converge at a designated rendezvous point. But..."
Dylan's face clouded with distress as he recalled their ordeal in the mist.
"Ever since we stepped into this accursed place, we've lost all contact with the other two squads."
"I understand..."
Roland nodded slowly, pressing for a few more details.
But Dylan, a mere squad leader in the River Domain Nations' army, couldn't offer any further useful information.
Looking at the burly man before him, his face gaunt from hunger and exhaustion, Roland chuckled lightly to ease the oppressive atmosphere, asking half-jokingly,
"Captain Dylan, are you really so confident in taking us to your camp? Aren't you worried we might have ulterior motives?"
"Your Excellency is joking. How could you possibly..."
Dylan forced a smile, his gaze instinctively sweeping past Roland to the figures behind him. His confident expression faltered slightly.
A disheveled young man.
A strikingly beautiful woman radiating an aura of icy detachment.
And...
An orc with crimson skin and protruding tusks.
This motley group seemed utterly out of place in the treacherous Mistland...
But recalling Roland's overwhelming display of power moments earlier, Dylan quickly dismissed his doubts.
The captain, whose face carried a hint of rustic sincerity, cleared his throat and deftly changed the subject, his tone subtly boastful yet carrying an implicit warning.
"With Your Excellency's strength, had you truly intended us harm, we would have been utterly helpless. Moreover..."
He lowered his head slightly in apology before straightening his posture.
"Our camp's newly appointed commander possesses extraordinary power! Even with Your Excellency's skills—forgive my bluntness..."
He paused, emphasizing his words.
"You might not necessarily be his match."
"Oh?"
Sensing the warning in the soldier captain's words, Roland didn't take offense. Instead, he chuckled softly.
In truth, the captain's superior officer being so powerful was actually a good thing for him.
Currently, their plan was to find the pixies and use Tracy's time-space spell to escape the perilous situation.
But whether they could find the pixies, and whether the Pixie Queen truly possessed such abilities as Tracy claimed, remained uncertain.
By comparison, following these stranded soldiers to find Graham seemed like a far more reliable option.
Even if the frontline battles were fierce, it wouldn't matter.
Though Roland had limited interaction with Graham, the few glimpses of the Dean's power during training were enough for him to conclude that Graham's strength was no less than Gondar's.
With such a transcendent overseeing the situation, the worst-case scenario would simply be the River Domain Nations retreating from the Mistland.
Moreover, two other armies led by transcendent professionals were likely already converging with Graham.
Therefore, the stronger the commander of this small unit, the smoother their journey to reunite with Graham would likely be.
As for the pixies...
Roland lowered his gaze and glanced at his waist pouch.
Tracy's small head peeked out, her bright red eyes blinking.
During their earlier conversation, the little pixie had mentioned that the pixies of Jade Rock Forest were troubled by the encroaching mist, though their lives were not yet in immediate danger.
Therefore, Roland decided that securing their own safety should be the priority. Helping the pixies could wait.
With this thought, Roland gently tapped Tracy's head through his pouch. Following Dylan's lead, they slowly made their way toward the camp he had described.
Fortunately, the camp was located on the edge of the Mistland, where the fog was thin.
Moreover, the towering mountains nearby served as landmarks, preventing Dylan from getting lost and successfully guiding Roland's group to the camp.
The camp was smaller than Roland had anticipated.
Beneath the thin mist, roughly a few dozen soldiers moved about the crude encampment.
Several tattered tents stood askew, some patched with rough repairs.
A makeshift defense line, consisting of a low stone wall and sharpened wooden stakes, offered only a fragile barrier.
Most of the soldiers were wounded, either sitting or lying down, their expressions weary and numb.
The campfire had dwindled to a few scattered embers, and the air hung thick with the mingled scents of medicinal herbs, sweat, and damp earth.
Broken weapons and patched leather armor lay scattered about, silently recounting the fate of this battered and defeated force.
Dylan bowed slightly to Roland before stepping forward to exchange a few hushed words with the soldier guarding the camp entrance.
After a moment, he turned and led Roland and his group deeper into the camp.
They soon arrived at the best-preserved tent in the camp.
Before Dylan could announce their arrival, a desperate, nasal-toned wail erupted from within the tent:
"Why is there so much to do?! Damn the supplies! Damn the mist! Damn the Wolf King! And these endless reports and paperwork!"
"I just wanted to deliver a message to the River Domain Nations! Whoever wants this cursed temporary command can have it! I need help... no, I need relief!"
As the voice rang out, the hand reaching for the tent flap froze mid-motion.
Dylan withdrew his hand, turning awkwardly to Roland with a forced smile.
"My apologies, sir. Our commander has been... under a lot of pressure lately. Perhaps... should we..."
The soldier captain wrung his hands nervously.
"I'll go in and announce you first, then you can..."
"No need."
Hearing the familiar voice from inside the tent, the corners of Roland's lips curled slightly upward.
He shook his head gently, stepped forward, and, without waiting for a response, reached out and pulled back the heavy tent flap.
(End of the Chapter)
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